#this is not even a matter of my preference.

[radicalbison]

INSTALLATION & TEXT BY FÉLIX GONZÁLEZ-TORRES The New Museum, September 16–November 20, 1988

When I was asked to write a short statement about the work in this space I thought it would be a good opportunity to disclose and, in a certain sense, to demystify my approach. I hope that it will guide the viewer and will allow an active participation in the unravelling of the meaning and the purpose of this work. Many may consider this text redundant; and unnecessary intrusion, or even a handicap. It is assumed that the work must “speak for itself,” as if the divine dogma of modernism were able to deliver a clear and universal message to a uniform “family of man.” Others know this is not true that each of us perceives things according to who and how we are at particular junctures, whose terms are always shifting. Preferably the exhibition gallery will function as an educational device, simple and basic, without the mysteries of the muse, reactivating history to affirm our place in this landscape of 1988.

This work is mostly personal. It is about those very early hours in the morning, while still half asleep, when I tend to visualize information, to see panoramas in which the fictional, the important, the banal, and the historical are collapsed into a single caption. Leaving me anxious and responsible to anchor a logical accompanying image scanning the TV channels trying to sort out and match sound and sight. This work is about my exclusion from the circle of power where social and cultural values are elaborated and about my rejection of the imposed and established order.

It is a fact people are discriminated against for being HIV positive. It is a fact the majority of the Nazi industrialists retained their wealth after war. It is a fact the night belongs to Michelob and Coke is real. It is a fact the color of your skin matters. It is a fact Crazy Eddie’s prices are insane. It is a fact that four colors red, black, green and white placed next to each other in any form are strictly forbidden by the Israeli army in the occupied Palestinian territories. This color combination can cause an arrest, a beating, a curfew, a shooting, or a news photograph. Yet it is a fact that these forbidden colors, presented as a solitary act of consciousness here in SoHo, will not precipitate a similar reaction.

From the first moment of encounter, the four colour canvases in this room will “speak” to everyone. Some will define them as an exercise in color theory, or some sort of abstraction. Some as four boring rectangular canvases hanging on the wall. Now that you’ve read this text, I hope for a different message.

For all the PWAs.

Forbidden Colors, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, 1988, acrylic on panel, 20 x 68 inches, four parts: 20 x 16 inches each

[curlybiter]

nsfw curly headcanons

whaddup mouthwash nation i don't normally make posts but i was sick in bed thinking abt curly all day n i got inspired by other ppl's hc posts on here ☺️ so im throwing my hat in the pile.. these are kinda disorganized but the first part is curly x long-distance reader (reader doesn't work on the tulpar), second half is more general stuff.

this post features; afab reader, cunnilingus, masturbation, various other things

when he's single it's pretty easy to get in his pants but it's embarrassingly easy for him to catch feelings for ppl he sleeps w. nd once that happens it's OVER he can't even Look at anybody else bro he is Dedicated

during hauls when he can't be with u it's rlly hard for him to get u out of his mind, esp when he's working bc there's no immediate outlet .. under normal circumstances he doesn't rlly masturbate that often, but when hes away from u it's a lot more common^^; just whenever he can get some privacy alone tbh. he prob does smth rlly lame like look at a picture of u while he does it LMFAOOOOAOA

he gets rlly pent up in the week or so before he gets home especially... once he finally gets home to u he can keep himself in check in public + around others, but once u two are alone at home he's all over u for basically the rest of the night DJFKG hope u dont have work the next day

100% service top no question. nothing turns him on more than your pleasure. he's fine w piv sex if that's what u want but honestly i think he rlly prefers to give oral/handjobs/etc. he'll make sure u cum at Least once before he gets any, especially!! when he's just got back from a haul. he likes to put off his own satisfaction as long as possible bc he tends to fall asleep after he cums but he doesnt want the night to end so quickly^^;

after hes finished getting u off he likes to hold u for awhile while u calm down.. n then he'll let u do whatever u like to him^^ i think he likes when u touch him the most, but really as long as you're enjoying it he's not too picky abt how u get him off

honestly he prob cums pretty fast bc he stays turned on for so long w/o stimulation, but he likes it when u edge him a little bit (not too much tho!)

i honestly don't think he's that much of a talker, esp while receiving. he gets too into it to form coherent words. u can try dirty talking him but u won't get much more than an enthusiastic nod or a whispered "yes" .. oh but he does love saying yes to you::3

THIS MAN WHIMPERS BTW. esp if u pull his hair while he's eating u out, it drives him crazy😭

very much an oral fixation kinda guy, he likes putting your fingers in his mouth, kissing, biting, licking, marking, anywhere he can get to but mainly ur neck/chest

SAYS I LOVE YOU DURING SEX IDC‼️ he melts if u say it too..

reaaaally really likes it when u take charge n tell him what to do, he'll follow ur every word

also into body worship, both receiving and giving. he works hard on his physique! tell him he's beautiful!! (he also thinks your body is perfect and will appreciate it at any opportunity ofc)

he is addictedddd to your voice n it's a big reason why he's so into pleasing you over himself, he lives to hear you whimper n gasp and moan for him. doesn't matter if ur loud or quiet, he loves ur voice bc it's yours

he also really likes to watch your expressions to see how he's doing, and because he thinks you look beautiful writhing under him, but!!!! he'd understand if u were a shy type who gets embarrassed easily, n he'd hide his face in ur neck or vice versa so he cant see u^^ he'd prob just verbally check on u a liiiiitle more often::3

[pinkthrone445]

Do you have ao3? Also can you continue my wife? 🥺 I almost cried but i dont know in which part. If it's because of the story or because it's unfinished or i got left hanging. But Great work though 👏

Hiii! I don't have ao3, my girlfriend explained to me what it was because I had no idea honestly, I was even researching a little of it, but I prefer more tumblr because I feel it more personal.

Thank you for the comment, I really love this kind of interaction 🥺✨

-My wife- Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader-Agatha Harkness x Rio

Gender:soft, hurt

Warnings: insults and mention of death. Spoilers from the series.

Summary: after loosing your wife, you beg the witch to take you to the road to find her. But with no hope of finding her, you want to come back home.

You sighed looking at the notebook in your hands, since you had been sent to do a report on the hex when it started expanding and you got trapped inside, that was going to be your great opportunity to do your great report and go famous on the news side, but since Wanda retired from the city and released everyone from her control, you no longer had your main source or your main character and it was more difficult to make the story happen.

Frustrated by not knowing how to follow your report, you put your notebook in your bag and continued with your grocery shopping

-"Hello... Did you find everything you needed?" - a kind lady asked you from the cash register while you put your items on the band. You looked up and she smiled, she had a delicate but mischievous smile and her light eyes sparked with the stores lights. You squinted your eyes to read her name tag since you were not using your glasses. "Agnnes" a sweet name

-"Y-yes" - for some reason your voice trembled-"Thank you... Can you add some gum please?" - You didn't knew why but you made your voice sweeter than how you usually talked and she nodded.

When you finished paying, you went to where you were staying to eat the junk food and the chips you bought and try to keep writing your notes, but not matter how many times you checked your purse or the bags, you couldn't find your notebook with all your important notes.

Before the tears of desesperation could fill your eyes, you started to retake your previous steps hoping to find it somewhere, but when you got to the store, the doors were already closed.

Defeated, you came back home, praying to God that your notebook would be there tomorrow.

The next day you went back to the store before they could open the doors to the people, your heart racing with nerves, yesterday's frustration still lingering on your body. Wanda was gone and if you lost that book all your first handed Intel would be gone too.

Your leg bounced on the concrete looking at the doors and your reflection on it. Agnes, the cashier from the day before stood beside you looking at the close doors

-"What are we looking for?" - she asked leaning closer to you and you turned to look at her

-"Agnes..."-her name sounded so sweet on your lips-"I lost something yesterday and I think is here... I hope is here" - Your voice sounded like a plea to the gods

-"What did you loose?" - she asked with worry on her eyes

-"A black notebook with some silly drawings on the cover... It has my notes for work and I had some important Intel on it and I need it"-You really sounded desperate

-"Intel on what?" - she asked curious

-"On some local news... You know, the kidnapping of the whole town and all... You don't remember if yesterday someone brought you a lost notebook?" - You looked into her eyes and she held her bag tighter

-"I shouldn't let people from the outside come in before we open, but follow me, let's check the lost and found" - she took your hand and pulled you to the side of the store. Her fingers where holding you tight and that made you smile a little, her hands were soft and they had the perfect size to hold yours.

She opened the side door and pulled you inside with her, looking for the office without letting you go.

When you finally got there, she pulled a box from the closet and put it on top of a desk, letting you search for the notebook without any luck.

She stared at your face, looking how your eyes got watery when you searched the box for the second time hoping that it would appear

-"Hey..."-she took your hand again stopping your search-"Let's check the store together..."-she whispered and you nodded. Even at the risk of losing her job if someone looked at the cameras and saw that she had let someone from outside the company in before they even opened, she helped you look for the notebook all over the store.

-"I think I got it!!"-she yelled and you ran towards her, when you saw her holding your notebook proudly on her hands, you let out a loud yelling of happiness and hugged her tightly

-"Oh my god! You are a life saver Agnes!" - You couldn't stop holding her and she laughed

-"How do you know my name? I've never told you... And I don't know yours either now that I think about it..."-she whispered and you let her go laughing a little embarrassed when she handle you the notebook

-"I saw it yesterday on your name tag... I'm (Y/N) by the way... Thank you so much for this..."-you looked at the book in your hand and she smiled

-"Lovely name..." - she whispered looking at your smile and you blushed a little under her intense gaze

-"Do you want want to go for a coffee? It's on me..."-you boldly offered and she smiled sadly

-"I have to work..."-she answered and you felt a little disappointed without knowing why

-"Rigth, of course, I'm sorry" - You tried to quickly excuse yourself

-"But my shift finish at 6... Maybe we can go for dinner?" - she asked and your smile grew

-"I would love that" - You wrote your number on a piece of paper from your notebook and gave it to her-"See you soon, thank you again!" - You smiled and let her go on with her day.

That first dinner was surprisingly good, the conversation seemed to have no end and she picked an excellent spot that you haven't seen before in that small town. She was sarcastic and funny, she knew how to flirt and she was charming and gorgeous and you couldn't get enough of her.

So after that nigth, after a couple days, you came back to her store to buy something only to have an excuse to see her again and talk to her. And then you repeatedly did the same until you started dating.

After a year together you got married and moved to Agnes' house, and a year after that, you started the process to have a baby together.

At some point along the way, you didn't know exactly when, you realized that she was a witch. If you connected the dots that she lived almost next door to where the scarlet witch was but still didn't remember her, or that some of her books at home were in Latin and talked about spells, or that she herself did a "joke" spell before you got pregnant and it worked... It seemed very obvious what she was...But she seemed like a nice witch.

You as a reporter got interested in her and started to study all the books that she had and all the story behind her, you found out that she was Agatha Harkness a powerful old witch, but for you she was your sweet and perfect Aggy.

When she started to get lost in her own mind, you used all the things you had learned to break her spell, and when your Aggy was lost behind the powerful Agatha Harkness, you used the song of the road that she used to sing to your belly, to try to bring her back again.

But now you were stuck on the stupid road with no hopes of bringing her back and no idea how to get back home.

You took your notebook with spells out of your pocket and you saw how it was filled with memories, notes, phrases and information all involving Agatha... All the things you investigated for her and now she couldn't even remember you or cared about you being pregnant or about what you have done for her. Rage and sadness filled your body and you throw the book away, seeing how it fell outside of the road and the dirt consumed it. You signed and sat on the dirt, desperate tears filled your eyes and and you hug your legs

-"I want to get out..."-you whispered between sobs

-On the other side of the road-

-"Hughhh, stop it!" - Agatha yelled grabbing her head, she didn't knew how, but every time you thought about something or remembered anything, she could feel it on her head too and that was really anoying to her, her mind was usually so calm and yours was so loud.

-"Agatha... Let's go bact to her, I think we need her, we've been walking for hours and we have no test ahead, clearly the road wants her with us..."-Lilia said worried about you being alone

-"The road is bullshit..."-she murmured between her teeth-"Let's sleep a little, we can keep going in a few hours" - she said firmly and nobody dared to say anything else about it because they were scared of making her more angry.

While everyone slept, Agatha thouth about you, specially about the baby, she didn't knew if you were telling the truth but she was intrigued about it, if she started a family with you, you must be really important to her, important enough to move on after all this time.

A glimpse of something shiny on the middle of the road cough her eyes, she stood up and grabbed a dusty notebook, your notebook. She recognized it immediately because you had it all the time in your hands. When she open it, the first thing she saw was a lyrics of a song, her original song that she used to sing with Nicky. The only other person that knew that song was her and Rio, but apparently she sang that song to you at some point and you save it on your notes.

She also saw full paragraphs about her, a drawing of her pin, notes about enchantments, a list of songs and baby names... Baby names, she remembered picking baby names with you a few days ago when the pregnancy test came out positive, she remembered you on the bathroom of the house, crying and hugging her.

She kept reading the book, it was like a diary about your and her life together, every important thing was inside it, even a few pictures, including ones of the wedding you had. You seemed so happy with her, nobody has never smiled so much because of her, and in all the pictures she was smiling even bigger looking at you. Her heart started clenching more each time she read a new page, she could feel your love in your notes, until she reached one in particular

"Even if you don't recognize me anymore and you don't remember the love you had for me, the love I have will cover for the both of us..."

She remember when you told her that when she tried to kick you out of the house and that made a clic on her head, Agatha remembered, finally she remembered everything.

How you met, that spark, your first time together, when you got married, when you decided to have the baby and how you took care of her when she started to loose it...

She remember how you stayed by her side always. Even when she no longer recognized you, and unless you followed the silly illusion her head was living in, she wasn't able to see or hear you either, you stayed. Even though she no longer knew who you were, you made a vow with her and wanted to take care of her while she was "sick", so you found a way to help her eat or shower. You pretended to be a waitress and tell her she was on a restaurant so she would eat her food and pretend to be a masseur on a spa so she would shower. Agatha remember that, remembered your care and your worry even when she treated you badly, she remembered your love for her...she remembered all that and fell for you again, she finally remembered her love for you.

-"Fuck!" - she closed the book feeling like an asshole

-"They are coming!" - Lilia woke up scared, telling the others that the Salem seven where close. Agatha grabbed her coat

-"Let's go, we need to find her before they can hurt her" - she ordered and the others followed her.

-On your side of the road-

After a few minutes of crying you also fell asleep and when you woke up, you were no longer on the road, you were on your confy bed, hugged by the covers. You sighed in relief and snuggled more into the comfort of the mattress thinking that all that had hapend was just a bad dream

-"Are you planning on staying on that bed all day?" - a deep voice took you out of your peaceful place and you sat on the bed scared to see Rio sitting at the edge of it. If you were still on a dream, she was a completely nightmare following you everywhere

-"How did I got here? What are you doing here? What do you want? If you want Agatha go ahead, I don't care anymore"-saying those words made your heart hurt, but you were tired of trying to get love from the witch with no results at all

-"She hates me, she doesn't want to be with me or see me... Remember that conversation around the fire? she is my scar... I don't know if you know this but we had a son together many many years ago... But he was sick and it was my fault, I tried to give them more time together and she tried to keep him away from me, but eventually I had to do my job and he had to come with me... Agatha never forgave me for it and I didn't forgave myself either..."-she talked with her serious face as always and you couldn't avoid the feeling that you were in danger with her close

-"If you want me to feel sorry for you, telling me that you had to kill your son, it's not helping..."-you whispered

-"I took you out of the road..."-she confessed and surprised you-"You wanted to get out and the Salem seven where very close to you while you slept so I took you out... Because Agatha wouldn't forget me ever if I had to take another one of her children away... Or her wife..."-the word wife was painful to her, you were having the life that they could never had, but she would do anything to see Agatha happy

-"That's... Thank you..."-you didn't knew what to said, you figured that she was death itself when she told you that she was "THE" green witch, but she was bending the rules of life for Agatha

-"Don't... Just take care of her okay?... And close that fucking door to the "road", like now"-she order and you stood from the bed

-"How do you want me to do that? I have no powers..."-you asked confused

-"You created it, you can close it... Or he can, you just have to let his powers control you again" - she told you pointing to your almost invisible belly. The baby was made from Agatha's spell, it made sense that you had power while he was inside you. When you turned to look at her, she was gone already.

Still confused, you ran to the basement and grabbed a piece of chalk and a few candles, remembering the spells that you had studied, you started to repeat the Latin words over and over until you saw the door desapear. Tired and a little confused of what you were capable of, you sat at the floor trying to catch your breath, hoping that Agatha and the others would find a way out.

Meanwhile inside the road, Agatha and the others were running looking for you and screaming your name when she noticed how the sky of the road started to shrink and how the trees beside them began to desapear, little by little everything started to fade around them

-"Fuck! Off the road! Let's go to the mud people, let it swallow you" - Lilia yelled, she saw this happening before and she knew what they had to do even if she didn't knew why. Although they were not quite sure if Lilia was in her right mind on that moment, they decided to listen as it seemed to be the only possible option. They all waded into the mud and fell under the road right next to an exit, using it to escape safely just in time before the place collapsed behind them

-"Well... That happened..."-the protection witch said breathing heavily

-"Its this another test?" - The potion witch asked

-"I think we are truly out..."-Lilia said.

Apparently they had come out in some underground construction and Agatha didn't waste a second in running out looking for a way out to see if she could find you

-"What about the end of the road?!" - they asked running behind her

-"I don't care about that, I need to find my wife!" - The purple witch screamed and when she finally got outside and saw that they weren't so far away from her house, she breathe out in relief. Immediately she went to the house, and when she was about to open the backyard door, the color left her skin when the door opened alone and she saw death itself leaving the house, Agatha couldn't avoid imagining the worse, that she was there to claim your body because you couldn't get out of the road in time

-"Please no..."-The witch begged her ex lover, but the green witch just walked away without saying anything else. Agatha opened the door with shaky hands and the others followed her closely

-"Aggy! Lilia! You are all okay!" - Your voice pierced their ears as your body crushed against them hugging them all taking them by surprise

-"I thought I lost you" - Agatha's voice was broken, vulnerable as she hugged you alone, closer to her-"I thought I had lost you after being an asshole to you, I... I'm sorry... I remember you, all you did for me, I remember how much we love each other, how much I love you" - she whispered pressing her forehead against yours and letting one of her hands rest against your belly. You smiled feeling safe and happy again. But your happiness ended quickly when you saw how the sky turned gray

-"Oh no... They got out too" - Lilia said watching how the Salem seven where walking down the street

-"Look guys, this is my fight, you don't need to be here... " - Agatha said but got interrupted

-"This is not the time to be good Agatha after being a bitch all this time..."-Jennifer said

-"We will protect you... After all that's what convens are for" - Alice said looking at you and then at Agatha- "I will blast you... Just don't take it all..."-she said and the purple witch nodded...

-9 months later-

-"He is gorgeous..."-Lilia said holding your baby on her arms for the first time. The little baby held her fingers in his little hand watching all the women around hin

-"He is, but now it's time for Aunty Aliceee to hold himmm" - The protection witch said excited in a pitchy voice while you watched them from your hospital bed

-"No! I was the second one to hold David, come on!" - Jennifer started fighting with the other witches making you laugh. You named your baby in honor of your neighbor that you lost on the road.

-"Love come here..."-you whispered to Agatha who was looking outside from the window. She gave a last look and closed the blinds smiling at you-"Are you okay?" - You asked and she nodded, happy to see that death was nowhere to be seen meaning that you and the baby where healthy and safe

-"Never better, I got everything that I need rigth here" - she kissed your forehead and hugged you protectively whispering sweet things on your hear.

[karaeilishh]

can u write something about the pet names billie uses 😘😘

☆彡 pet names - b. eilish

✩ - baby

the most common to use. it happens almost all the time; when she wants to comfort you or fuck you. it doesn't matter.

⋆ "come here baby, i missed you"

⋆ "baby, tell me what's bothering you?"

⋆ "thats my baby...you take me so well"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ love

almost the same, but for her this name means a lot. she prefers to call you like that only when you are alone or she needs to show all her love.

⋆ "its been a terrible day, love. can we just spend some time together?"

⋆ "don't cry my love. i will always be by your side, you know it"

⋆ "come on love, we need to get out of bed”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ mama

almost always when she wants to tease you or during sex.

⋆ "fuck, mama, just sit on my fucking strap or i'll destroy you”

⋆ "nice dress, mama. i'll deal with you tonight. don't wear anything underneath"

⋆ "damn mama… i can never get enough of you"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ my heart 

at first you found it a little weird, but every time she calls you that, you know she's tired or upset.

⋆ "my heart, can you give me a hug?"

⋆ "i heart you" instead of "i love you"

⋆ "can you not go to work today, my heart? I don't want to be alone"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ my girl 

she mostly uses this name when you are in public or with friends. she likes how you shy when she says "my". billie found it really cute when you first told her.

⋆ "hey my girl. my friends behave well around you?"

⋆ "dude, hands off. that’s my girl."

⋆ "are you cold, my girl? take my jacket, please"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ angel

this name making you shy you a lot, so she always uses it to push you to orgasm or to praise you.

⋆ "i knew you could do it. i’m so proud of you, my angel."

⋆ "come on angel… cum on my face"

⋆ "my angel is needy today, hm?"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ slut

she only started calling you that after you gave her consent. she only uses that name during sex. billie would never allow herself to call you that to really insult you.

⋆ "such a desperate little slut for me, aren’t you?"

⋆ "shallow it like a good little slut you are"

⋆ "you want more? i’ll give you more, slut"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ amore

billie didn't even notice when she started calling you that all the time. but it started after your trip to italy.

⋆ "amore, you wanna take a photo? it's so beautiful here"

⋆ "i turned on the movie you wanted to watch, amore, come on"

⋆ "I just ordered three pizzas for us, amore"

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

✩ princess

she calls you that mostly when she buys you something, which happens all the time

⋆ "I'll buy you this whole store, princess, just ask"

⋆ "you look like a real princess in this dress"

⋆ "don't be shy to ask me for anything you want, princess"

requests open !!

[somecookie]

Bold of you to assume my problem is being unable to approach women. I actually can't approach anyone at all (in a romantic way). Rather than being afraid of women or men or a relationship, i just can't see myself going out and. Idk. Asking? Like how do y'all get into relationships, or even just hookups or anything?

I don't understand. I don't think I would like being initially approached by someone with a goal in mind that goes beyond "hey I wanted to talk to you", and so I don't do so either. If I see a handsome guy or a beautiful girl I don't think "I wanna date them" or "I wanna sleep with them", I think "damn they're beautiful" and move on. If I get talking with someone I find very physically attractive I treat them largely the same as I would any other conversation partner. I don't "flirt" either, I find it a weird way to hold a conversation. Dancing around a subject matter in such a way seems dishonest to me. Rather than throwing random compliments around trying to convince someone to like me I'd prefer getting into a conversation that's mutually enjoyable beyond simple pleasantries. The closest thing to flirting that I do is sort of tesse people softly, but that's just something my family has always done, it's just a very normal way to show affection on any level to me. It's also easily misunderstood as malicious, so I don't usually do it with people I don't know well.

So yeah. I don't go into conversations with any goal regarding the relationship I share with the person in question, because that seems weird and dishonest to me. It's also why I don't like or get dating apps. I feel like if I chat with someone on hinge, they expect the relationship to turn either sexual or romantic or both, which I don't like. It's not anyone else's fault, I'm sure I'm the weird one, but I personally feel like those things need to evolve naturally. This doesn't mean slowly. Hookups can absolutely happen from this - if I met someone i found attractive and they thought the same, the conversation should generally drift to topics surrounding the mutual attraction, from which a certain mood can evolve. But I don't think even that should start with that exact intent. Again, I wouldn't talk to someone just because I want to sleep with them, rather I'd sleep with them because of the conversation and/or connection we shared.

This is long, convoluted and utterly unreadable. Good thing nobody will read it 👍

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

little things daddy!chan would do for you

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᯓᡣ𐭩 opening doors - main doors, car doors, fuckin.. revolving doors! any door, he’s holding it open for you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and on the subject of car doors, seatbelts - one of my favorite things. when he’s opened the car door for you and made sure you’re comfortable, he reaches across to buckle you in himself. he has to make sure his princess is safe.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 touching you - any chance he gets, this man’s hands are on you. and i don’t mean in a sexual way. (tho there is plenty of that too) i mean.. holding your hand (or letting you hold his pinky), his hand on your thigh while he’s driving, his hand on the small of your back as you walk through a crowd, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind as youre standing and waiting in line for coffee. he’s constantly touching you. it’s comforting for him but also, he knows it’s comforting for you to know that he is always right there.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 carrying things for you - this is kind of broad, but anything that needs carrying, he’s got it. oh you went to the store and got some things? he’s got all of the bags. even if you offer to help. he’s got it. is he struggling to carry everything up the stairs? yes. but you will not lift a finger. he knows you are more than capable of doing it yourself, but he wants to be the one to do it for you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paying for you - no matter how many times you tell him you can pay for yourself, that your feel bad when he constantly pays for you, he’s going to do it anyway. because you’re his baby and that’s what daddy’s do. it’s just another way for him to feel like he’s taking the best care of you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 making your appointments/ phone calls - maybe this is just my personal fantasy, but if you’re uncomfortable making phone calls, he’s got that for you. need to schedule a dentist appointment but you’re too scared to call? he’s got it. you’re feeling sick and need to call out of work? he’s got your boss’s number saved in his phone already. but he would do it in a way that doesn’t reveal that you’re too nervous to make the call yourself. he knows that can be embarrassing.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 cycles! - if you’re someone with a menstrual cycle, he’s got that figured out. may even have an app on his phone that helps him track it. and when he knows that time is close, he’s ready. he’s got all your favorite snacks, your preferred hygiene products, and your favorite movie loaded up on the tv already.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 checking in - he’s a very very busy man. but that doesn’t keep him from checking in on you. just random ‘i love you’ or ‘i’m thinking of you’ texts throughout the day, texting you at meal times to remind you to reheat the food he prepared for you. calling when he has time just to tell you how much he misses you. but also just checking in on your feelings. “are you having a good day, princess?” “oh you’re feeling down? let daddy help.”

ᯓᡣ𐭩 listening! - always makes sure he’s listening to what you say. your voice is one of his favorite things. you always have his full attention. his phone is down, his eyes are on you.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and speaking of his eyes being on you, that’s another thing! eyes on you at all times. if he absolutely has to leave your side, you’re always in his line of sight. and if he isn’t physically with you, your location is on and shared with him. this is just his way of comforting himself, knowing that you are safe and sound.

ᯓᡣ��� activities - anything that makes you happy. he just wants to spend time with you. you want to lay on the floor and color in your coloring book? he loves that. you want to sit on his lap and watch while he plays video games? he loves having you close. you want him to paint your nails? he hopes you pick the pink color because it’s his favorite on you. anything your little heart desires.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 making sure you’re basic needs are met! - this one might not be considered a ‘little thing’ that he would do for you. because to me, this is a huge thing! but making sure you’re eating, making sure you’re getting enough rest, helping you wash your hair or shave your body. helping you out of bed and helping you to get dressed.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 constant reassurance - he knows how your brain works. so to combat that, he’s constantly telling you things like: “im here, im not going anywhere.” “you’re doing such a good job.” “im so proud of you.” “i love you so much.” lots of head pats and holding you as he sways back and forth, lots of soothing circles on your back and loving smiles sent your way.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

okay i should probably stop now. this has gotten longer than i intended lol here’s my masterlist if you’re interested in my other work, and here’s my kofi if you’re interested in sending me a tip. reblogging is a great way to support me also! thanks for reading :)

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[zara-renata]

The pool | ao3 | my fanfic masterlist

Summary: You dream, you do some art, you go for a swim, Sylus destroys part of his office, you discover the hot tub, you're close to catching a clue. A 'morning' in the life at Onychinus HQ. Part 17 of the Sylus series.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV, some Sylus POV MC is referred to by they/them pronouns as a placeholder for your preferred pronouns. This story contains: soft Sylus, embarrassed Sylus, fluff, angst, grief, profanity, mentions of self harm, self-destructive urges, mc with self esteem issues, obscene art, nudity, the twins being the twins

This is what it feels like. Lured to the edge. Balancing on the cliff. You probably know how it ends, before you even realize it's beginning. But the knowing doesn't stop you from leaning, leaning, until the gravity of the inevitable pulls you down into the fall.

Wet cobblestones, moss growing between the cracks. Fallen leaves, slick from the recent rain, gathered in the gutters, piled against the garden wall lining the uneven sidewalk. The scent of damp earth, and the pleasant smell of a wood-burning fire.

Night. Lamplight puncturing the dark at even intervals, marching into the distance. Each lit lamppost haloed by the mist, edges blurred. The muted light bathes everything in warm tones, a sunset’s yellow. Beyond the pools of light—an ocean of night.

Light rain makes no sound as it drifts to the ground, as it coats the hood drawn up over your hair. It would be bone-chilling, if the wind were blowing, but the night’s air is still. You see your breath in puffs of white. You feel like you are the last person on the planet with how quiet the streets are. It is just you, the mist, your footsteps in the pools of light, the eddies of dark between.

You are reminded of the holidays with your gran and Caleb, the way the air smelled in winter, when you would emerge from the metro and walk the last few blocks to your grandmother’s home. Hot, abundant holiday meals, the undercurrent of excitement in exchanging gifts. The scent of pine. 

Winter’s dark nights, softened by the glow of your little family.

You don’t know why you’re walking through this neighborhood, on this dark winter night. It doesn’t matter, really. The woodfire, the leaves, the stillness of the mist. Linkon City’s streets are never this deserted, even in the middle of the night. The solitude is a welcome reprieve from the constant presence of other people, their existence weighing on your subconscious in a way that you only notice when it’s absent—a form of relief, of your breath coming easy for once.

To your left, the high garden wall of a residential building. To your right, a quiet street, stretching forward into the distance, disappearing into the night. On the other side of the street, darkness. You get the sense of open space. The lamplight, though not very bright, is blinding against the black night. No matter how long you stare into the darkness, you can’t discern anything beyond that sense of open space. Like you’re at the very edge of the city. Maybe even the edge of the world. You’re tempted to cross the street to see if you could just let yourself fall and continue falling into forever.

You shake your head. What a strange thought. You have your family waiting. Your colleagues. Your work. A whole life, really. 

But do you? Your footsteps are muted by the slick leaves, the misty night. There is something you’re forgetting—you just don’t know what it could be. You’re on this lovely night walk, with no particular destination in mind. You’ve been walking on this sidewalk for what feels like a long time now, but the garden wall does not end. You do not see the end of the road, no matter how far you walk.

What are you forgetting? A woodfire in a small fireplace. The scent of pine. Plate after plate of food, apple pie.

Why are you tempted to cross the street, tempted to see what endless depths lie on the other side?

You’re forgetting something. Gifts wrapped clumsily but carefully. Ribbons that shine in the light from the fireplace, a string of lights draped over the window.

Apple pie, warm on your tongue.

You stop walking. You listen, straining to hear… something. Something you’re forgetting. You turn and look behind you. Just the garden wall. The leaves piled along the curb. The street stretching into the night. The way back is a mirror of the way forward. There is no end, there is no beginning. There is only the street, the lampposts, the leaves, and the darkness on the other side.

You take a step off of the sidewalk, onto the cobblestoned road. Still no sound. Just the small clouds of your breath. Just the crisp scent of a cold, wet winter day.

You need to see what’s across the street. A muted feeling of fear sweeps through you as you take another step. Just a few more, and you will leave the pool of light from the streetlamp. You won’t be able to see the edge if the world does drop off on the other side. You will simply take a step, and there will be nothing—

You feel like you’re peeking over the edge of a tall building, knowing that the flimsy handrail will give way if you lean too hard. But you can’t stop yourself. You take another step.

You should stop. You have your family waiting, after all.

But you’re forgetting something.

An apple rolls off a cutting board. It hangs suspended in the air, as if time has stopped.

You’re forgetting something, but you don’t want to remember what it is. You take another step.

You are caught between forgetting and remembering, now. What’s holding you back? Perhaps when you reach the edge, you will mirror the apple. You will hang suspended, between forgetting and remembering, and you’ll never hit the ground.

You need to know. Your curiosity would always lead you into trouble. Gran would scold you for it. Caleb would tease you for it. Not the curiosity itself, but the boundary-pushing, the rule-breaking you’d commit to satiate it. You used to have to know, no matter how terrible you knew the knowing would be. Now though—now there are things you do not want to know. But you don't know why you changed. You lean back, slightly, and then sprint out of the safe pool of yellow light. Your feet hit solid ground, echoing on the cobblestones. Until you take another long stride and then—nothing.

You are falling, into the black. You are not the apple. You are deadweight, and you are falling, falling, falling, with your heart in your throat, your stomach turning inside out, so terrified that you can’t even scream.

You’re going to die. The apple, no longer suspended, falls the short distance to the worn wooden floorboards of your grandmother’s house. When it hits, it explodes like a bomb—all sound is sucked from your plummeting trajectory, and all you hear is a high-pitched whine as you continue to fall.

“Darling, wake up,” a deep voice says in the black, right before you splatter onto the unseen ground.

You fall back into your body in terror, only to find that it’s held tightly by strong arms—

Sylus.

He is cradling the back of your head in his big hand, holding your face to his chest. He’s rocking you, as he did in the shower, his cheek resting on the top of your head. The high pitched whining from your dream is coming from your throat, not from the tinnitus in your ears from a bomb exploding.

You gasp.

Sylus lifts his head to look down at you. “Finally awake?” he asks, but not with his usual teasing manner. He’s pale—more pale than usual, and his eyes are wide.

You can’t speak. Part of you still feels like you’re falling. Part of you still feels the impact of when you hit the ground. All of you remembers what you were forgetting in the dream—your family is gone, and they’re never coming back.

You can’t speak, so you just throw your arms around Sylus’s neck and cling to him, burying your face where you previously bit him, where his neck meets his shoulder. It’s not close enough. 

You’re still falling. You’re still hitting the ground. Your family is still gone, and you’re all that’s left.

You push back from him.

“Sylus—” you gasp again. It’s hard to breathe.

He cradles your face in his hands. “What do you need? Tell me.”

You stare into his beautiful eyes. Red is too simple of a word to describe them. They’re the color of red brought to life. They’re the heart of a fire, glowing on a calm winter night.

“Resonate with me?” you manage to ask through your struggling lungs.

He stares at you.

“Please?” you whisper.

He sucks in a breath and drops one of his hands from your cheek, fingers gliding along the skin of your forearm where you’re clinging to his neck. He gently pulls your wrist down, aligns his palm with your own. He slips his fingers between yours, and your hand is swallowed by his. He then clasps it, hard.

Everything fades away.

There is only Sylus’s hand, calloused and rough where it grips yours, Sylus’s heartbeat, fast and hard. You’re sinking into the night, but instead of a starless void like the dream, it is a galaxy under placid waves. Quiet, and strength. So much strength—raw power. Heat. A lava flow beneath, diamond netting glittering above, reflecting the hot glow below. 

You are pure energy—there are no borders, no limits, no restraints. None, except a chain leading from him, stretched taut, anchored in you.

The longer your energy flows into him, and his flows into you, the borders between you and him blur, melt. You are him, and he is you. You can’t tell if this overflowing sense of safety, of want—this yearning threaded with adoration—is yours or his. You are strength incarnate—you can dissolve matter with your mind, disassemble and reassemble atoms, all the constituent parts of a thing, a person. If you were to punch someone right now, they would implode from the force, a collapsing star.

You are aware of all this, faintly. The power of your evol—of Sylus’s evol, your evol, borders rendered meaningless, what’s his is yours, what’s yours is his—-it’s drowned out by the power of hunger, of missing him when he’s right in front of you, an instinct demanding that you grasp him and never let him separate from you again, to taste him, lick and bite, swallow, over and over again, a snake devouring itself, an endless loop of desire mirrored. You are together, scarlet, you are together, ink, particle and wave, solid and liquid—you are not you, he is not him, there is only…

His hand, swallowing yours. A chain anchored in both directions. You are no longer falling. You are no longer hitting the ground. You are no longer the only one left. The emptiness inside you, filled. 

Sylus’s hand. Sylus’s heartbeat. Your heartbeat. Your hand in his. The energy sloshing between you, overflowing—you can teleport. You cling to his neck, hold his hand tighter, and you both dissolve into scarlet-ink mist, swirling up, spilling across his ceiling. The opposite of falling. You feel laughter bubbling up in you, amusement—is it yours? The glee of playful weightlessness? Or his, at your antics with his power? His affectionate indulgence as he waits to see what you’ll do next. You teleport out of his room, bouncing from ceiling to floor—you knock over some edgy modern sculpture. It rolls off a table lining the hallway wall and shatters on the ground—your guilt morphs into more laughter, his again. How could he be mad at you as you ricochet through his home, your home—pick another sculpture to replace it, something you like, this time. You continue, ping ponging through his hallways, destroying more things as you go. Slowly, you get the hang of it, and then you’re a bullet, whooshing through his base until you’re in the greenhouse again. You want to go in, you want to re-materialize on the garden fuck-bed, hand still clasping his, arm still around his neck, but you’re worried you’ll disturb the birds or hurt the plants. You swirl, slingshot back out of the mudroom. Mephisto has been following you, and he squawks in indignation as you rush past him.

You settle for returning to Sylus’s bedroom, where you feel less bad about knocking the pretentious books off his shelves in your reckless enjoyment of this unfiltered power. You re-materialize on his soft, black duvet, arm still wrapped around his neck, hand clasped in his. You’re breathless still, but from the laughter, the joy of reveling in how good it feels to not know where you end and he begins, to not feel so alone—not alone, with the one whose company you crave the most.

You hug him.

He’s silent, as the connection slowly fades, as you let the resonance dissipate. What’s left doesn’t feel empty. You can feel him still, somehow, even though you’re you again, and he is himself again.

You sigh. “Thank you.”

He slings an arm over your waist, as you each lie on your side facing each other.

“Can’t say that I was expecting you to ask to resonate this morning, but you’re very welcome,” he says, thumb soothing along the skin of your waist where your sleep shirt has ridden up.

You’re overcome with relief. You had been so afraid to resonate with him again. The first time had been so overwhelming—no longer hating him, after you learned that he hadn’t killed your family. But still caught in a whirlwind of fear, fascination, trauma. The way he danced with you, the way he handled your panic attack—the only reasons you were able to resonate with him at all so soon after he had treated you so cruelly. You have spent all the time since blocking out that feeling of intimate connection, of drowning yourself in him. It occurs to you that he’s never brought up resonating again, since those long days trying to force you, since you were able to do so once.

You wince. “I’m sorry that it was so abrupt.”

“I told you I don’t want apologies from you. Who said the surprise wasn't pleasant?”

“Okay. Good.” You fall silent, just enjoying his hand on you, the connection that still thrums between you.

But of course he won’t just let you get away with saying nothing about your demand that he resonate with you. “Care to share what brought on the sudden request?”

“Not really,” you mumble, curling in on yourself like a shrimp.

“Mmm,” he acknowledges. His hand slides down, over your hip, curls around the back of your thigh. He tugs a little, and the connection is still so strong that you can’t deny his desire to pull you closer, as if his desire is still yours, and yours, his. You let him pull your leg over his own thighs, and then he rolls. You find yourself lying on top of him, his bare skin under your cheek as it rests over his heart.

He places a palm on the back of your neck, just holding you against him, while hugging you with his other arm.“Were you having a nightmare?” he asks. 

You’ve never told anyone about the night terrors that have contributed so much to your inability to sleep since your family was killed. You feel like you’ve swallowed a knife.

“I woke up because you slapped me in the face as you flailed. I assume you were dreaming about something,” he murmurs, but tightens his hold as you stiffen. “You were making a noise like you were in pain. I didn’t like it.”

You can’t speak. There is a knife stuck in your throat.

“Were you dreaming that Mephisto was trying to steal your ruby earring?”

You jerk your head up and find that he’s staring down at you, his wide mouth lifted in a slight smile. The image of Mephisto trying to pluck your earring from your ear is so ridiculous that you choke a little laugh.

“No? Then perhaps you were dreaming that Luke and Kieran were trying to drag you to karaoke night. You were terrified that you wouldn’t be able to compete against my talent.”

This time you laugh out loud. He frowns a little, as if indignant that you would find the idea of his talent preposterous enough to break you out of your inability to speak.

“It’s not that funny,” he gripes. 

You smile at him. “No,” you manage to say. “I wasn’t dreaming about either of those things.”

“But you were dreaming,” he says softly.

This time, you’re able to nod.

“Were you dreaming about a wanderer attacking you?”

You shake your head.

He’s quiet for a moment. You’re expecting him to narrow it down, to figure out what could possibly cause you so much distress, but he surprises you by not prying further into the details of your nightmares. “Do you have dreams like this often?”

You’re even more surprised when you find yourself answering honestly. “Almost every time I fall asleep.”

He squeezes you tighter and sighs. “Thank you.” 

And then he just… leaves it. You’re so relieved, you just hug him back.

He makes a sound, deep in his throat, that almost sounds like a purr. You drift like that, letting the final remnants of the dream wash away in the scent of his skin, his steady breathing, the stillness of his quiet bedroom.

Eventually his purrs grow louder, more steady, and you realize that he has started to snore. You lift your head and stare into his face. He’s asleep again.

His face is so soft in sleep, you can’t look away. You prop your chin on your hands, folded over his chest, and just enjoy looking at him. His eyelashes sweeping over his pale cheek. The frown between his eyebrows smoothed. His soft lips parted slightly. The insistent rumbles of his snores.

You don’t want to go back to sleep, even though you’d be happy to lie here with him forever. Resonating with him drove the horror of the feelings from the dream away, but you’re not eager to return to the possibility of another nightmare. You slowly sit up, careful not to jostle him. His snoring hitches, stops. But he doesn’t stir.

You sit on the side of the bed and notice that your phone is on the nightstand, plugged in. He must have done it for you, after you fell asleep before the movie even started. You feel a little sad that you still don’t know what his favorite movie is, but soothe yourself with the thought that Sylus is right—you have all the time in the world now, for a little while, to discover as much as you can about him. To satisfy your dangerous curiosity.

As you’re gazing at the phone, you notice that it now has some kind of cute little ribbon on it, and what looks like a cat’s paw medallion at the end of the ribbon. It matches your favorite color, which is also the color of your phone case. It’s adorable, and you’re tempted to reach for your phone to examine it more closely, but you stop before you actually pick it up. Sylus told you that Jenna approved of your leave. She will tell the team about your absence. You’re not ready to read what “you” texted Zayne when Sylus asked for his approval in securing your convalescent leave. Not yet. You don’t want to think about the real world right now. You want to dive into this dream and stay underwater in it until the very last moment. Tara, Xavier, Rafayel—they can live without you. You are convinced that your presence is just a blip on the radar of your friends’ lives. They’ll hardly miss you at all.

You leave your phone on the nightstand, promising yourself that when you do have to pick it up again, you’ll look at the little cat’s paw Sylus clearly gifted you and thank him for it.

You’re a little disconcerted, with the sudden freedom and safety of all the time stretching in front of you, but with Sylus in the bed behind you. You don’t have to do this alone. He told you to assume that he wants to spend time with you. There’s no one else staying at the house, besides Luke and Kieran, as far as you can tell. You can just… live, for a little while. What did he say? Recover, not just survive.

A feeling fills you, but you don’t have a word for it. All you know is that it feels good. You don’t question it. Not right now.

The only question you want to ask is what do you want to do, right now? 

You pad quietly toward the bedroom door, but pause to pick up the books that you knocked off Sylus’s shelves as you teleported, scarlet and ink, sparking mist. You read the titles—they’re all philosophy, psychology. Books to understand the breadth of human existence, the human mind. As if the person collecting them had to start from the very basics to understand what makes people tick. When you pick up the Humanity and Conquer book, you hold it in your hands for a moment, just staring down at it. The ampersand is positioned in such a way that when you first saw the title, you thought it read “Human Anal Conquer,” because someone’s passion was obviously graphic design and some overworked editor clearly approved the cover without even looking at it. You would laugh at the absurd memory, but you don’t want to wake Sylus. You set the book gently back on the shelf and head to the kitchen. There’s no point getting properly dressed if it’s just you, the twins, and Mephisto here.

Speaking of Mephisto, you turn and find him flying quietly behind you as he follows you from Sylus’s bedroom.

The answer to the question of what do you want right now? Coffee. Even if it’s from a pretentious french press.

As you approach the kitchen, you hear the now-familiar voices of Luke and Kieran.

“Oh, that’s the best one so far.”

“Do you really think so? I fail to see marked improvement between this one and the others,” Kieran says mournfully as you stop in the kitchen doorway.

It must still be “early,” in terms of Sylus’s flip-flopped sleep cycle—outside the vast windows looking out over the bleak landscape leading down to the N109 Zone’s imposing city skyline, it does not appear to be night, but rather dusk. You wonder how early it is in terms of Sylus’s morning, if the twins are already awake.

There is a fire burning in the large fireplace on the far wall, and its wood smoke scent reminds you of your dream. Strangely, instead of upsetting you, you feel what can only be the connection to Sylus thrum again, and the memory feels distant already.

You focus on the music drifting through the room instead. Something old, and bluesy, trumpets and piano, a smoky jazz voice singing about lost love. Not the kind of music you’d assume twenty year old dudes would like. But then again, nothing about Sylus and his inner circle is what you would have expected when you looked up into his beautiful face with its cruel smirk for the first time.

Mephisto flies to a perch in the corner of the room and ruffles his feathers before settling.

“I totally think so, you’re getting better and better, man,” Luke says, clearly trying to encourage his dejected brother.

You take in the scene before you, which consists of a very large, professional-looking espresso machine now squatting on the huge, black-marble kitchen island, with Luke and Kieran sitting on black leather bar stools in front of it, surrounded by a bunch of wide-rimmed mugs, each filled with what smells like coffee.

You take a step closer and see that in each mug, the clear outline of a dick and accompanying balls has been drawn in the foam of a latte.

The twins’ heads jerk up in unison as you bark a laugh that sounds more like a seal than human.

“I see Sylus made good on his threat to get a fancy espresso machine,” you say, dabbing at the corner of your eyes because you’re trying so hard to contain more of your insane laughter.

“All thanks to you,” Luke grins. “As you can see, we’re making great use of it!” He proudly gestures towards the dick art Kieran has been making.

“I wouldn’t call it great, but it is certainly amusing,” Kieran sighs, idly stirring a little wooden stir stick in the latest latte dick.

“Did you make all of these?” you ask.

“No, Luke made a few too. Here—” Kieran carefully scoots a mug closer to you, and you gasp when you look down at the meticulous, gorgeous rendering of van Gogh’s Starry Night painting contained in it.

“Now you see how he’s patronizing me with praise for my sad little penises,” Kieran grumbles.

Luke pats his back, even as he puffs a little with pride at your clearly impressed reaction.

“Your penises are awesome, Kieran. You just need to keep practicing if you want them to be photo-realistic.”

You try really hard not to laugh at this strange, earnest back and forth about dick art, but it’s a losing battle. You laugh, softly, but then clear your throat at Kieran’s disappointed expression.

“You’re way better than I am probably. I’ve never made latte art before,” you try to comfort him instead of continuing to laugh at him.

“Luke has never made latte art before either, but look at what he’s already made!”

Luke just nudges him. “You’re a lot better than me at a lot of things. Just think of it as a… an incentive? to practice.”

Kieran smiles at him. “You really are reading your thesaurus.”

Luke nudges him again. “I told you!”

They smile stupidly at each other for a moment, and you’re suddenly struck with a sharp pain of missing Caleb. Although he wasn’t your real brother, his presence in your life, a constant sidekick until your ways parted, you to the Hunter Academy and him to flight school, was a source of comfort long after you grew apart. The shared history alone…

The twins seem to notice your staring, and Luke gestures as the espresso machine.

“You wanna try?”

You shake your head to clear the grief from your thoughts, and it works, a little. “Try?”

“Latte art! You should try to draw something too!”

You stare at him for a moment. Normally you’d be too pressed for time—getting to work, getting to bed, laundry, dishes, vegging out in front of a stupid series if you hadn’t overbooked your rare time off. But Sylus, despite the absurd way he went about it, has gifted you with precious time. You don’t have to be anywhere at all. You can just… be.

“Yeah,” you smile. I do.” Luke whoops and holds his hand up. You stare at it, confused.

“High five, high five, high five,” he chants.

You laugh and slap his hand, hard. 

“Yeah! Okay, okay, fist bump!” he holds out his big fist, but when you make one and reach out to bump his, he slides his under yours and makes a peace sign. “Snail!” he laughs, wiggling his fingers, and your fist combined with his two fingers really do look like a cute little snail. Well, big snail, considering the size of his fingers.

All you can do is laugh again. Kieran gestures you to come over and shows you how to use the fancy as fuck espresso machine that Sylus had overnighted to his place based on your flippant comment. You would marvel at the insanity that is your life right now, but you’re indulging. Like this strange feeling filling you, you don’t question it. 

You just pay close attention to Kieran’s instructions, make a respectable looking latte, and look pensively down into the finished product while clutching a stir stick.

What should you draw?

Your gaze drifts between the dick and balls and starry night, between vulgar and highbrow. You decide not to overthink it and begin by lowering the little pitcher, pouring the concentrated microfoam into the liquid’s surface.

Kieran and Luke’s chatter melts away as you focus on your latte art.

It’s meditative, drawing the stir stick through the thick foam, the curves and swirls following. You could make this your new hobby, you’re enjoying it so much. After a final pour and swirl, you sit back on your stool in satisfaction.

“Oh, you done?” Luke crowds one side of you, while Kieran leans over from your other side. They’re quiet as they observe your handiwork.

“Can you even tell what it is?” you laugh, because you think you did a decent job, but who knows if anyone else shares your vision?

“Hmm, it’s quite lovely, just the design itself. But … is it an orchid?” Kieran tilts his head, his dark curls cascading over his forehead.

“Or a leaf? Like a fancy leaf?” Luke asks, tilting his own head, the mirror of his brother.

You’re about to answer when you yelp instead as a solid warmth materializes at your back, big arms wrap around your waist, and a voice like melted chocolate dripping along your skin rumbles next to your ear. “It’s a vagina, children.”

Luke and Kieran don’t even react to Sylus’s sudden appearance between them, only tilting their heads in the opposite direction as they observe your latte art with new eyes.

“Ooooh, now I see it!” Luke lights up. “And that’s the clit there at the top!”

“Indeed Luke—that’s what made me think it was an orchid!” Kieran turns to you. “You could be the next Georgia O’Keefe!”

You laugh. “You couldn’t even tell what it was. I don’t think I’ll be the next anything, but it was really fun to make.” You turn your head to meet Sylus’s red gaze as he remains leaning over your shoulder, observing your latte. “What do you think?”

He lifts a dark silver eyebrow. “Why this particular design?”

You shrug. “Just trying to balance Kieran’s fleet of dicks with some female representation in your base. Your men could use a different perspective besides the reigning patriarchy.”

“Ooh, that gives me an idea,” Luke lifts a finger like he’s just had the biggest Eureka moment since the discovery of volume displacement and hurries back to the espresso machine.

Sylus continues staring at you. “I suppose I can’t lament your lack of maturity when you were motivated by such a concern for equality.”

“Oh, I definitely also just wanted to draw genitalia like Kieran, but we’re gonna have to drink enough dick with all these mugs. I figured a little variety was in order,” you grin at him.

“You will absolutely not be drinking more than two of these,” Sylus orders. “I didn’t invite you here to have a caffeine-induced heart attack. You may have some green tea after you slurp your pussy and suck down one of these cocks,” he says sternly, but somehow—maybe through the connection that still echoes through you from the resonance—you can tell he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh at his own wordplay. Even when making a joke, he’s smug as hell.

You lean forward so that your mouth is right by his ear and whisper, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

In utter fascination, you watch as he shivers from your breath in his ear, and you feel like the raw power of his evol is still running through you from the realization that you caused such a reaction in his big body.

He turns his head to meet your gaze, so close that his nose brushes yours, lovely eyes fixed on yours. He opens his mouth to respond when suddenly Luke lets out a triumphant cheer.

“In the words of my badass brother, ‘Behold!’” he crows, pushing his mug over to you, Sylus, and Kieran, who is still standing at your side.

You stare down into the cup—and burst out laughing like a hyena.

A very detailed, highly accurate clenched asshole stares back at you.

“But why, Luke?” Kieran cries in horror.

Luke just beams. “Now the… what is the word? trifecta? of naughty bits is complete, and this one’s gender neutral. Everyone has an asshole! We’re not misogynist pigs! Sylus is a feminist and Kieran just likes dicks,” he tells you earnestly, like it’s very important to him that you don’t get the wrong idea about the twins’ stance on gender equality.

Sylus just hangs his head, the soft sweep of his hair brushing your cheek. “Look at what you’ve encouraged in my men,” he grumbles. “Now we’ve got anuses.”

You lay your cheek on top of his head. “I walked in here and Kieran already had an armada of dicks. I didn’t do anything but add a little diversity. Not everything is about your dick, after all.” You can’t help yourself and run your hand through his hair, tracing the shell of his ear with a fingertip along the way. He shivers again.

“I’m having a hard time remembering that,” he says, so softly that you could be imagining it. Before you can think too hard about it, Sylus straightens up and reaches into his pocket, where his phone has begun to vibrate. He remains close as he accepts the call, one arm still wrapped around your waist.

“Speak,” he commands, sounding irritated.

You let your attention drift as he grunts in response to whomever is speaking. The fireplace, the soft lighting, the evening darkening into night outside, Luke and Kieran’s chatter as they begin drinking their creations, insisting that the decorated lattes taste better than lattes without art, the scent of coffee. It all blends together, and Sylus’s warmth at your back anchors you in it. 

“I specifically told you to handle as much as you could without my input. And yet, the very next day, you’re calling me with this mess.” Sylus says softly, menacingly.

You turn to watch his face. He meets your eyes as he listens for another moment, looking increasingly bored.

Which you’ve learned means that he’s having big feelings that he’s trying to mask.

You place your hands on his forearm, slipping them under the sleeve of his soft sweater, and run your palms up to his elbow, and down again. He closes his eyes and exhales a deep breath, his expression softening as he does so.

“Fine. But I’m not coming in person. They will have to accept a video conference. If this happens again, just eliminate whoever is giving you trouble.”

He listens again for a moment. “I don’t care if it ruins another pair of Bontonis. They’ll make more next season. I. Am. Unavailable.”

He ends the call with a jerk of his thumb and slides the phone back into his pocket. He looks at you, his face neutral.

“You will have to entertain yourself for a little while. Aidan has already encountered a problem that requires my personal attention. I’ll find you when I’m done.”

You let your hand fall back down to his wrist and squeeze it gently.

“Okay.”

He doesn’t move, but instead turns his wrist so that the soft underside is facing up, still held in the circle of your loose grip. He puts his other hand over yours. “Are you going to be okay?”

You smile at him, filled with that strange, unnamable feeling, filled with the bizarre conviction that you’re still connected with him somehow, because of the resonance earlier. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I told you. I can handle your big scary men, and your big scary house.” And you mean it. 

He smiles faintly in response and then leans down. You have the insane feeling that he’s going to kiss you goodbye, but before his nose brushes yours, he stops, a funny expression coming over his face. He lets go of your hand and straightens. You let your own hand fall. He stares at you for a second longer, and then spins on his heel and walks out of the kitchen.

That welcome, good feeling drains out of you as he leaves. In its place is… nothing. 

How ridiculous, that you’d think he was going to kiss you, when he has made no attempt to do so, despite all of his physical affection, up to this point.

You stare at the empty kitchen doorway, and that feeling of connection to him drains from you as well.

What’s left behind is… well, it’s what you usually feel like. Nothing has changed, really. Your echoing insides. The knowledge, deep in your bones, that the last of the people who had any understanding of you are dead. The only ones who could possibly love you for you, and not for what you could do for them. The ones who knew you before you became a killer, a sword in the Association’s arsenal.

Nothing has changed at all. It’s only in the comparison that your usual state of being hurts so keenly as you return to it. 

In this moment, staring at the empty kitchen doorway, you’re viciously reminded of why you’re so terrified of even considering the possibility that Sylus could ever care for you beyond an entertaining acquaintance. How will you ever be able to recover after having only a small taste of Sylus’s full attention, a feeling of connection to him through the resonance, when he grows bored and no longer looks at you like he looked at you before he leaned down and remembered whatever made him stop—whatever brought him back to his senses, and sent him ricocheting away from you.

You have always told yourself that you’re a survivor. You can survive anything. You lived, when you shouldn’t have, while Caleb died. And he was the strongest person you’ve ever known. If you can outlive him, even if you shouldn’t have, you can outlive anything.

You force yourself to focus on the emptiness ringing through you. The emptiness that you’ve carried for longer than you can remember your own life’s events. Whatever feeling you had upon waking in Sylus’s arms—whatever connection you imagined with Sylus after the resonance faded—it’s an illusion. What’s real is tolling inside of you right now. Echoing through the hollow halls of your mangled heart, the silent bell of your solitude.

This may be a nice dream to indulge in, but it’s just a dream.

You’ll outlive this too.

You turn away from the empty kitchen doorway. The twins are staring at you.

“I really thought boss would have more rizz than this,” Kieran says, bizarrely.

“He’s too cautious for his own good,” Luke murmurs, sounding sad.

You don’t want to know what they think they just saw. Maybe they’re bored too, and ship you with Sylus because it’s something to do. You wouldn’t be surprised if your pathetic crush on their boss is fodder for some bet, which is why they’re keen on trying to convince you he’s such a great guy. It has nothing to do with you, whether they like you or not, whether they think you’d be a good partner for their boss.

Everything hurts, and you want to run. The feeling that always comes after the self-recrimination is welling up in you. You want to slap yourself for reaching for Sylus this morning, forcing him to resonate with you after your stupid nightmare, letting him in. 

You make a fist and squeeze as hard as you can. Your nails are too short to do anything, even as your knuckles pop from the strain. It’s not breaking your promise to Sylus. It doesn’t hurt, not in comparison to what’s happening inside you right now. He told you to bring yourself to him when you feel like this, but he’s busy with … whatever it is that Sylus does.

“Hey, do you want to drink one of those lattes now?” Luke asks tentatively.

“Or tea? We can also make some tea, if you prefer,” Kieran asks hopefully.

You try really hard to make your face smile, but by the look on the twins’ faces, you probably just look horrifying.

“Thanks guys. I think I’m just gonna—” You actually don’t know what you’re going to do. But you’re going to get out of this room, to begin. “I’m just gonna go.” You turn.

“You’re not going to go, go, right? Like…” Luke pauses, looks a bit constipated. “You’re not gonna run half naked out of the house with no shoes on again, right?”

Kieran hangs his head. “What my brother means is, if you’d like to leave the base, please take the Phantom. It will respond to your face, so you don’t need to worry about a key. Luke and I will swing by and pick it up from your place another time.”

You stare at him. “What do you mean, it will respond to my face?”

He glances at Luke, and then back at you.

“Every room in this house and every vehicle in the garage is programmed to recognize your face and authorize your entry and use.”

“But why?”

He tilts his head. “Did Sylus not tell you?”

You shake your head.

“Because Sylus wanted it that way.”

“But why?” you ask again, completely confused.

“Why do you think?” Luke demands, but Kieran puts a hand on his arm.

“Why would someone give another full access to his valuables, his fortress, and his secrets?” Kieran asks instead of answering your question.

Yes, my beloved?

Words he’s never said to you.

When you wake up, you will remember this, if nothing else.

It’s just a dream within a dream.

You relive him leaning down, a kiss that never happened, him disappearing through the doorway. The twins are still staring at you.

“I’m not going to make you guys chase me down the road again. And I’m still sorry for that. I’m just going to find something to do until Sylus is done,” you reassure them, head too full, chest too empty.

You need to get out of this room and move your body.

You wave and leave them behind, surrounded by mugs full of delicious coffee.

You hear the quiet flap of wings. You don’t even have to turn around to know that Mephisto is following you. It’s fine. You think that you should wander around the grounds one of these early “mornings” before it’s full night and see if you can’t pick up some shiny pebbles to treat Mephisto with. But maybe Sylus’s bird is just as much of a snob as his owner, and he only accepts treats in the form of rubies, sapphires, diamonds.

You want to move your body, but your feet hurt. You have that jittery feeling, where you know you’re really hungry because you haven’t eaten anything, but the idea of eating makes you feel sick. You need to move, first. You remember that the twins had mentioned a pool. You turn to Mephisto.

“Hey buddy.” You hold up your fist, wondering if he’ll get the message.

He flies to you and lands on your wrist, cocking his head as if in inquiry.

“Can you show me where your daddy’s pool is?”

He squawks quietly, and it’s just as grating as when he squawks at full volume. It finally dawns on you that it sounds as if Sylus recorded his own voice making crow noises and set that as the bird’s voice module. It’s uncanny, and jarring, and you think the idea is kind of hilarious, no matter how unlikely.

Thankfully Mephisto can’t read your mind, because he does not squawk in indignation as he would if he knew what you were thinking. He just takes flight again and begins leading you to the part of the house that contains the promised indoor pool.

Finally, he stops and hovers outside a plain black door.

“Thank you,” you nod to him and throw open the door, ensuring that he can fly in after you before it swings shut again. He flies ahead as your breath catches, settling on one of his perches that Sylus must have placed in every single room of the house to accommodate his “not-a-pet,” clearly beloved pet.  

You’re hit with the smell of chlorine, and you inhale deeply because you’re a weirdo and have always enjoyed the smell of chlorinated pools. It’s warm, much warmer than the rest of the house. Instead of the modern decor and ubiquitous black and maroon of the rest of his house, and unlike the colorful, messy tiles of the greenhouse, you feel like you’ve walked into a zen garden. The soaring ceiling is glass, like the greenhouse, with the night sky spilling into the huge space. Pale stone lines the floors, pale wood panels the walls. At periodic intervals, shelves are bit into the walls, each hosting a meticulously cultivated bonsai plant of some kind. There are low cushioned chairs, white fabric and pale wood matching the walls, scattered throughout a sort of sitting area before the pool area begins. And of course, there’s a bar along one wall, the bottles glittering, reflecting the soft lighting built into the floors and lining each wall of the large space. You joke about Sylus’s tendency to drink, but the evidence of it in each room of his house is actually starting to worry you. You shake your head and continue into the room. The stones narrow to a path leading to the pool itself. On either side of the path, pebbles that you associate with zen gardens stretch to the walls, with large rocks—boulders, really, dotting each pebble bed here and there. Along the edge of the pool, the pale stone provides a generous walkway leading in both directions, each ending with a door—one glass, the other solid. Lounge chairs line the walkway. At a glance you can see that through the glass door is a sauna. On the far side of the pool, which is probably olympic sized, floor to ceiling windows provide yet another view of the barren landscape stretching beyond Sylus’s home. 

You walk to the edge of the pool and disturb the still water with a toe. Lighting from the bottom of the pool sends the reflections of the rippling water against the glass, giving the effect of looking at the N109 Zone from the bottom of the ocean, somehow enhancing the view. The water is deliciously warm, where you expected it to be cool. You don’t even want to think about the energy bill required to keep such a huge pool this warm.

The space is so peaceful, with such a sense of soaring space, you want to cry. The whole space is simple—-no recreation of natural waterfalls, no waterslides or multi-level bathing areas. Just a huge, beautiful pool, in a minimally designed space. But every placement of rock, every design choice feels deliberate, thoughtfully chosen. You can imagine that Sylus probably flew in some zen garden expert to personally create the space for him. You could live in just this room for the rest of your life and be happy.

The emptiness, your self-pitying wallowing, the humiliated feeling of having imagined that Sylus would kiss you only for him to get that look on his face like he tasted something bad—you shed it like a second skin. You shed it like you begin to shed your clothes, not thinking about anything else. Just slipping out of your sleep shorts, your sleep tank top, your underwear. You carefully unwrap the bandages from your feet and let them slither down on your pile of clothes. You turn, run a few steps in one direction, ignoring the sting, and then take a running leap into the pool.

Under the water, all is quiet. All is still. You draw your legs up to your chest, wrap your arms around them, and sink to the bottom. Everything else fades away. 

When you run out of breath, you send yourself soaring to the surface, your gasp and the lapping water echoing through the beautiful room. 

You begin to swim, enjoying the stretch of your body, your weightlessness. Time pulls taut, snaps, becomes meaningless, as you leisurely swim laps in this lovely, secluded pool.

***

Sylus is in a bad mood. The only reason he didn’t teleport through the phone to strangle the people Aidan was meeting with during the highly unwelcome phone call that interrupted his latte moment with you was your hand caressing his forearm. He felt the rage slam into him the moment he felt his phone vibrate, his impatience a living, choking thing. But when he felt your calloused fingers drifting along his skin, the rage, the impatience, simply dissipated. What was left was not even a relief—it was like such negative emotions were never there to begin with. He recognizes that your ability to do this to him—to alter his entire mood, to change his course of action without even trying, is a weakness. If you only knew how much power you already have over him. He sighs. He wants you to know, if that means you will never doubt again what you are to him. But he can tell you’re still too scared to fully consider the possibility.

Sylus is in a bad mood, because he knows that he should be in a great mood. All of his plans are in motion. First, he has an invitation to the birthday party of a daughter of a potential business ally that he desperately wants to secure. Second, Aidan will be handling his business moving forward, for the most part. Even aside from your calming touch, Sylus is able to forgive today, because it isn’t Aidan’s fault that the presumptuous fucks supplying him with a certain number of high-grade protocores felt entitled to a face-to-face with the boss. They will be punished for their impudence, in time. But only after he has secured the product. And finally, you’re here, in his home, touching him of your own volition. What else could he possibly want?

He had carried you to his bed after you fell asleep before the film even started, and slept better than he has in years. He can usually manage four, five hours a night, and even then, his sleep is restless. His body is always on alert, even in the safety of his stronghold. But with you breathing softly next to him… he slept like the dead. It’s a testament to how relaxed you already make him that you didn’t end up seriously injured after slapping him in the face while he was dead asleep—his subconscious must have recognized that you were not a threat. Anyone else may have ended up paralyzed, or worse, due to his tendency to reflexively lash out against unexpected physical touch. Like that one time with Kieran. He closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. He refuses to dwell on it further. It’s in the past, he tells himself. Kieran is fine. And so are you.

Except you aren’t, are you?

Another contributing factor to his shit mood—he didn’t realize you were having night terrors, despite all the time he has already spent at your side while you sleep. How he managed to overlook such an obvious thing when he was plotting how to help you with your insomnia is—frankly, it’s sloppy. He suspects that the dreams involve your family. That your night terrors are tied to your new fear of using firearms. But he could also tell from your face, drained of color when he asked you what you were dreaming about, that you weren’t ready to discuss it. He has learned his lesson well from trying to force resonance with you at the beginning. He will not push you any further than absolutely necessary to get what he wants. You’re here now, in his house. He has the time to draw your fears, your nightmares out of you—to lance the wound and let it drain. 

And yet another reason for Sylus to be in a fantastic mood—even though he regrets the circumstances leading to it, you finally asked him to resonate with you for the first time since the auction. Feeling you filling him, feeling himself fill you. Watching you playfully test out his powers as your own. The joy you felt as you got the hang of it. The rush of being folded so tightly into you as you both were energy, sparking mist careening through the halls of his home. It took a huge amount of self control not to let his true feelings flood into you as the boundaries between himself and you melted in the resonance. You’re not ready yet. But when you are ready, when he can finally resonate with you after you know the truth of his feelings for you, he intends to flood you with them, to drown you so thoroughly in his devotion to you that you will never doubt him or his feelings for you ever again. 

But then he fell back asleep. He was sulking after waking up and finding you gone, irritated at being forced to come looking for you when you should have been right there for him to roll over on top of, to breathe in, to greet the new night with, only to discover you bonding with Kieran and Luke over obscene lattes. Just when he thinks his delight with you has reached its ceiling, you do something new, so effortlessly, and he finds himself floored again. His capacity for pleasure expands beyond what he could have ever imagined. Each new encounter with you is slowly teaching him that with you, there is no limit to how much joy he can experience.

But then the phone call. He was eagerly looking forward to having an uninterrupted day full of just his beloved. He didn’t even have any plans—no dates, no distractions. He wanted to follow you around, even if such wandering ended in simply sitting with you while you read a book. No music, no phone, no games, no diversions necessary, if he could just touch you while you turned the pages. In fact, he’d love it if you read to him. Your voice does things to him that no music can ever truly achieve. Pure, unadulterated peace, hearing you talk. He taps his temple. Well, except when you’re whispering You can’t tell me what to do in his ear. He groans. Oh, he might not be able to tell you what to do, but you can make him do whatever you want. 

Fuck, just thinking about it makes him… sloppy. So sloppy that he almost forgot himself as he was leaving you to go deal with his supplier mess. It felt more natural than breathing to lean down, offer you a kiss, take from you a kiss, feel his lips on yours in a swift moment of goodbye, a promise of soon, I’ll come back to you as quickly as possible.

What would you have done, if he hadn’t caught himself at the last moment, forced himself to straighten, to leave without taking what he has been craving in every free moment since your dream? Would you have welcomed him, as you did in the dream? Or would it set his progress back with you ten steps? Sylus isn’t accustomed to fear, but he fears returning to a place where you don’t reach out to him, stroke his hair, clasp his wrist, all without his bidding. He’s greedy, and he knows it. Now that you’re putting your hands on him, he never wants you to stop.

The dream. He shakes his head. Again, sloppy. He had intended to comfort you, not maul you, when he slipped into your mind as you slept. To say all the reassuring things he was too impatient to wait until you were awake for, and ask you to remember them so that you’d believe him when he said them again in the morning. A little trick. He’ll show you how to do it, when you learn that it’s one of many up his sleeve besides his ability to plumb the depths of a person’s soul for their deepest desires. He hadn’t planned to bait you into saying such sweet things to him. He hadn’t planned to be so overwhelmed hearing your true feelings about him, your true feelings that so closely mirror his own, his kindred spirit, his twin in a different, but no less meaningful way than Kieran and Luke are twins. Hearing you speak his own feelings, admitting you felt the same way, had broken his self control in a way that should be frightening. He marvels again at the irony. You’re so afraid of even considering the possibility that he could love you at all, let alone like this. When he’s the one should listen to Aidan and be afraid of everything you can already do to him if you so will it. 

He wants to kiss you again. His want is a living thing in his mouth. He can taste it, just as he can taste your tongue now, the memory more precious to him than all the protocores on the damn planet.

He will be patient. Until he’s sure that you’ll kiss him back in real life, just as you did in the dream.

He looks down at the bulge in his pants.

He will be patient, damn it.

He is in a shit mood, but now that the video conference is over, and his impudent supplier and his posse think they’ve managed to see the boss in deference to their power play, he intends to get in a better mood. There’s not a moment to waste. Well, at least, not any more moments to waste than those he lost this morning with you already.

Now, to find you. He hasn’t bothered to raise the screen back into the ceiling that he uses for video conferences and when he’s in the mood to catch up on the news in his office, so he pairs his phone with it and pulls up Mephisto’s app on his phone, tosses the phone on his desk. The screen flickers to life, and—he almost falls out of his chair.

You’re in the pool room. In the pool. You’re swimming leisurely, free style, your gorgeous, strong arms cutting through the water with knife-precision, your legs hardly making a splash as they propel you forward. Your glorious, exquisite, mind-breaking, naked ass on full display.

He covers his open mouth with his hand.

Sylus’s brain, with all of its clockwork finesse, perfectly calibrated to calculate every scenario and its multiple pathways to the next possibility, and the next after that, endlessly—its ability to conceive of multiverses, each playing out differently in parallel—his brain is overwhelmed, grinding to a complete halt in the face of your masterpiece of an ass and the question of Why aren’t you wearing a swimsuit when there are twenty swimsuits of various brands, designs and fabric sitting in the closet he made for you?

He can’t help himself. He stares at you, shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He needs to turn off this feed. He needs to turn off Mephisto. He hates that Mephisto is seeing what Sylus is seeing. Which is insane, because Mephisto is a mechanical bird and does not care that he is witnessing a wonder of the world right in Sylus’s pool. A wonder that neither he nor Sylus have permission to see. He shakes himself, steels his resolve, takes one last glance at the screen, at you, and reaches for his phone again.

Just as he’s picking it up, the door to his office bursts open and Luke and Kieran are huffing, panting, struggling to fit through the doorway first. 

“Not! This! Time!” Luke growls, ruthlessly trying to shove Kieran’s face back behind him, as Kieran attempts to sideswipe Luke’s legs from under him with a low kick.

“Boss’s office race game winner is ME!” Luke hops, avoiding the kick, and bodychecks Kieran into the other side of the door.

Sylus’s brain is still non-functioning, because instead of smoothly flicking the app off, he accidentally projects the sound along with the visuals on the screen.

The sound of splashing water is deafening, causing Luke and Kieran to both slap their hands over their ears, wincing, while also pulling their attention to the screen, where you’re still swimming ass-naked through the water. It takes a second, but once the images and sound register, they both whirl around, still squished in the doorway together, the breadth of their shoulders making the squeeze look painful.

“Boss, what the fuck?” Luke yells.

“Have you no shame, boss?” Kieran bellows at the same time.

Sylus curses, gives up trying to use the app, and snaps his fingers. The screen explodes in a mist of red and black which then dissolves into ashen mist.

Now that he doesn’t have to worry about Luke and Kieran being able to see you just as he saw you, he manages to flick the app off his phone screen. He stares down at his home screen, which is a picture of you asleep next to him, so achingly lovely it makes his heart jam every time he uses his phone. 

“Is it safe to turn around?” Luke yells again, causing Sylus to wince.

Sylus just puts his face on his desk.

He hears the rustling of the twins moving in the doorway, and then Kieran’s tentative voice. “It’s safe.”

And then… silence. Deafening silence.

Luke clears his throat. “Look. We, uh. Well, sometimes, when we really like someone… I think?—I mean, I don’t know if I’ve ever really liked, liked someone, you know, but I can imagine, maybe, that like, when we really like someone, we uh… spy on them like creeps with our mechanical crow?”

Kieran sighs. “No, Luke, what you said first is correct. What the fuck, boss?”

Sylus keeps his face planted in the desk. “It’s not what it looked like,” he groans.

“Well, what was it then? Because it sure as hell looked like you were using Mephisto to watch your hunter skinny dipping in the pool,” Luke scolds.

Sylus rolls his head so that he’s facing the twins, who both stand with their hands on their hips, looking at him with such disappointment he wonders if this is what having parents would be like.

“I didn’t realize what kitten was doing when I checked in with Mephisto. I was just about to turn off the feed when you two came bulldozing into my office.” 

“Oooh,” the twins say, in unison. Sylus has long been used to their uncanny mirroring.

He groans again. “Which, may I remind you, yet again—we’ve talked about the no-knocking issue. Now that we have a guest, you really have to remember to knock before you come in.”

They have the decency to look a little sheepish, even as they are clearly looking at him with suspicion.

“So you weren’t being an utter scumbag and getting your rocks off watching your hunter through Mephisto?” Luke asks.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Sylus growls. “I want kitten to know when I’m getting my fucking rocks off.”

“Eww, it’s like imagining our parents doing it,” Luke grimaces.

Kieran just winces, like the thought is unbearable.

Sylus stares at them. “Parents?”

Luke and Kieran look at each other, and then look back at Sylus. “Yeah?”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Well. You’re like. Work dad, right? And your hunter… they’re your chosen mate, right? So that makes them… also our parent,” Luke ticks off his points on his fingers, tilting his head in concentration.

Sylus can’t process this right now. He still has the image of your delicious ass in his head, and now he’s being confronted with sudden parenthood from his henchmen. Despite himself, however, he’s curious. “Would you be okay with… kitten. As… your parent?” He tries very hard to look bored. Why should he care if his employees approve of his beloved? Their opinion won’t change his feelings. They’re his henchmen, not his children. He suppresses a horrified shiver.

“Totally! They’re so fucking badass! And they’re hilarious!”

“And their willingness to play along with us, with the handcuffs and flare gun, with the latte art—I quite like them a lot. And watching them frustrate you, and throw duffel bags full of feathers at you, and shock you with their behavior in our pool, is amusing,” Kieran coughs, and then looks guilty for having admitted all that.

“Yeah, you could have chosen someone who just, totally sucks,” Luke adds. “But your hunter is fun!”

“Noted,” Sylus sniffs, ignoring the relief he is certainly not feeling because Luke and Kieran are his henchmen and not his kids. “We will never speak of this again.”

Luke and Kieran grin. “Sure, boss,” they chirp in unison.

“Was there a reason you steamrolled into my office in the first place?” Sylus ignores their obvious lie and changes the subject.

“Oh, not really. We just wanted to show you Kieran’s latest dick latte. The veins look great.”

Sylus rubs his temples. He has to install a new screen in his office because of his henchmen’s new hobby. A new hobby that they only have because of you, and your expression of interest in an espresso machine. If he wasn’t already aware of how much you’re changing his life, this would be another moment of epiphany.

“Take a picture, and I promise to look later. Right now I need to help kitten find the selection of swimsuits that are available.” Sylus is thrilled to have you swimming naked in his pool. In fact, he’d prefer it. But he wants you to have the option of a swimsuit. He suspects that you just didn’t realize that along with the rest of the things he has arranged to make your stay more comfortable, swimsuits are also among them.

***

You are weightless, and warm. Your arms and legs are growing pleasantly heavy, tired. Muscles well-used. You know that they’ll ache tomorrow—you’re not accustomed to swimming. Your workouts tend to be weightlifting, running. You used to run with Caleb, when you were still both living at your gran’s place. You take the memories and tuck them into a pocket. You don’t shove them down deep, but you don’t want to think about them right now. You don’t want to think about anything right now.

But now that you’ve worked out the anxious, jittery feeling from earlier, you’re really, really hungry. You wonder what time it is. If Sylus is done with his business. If he is, then you’d better figure out if there are any towels in here and get dressed before he comes looking for you. You finish your lap, hand touching the edge of the pool. You lift your head, preparing to haul yourself out of the water—and then squeal like a frightened rodent that’s just been stepped on. “The fuck, Sylus?”

Sylus is stretched out on one of the lounge chairs lining this side of the pool’s walkway. His chest is bare again—it looks like he’s wearing scarlet swim trunks. Two big, fluffy looking towels are on a low table next to him, along with a little bundle of dark fabric. Two cocktail glasses with little pink umbrellas sit next to the towels, along with a bowl full of… pastries? Croissants. Maybe cinnamon buns. Your mouth waters. His arms are folded behind his head, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s humming a little tunelessly, eyes closed like he’s on the verge of napping.

You sink back into the water until it’s up to your chin and just stare at him.

“Hello to you too, darling. Aren’t you getting hungry?” he asks, eyes still closed.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know that you’re probably hungry by now,” he smiles faintly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Did he watch you swim? Does he think you’re ridiculous, skinny dipping in his big fancy pool, a feral, uncivilized guest? You hadn’t even thought about a swimsuit. You just wanted to move your body, under the silent water.

“And interrupt your obvious enjoyment of our pool? I’m not in a hurry.” 

“How did you know I was here?” you ask, but you know the answer. Like the swimsuit, you hadn’t even thought about Sylus being able to reach you through Mephisto, just as he explained to you that you could reach him through Mephisto. How could you have forgotten months of Sylus’s stalking you through his pet bird? You’ve been here one day, and despite everything, you’re already forgetting to be on your guard.

“Guess,” is all Sylus says.

You scowl at him, but he’s still not looking at you.

“Well? Hungry?”

At his amused words, your stomach growls loudly. The lapping of the water seems to cover it though, because he doesn’t react.

“May I use one of your towels?” you ask, trying to figure out how to get covered up as quickly as possible.

“That depends.”

“On?” You’re so not in the mood for one of his games, but he seems playful.

“Do you want to keep swimming after you eat?”

You stare at him.

“It’s not a trick question. You can do whatever you want. Are you done in the pool, or do you think maybe you’d like to check out the hot tub in the other room? Or use the sauna?”

“There’s a hot tub behind the solid door?” You promptly forget everything else. Drinking a fruity cocktail at what feels like ten in the morning, wolfing down some croissants, and soaking your pleasantly tired body in a hot tub? And since Sylus is wearing a swimsuit…

“Are you going to come, if I want to use the hot tub?”

“Why thank you for the kind invitation. I’d love to,” Sylus’s lips curl further.

“Okay, then I want to use the hot tub. But I’m starving.”

“Can’t have that,” he murmurs. He sits up, eyes still closed, and gingerly pats the side table. You realize that he wasn’t just resting his eyes. He’s respecting the fact that you’re not wearing any clothes.

You want to tell him that he can look all he wants. That out of everyone in the world, he is allowed.

His long fingers find the little puddle of dark fabric, and he tosses it to you. Despite his eyes being closed, it lands right in front of you.

“Neat trick,” you snark.

“Having good hearing helps,” he smirks.

“I wouldn’t know,” you mutter, suddenly painfully aware of your tinnitus ringing in your ears.

“Use me then, whenever you need a pair of ears.”

You stare at him for a moment, but he just serenely waits. You pull the fabric towards you, and it spills out over your hand and down your wrist. A swimsuit. In what appears to be your size.

“Is this some kind of hint? Can’t have your uncivilized guest wandering around buck naked, even if no one else is in the house?”

Sylus cocks his head. “I’m here. The twins are still here.”

You shrug, but realize he can’t see the gesture. “It’s just my body. It barely does what it’s supposed to do these days—I can’t imagine that seeing it is particularly interesting for anyone, let alone you or the twins.”

“Then your imagination is severely lacking.”

You snort. “You’re very good for my ego, insulting my imagination.”

“I would hope it’s good for your ego when I’m complimenting your gorgeous body.”

You pause. What? “There’s no need to mock me.”

“Who says I’m mocking you?”

You take the hint and pull the swimsuit onto your body. Unsurprisingly, it fits perfectly.

“There. You no longer have to shield your eyes from the horrors.” You drip your way to the table, grab the bowl of pastries and one of the cocktails, and then head to the solid door on one side of the pool. 

When you’re faced with the question of how to open the door with your hands full, the tendrils of Sylus’s evol twist around the handle and pull.

“Thank you,” you murmur, before your breath is taken by the sight before you. Where the pool room was a study in soaring, minimal elegance, this room is small. Still with the ubiquitous floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the grounds, but the space is intimate. Steam rises from a pool—not a mere hot tub, but a small pool—tiled in the same colorful tile as that in the greenhouse, with underwater benches circling the edges. Moss-covered stones are piled on one side of the pool and dotted around the small room, where there is space between the large pine trees ringing the pool. You catch a whiff of pine over the scent of chlorine. It’s like being in a sheltered mountain hot spring.

You turn to find Sylus right behind you, looking at you curiously, holding the towels under one arm and his cocktail in one hand.

“All of this luxury, and it belongs to just one man,” you sigh, grateful that you’re allowed access, tormented by the thought of the poverty you’ve seen in the N109 Zone, in Linkon City.

“Well, the twins too,” Sylus shrugs.

“Do you ever have time to spend in here? Or are all these amenities in your base just for show? To be able to say to yourself that you own this, too.”

“I’m about to use it right now. Does that not count?”

You shake your head. “You know what I mean.”

He places the towels and the cocktail on the soft moss next to the pool and turns to you.

“May I?” he holds out his hand, and you give him the bowl of pastries and your own drink. He sets them next to the towels. 

“Come,” he tells you, holding his hand out. You put your hand in his, and he steps into the water, pulling you with him. The water is deliciously hot. Sweat breaks out on your forehead after just a few moments. The water comes up to your waist if you stand, but you let yourself sink until it laps around your neck. Sylus, still with that faint smile, pulls you towards him as he sits on the built-in bench that rings the pool next to where he set the towels, drink, and food.

“It’s true that the more you have, the more you want. I am not immune to being greedy.” He picks up the conversation again as he guides you to him and settles you on his lap.

You can’t help yourself—you wrap your arms around his neck.

“So you’re saying you have all this for show. That you never use it. That it remains here, consuming all this energy to stay hot for an owner who will never come, while children are hungry on the streets.”

“Careful, your tender heart is exposed again, darling,” he murmurs, reaching over to the bowl of pastries, selecting what is definitely a gooey cinnamon roll, and bringing it to your lips. “Bite.”

You stare at him. “And if I don’t?”

“You’ll stay hungry like the children you’re worried about.”

You scowl at him. “How can you not care?”

“It’s not that I don’t care. It’s that some children will remain hungry, whether my hot tub is ready for my kitten when it wants a bath or not. Depriving myself of the pleasures of life does nothing to help them.”

“Your hot tub funds could go towards feeding them.”

“How do you know I don’t have separate funds that go towards feeding them?” He gazes steadily at you. “Bite.”

“Are you saying that you do use your money for good, as well as for personal pleasure?”

“I’m insulted that you think ‘good’ and ‘my personal pleasure’ are mutually exclusive. I derive pleasure from my philanthropic efforts.”

“What kind of efforts?”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to brag, sweetheart. Let’s just say that my interests in supporting the public welfare are varied and expensive, even with the tax write-off benefits. And yes, such interests do include funds that go towards improving the lives of children.”

You eye him, trying to gauge his sincerity.

“Are you satisfied? Will you stop thwarting my efforts to satiate your hunger now? Bite.”

You lean forward and take a big bite of the gooey, soft, delicious cinnamon roll. Your eyes roll back in your head and you can’t help the sound that comes out of your throat, it’s so good.

When you open your eyes again, Sylus is staring at you, the heat of the hot tub causing a luscious pink blush to rise in his pale cheeks, the tips of his ears.

“Again,” he says softly. 

You take another bite. He stares at you while you eat, instructing you to take another bite after each swallow of the pastry. When you’re done, he lifts his thumb which is covered in the glazed icing, sugar, and cinnamon.

“Lick,” he says, his voice low.

The heat of the water, the pleasant fatigue in your body, the calm you achieved while swimming in the quiet for so long, the reassurance that Sylus, for all his faults, also tries to do good in the world—you feel pliant, and willing to do anything he wants. You lean forward again, open your mouth, and wait. Your heart pounds..

His nostrils flare and then he’s slipping his thumb into your mouth. You close your lips around it, and tongue the sweetness from his skin. When there’s nothing left, you still your tongue and wait.

He bites his full bottom lip and a look of regret crosses his face as he slowly withdraws his thumb from your lips. He then runs it along the lip he just bit. He closes his eyes, breathes.

“Why do you think no one would find your body interesting?”

Through your pounding heart, you swallow and  try to look unaffected by what just happened, by what you can clearly feel as you rest on his lap through the thin fabric of his swimsuit. Because he is affected. His body is responding to you again. But for some reason, he wants to play the guessing game instead of… doing anything about it. You think about him leaning down, as if he’d kiss you. You think about him spinning on his heel and walking away instead. 

“It isn’t so much that it’s not enough to pique interest in anyone else. It’s simply that it’s not enough to retain that interest.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “How so?”

You try to look away, but he reaches up and catches your jaw, gently guiding you back to meet his eyes. You sigh. Might as well get it out in the open. “I tried to tell you, when you asked me to help you with dating. I’m the last person you should ask, because even though I have a lot of experience in romantic relationships, they’ve never ended well. I’ve been cheated on more than once. I’m not qualified to be your dating coach.”

His brow furrows as you say ‘a lot of experience,' like he’s sucked on a lemon, before it’s quickly replaced with his customary bored expression. “I’ll take my chances. All I need to know is what you like, and you are best qualified to do that.”

“Why does it matter what I like? What about your beloved?”

He sniffs dismissively. “Why are people so insistent that I repeat myself today?” But before you can ask him what he means, he asks, “What does your… mistakes having cheated on you have to do with you?” Now he looks aggressively bored.

“When it happens not once, or twice, but more than that, it’s pretty obvious that the common denominator is me. So maybe it’s not my body that’s the issue. Maybe it’s just… all of me, that can’t retain their interest, or at least their courtesy of ending things before they seek out someone else to satisfy them.”

“Or maybe the only thing wrong with you is your taste in partners.” His eyes glow in the soft light emanating from under the pool’s water. 

You look at him, this beautiful, dangerous, mercurial creature, your heart aching from how lovely he is, how far away he feels when all you would have to do to kiss him is lean forward, just a little bit, like taking a bite from the cinnamon roll. “Perhaps you’re right.”

His brow furrows. “If they cheated, then they were not for you. You were fated for another. And the one you’re fated for will never stray.”

You’re surprised. Sylus has never struck you as the type of person who would accept fate in determining his life and destiny—such a belief feels too passive for such a strong-willed man. “Do you actually believe in fate? In soulmates?”

He nods. “No matter how much I may resent the whims of fate, I do.”

His answer makes you unbearably sad. “What if you don’t like the one you’re destined to be with? And the person you have no choice in loving—if you’re destined for someone, then it doesn’t matter who they are, what makes them unique. It kind of… removes the idea that the person you love is special, that you chose them because they fit you so well.”

He runs a finger from your chin, up the line of your jaw, until he rests his palm against your cheek and smoothes his thumb along the corner of your eye. “On the contrary, I believe that my beloved is destined for me because they fit me so well—if they were not uniquely them, then they would not be my fate. I can assure you, I have very specific reasons for adoring my beloved. Even if fate gets everything else wrong, it has not failed me in this regard.”

Part of you is breaking at the clear adoration in his voice for his beloved, who can’t be you. 

The other part of you is treacherously whispering in his deep, decadent voice— Yes, beloved? Words you’ve never heard him say to you, but you can hear so clearly in your head.

“Tell me about your beloved,” you whisper.

He leans forward, runs his nose along yours. His tongue flicks out and you feel its warmth along the side of your mouth before withdrawing again.

“You had some sugar,” he says quietly in response to the confused look on your face.

The water laps the sides of the pool with each small movement of your bodies. The scent of pine, of chlorine, of sugar and cinnamon fill your senses. The world is dark outside the windows, but you can’t see anything beyond the panes because of the condensation drifting up the glass from the heat of the pool.

Your heart won’t survive this man. You want to be put out of your misery. You never want to wake up from this dream.

“Tell me about your beloved,” you ask again.

He runs the hand not holding your cheek along your waist, his fingertips trailing goosebumps despite the warmth of the water. “Do you really still not know, darling?”

You close your eyes. “Know what, Sy?”

“That you don’t need me to answer your question. You already know my beloved better than anyone else. But you’re too afraid to admit that you already know who they are. What they want. What would please them the most.”

“How could I possibly know all those things, when I don’t know who your beloved is?” Your thoughts drift to your nightmare. To the streetlamps, and the darkness. The temptation to step off the ledge. You’ve already lost so much. What happens if you accept what he’s been waiting for you to acknowledge for a while now, and you have a brief, supernova moment of happiness with him? And as with real supernovas, the flash will give way to an endless darkness, or worse, a black hole. In either case, you know that the darkness lasts so much longer than that brief, blinding light. What happens when the inevitable result of your terrible choices in partners is repeated, and you have to experience the memory of what it’s like to be briefly loved by him, in comparison to his absence once he grows bored?

“You’re breaking the rules again, darling.”

You open your eyes, and all you see is Sylus. “What rules?”

“You can lie to everyone else in your life, but you will not lie to me. If you can’t admit that you already know the answer to your question, then I’ll wait until you can.”

He too, has started to sweat in the heat of this quiet, almost unbearably warm space. You watch a drop of sweat form at his temple, make its meandering way down his sharp jaw. You can’t help yourself. You lean forward and catch it on the tip of your tongue. 

Salt. Sylus. 

He shudders underneath you.

“I will be patient,” he says, voice strained, as if he’s trying to convince you. Or himself.

“What happens if you get bored, waiting? What if I take too long?” Because you’re not ready. The fear is overwhelming. You gave in to your curiosity in the dream, and the fall would have killed you if Sylus hadn’t called you back to wakefulness.

“You have no idea how long I’ve already waited. In the end, there is only one answer to your question, and that will not change, whether you admit it out loud right now, or fifty years from now. If you must test me in order to believe me, then test me.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” you smile.

“My beloved never backs down from a challenge,” he doesn’t return your smile. He is watching you with such sincerity that it takes your breath away. “But I’d rather, this time, they simply take me at my word.”

“What happens when you tire of your beloved once you have them for a little while, and start to notice all their flaws?”

“I’ve already evaluated the jewel; I’m afraid this particular gem is flawless.”

You snort. “No one is without imperfections.”

“My beloved is not just anyone. They’re perfect to me.”

You’re reeling. You don’t dare believe him. He must be lying. You have no idea why he would lie about this, what he could possibly have to gain, but his honeyed words are too unbelievable. You? Flawless? Perfect in this extraordinary man’s eyes? The absurdity would make you laugh if you weren’t already breathless from the idea that he has meant you, you, you, this whole time. You, his beloved.

“You still haven’t answered my question. What happens when you get bored?”

“I won’t.”

“How can I trust that?”

He lifts a dark silver eyebrow. “Only one way to find out.”

Suddenly, it’s all too overwhelming. The heat of the water. The long, physically demanding swim in the pool earlier. The fact that the only thing you’ve had to eat in the last twenty-four hours is a cinnamon roll. You lean forward, bury your head in Sylus’s damp neck, manage to resist the urge to lick his sweat again.

“Please wait a little longer,” you whisper. You need more time. You need to go on those fake dates with him. You need to see how he treats wait staff at a restaurant when the order is wrong. You need to make more mistakes, like with Kieran and Luke on the roadside, and see what happens the more the reality of you chips away at the pedestal he has inexplicably put you on in his mind, if he’s telling the truth. The edge is already beckoning you. You can’t step over yet, you can’t. You can’t.

“Again, why must I repeat myself so much today?” he gripes. “I already told you, I will wait, for as long as it takes.” He wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

You hug him back, dizzy. From the heat. From the whirlwind of the last forty-eight hours. From the fraying tether you have on reality, after such a short time living in his world of dreams. 

You stand at the ledge. You’re not ready to leap. But you’re leaning, leaning, closer than you’ve ever been. You just hope that when the inevitable happens—when you let yourself fall, Sylus will be there to catch you.

“I promise,” he says, as if he can read your mind. And he says he always keeps his promises.

This is what it feels like. Lured to the edge. Balancing on the cliff. You probably know how it ends, before you even realize it's beginning. But the knowing doesn't stop you from leaning, leaning, until the gravity of the inevitable pulls you down into the fall.

* * *

I said I felt like crawling into a hole for the next four years and then inflict almost 15k words on you dear readers, I'm sorry for never keeping my promises, I'm not Sylus😭. I hope you enjoyed, we're very close to an actual relationship and maybe some real life smooches. I have plans for Noah's return in the next part and some fun activities while MC gets to knows Sylus better and practices imagining what a commitment to the leader of Onychinus would look like, but who knows what will actually come out of my brain when I sit down to write again.

[felixbit]

birthday

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader w. 1.4k genre: fluff summary: spending your birthday with your boyfriend, chan a/n: written for my best friend <3 happy birthday

Birthdays with Chan were something you looked forward to every year.

He had always been the ultimate gift giving boyfriend. It could be a random day and he'd come home with brand new headphones for you. The week surrounding your birthday was a time filled with small (and large) gifts.

The day itself had pretty big shows of affection, although he preferred not to do everything in one day. He valued you feeling appreciated, so he stretched out all of his gifts over the course of your birthday week. A few days before and a few days after would come with presents and treats.

On the morning of your birthday, you woke up in bed to a pleasant smell. He'd let you sleep in and even gotten up early, just finishing up breakfast as you sat up in bed. When you'd finally convinced yourself to get out of bed, he waltzed into the room with your favorite breakfast dish and a little side drink.

Next to the food would be a handwritten love letter, and he'd give you a kiss on your forehead as he delivered it. As much as he wanted to stay with you while you ate, he had to run and finish up making sure the apartment looked spotless.

Once you had finally finished, he swept the dishes away and had them all cleaned before your morning routine was even done. The last thing he wanted was for you to think of household chores on your big day.

The morning was slow after that. He sat out with you on the couch, cuddled up in a big warm blanket and watching shows. He didn't want to rush you into the day.

As early afternoon peeked through, and Chan asked if you felt comfortable going out. He'd planned a shopping and lunch date, telling you he was going to change for the occasion.

When he walked out in a casual outfit, he grinned. He revealed it was just the second outfit of too many for his preference, but he wanted the mood to be set for every occasion. Once you got into an outfit you liked, he took you by the hand and walked you down to his car.

The drive was nice, Chan putting on your favorite music to listen to. He even sang along, giving you a small concert. You made him promise he'd sing more for you before the day was over, and he conceded.

When you arrived at the shopping district, he gave you a big grin and asked if there was any places you wanted to go. He had no problem with choosing, but he wanted to make sure any shopping you wanted to do would get done.

The first two stores he took you to were very nice. You were mostly browsing, not often picking out things you liked. He made sure to let you know there was no spending limit, that he'd cover everything you wanted to get. It still felt awkward to spend his money, but he reassured you it didn't matter to him how crazy you went.

Caving to his wishes, you picked out a few things you'd otherwise never grab. They were items that you'd thought about getting but there was no reason to buy them over something else you really wanted.

In the next store, you'd found a rack of necklaces with initials on them. Looking over to Chan, who was browsing some rings, you smiled. You grabbed one of your own initial and one of his, bringing them over to him. He smiled when you approached, looking confused as you wordlessly put the necklace boxes in his hand.

He opened them and it looked like he could have melted into the floor. He smiled wide, his dimples deep into his cheeks as he looked at you in disbelief. "They're perfect," He said.

He was quick to check out, buying them and immediately putting on the necklace with you initial. You followed his lead, unable to contain your smiles when he told you that he'd never take it off. You had no plans on removing his, either.

From the shops, he found a lunch spot nearby he planned a reservation to. He held your hand tight as you walked down the street together, swinging your arms together with a newfound pep in his step.

As you got to the place and were seated, he was still beaming. You laughed and asked him, "What's got you grinning so big?"

"You!" He cheered, "I don't think I've ever been happier spending time with someone, you know. There's no place I'd rather be."

Lunch was pleasant, Chan making sure you enjoyed your meal. He got a double order of your favorite side just to make sure there was enough. Any leftovers he happily boxed up and brought with him for later, wanting to make sure you got all of the food you wanted.

You got back home to wind down after the time out, Chan insisting on going through everything you bought. Any decorations got put up, all of the clothes got tried on again and put into outfits. Most of all, he made sure his brand new necklace was being shown off. You even caught him secretly taking pictures of it.

He then booted up a game to play with you, letting you pick whatever you wanted. He wasn't big on games that required him to be competitive like FPS, but he would try if it's what you asked.

It was a fun way to pass the time, gaming alongside and against your boyfriend. Even better was seeing how colorful his language got when he was frustrated. He embraced his Aussie roots, saying all sorts of obscenities when he died in game.

It had gotten to a point where Chan had to take a break from the game to cool off, and you decided to call it for the day. You cheered him up by taking Berry out for a short walk around the neighborhood, which seemed to put him in a better mood. He was a simple man: his dog could make any day better.

As afternoon turned into evening, he left the apartment and told you to hang tight as he picked up a few things. You hung out with the dog for a while longer, turning on a show in the meantime.

He came back with grocery bags and a smile on his face. "I'm going to get to work in the kitchen, I will be back!"

You gave him a thumbs-up and he scuttled away with a small giggle. He definitely had something planned, you were just there to see it happen. More time on the couch with Berry and watching a show was always accepted.

After a while, you smelled something delicious being cooked. The anticipation of good food had you antsy, but you waited as patiently as you could.

Chan eventually appeared from the kitchen and peaked his head out. "The dress code for this event is formal, if you want. Totally optional."

Before you could say anything, he disappeared back. Shrugging and bored, you went to your room and switched into something black and formal that you had put away for events.

When you walked back out, you were met with a very formal looking Chan. White shirt, tie, vest, and black dress pants. The sleeves on his shirt were rolled up, a touch that didn't go unnoticed. He gave you a smile, reaching his hand out to take yours.

He took you to the dining table, sitting you down. He brought out a vase of flowers, followed by plates of food he'd just been cooking. It was one of your favorite dishes, cooked by hand at home.

If there was a gesture that made you want to get down on one knee, that was it.

Unfortunately, you didn't have a ring on hand. You sufficed by eating every last bit of the food he made. You knew well that he would have plenty more in store for you that week, but this took the cake. A day full of him treating you. What could be better?

Well, you'd just have to find out.

He was too worried to do it on the actual big day itself, but he had something planned for later. A date night that brought you to the place you met. Maybe you didn't have to worry about having a ring on hand.

He had one waiting for you.

[sturnlsstuff]

Yooo whenever you can, are you down to write something about a reader that constantly gives chris cuteness aggression? <3 thx in advance !!

WHEN YOUR BOYFRIEND IS SO CUTE, YOU JUST CAN'T HELP YOURSELF.

[fluff, no warnings really] - this is like my first time writing fluff so i hope it's not that bad 😭

you and chris were similar in many ways and clinginess was definitely one of them. there was no day when you two wouldn't touch each other. no matter if it was a full cuddling session, holding hands, his arms wrapped around your waist when you were cooking or just simply his hand on your thigh, while eating dinner with him and his brothers.

so he was never surprised when you'd randomly start showing him affection, but sometimes there were days when you were going crazy.

"kid, you serious?" chris asks, raising his eyebrows when you wrapped your arms and legs around his body like a koala. "i gotta go film a video, nick and matt are already waitin'—"

"i don't want you to gooooo..." a little pout forms on your lips, but even if he really would love to stay here with you, he had things to do.

chris stands up from the bed causing you to hang onto his body, trying not to fall. he wasn't holding you, thinking it would make you let go of him, but it didn't.

"baby, please, matt will get all grumpy that 'm late and shit, and i really don't wanna listen to that."

"ugh, fine" you say, but before letting go of him, you kiss all over his pretty face, "i love youuuuu."

another day, chris would wear his bear beanie that you just loved so much. he knew it, but he wasn't aware of how much you really liked when he was wearing it.

you found yourself curled up in his lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders, head resting against his chest while he traced patterns on your thigh with his finger. the both of you decided to watch spongebob in the living room, but you preferred starring at chris instead, your heart pounding in your chest.

"you should wear this more often," you mutter, smiling up at him once he locks eyes with you. you give him a quick kiss on the lips, then on the cheek.

"oh, really?" he raises his eyebrows, his lips curve into a smile, "are ya even watchin'?"

"sure, i am. watching you counts?"

chris can't help but chuckle, which causes your heartbeat speed up. the warm in your chest only he could make you feel. you wrap your arms around his waist tightly, almost as if you were afraid that once you let go he disappears. almost squeezing him, you kiss along his jaw.

"ow, fuck, can i at least breathe?" he laughs, getting slightly flustered at how clingy you were. obviously his slightly flushed cheeks don't go unnoticed by you.

"awwww, you're kinda blushin'," another kiss on the cheek, you play with the small, little bear ears on the top of his beanie, then eventually taking it off. noticing his messy hair, you can't help but run your hand through it and starts playing with them. you rest your cheek against his chest, looking up at him with a smile. "you're so cutie princess."

chris gives you a death stare, making you smile even more, "are you fuckin' serious right now?? 'm a big boy, not some princess 'n shit."

"my princessssss." you say on purpose, knowing it's driving him crazy. "i love you," at your response he just shakes his head in disbelief, you could feel a slow, rhythmic beat of his heart against your cheek, "a loooot."

whether he wanted it or not, your words and how you act in general, makes him really happy, warmth spreads inside his chest. chris gives you a kiss on the forehead, causing your cheeks to heat.

"i love my girl," you shove your face further into his chest, "so fuckin' much."

his words only causes you to kiss him like a thousand more times through the whole evening, your body wrapped around him, not letting go even for a second until the both of you fall asleep, cuddled up on the couch.

@certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess

[muddyorbsblr]

the brink of eternity pt1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: You arrive in New Asgard to its citizens rebuilding from the wreckage brought on by the god butcher's attack

Pairing: Loki x Sorceress!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warning/s: language (like 2 cuss words…still not sorry, Rogers); canon-divergent up the damn wazoo; mentions of major character deaths; mention of injuries; allusions to cancer; my still rusty af writing [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: assumed unrequited love; Reader is a magic-wielding Avenger that trained in Kamar Taj after the events of Endgame

It had been a while since you went to visit the town that was once known as Tonsberg, but even when Thor in his tragedy-driven downward spiral and Val were surrounded by wood and bricks and cobblestone still waiting to be put together and turned into a new home for the thousands of now homeless Asgardians, it didn't look this…desolate.

Charred wooden planks were dumped onto the middle of the street along with other torn and shredded belongings from the affected homes. The citizens, their soot-covered faces a mix of distraught and exhausted, gave you barely a passing glance even as they clocked your clean clothes, bag slung over your shoulder.

From what stories Thor and Loki shared before, Asgardians were notorious gossips. They seemed to always find a way to whisper amongst themselves when something intrigued them even in the slightest, no matter the circumstance.

Almost always, it seemed, as today felt like the exception to that rule. Their gazes were fixed to the ground, the eerie quiet buzzing of the town comprised of sniffles and shaky breaths. Sounds you were achingly familiar with, hearing them all around you when half the world turned to dust just over half a decade ago.

Sounds of people frantically trying to get hold of their families on the phone, bracing and fearing for the worst.

"Y/N?" Val's voice pierced through the quiet, all heads turning toward her and the whispering intrigue finally starting amongst the villagers.

Our King knows this stranger, they said. You paid them no mind as you walked toward her and let the warrior king pull you into an embrace. When her wince at the contact hit your ears, you grasped at her shoulders, looking her over frantically.

"What happened?"

"You know how it is, my friend. Stab wound, kidney puncture, same old song and --"

"Stab wound?!" you raised your voice to a near shriek, even more panicked over her nonchalant delivery. "Val, what. Happened."

"God killer," she sighed. "Well, he prefers to call himself a god butcher, wields the Necrosword hellbent on making sure that the gods no longer walk this or any other realm." She motioned toward the distraught citizens. "He took the children to lure Thor to him because he needed to summon the Bifrost. Poor oaf's there now all alone trying to rescue them."

"Wait where's there?"

"Thor has gone to the Gates of Eternity. The Bifrost is the key to unlock them and if he does, well…" She sliced her finger along her throat. "Goodbye, gods. Much as I wish to be there to aid him, he's quite determined to have me and Jane rest."

"Hold on, Jane's here? Where is she?"

Val pointed towards the hospital, already walking towards it. "We've much to catch up on, little witchy." Just as she looped her arm through yours, there was a loud bang that came from the hospital, and you saw a blonde woman dressed like Thor flying up into the sky on the back of Warsong with Mjolnir in hand. "Oh no…"

"Is that--?"

"Jane? Yes." Your heart caught in your throat as you saw the tears forming in the warrior's eyes as she told you of Jane's diagnosis. How Mjolnir grants her health and vitality when she wields the hammer, but at the cost of her mortality. "She's gone to fight alongside Thor. Quite certainly to die in battle, too."

Every thought in your head screamed the same thing. "I have to stop her. I've gotta get to Eternity."

After reassuring her that you had sufficient enough means and magic to find your way, Val told you where to find the gates.

At the center of the universe, she said. But that it might be a more accurate shot for the sling ring you had on hand if you focused on Thor instead.

Right before you began to conjure the portal to bring you to your friend, the weakened warrior held your forearm firmly. Desperately. "Please don't die," she pled faintly, already misty eyed just saying the words. "Beat Gorr to Eternity, and keep him from making his wish."

Stepping through the circular glowing portal brought you to an elaborate temple made of what seemed like some celestial-grade stone. The entire place was aglow with lightning striking from multiple places at once, and in front of you was Stormbreaker summoning the Bifrost, seeming to power up a portal to what you could only guess was the Eternity that Val mentioned.

A visibly weakened Jane summoned a lightning strike that hit Gorr's weapon dead on, crumbling what remained of the sword into dust right before she began to collapse to the ground. You took the god butcher's slow triumphant walk to the gate as your cue.

"And who might you be?" he said, pausing to look you head to toe, assessing your power. "You are no god, but you're not entirely mortal, either."

"Hello, Gorr," you said with a sly grin, grabbing a hold of him and throwing him yards away from the gate with your magic. "Goodbye, Gorr."

"Y/N?" you heard Thor weakly mumble your name, relieved when he saw you walking backwards toward the blindingly glowing archway that opened up.

The last thing you heard before you all were transported to a vast white expanse was Gorr's defeated outcry of "Noooo!"

"Make your wish, sorceress," a voice spoke in your mind. When you turned to face the source, all you saw was a skyscraper of a silhouette…consisting of an endless sea of galaxies and stars. "Whatever you desire can and shall be so. Name it. And it shall be yours."

Those words brought you to your knees, the gravity of your situation weighing down on you like a cartoon anvil just dead dropped onto your shoulders. Agonizing memories of the loss and heartache you'd experienced and witnessed in the last few years alone, all the grief you kept bottled up inside, coming at you all at once.

From coming back to the Compound after the Time Heist, only to discover that you were all one Avenger short. Finding out that Nat sacrificed herself so the rest of you could have the Soul Stone.

To the loss of Tony and having to be there to hold Morgan as she cried and thrashed, calling out for her father after the defeat of Thanos and his army. And the loss of Steve shortly after that, realizing the super soldier chose to stay in the past and resume what he believed should have been his life with Peggy Carter. Then Bucky's subsequent pulling away from the team after that.

Losing Wanda, and the look on her face when you stood against her during the fight at Kamar Taj. Only hearing about it in the hours following the wreckage of the temple, and Wong's return, that your friend had perished by her own hand in Wundagore. That in her final moments, she was all alone, believing that this was the only way to ensure the safety of this and all other universes from the dark magic she held.

And then there was the loss that started it all for you, the one that had you slowly but steadily pulling away since the fight at Wakanda. Loki. Seeing his brother come in to the battlefield fueled by rage, and hearing his voice devoid of any strength as he told you about the god of mischief's fate when Thanos seized their ship to relieve them of the Tesseract.

All those words that you held back on saying for fear of having them thrown back in your face with a derisive laugh…they felt like lead in the back of your throat as soon as Thor had told you the news. And you beat yourself up for being so scared and childish to hide it all away like a schoolgirl with a crush. The loss of him, even though he wasn't yours to lose, numbed you. And you swore to never love again.

Love only ever got you hurt.

But looking back at the blond Asgardian, holding the frail body of his love in his arms…you knew that he wouldn't survive if he had to suffer another great loss. If he had to lose Jane. You knew that there were people that you cared about back on Earth that were still grieving and picking up the pieces of their lives.

And you had the opportunity to relieve them of that grief. To spare them the numbness that that same loss had dealt you.

"Look in my heart," you whispered to the entity. "You know what I want."

"It shall be yours, sorceress. Live well," were the last words you heard before Jane's sharp inhale. Like her lungs were near empty and she was gulping in air.

When you looked back at them, she'd visibly regained color, near identical smiles of wonder and relief on her and Thor's faces. Even from this far away, you could sense it. Whatever sickness plagued her body was gone. Every trace of it.

"You--?" Thor asked, pointing a finger toward you as you approached them.

"Guess so," you answered him with a little shrug. "How you feeling, Doctor Foster?"

"Like I could wrestle a horse," she told you with a big grin. "Thank you."

Before you could conjure up another portal to bring you all home, more voices emerged from behind the entity.

"Y/N?"

"Sparky?"

"Lady Y/N?"

Natasha. Tony. Heimdall.

"My friend, what did you wish for?"

You looked back at the bewildered god, grasping his best friend's shoulders and trying to adjust to the new reality that he had returned. "I honestly don't know, I just said that Eternity should know what I want and--"

"Brother?"

The air left your lungs at the sound of the new voice. The voice you'd missed hearing for the better part of the last decade. Your heart beat erratically in your chest watching Loki emerge from behind Eternity and walk toward all of you, already holding his hands up in caution upon seeing Nat and Tony. "I swear I have no intention of harming--"

"We know, Reindeer Games," Stark said, holding his hand out toward the god. "Thor told us all about what you did. You're alright by my book as long as you don't try and raise another ugly ass alien army to take over the world."

Before he could say anything in return, Thor pulled his brother into a tight embrace. "It's good to see you, too, Brother," he said in a strained voice. "But how am I here?"

"Y/N reached Eternity. And she made a wish," Jane answered him, also holding her hands up. "No slaps this time, I promise."

"Y/N?" he said your name breathlessly, nudging his brother out of the way and looking around until his eyes met yours. You did your best not to fidget or pick at your clothes as he made his way over to you, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat when he framed your face with his hands.

"Hiya, Mischief," you mumbled, seeing Tony and Nat give each other a look from the corner of your eye as they slowly backed away, choosing instead to reunite and get up to speed with the other Asgardian.

"This was your doing?" The way his thumbs stroked at your cheeks had you unable to form words, only managing a meek little nod.

"Not bad for a stupid little--" The rest of your words died in a squeak at the back of your throat, cut off by the god pressing his lips to yours.

"Sweet precious mortal," he sighed against your lips. "There are many words I could use to describe you, and 'stupid' will never be one of them."

Before he could kiss you again, you heard multiple people clear their throats, your friends looking at the two of you with knowing and teasing smirks. "Perhaps we should make our way home first, Brother?"

Loki brushed the tip of his nose against yours before threading his fingers between yours, jutting his chin at the lightning bolt in his brother's hand. "Zeus?"

"Long story," he answered simply.

"He stabbed Zeus and stole it," Jane said in a stage whisper.

"Perhaps not such a long story after all," Thor said, chuckling as he held on to his girlfriend's hand, the astrophysicist summoning Mjolnir with her other hand.

"That's a long story even I don't know yet," you told Loki when he squeezed your hand lightly and tilted his head at the couple, Jane now sporting that near-identical armor and crimson cape that the blond god wore.

"Everybody hold on," Thor called out to you all, a large ball made of yellow lightning materializing all around you and spinning at a furiously fast pace. You blinked once, and when you opened your eyes again, you were in the same ruins of New Asgard that you walked through just earlier today.

Val was already there walking toward you all with a relieved look on her face that morphed into confusion when she saw Tony…and then Loki. "I take it Y/N beat the butcher to Eternity?" You all just nodded at her. "Well then, welcome back, all of you." Then she pulled Jane into a hug, playfully pushing Thor away. "I'm so glad you're alive." The king looked up, eyes meeting yours before she mouthing the words, 'Thank you.'

"We were lucky Y/N got there when she did," Thor told her. "What did bring you to New Asgard, my friend? It has been ages since last we spoke."

"I lost Wanda," you sighed, a lump forming in your throat again just saying the words. "And losing her made me realize I've been a shit friend to--well, everyone. Ever since…" You caught yourself before the rest of that sentence came out.

Ever since you told me Loki died, you finished quietly in your mind.

"Ever since Wakanda…the snap…" you told them out loud. You tried to shrug it all off, only to realize that Loki still held your hand in his. "Speaking of that stupid purple ballsacked chin little bitch…I should be getting you two back to New York," you addressed Tony and Nat. "There's at least three people whose worlds are about to turn for the better knowing you're back."

A/N: Okay so I fully intended to lay low and take my time normalizing after the complete insanity that October dealt me on a personal level, but then I rewatched Love and Thunder because I was in need of a comfort watch and I said "I don't like that ending, not one bit…lemme fix it". And slowly but surely the writer brain started its lil awkward shuffle back into the chat 😅

RTC and 'the final Lady Sharpe' are still at the top of the todo pile, and I'm still scared to touch them but I might work at it bit by bit, we'll see. And also this will have a part 2…because yes they might have kissed and they're holding hands but dammit they need to talk 🫠

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[millersfinest]

can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

[futurefishy]

"fat people can't help being fat" is incomplete as fat liberation in the same way that "we were born this way" is incomplete as queer liberation. the fact that someone "can't help" being marginalised, and therefore they should get rights has a pitying, "well, if we must" tone to it that fundamentally misses the point.

queer people don't deserve rights because we "can't help" being queer, we deserve rights because everyone does. fat people don't deserve rights because we "can't help" being fat, we deserve rights because everyone does.

the "they can't help it" rationale for giving marginalised people equal treatment has the insidious implication that being a part of the marginalised group is an undesirable outcome

its the same rhetoric used around trans kids. that a child being trans (or more accurately, getting the medical care and social support they need and deserve) is somehow less desirable than that child being cis. and some (somewhat) more reasonable transphobes will concede that okay, maybe if we have to if the kid says they'll kill themself or something, if we absolutely *can't* make this child cis, *then* they can have support but not a moment before

i, for one, don't think my or anyone else's rights and bodily autonomy and access to proper medical care should be a concession, something awarded out of obligation by people who don't really want to give us rights, but okay, i guess, if we have to, as long as you really can't help it and have tried everything you can to not be a disgusting freak, i suppose you can get treated the same as us normal people

you're failing from the start if you continue to believe that the people you are advocating for are worse than "normal people", even if you believe they got in that position through no fault of their own

it is not worse to be fat than thin, or trans than cis, or gay than straight, or disabled than abled, or a person of colour than white, or an immigrant than a born citizen, or any other axis of oppression you can imagine

it should not matter whether someone was born predisposed to being fat, or became fat due to illness or injury, or chose to become fat. fat is not a bad thing to be. and if you find it so impossible to believe that someone might choose to be fat, might genuinely prefer their body that way, then you clearly have some fatphobia to work on

it literally HAS to be okay to choose to be fat in order for fat liberation to mean anything at all tbh

[swrkn]

Hihi! I see you have blue lock in your fandoms you write for, do you have any ness headcannons? thank you <3

𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Alexis ness x g/n reader

Genre ; sfw , fluff

Author note ; hii , that’s my first request for blue lock so i would like to thank you for that ! English is not my first language so im sorry if there are mistakes, my request are open !!

⇨ Thoughtful Supporter

Ness is the ultimate doting partner, almost to a fault. He's incredibly attentive, always noticing the little things that make you happy, like your favorite snacks or how you prefer your tea. He's fiercely loyal and seeks validation in the relationship, similar to how he idolizes Kaiser on the field. He wants to feel like he's your number one supporter.

One evening, you casually mention craving something sweet while you're both texting. You don't think much of it and move on with your night. The next day, there's a knock at your door, and when you open it, Ness stands there with a box of pastries from your favorite bakery. "You mentioned these yesterday," he says with a shy smile, his cheeks slightly flushed. "I couldn't let you go another day without them." You're touched by his thoughtfulness, and as you both sit down to enjoy the treats, you realize how much he pays attention to even your smallest remarks.

⇨ Your Biggest Cheerleader

He's deeply invested in your personal goals and will do everything he can to support you, much like how he supports Kaiser on the field. He'll be your biggest cheerleader, no matter what. In return, he appreciates when you show interest in his soccer career, even if it's just attending his games or asking about his training.

You're working late on a project, and Ness texts you: Don't forget to take a break, okay? You're doing amazing. A few minutes later, he shows up with a coffee in hand, ready to cheer you on.

After one of his big games, you greet him with a proud smile. "You were incredible out there," you say. His eyes light up, and he pulls you into a tight hug. "Hearing that from you makes it even better," he murmurs.

⇨ The Peace Maker

Ness hates conflict and will do his best to avoid arguments. If a disagreement arises, he'll try to resolve it calmly, often prioritizing your feelings over his own. He's quick to apologize, even if he's not in the wrong, but he appreciates it when you acknowledge his feelings too.

A minor disagreement arises when your schedules don't align, and you end up snapping at Ness out of frustration. He takes a deep breath, choosing not to escalate the situation. "I'm sorry if I upset you," he says calmly, his eyes soft with concern. "I just want us to work through this together." His willingness to approach the issue with understanding rather than anger helps you cool down, and together, you find a solution. By the end of the conversation, the tension has melted away, replaced by mutual understanding and affection.

⇨ Romantic Gestures

He's a romantic at heart. Expect surprise dates, handwritten letters, and spontaneous compliments. Ness loves making you feel cherished. His favorite thing is to cook for you, insisting that he knows all your favorite dishes. Even if it doesn't turn out perfect, he'll put his heart into every meal.

One weekend, you find a small envelope on your pillow. Inside is a handwritten note from Ness, detailing how much he appreciates you. "I just wanted to remind you how amazing you are," it reads. "Thank you for being in my life."

Ness surprises you by setting up a cozy picnic at the park, complete with a blanket, snacks, and your favorite playlist. "I thought we could use some fresh air and time together," he says, beaming.

⇨ Jealousy and Insecurity

Ness is prone to jealousy but tries to hide it. If he sees you getting close to someone else, he'll quietly fume but won't confront you directly. Instead, he'll subtly seek more of your attention to reassure himself. In moments of insecurity, he'll need you to affirm that you love him for who he is and not just for how much he supports you.

After one of Ness's matches, you find yourself talking with one of his teammates, complimenting his skills. From a distance, Ness watches, his smile faltering slightly as he sees how much you're enjoying the conversation. Later, when it's just the two of you, he hesitates before asking, "You seemed really close with him... Do you think they're funnier than me?" His voice is soft, almost uncertain. You immediately cup his face, looking into his eyes. "Ness, you're the one I love. No one else comes close," you assure him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. His expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, his insecurities melting away in your embrace.

⇨ The playful Competitor

He's surprisingly competitive when playing games with you, especially if it's something like board games or trivia. He loves teasing you when he wins but takes it gracefully if you beat him.

During a trivia night, Ness surprises you with how competitive he can get. "No way you knew that answer!" you laugh after he correctly names a random historical fact. He smirks and says, "What can I say? I'm full of surprises." When you finally beat him in the final round, he dramatically clutches his chest. "You've defeated me, but I'm proud of you," he says, making you both burst out laughing.

✵

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS More,Blood Stellaworth Complete Set Tokuten Short Stories ☽ Ruki ver.

Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE,BLOOD ステラワース全巻連動購入特典ショートストーリ English translation by @otomehonyaku Scans can be found here (courtesy of @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SUMMARY | This short story provides a slice of Ruki and Yui's daily life after the events of More,Blood. Ruki has always had a preference for soup, but when Yui prepares a particularly hearty vegetable soup for him one day, he comes to an important realisation.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

—The first time I learned to appreciate soup was when I was in that dark cage.

“It had already gone cold, but to me, it was the most delicious thing on Earth back then. It was infinitely better than the junk I ate while I roamed the streets, after all.”

“Oh…”

Somehow, as I ate the soup she had prepared for me, I had somehow started talking about all the reasons why I had this particular preference for the dish. The story had stolen the words right from her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have brought up such an unpleasant story during dinner.”

“That’s… that’s not it,” she explained, hurrying to wipe the tears from her eyes. That’s not what I meant…”

“Do you pity my past self?”

“Pity kind of feels like… a high-handed way of putting it. I don’t mean it like that…”

“I see.” My voice was monotonous while I spoke. 

I took up my spoon again and continued to eat. 

It was a simple consomme soup, filled with colourful slices of a variety of vegetables. The soup that we were served during our time in the detention facility was a far cry from this. Back then, the few off-coloured beans that floated in the soup, though they barely had any nutritional value, were enough to bring me at least an inkling of happiness. 

While the memory resurfaced, it occurred to me that I had obtained true happiness since then, no matter how absurd it seemed.

“And to think a human would accompany me at dinner…” I mumbled to myself, earning a surprised look and a soft what did you say? from her. 

It’s nothing, I swiftly replied.

My life was saved by Him. The four of us had been destined to die a noble death in that filthy cell, and yet He had rescued us. Just like that, he became our god. Our saviour.

Someone to serve.

My brothers and I would do anything to fulfil his wishes without batting so much as an eye. And yet… What was I even doing right now?

I let her make soup for me like this. She willingly stayed with me all this time, even though she cannot become Eve. Even though I cannot become Adam.

“Ruki…?”

As we sat in silence, various thoughts stirring inside of me and picking at my resolve, I reached across the table to take her hand in my own.

“...?”

“Sorry. Would it be alright… if we stayed like this for a little while?” I said, my grip on her small, soft hand tightening. 

Greed is a grave sin according to God. 

Considering that I agreed with Him, I was awfully addicted to this greed all the same. I was the sinner of all sinners, thriving on such atrocities. When a simple bean soup was all it took to please you, the first taste of a good vegetable soup makes it easy to take such happiness for granted.

“Still, I will…” 

Never let you go, I wanted to say, but I could not manage the words. She likely did not want to listen to the mutterings of such a weak, pitiable man.

It was difficult to gauge her thoughts, but it was then that she spoke with a gentle smile on her face. “Don’t worry.”

“What?”

“I’ll be by your side, Ruki.”

My eyes unconsciously widened in response. Her soft smile made my chest ache. She was Eve and I was her captor—she should be miserable, and yet she was so extraordinarily kind. 

Did she not realise that it would only add to my suffering?

“Alright,” I replied curtly. Then, ever so unwillingly…  I let go of her hand. “The soup is getting cold. Let’s eat.”

“Yes, let’s.”

After that, we ate the soup together in silence. 

I found myself thinking there was nothing in the world that I wanted more in that moment. No matter how lavish a meal I would be served, I would cherish this vegetable soup as my favourite dish for as long as I lived.

[ayoharuko]

Love and Deepspace: Boyfriend Headcanons ♡

I really need to start writing more Zanye stuff considering his my type in so many ways, don't get me wrong but I love all of them, however. Zayne was the one who pulled me into the game and made me stay :3

Again, most of the headcanons may or may not be already canon in game. But do not worry, I do have originals I've thought off :3

Reader here is Gender Neutral (They/Them)

If you haven't seen Xavier's part its here!

Warning: Some Spoilers from his Myths and minor swearing.

Reminder: The character belongs to INFOLD/ its respective creators; this is all just fictional work so please try to not take these too seriously :)

♡ Now, we all know that our favorite Doctor loves sweets right? I feel like in his feel time, aka when he doesn't have work and takes a break from the hospital - he'll practice how to bake sweet goodies.

♡ Think about it! He knows how to cook well and his knife skills are exceptional, so he would definitely make baking as a stress relief and hobby.

♡ I imagine him making sweets to either give to the patients in the hospital, or maybe his coworkers too, once they finish another hard day.

♡ Obviously, you'll get most of the treats as your his special person but not only do you get most of the goods - you also get the first taste! He would also ask you for your honest opinion, now if your scared in telling him the truth; don't be. He encourages it so he can improve better in baking :)

♡ While on the convo of cooking and food - we also know that this man can cook very well, not only is the meal balanced but the presentation and taste is immaculate.

♡ Don't worry picky eaters, you won't even taste the veggies he put in the meal so you'll be safe and not gag (At least not from the food yk what I'm sayin-)

♡ Zayne will ALWAYS make time for you. No matter how busy he is, you will always be his top priority.

♡ You are literally the whole exact reason why he choose to be a cardiac surgeon/doctor after all.

♡ That also means he worries over you like a mother hen, sometimes he can be overbearing and too much on the scolding or doting whenever you get injured.

♡ So obviously, that leads to a few fights here and there but you understand that his intentions are all good.

♡ You are the passenger princess ✩

♡ Like. His car will always have snacks that you love, extra necessities, ties and your playlist is saved on his car too!

♡ On his day offs and you guys feel like hiking somewhere far, he would stock up his car filled with stuff that you usually use at your home as he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

♡ He tries not to spoil you... he tried to put a limit on everything so you don't get your way but your just so fucking adorable and stupid sometimes that he can't resist giving in... kidding he loves you-

♡ Dates would consist of; cat cafes, hiking, going to the gym, trying out cafes, kitty cards but mostly he would prefer to spend time with you at your or his place :)

♡ Love languages would be Acts of service and Quality time.

♡ As mentioned, he would do chores and he'd cook for you. He also prioritizes you over anything, all his time belongs to you... it has always belonged to you.

♡ Despite telling you to always limit your sweets/desert intake, it apparently doesn't apply to him.

♡ You both would frequently visit the dentist as his teeth would hurt from the amount of sweets (and sugar.) he'd consume, one wonders how he hasn't gotten diabetes yet....

♡ Zayne knows that he can come off as aloof or cold so he thinks about the words he says to you before he actually speaks it. Which often saves you both from arguments a lot.

♡ He also makes a point to be honest whilst not hurting your feelings, you won't have to worry about him lying about how you look or the answers he'll give to your questions.

♡ The only thing he'd be dishonest about tho is when his the one in need of help. His so used to not accepting help that he lies that his evol doesn't hurt him; when clearly, it does.

♡ You'd have to be super plushy to make him care enough to take a break for his own well-being, how ironic for being a Doctor right? Well, his thankful that in times when he can't be the doctor, you make sure to step in as a Doctor just for him and him only.

♡ Zayne often has trips to the Arctic; and when he does, he would either take you with him (Which is rarely.) or make sure to update you with pictures of/or with Pie, the scenery and with your requests - his face as well. You both won't be able to video call all the time while his at the arctic because the signal would be weak so he takes pictures instead.

♡ When he does get back from his trip, expect gifts and tea from him. He'll also make sure to kiss you deeply as he definitely missed you a lot.

♡ Cats aren't really fond of him right? You would force take him to cat cafes all the time and try to establish a connection between him and one of the cats! There was only one cat that liked him enough tho- But thats a win for you!

♡ Since its been said that you both do go hiking sometimes, I believe you guys would do some camping as well.

♡ He would take you on a hiking journey up a cliff filled with pretty flowers and Mayne jasmines that he may or may not have planted himself and you both would set up camp there.

♡ He would grill some food, take out the sweets he baked back at his place and cuddle you under the starlight... wishing for this all to last forever.

♡ He gets nightmares right? When he does; all he wants to do is seek you out, but he often feels guilty as he knows you have your own problems... So you have to rely on your 'Zayne Senses' to know whether the nightmares haunt him or not.

♡ When it is haunting him; all you need to do is Lead him to the bed, tuck his head into your chest - just enough so that he can hear your heartbeat while you whisper promises that you're never gonna leave him.

♡ Zayne has learned how to be patient, yet for you? His Patience will be tested. Whether it's you on those week - long missions or you not calling or messaging.

♡ Zayne does skincare..... I firmly believe he has friends that are dermatologists and that they give him skincare products sometimes as a gift. He gives some of them to you too, if it has good benefits or if you just want it.

♡ If you both are living together and your schedules are in-sync; you both would do your skincare routines together.

♡ I believe that Zayne - not only takes care of his body health but also his face - and not in a beauty standard way but in a 'Good looks makes the patient more at ease and would likely trust him more typa way'

♡ However, in months where the hospital gets busy; he develops a little stubble under his chin. Sometimes its on purpose as he likes the way you shave it or the way you sit on his lap if yk yk...

♡ Nicknames that he gives you are so sweet like honey... the way he calls out to you with that sweet nickname he has given you, it instantly fills you with butterflies.

♡ I like to think he'd call you Honey, Sweetheart and My Love a lot... but when your asleep in the comforts of your shared bedroom; he'd whisper My heart and My Jasmine, just soft enough that you could barely hear whilst slipping away to dreamland.

♡ In conclusion, Zayne is just filled of Husband Material ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ His not perfect by all means (Expect you think he is) but he will do everything in his power to make sure that you'll not only be satisfied but also comfortable.

I had a lot of fun writing Zayne's part! Considering that his my main after all heh.

I hope that you all enjoyed reading Zayne's part and let me know if ya'll want a NSFW Version of these headcanons :)

See you guys on my next post~!

Rafayel's Boyfriend Headcanons, check it out too!

Reblogs are appreciated and Feedback/Comments are always appreciated! :3

(Note: please don't copy and paste my works anywhere, and if you do see them on other platform please inform me.)

[funnychesspiece]

Thought about this for a long while and i see your point, i just don't believe that this game deserves to be ostracized from the rest of the series and i don't see it working as a stand alone game.

I really don't know what happened to this game's development, from what i can piece together its like a tragedy of really poor marketing choices. Like they at some point gave up on the ip and tried to at least make it more for larger audience so they can recoup the development price.

I had the blessing of zero expectations for this game. I didn't believe this game will come out at all, or that it'll be any good (judging by what Andromeda turned out to be). It was a big surprise for me that I'd get such a sand off for my beloved game series, it's not perfect by any means but i see the work and all the sweat, blood and tears that were put into it.

Mostly I'm just sadenned by the whole situation and sorry that it was a let down for fans of the series. Like i don't even know how to put it into words, it's like a cheap cake for a birthday from an important person. There was a cool and delicious cake planed for the birthday but somehow it got destroyed minutes before celebration, and to save the day they tried to scramble at least for something. The new cake wasn't good, and if you don't like the taste or the situation that you're in its your preference and its valid because it's true. I guess i live in the world where i didn't even think that there will be a cake or that I'd like it?

The tragic mishap

Also i live in this franchise from 2009 and love its lore to bits, and from where i stand i think they stretched the limits of canon just enough where it won't break the feel of the series for me. Like with the crows, they didn't kidnap kids, they mostly adopted orphans or bought slaves (not the biggest difference but makes them more grey). I saw them kinda like Sparta in this matter. I can see the excuse where Zevran did some cleaning amongs tallons so some reforms took place before the game. It's a stretch and i see that it asks a lot from the player.

I guess the difference of opinions in this matter stands in the choice were you can accept these compromises or can't.

AMEN 🙌