#was a very painful one based on how he treats her

[gwemmieee]

Yeah. I have a big bone to pick with women who go out of their way to gatekeep someone out of our club. Most of them are cis and straight, but trans fems who do this unfortunately exist. That instance looks like some disgusting hypocrisy to me, because most baby trans fems really emotionally lean on the willingness of this community to emphasize that you are your gender and you are valid no matter how many steps you've already taken and been successful with. That is a crucial, supportive message, and suppressing it in any way is tantamount to pulling up the ladder behind you. Which, yeah, every community has its assholes who pull up ladders.

It is also a tough line to walk sometimes for women, because most of us have learned that there are certain ways we can't entirely just open up to most masculine folks and let them into our entire lives and every space. Not without a lot of pain. So we are incentivized to wait until someone makes it clear that they're safe, before they're let into our inner lives more. This function has caused me SO much strife, because before I was accepted as a woman, it kept me outside in the cold, alone, really close to an early grave, but now that I am fully living as a woman, and even before I was doing that, my efforts to ignore this function entirely and just let any masculine person into my heart, my inner world, and my safest spaces, have not always gone well, and sometimes those efforts have backfired, made me unsafe, and deeply traumatized me.

These days, the only conclusion I've been able to find is that women need to work on what we recognize as red and green flags, for who is safe. It's pretty easy to see that the average set of red and green flags you see most non-queer white women adhere to are... crap. Truly crap. Delusional, not based in reality, etc. And that sucks because it isolates them more and it gives them more excuse to be really shitty to people, or to gossip about them in ways that really aren't fair to them.

Earlier in my transition, I still had it internalized that I had had so much trouble because I wasn't good enough, because I didn't do enough, and that's why women didn't let me in. But I was literally running around freely saying out loud that I was genderfluid, that I had no concept of manhood and little concept of gender, that I thought it would be cool if I was born as a woman, that I wanted other pronouns to be used on me, that I could be pretty gay/queer, acting pretty gay/queer, openly rejecting most masculine behaviors and modes of thought, constantly openly celebrating femininity, experimenting with gender presentation... I was a very queer little dude. And I've only been able to recognize that in retrospect. Because nobody let me in. Trans fems may have let me in, but they weren't around much in the late 00s and early 10s. I never met one. But I did meet and usually deeply connect with countless fellow eggs, before any of us knew. In situations like mine, trans fems generally didn't even get to find themselves until a bisexual cis woman took it upon herself to date them as a perceived man, and then recognize their queerness and allow them to explore gender with her acceptance and assistance. Because being allowed into womanhood was so rare and taboo that it had to happen behind closed doors as part of a romantic relationship. I was aro/ace, and I unconsciously looked to get the same experience out of a platonic friendship, but all I got was led on. Told I was a close friend but still treated like a stray animal compared to their feminine friends. Not let in.

Meanwhile, cis women, and fem-raised queer folks who at the time universally saw themselves as, yknow proudly not quite men at least, universally treated me like a burly cis man deserving of none of their support or curiosity and all of their suspicion and gossip about how "he's creepy." Consistently. Until I finally came out as a woman in 2022. And that's so 100% on them. They went out of their way to not see me for who I was and just keep me out in the cold. So yeah. The state of gatekeeping of womanhood is *bad*. And in my experience, most of it comes from people who had/have easy access to unquestioned claims of womanhood, whether that's because they're AFAB or because their transition into womanhood was really fast and made them really conventionally attractive.

But what about trans fems? Well, we aren't perfect with our red and green flags, either. It's hard to be. Personally, I've noticed there is a small contingent (VERY small) of trans fems my age who operate more like the old world transsexuals in that they really are truscum gatekeepers, often also ableist, and borderline psychopathic in the level of emotional labor they expect from you as a friend vs. what they're willing to put up with in return. And that is very unfortunate. My early transition saw a lot of them genuinely help me as incredible new friends, but then hurt me badly and burn bridges for no good reason. And I feel that there is a bit of a schism in the trans fem community between elders who usually just want to stealth out--who look down on baby transes and cringe and don't help us, or even if they do talk to us and help, there is still a very clear line denominating their actual friends and community that we never get to cross into--and the rest of us who openly embrace being queer and not assimilating all the way. But, frankly? Most trans fems I've met are the most welcoming and least gatekeeping folks on the planet. Most are that latter, queerer camp. And we operate exactly the way that we should: we let anyone safe into our inner world, even if that safe person happens to be a man. And some of us STILL see that backfire. And so even we can't be completely carefree. But we can always learn and grow and get better and better at what we actually identify as red and green flags.

wait where are all the trans guys

Historical-anthropological research, especially the work taking place before the 21st century or outside the West, tends to focus entirely on transfeminized groups. So when reading these works it’s pretty natural to ask — wait, where are all the trans guys? This is a reasonable question with a few clear answers; this post is something quick I can point people to.

The central condition of transfeminized groups' absorption into feminist activism has been to accept a kind of symmetry with select TME groups through the understanding of trans femininity as "gender variance." Under this framework, transfeminized groups' social position can be understood as a consequence of gender variance and some abstract violation of cis norms; this was proposed by people like Susan Stryker and Emi Koyama [1], among others, and continues to structure trans inclusion today. It also fails when considering several basic aspects of these groups:

Transfeminized groups are associated with hyperspecific labor practices, most frequently sex work, but also hair styling, drag, makeup artistry, acting, and other forms of 'gender work.'

Metropolitan transfeminized groups appear in the archive as highly clustered and active groups connected with, but usually intensely split from, the masculine men they fucked.

Transfeminized groups become a kind of 'third gender' on an epistemic level; they are Known to wider society before and after “coming out” in a way that USAmerican transmasculinity has only recently vaguely approached.

Transfeminized groups are heavily clustered in labor practice, social organization, and epistemic position, although this is not universal -- certain strains of USAmerican transfemininity have become a bit more labor-agnostic in the last two decades, not-so-coincidentally alongside more general currents of gender-labor liberation. The messy strains of trans male identity recovered from the archive and from current practice tend to lack labor, social, and epistemic coherence. As Aaron Devor notes in FTM, his 1997 history of FTM men, trans men in the 20th century tended to transition out of cities and into the countryside, finding low-profile places they could exist in. These practices, and the earlier "female husband" practices described by Jen Manion, relied on the labor-agnostic nature of transitioned manhood in order to disappear from public life. Transfeminized groups, on the other hand, are categorically restricted from the main form of economic life historically available to women -- marriage. Their labor practices are heavily constrained and have almost always revolved around some form of 'gender work:' as Susan Stryker put it, you need to get people to pay you for being a trans woman. Transmasculinity pushes away feminized restrictions on labor; trans femininity is labor.

Because transfeminized identities are so often labor-identities, and because their specific brand of 'gender work' and hormonal/silicone/surgical embodiment usually requires both specialized training and community support, nearly every metropolitan center in the world developed highly centralized transfeminized groups over the course of the 20th century [2]. As Ochoa notes, this visibility is partially due to epistemic visibility (everyone knows what a trans is), partially due to group structure (people work and train each other), and partially due to the selectively visible demands of finding clients. Fledglings come in with a way of being that is always already visible to society, but changing the body to match and learning how to fully enact and slowly contest the third-gender labor-identity they've been given takes a lot of community support.

So as labor-identities, transfeminized groups tend to a level of labor/community/epistemic coherence that has no clear counterpart. The news archives we have of trans men (as seen in Manion) position them as singular and easily absorbed back into the female gestalt; the cisgender feminist/gayguy/AIDS researchers that form the bulk of historical-anthropological work saw them as unnecessary to their grand theories of gender; the communities themselves have been materially fractured and, for the groups that rise out of lesbian-feminist activism, only partially committed to their own existence. The result of all this is that there is no clear equivalent to the "transfeminized groups" of Jules-Gill Peterson; there is no symmetry to trannydom, and while additional work to unearth trans manhood in the archive remains extremely valuable, sometimes the necessary level of label-coherence and social existence just isn't there.

[1] Stryker, "My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage," Emi Koyama, "The Transfeminist Manifesto" [2] As seen in Namaste, Invisible Lives, Prieur, "Mema's House, Mexico City," Kulick, "Travesti," Newton, "Mother Camp," Ochoa, "Queen for a Day," Hegarty, "The Made-Up State," and plenty more. Most of these works came out in the late 80s and 90s due to a combination of the feminist "third gender" craze, the burgeoning field of masculinity studies, and AIDS.

[kotaromita]

okay it IS illegal to hurt people but also akito's dad deserves it

so is it really THAT bad?

i mean i've never met the guy and i've only heard a little bit about him in passing

all i know is:

he doesn't get along very well with akito

he REALLY doesn't get along very will with ena

he's a famous painter

a robot burned his house down? and then someone threatened him at gun point right after he lost his house?

um and i think those last things are usually only things you do if someone is like a serial killer or a terrorist or something

maybe it's just because i get along with my dad so well that it's a little hard for me to take in but as long as akito and ena are okay and he and mrs shinonome survived i think that's most important?

[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different. 

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her. 

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life? 

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

���A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.” 

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added. 

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now. 

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?” 

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.” 

“Well.. what is the HIS?” 

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.” 

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.” 

“Roger that, boss!” 

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

~~

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences. 

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission. 

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense. 

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for. 

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things? 

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him. 

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away. 

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer. 

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.” 

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.” 

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice. 

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

~~

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed. 

She’s a traitor.

Punish her. 

Hurt her. 

Devour her. 

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you. 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her. 

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said. 

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved. 

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head. 

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor. 

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake. 

No… no! 

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever. 

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.” 

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

~~

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

~~

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another. 

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either. 

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first. 

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.” 

~~

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind. 

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life. 

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure. 

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!” 

“Boss, let’s go!” 

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about. 

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital? 

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter. 

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer. 

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.” 

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you. 

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life. 

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

~~

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café. 

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you. 

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute. 

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?” 

“Caw! Caw!” 

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

~~

And then, that day happened. 

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with. 

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman. 

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you. 

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of. 

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

~~

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional. 

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso. 

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look. 

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.” 

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love. 

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.” 

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”. 

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.” 

Like me. 

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.” 

“...Sleep tight, kitten.” 

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

~~

However, that same night was a different story. 

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness. 

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again. 

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

~~

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?” 

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him. 

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face. 

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

~~

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too. 

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone. 

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up. 

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body. 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.” 

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?” 

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night. 

Do you even recognize it? 

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…” 

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.” 

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.” 

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would. 

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

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[followthebluebell]

hello! I was scrolling through your blog (delightful) and found the post about Beef and his whiskers position, and I'm ashamed to say that in all my near-thirty years of being around cats and thinking I understand them pretty well I never thought to pay attention to the 'circle shape'. could you please expound a bit on what to look for when it comes to whiskers position and how to interpret it? Beef is an absolute sweetheart but looking at a brachy cat as an example makes it a bit hard for me to generalize. thank you!

Thank you! And also thank you for your patience--- I wanted to give some really good examples and have been scouring my blog for the best circle whisker cats I could find.

Picture heavy post under this.

so this is the cat grimace scale. It's a sort of way to visually see if a cat is in pain/distress, and it gives a simplified view of the things I'm going to discuss. It's important to recognize that whisker shape/position is just ONE piece of communication and doesn't tell the whole story. A lot of this is also based on CONTEXT as well.

When you're looking at a cat face, here are the things you really want to pay attention to:

Ear position—Ears facing forward, ears slightly pulled apart, or ears flattened and rotated outward.

Orbital tightening—Eyes opened, eyes partially opened, or eyes squinted.

Muzzle tension—Muzzle relaxed (round), muzzle mildly tense, or muzzle tense (elliptical).

Whisker position—Whiskers loose and curved, whiskers slightly curved or straight, or whiskers straight and moving forward.

Head position—Head above the shoulder line, head aligned with the shoulder line, or head below the shoulder line or tilted.

Calypso's huge whiskers give a REALLY good visual on the 'circle shape' to look for. You can see her whiskers are pushed forward and are loose and curved. She's feeling playful and engaged! She really wants to know what I'm up to and what's in my hand (spoiler alert, it was treats)

Compare that to this later picture, taken after she heard a dog bark nearby:

Her muzzle is tighter. Her whiskers are pulled back a bit, and are straight. Her ears are set differently as well, one pulled back a bit. She's concerned, but not terribly worried about this strange sound.

You can also compare it to this handsome lad:

Again, his whiskers are fairly straight. They aren't pulled back as far, but he's still very tense. He was extremely tense and upset that I took his water dish away from him (because it needed to be cleaned and changed).

Milo is another great example of excited whiskers. They're pushed forward and curved, forming a sort of circle. Like Calypso, he's interested in what I'm doing and feeling playful. He was very interested in the toy I was throwing for him.

Gumdrop is a good example of a more relaxed whisker position. She's curious, but not feeling playful. Her whiskers are held very loosely rather than being pushed forward. Her tail nub is up, indicating friendliness and confidence.

[lightnersdream]

i've been thinking about exactly why people portraying one of the other crew members successfully killing Jimmy as a "for what you did to Anya" kind of thing rubs me the wrong way a bit and it's because like..... this is just another form of taking agency away from Anya, in a way. it's kind of framing her as some meek, shivery woman-thing who's entirely at the mercy of the men around her, either to hurt her or save her.

(i understand these are mostly for wish fulfillment on the audience's behalf because everyone would like to see Jimmy pay for his crimes. whether or not this is the intention of the person writing it isn't really relevant, characterization happens with or without intent. i feel like it misses the point by portraying it as an 'ideal ending'.)

because... Anya is a capable person. she takes things into her own hands when she can. it was partially(?) her idea to get into the cargo,

(before he interrupts her.. remember when she interrupted Curly in the dead pixel segment?)

it was her idea to get the code scanner from the cockpit,

it was her idea to get the medication from behind the foam.

(the chance to do these things herself is not given to her.)

she'd been keeping Curly alive for months in a critical state somehow, her psych evaluations at the start are only so useless because Jimmy refuses to take it/her seriously and Curly is obviously biased when he puts it into his own hands. he's known him a long time, like he said. "I'll just put good for that one."

there's not a lot of material to work with because of how the game is framed, but it's there. we are working with two very biased perspectives and neither one lends Anya what she deserves

there's significant changes in how she speaks post- and pre- crash, and depending on who she happens to be talking to. i recommend re-reading her dialogue, because the difference is drastic

she acts the way she does around Jimmy because he has tangibly done horrible things to her, is actively hostile, and physically could not escape him by any means. she can't take away Curly's agency herself, in my eyes. you have to remember that Especially in the post-crash segments of the game, it's entirely from Jimmy's POV, and he obviously does not (and has never) thought very highly of her or treated her with a shred of respect

i've seen a general idea that she can't bear to hurt other people for any reason, but that doesn't really track to me. this is the real point of the post by the way

it seems based on the parts where she says she struggles to give Curly medication. "It just hurts him so much, I can't stand the noise." "It makes me nauseous."

it's not really the same thing as, say, hurting someone in self defense

this sounds like she did want the gun itself. this never felt worded like someone who would refuse to, at very least, threaten Jimmy with a gun, with violence. if she had been given the agency to make that decision on her own. she wasn't though

she still tries to reclaim some of it even as she's denied it

by the end she's still trying to keep that gun out of his hands

i think some people overly soften her, for similar reasons the game itself is trying to comment on. she's not a tender victim who couldn't cause pain to another out of the softness of her soul, she's a person who's had every last bit of agency ripped from her repeatedly until she couldn't take it anymore. that's the point. that's why framing her that way, "needing" someone to save her, is odd to me

she didn't need Curly to save her, she needed him to take responsibility

she didn't want to escalate things, but she's not an idiot. self defense was absolutely on her mind

but who knows im just saying shit *smiles serenely*

[tra1nchi]

My request is based of this very vivid dream I had.

Youre an orphan who is being fostered by an older couple. They know their son doesn't like you so they sent you both to a cruise vacation to get along with each other. Their son is like, this bad boy who fights with everyone. And whenever he picked a fight with someone on the cruise, you ended up apologizing and making it up to them. He gets pissed about you being so nice with everyone and decided to punish you for being too nice.

The dream also took place in a dark living room with only a couch and a coffee table in the middle with a TV in front.

(also in the original dream, it was a threesome with a girl but we don't care about her)

MINORS DNI!! bttm male reader,,mean Foster sibling,,spanking,,handjob

He hated you, you were just his dumb little foster brother who seemed to follow him around like a little rat. Whenever he hung out with his friends, you'd always be there to embarrass him. How could he be dark and mysterious with a little bitch hanging off his arm?

The poor older couple had noticed how he treated you. They just wanted their children to get along with eachother, so the best idea that they could come up with was sending you both away, not for forever of course but on a nice expensive cruise. One that could possibly introduce him to a more luxurious life and fix your bond.

He ignored you the entire time as you both waited to board up onto the ship, though he did carry some of your bags, lazily shrugging them over his shoulder.

He made sure you stuck close even as the crowda grew bigger as they shuffled onto the boat, his hand firmly gripped onto your waist, dragging you along roughly like you were nothing but a carry on to him.

Someone had bumped into you, when he heard the pathetic little sound that slipped past your lips. He snapped, forcefully grabbing the older man's arm and practically screaming in his face. Someone so disgusting laying his hands on his property?? He couldn't take it.

It was a blur when you had to apologise for him. He couldn't help but notice how your cheeks flushed red from the embarrassment of pulling him away as if he was a rabid dog and you were his owner. He could definitely feel something stirring.

The cabin you both shared was dark but cozy, with a simple furniture and a large window looking out onto the dark waters below. Your Foster brothers mood didn't help with the unnerving vibe of the place.

"I was just protecting you, you little.." He lets out a short grunt as he stops himself from saying more. "You're too damn nice." His hand reaches for your shoulder, shaking it lightly. Leaning in so close that his lips almost brush against yours.

"Little..bitch." He spits out, his hands becoming rough on your shoulders as he forces your body down onto your knees before him. Forcing your body down onto the coffee table, roughly shoving your pants down your thighs.

"Such a pretty ass for such an annoying boy." His voice was husky but quiet, you had no idea what he was doing behind you until you feel the sharp stinging pain onto your ass, he had spanked you!! His coo when you flinched was sickeningly sweet.

His body weight practically pinned you down to the poor coffee table, the weak wood creaking under the weight of both of you but your mind was soon occupied by something else, the feeling of his warm hand on your cock.

"I'll get you nice and hard for me yeah? Then our..bond..can actually start forming." Biting down on your earlobe after he whispered his words so softly into your ear, you could feel how hard he was through his slacks. He couldn't help himself but hump you subtly from behind :( His desire to punch you had turned sexual!!!

[sunnitheapollokid]

♡ ⑅˚₊ going soft on me, hargreeves ? PART ONE.

a five hargreeves multi-fic . . 🌻🕰️ — intro.

warnings : minor cursing .ᐟ mentions of blood.

author’s note : MOSTLY BASED THIS OFF RAPUNZEL READER because tangled is my favorite movie and she’s literally me 🙈 (atp this is a self-insert) AHH but also almost like harley quinn-ish? BUT WHATEVERR happy reading cuties <3

five wiped the blood off his face with his navy blue jacket’s sleeve. his siblings all feeling and looking defeated against the sparrows.

“i’ve never had my ass handed to me like that before.” luther spoke faintly, five squinted under the sun in attempts to relax his body off from that spur of the moment fight. “it’s like,” luther spoke again. “here you go.” he motioned his hands at a confused allison. “it’s your ass.”

despite the pain, five couldn’t get his mind off one of the sparrows. the younger one, with the upbeat personality. he was too busy fighting jayme, but he was incredibly intrigued by her. he could watch her fight diego and allison for a bit, with her own powers. — which was light manipulation.

during the fight, five watched her play with her hands and the light that poured in the hargreeves’ mansion as a distraction for her siblings.

viktor sat by five, “someone’s crushing.”

“yeah, me.” diego replied, stretching his back.

allison rolled her eyes, “i don’t think that’s what viktor meant.” she moved her eyes towards five, who stared at all of them like they were crazy. “a real delight that number eight was, wasn’t she?” klaus commented with a light-hearted laugh. “let’s just find a place to stay, yeah?” five rolled his eyes.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ ⭐️

five needed a break from his siblings. the hotel klaus had found for them wasn’t half bad, but the coffee they served was complete, and in his words : ‘dogshit.’ which was the only downside of it all really. a very big downside.

five walked into griddy’s donuts in attempts to get a decent cup of coffee. he sat down and waited for her order to be taken when, “umbrella asshole?” one of the waiter’s asked him. it was number eight, just in a diner uniform, and holding a pitcher of coffee.

she looked at him confused. “what are you doing here?” five furrowed his brows, “i should be asking you that.” he retorted. she gave out a big smile at that. “okay ‘ya grump, i work here, actually!” she gave a charming wink as she poured him a cup of coffee.

“i take it you’re a black coffee kinda guy?” her voice overlaping the sound of the coffee pouring in. he took the cup and sipped, “am i suppose to be flattered by that observation?” he asked upon putting the cup down. “i’m just very curious is all.” he fought the urge to mirror her infectious smile.

“also, it’s not just number eight, it’s (name). or — (nickname) if you want.” if it was possible, she smiled brighter. how can anyone be so cheery? five thought to himself. also, why isn’t she kicking my ass right now? “anything to eat for you?” she pulled her pretty and sticker-covered notepad out.

he shook his head, “not hungry. far too much things on my mind.” he tapped his foot on the ground. (name) watched him, his anxious stance and his constant worried eyes. “wait here, yeah?” she spoke before running off to the back of the diner. five watched her rush away, only to come out a few moments later with a plate of waffles, eggs, and a few slices of strawberries.

she placed the plate before him, the maple syrup on top with a smiley face. “what’s this?” he asked with a dead-panned expression planted. (name) shrugged as she sat across him, “my treat, silly.” she beamed another smile at him.

five was hesitant, but took the fork from beside the plate and started digging in. his eyes grew wide at the taste, it was delicious. it felt like being home again. “it’s mom’s recipe. nobody really calls her mom besides me, they make fun of me for it.” she giggled lightly.

five looked at her, “it’s really good.” after five finished he put the fork on the plate and put it away. “thank you! also, i’m very sorry for this five.” she cackled a little more, a confused five realized his mistake and stood up, the girl began fighting him.

she attempted to punch him on the side of his face, but he dodged it with his forearm. he returned the attacked with a kick to her face, blood oozing out of her might-be broken nose. she laughed, impressed, wiping the blood off with her fingers. they began fighting more, to which people inside had run off and evacuated.

(name)’s boss continued to yell at her to stop, but (name) knew damn well she wasn’t going to stop. she hit five in the stomach with her knee, five hunching over, and (name) continued with a back-kick on the side of his face. five coughed before pushing her into the table.

“you fight real good, for a seventeen year old.” she spat the blood out of her mouth on the floor. “and you fight really weak for a girl who can manipulate light.” five time-jumped on the table she’d collided her back with, and tried to kick her once again on the face, but to his surprise only met a blinding light.

and once five was distracted trying to find his vision again, (name) pulled his feet out to get him on his back. five landed with a thud! the pain rising from the bottom of his ass to his back. “lunch is served!” her laugh echoed across the diner. five time-jumped again, under the counter.

(name) looked for him, her platforms clanking on the ground. “where are you five? we’re not done here yet, grump.” she sang, another laugh escaping her lips. she spat another puddle of blood out of her mouth. five panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

this girl was crazy. how could she be laughing at a time like this? and how was it that she was killer fighter? “come on five, you going soft on me hargreeves?” she walked the place around a little bit more. is that why diego and allison looked that bad after the fight back at the mansion? because of her?

“there you are handsome.”

[imaginaryf1shots]

Wildflower Pt.1 | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 3.4K

Lewis x ex!reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) You break up with Lewis 3 years ago, but he was the one that let you go.

Warning: Maybe a curse word?

AN: This was supposed to be insipired by Wildflower by Billie Eillish, I'm not the best at writing based on songs, so sorry if it's not that good. Honestly i paint and songs usually get me to paint not write.

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

The low hum of conversation filled the air, the clinking of glasses and faint strain of music, just loud enough for people not to be shouting to be heard. It’s another charity event in Monaco. The venue was stunning, an open garden filled with warm lights, every corner screaming luxury and elegance. It was the kind of event where everyone knew everyone, connections were made over small talk and subtle glances.

Lewis moved through the crowd with ease, his practised smile on as he exchanged pleasantries and shaking hands. He’s used to eyes following him, so when he’s in situations like this he usually thrives.

As much as Lewis tried to enjoy the night, having a few friends present at the charity event, his mind kept wandering, he’s distracted by something. Is it the pressure of Formula 1 and the last few years? The constant travel finally getting to him? Did he not have enough adrenaline rush during the summer break?

Lewis stood with a group of his friends, but his eyes started to wander, skipping through the crowd, a familiar figure caught his eyes. He passed that back and hair before backtracking once more. His eyes narrowed slightly, that tattoo looks awfully familiar. But no, it can’t be. Could it? No, it couldn’t be her.

You were standing near one of the garden’s archways, your back to him, deep in conversation with someone. Even from the back he could tell it’s you, and he knows that tattoo very well. He chose it after all. He was there when you got it, he kissed it.

Lewis’s heart stuttered. It’s you.

The world around him seemed to tilt as he stood frozen, eyes locked on the woman he once called his, the woman that once meant everything to him. His mind raced as he instantly remembered all the memories you shared. The laughs, the way you used to hold his arm, the late nights and lazy mornings. The fights, the tears and the final goodbye. You were always beautiful, but now… you were radiant in a way that felt almost untouchable. Something is different, you’re different. It’s been three, maybe four years since Lewis last saw you, but it feels like decades.

Lewis took in a breath, as a wave of regret hit him hard, right in his chest. He still thinks about you, when he’s winning, when he’s losing, when he’s in the middle of a crowd, when he’s home alone. He’s always thinking about you. The one that got away, the one he let go of. He never tried to imagine where you are now, always assuming you moved on with someone who could treat you better than he ever could. But he never imagined you’d change as much as he could tell you did from just looking at you from far away. You’re way more confident now in your stance, in yourself, more independent and outgoing. It’s still you, but a new version of you.

A wildflower that bloomed in his absence, flourishing in ways he never expected. He knew you that well to know that there’s an ease to you now, a lightness that felt words away from the woman who once stood beside him, in his shadow, struggling to find your place in this world. It was almost painful knowing he wasn’t the one to help you grow into this version of yourself. He wonders who did, who was with you while you grew.

Lewis doesn’t know how long he stood there for, before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He blinked a few times before he turned to look at his confused friend.

“You alright? It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.” He asked, concerned.

“Feels like it.” Lewis said under his breath before he smiled. “I’m alright.”

The sound of your laughter made his eyes snap to your figure once more. Your eyes sparkling under the soft lights, his chest tightened.

You’re happy.

And he was stuck with how much you had changed. This wasn’t the same woman who stood in his apartment years ago, her voice breaking as she told him she couldn’t do it anymore. This wasn’t the woman who looked at him with those pleading eyes, asking for more of him than he was willing to give. No, this was someone else entirely, someone he didn’t know anymore.

A small voice in his mind asked him to move to get closer to you, to say something, anything. But what could he say? How could he possibly approach you now, after all these years, when you had clearly built a life for yourself that no longer included him.

Just then, your eyes flickered in his direction. For a moment your eyes locked, Lewis’s breath caught in his throat. Your smile faltered for a second, as recognition flashed across your face before you blinked, your expression smoothened out to a neutral expression. Before you returned to the conversation you were having.

Lewis found himself drifting to the edge of the garden, away from the crowd. The cool evening air doing little to cool the rising heat in his chest. Leaning against a stone pillar he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him.

Three Years Ago

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the apartment, louder than usual. You had been crying, though you tried to hide it. Lewis stood across the room, his jaw clenched, hands still at his sides, struggling to find the right words. The fight had come out of nowhere, started by something small, a cancelled dinner or was it a missed call? Either way it had quickly spiralled into something bigger, something you both knew had been simmering under the surface for months now.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lewis!” You had shouted, your voice cracking under all the frustration you’ve been feeling. “I can’t keep being the one who’s always waiting, always wondering if you even care! I know how demanding your job is, but even when you’re home you’ve been neglecting me.”

“It’s not that simple.” Lewis rubbed a hand across his face, frustrated. “You know my schedule, you know how much I have going on, I’m doing my best.”

“Your best? Your best isn’t good enough anymore!” You had snapped back, tears welling in your eyes. “I’m here, alone, all the fucking time, while you’re off living your life. I need more than this, Lewis, I need more from you.”

He had opened his mouth to argue, but the words had died on his tongue. Deep down he knew you were right. He’s been consumed by his career, by the constant demands of racing, the media, the endless travels. He’s been giving you what’s left of him, the small scraps he could manage between races, hurried phone calls when he could manage, but never enough, never what you truly deserved. Lewis loves you so much, he doesn’t want to let you go, but he’s not being fair, and it’s clearly obvious. Racing has been his whole life for so long.

The silence that followed had been suffocating. You had whipped the tears away, taking a deep breath trying to steady yourself.

“I love you.” You had whispered, your voice soft, filled with sadness that stabbed at him. “But I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep waiting for you to make me a priority.”

And he just stood there, let you take your bag and leave him. Leave him standing there in the middle to your shared living room, the weight of your words sinking in his chest.

Lewis blinked, pulling himself back to the present. The night air felt thick, suffocating as the memories played out in his mind. He had let you go. He hadn’t fought for you, he hadn’t tried to fix things. In that moment, his pride had gotten the better of him, and he had convinced himself that the relationship was just another casualty of his demanding career. He had thought he would move on, that you would move on, and maybe, one day, you would find your way back to each other.

But now seeing again, standing so close, yet so far, he realised how naïve he had been. You moved on, yes, but without him.

And you’re all the better because of it.

Three Years Ago

The days following your breakup had been a blur, Lewis threw himself into racing, using adrenaline and pressure to distract himself from the growing emptiness that seemed to follow him everywhere. His friends noticed the change, the way he became quieter, more withdrawn, but no one said anything. He had always been good at hiding how much he hurt.

But whenever the noises of the track died down and he found himself alone in his hotel room, the quiet was unbearable. He would stare at his phone, go through old test messages, photos and play videos of you together. He tried to convince himself that you had simply grown apart, that it wasn’t meant to be. And for a while, that had worked.

Until tonight

The noise of the event seemed to surge around Lewis, as he weaved through the crowd, his heart thudding in his chest. Each step toward you heavier, the weight of the past pressing down on him. He faced so much in his career, but this was different, this wasn’t a race, or a podium, or a championship. This is you.

When he finally caught sight of you, he stepped closer. You looked every bit the woman you grew to be, calm, poised, your movements graceful. It was surreal, watching you, it was like he was seeing a stranger who somehow had the keys to his heart. Keys to a door he locked after you and thought would never be open again.

Before he could second guess himself, Lewis stepped closer, his heart pounding. His voice threatened to betray him as he opened his mouth to call you. “y/n.”

You turned at the sound, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Time, Space, everything around you is blurred. It’s just the two of you.

Your expression remained unreadable, but your eyes flickered with something. It was gone as quickly as it appeared. You gave him a small but polite smile, the kind you give an old acquaintance, not someone you had once loved with everything you had.

“Lewis.” You said, your voice calm and steady, as if the years you spent apart hadn’t left a gaping hole between you. “It’s been a while.”

Hearing you say his name, after all these years, in such a neutral tone, felt like a punch to the gut. He had imagined this moment so many times, thought of what he would say, how you might react. But this cool, collected version of you, was nothing like the woman who had once laughed so easily with him, cried in his arms or yelled at him in frustration.

“Yeah, it has.” Lewis managed to reply, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying to keep it level. “You look… you look amazing.”

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was a pause, an awkward silence that stretched between you. Lewis searched for the right words, trying to close the gap, but everything felt wrong, too forced, too far removed from everything you had once been.

“How have you been?” He asked finally, his voice faltering under the weight of the question/ it seemed so simple, but it carried so much. How have you been since he let you walk out of his life? Since he let you go?

You gave a small nod, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest, almost self-hugging. “It’s been good. Busy, you know? Work, life… all that.”

Your answer was the kind you give to someone you barely knew. He has to admit that it stung, more than he’d ever admit. He expected distance, maybe coldness, but this… this was worse. You were indifferent. You moved on.

Lewis shifted uncomfortably, the words he planned to say dying before they escaped. He had hoped you’d share a moment where maybe a spark would fly. But all he could see in your eyes was a guardedness, a wall built, and he couldn’t blame you for it.

“I’ve thought about you.” Lewis blurted out, the words tumbling out before he could over think it. Your gaze flickered away, just for a second, but you remained calm and collected.

“I’m sure you have.”  You replied, your tone polite but distant. “But like moves on, right? And we both have.”

The words felt like a knife twisting in his chest, he can’t say he hadn’t moved on now. Even if he wanted to argue, say that even after all those years, he had never fully let you, it wouldn’t work. Anything he says will fall on deaf ears.

“Right.” Lewis said quietly, his voice thick with the realisation. “Right, life moves on.”

You nodded, glancing back at the group you were talking to, ready to just leave this conversation behind. Go back to the life where he doesn’t belong, and Lewis realised how much he miscalculated. He came to talk to you, thinking that maybe you could pick up where you left off, but this wasn’t this kind of story.

“I’m happy for you.” Lewis said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You seem… happy.”

You smiled, this time softer, a little genuine. “I am.” And he knew that you like the life you have now, than the one you shared with him. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Lewis. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

And just like that the conversation was over, and he watched you walk away, again. This time with no tears and more confidence and grace than ever before. And here he stop hands by his side, his heart heavy and the possibility of ever being back together leaving with you.

Lewis was in a haze the next few days, the conversation between you at the party playing in a constant loop in his mind. Every moment, every word eating at him. He was so confidant when he approached you, thinking he could win you back, but instead he was faced with the truth. You moved on.

The memory of the soft and distant, detached, smile haunted him.

He doesn’t know how he ended up here, but it didn’t take him long to know where you live in Monaco, so here he stood in front of your apartment building. You rented back the apartment you lived in before you moved in with him. The building filled him with old familiarity, he remembers the first time he came to pick you up.

Lewis practised what he wanted to say all night, thinking about every possible scenario. But now that he’s standing on your doorsteps, his mind went blank. His hands were sweating, a rare sensation for someone who was so used to being in control and thriving under pressure.

But this isn’t a race. This is you.

His heart pounded as the buzzed for your apartment, a wave of anxiety washing over him. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you’re already dating someone else?

“Yes?”

Your voice. Soft, familiar, and yet… different.

“It’s me.” Lewis swallowed hard, his voice quiet. “Lewis.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment he thought you had left him standing there. But then he hears a click, and the door opens for him.

You’re waiting for him in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over your chest. You were dressed in comfy clothes, with your hair up and no trace of makeup. Yet you still took his breath away.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice calm, yet curious. You didn’t sound angry, maybe just a little tired. As if you didn’t have the energy for whatever this is.

Lewis ran a hand over his braids, searching for the words he practised, but once more his words just escaped him, he felt exposed in a way he hadn’t in years. Vulnerable.

“I just… needed to see you.” He started, his voice low, almost apologetic. “After the other night… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About everything. About you.” You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve been thinking about us.” His voice faltered slightly. “About how we ended things, and I know… I know I was wrong. I didn’t fight for you the way I should have. I was so wrapped in racing, in everything else, that I didn’t realise what I was losing.”

Your eyes flickered with something, surprise? Anger? He couldn’t really tell. But you didn’t respond either way. You just stood there, watching him, your expression showing nothing of how you’re feeling.

“I’m sorry.” Lewis continued, the words spilling out of him now, the desperation in his voice clear. “I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. For letting us fall apart. I was selfish, and I thought I could just… move on. But I couldn’t. Not really. I never stopped thinking about you.”

You let out a quiet sigh, your eyes softening, your stance loosening just a little, but your guard was still up. “Lewis… it’s been years. Do you really think you can just show up and apologise, and everything will be okay?”

He flinched at your words, knowing that you were right. He let too much time pass, convinced himself that you would be waiting for him, even though you had every reason and right to move one.

“I know it’s not that simple.” Lewis said, his voice quieter now. “I just… I had to try. I couldn’t leave things like they were. I can’t stop thinking about what we had, and how much I screwed it up. You were the best thing in my life and I let you slip away.”

You were silent for a moment, your gaze drifting away from him, as if you were trying to gather your thoughts.

“You’re right. You did let me slip away.” You said, voice quieter now than before. “And I had to learn to be okay with that, I had to learn how to move on without you. It wasn’t easy Lewis. You didn’t see how hard it was for me to put myself back together after you left.”

Your words cut through him like a knife, the guilt he was feeling was crushing him. He knows you suffered because of him, yet here he is coming to ask for your forgiveness. A forgiveness he had no right asking for.

“I know.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know I hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that.”

You let out a slow breath, uncrossing your arms and finally looking at him again. “I’m not the same person I was back then, Lewis. I’ve grown, changed. I had to. And I don’t know if there’s room for you in my life anymore. You showing up here… it doesn’t erase everything that has happened.”

Lewis nodded, the worst scenario he expected was happening.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He said quietly. “I don’t even know if I deserve it, I just… I needed you to know that I’m sorry. And that I miss you. Even if we can’t go back, I miss you.”

You look at him for a long moment, fighting within yourself not to be affected by his words like you were many years ago. You had spent so much time building yourself up, to just crumble in front of the man you once loved.

“Thank you.” You said gently, but you were firm, this is for you. “But I can’t go back, I’ve spent too much time learning how to live without you.”

A punch to the gut, this is it. He had come hoping for a second chance, but now it’s all gone.

“I understand.” What else was he supposed to say. He gave you a small and sad smile, knowing there was nothing else he could do. “I’m sorry for everything, I hope… I hope you find happiness, you deserve it.”

“Take care of yourself, Lewis.”

And with that you stepped inside and closed the door gently in front of him, leaving him standing alone, hands by his side. Helpless.

Pt. 1

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆⟡˚ ཐི⋆♱ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚⟡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dad coriolanus snow x fem reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: parent life with coryo has been a blessing and a curse due to his political status and long work days so imagine your surprise when he finds time to take your kids trick or treating

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: tooth rotting fluff, softie dad coryo, trick or treating, "family costume" based on the addams family (didn't really mention it though), bullying, coryo being a very protective dad

𝐚/𝐧: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!! hope everyone has an amazing day and here is my final treat for all of you! i am honestly so surpirsed i actually finished all of this and i hope you enjoy the grand finale of this years flufftober!!

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on Melody darling, we gotta go if you wanna go out!” You yell from the family room of your house.

“OKAY MAMA, ONE SEC!!!” Your daughter yells from her room. You shake your head, turning to the clock that pointed to the time of nearly nine PM. You shook your head, your darling two year old son, Jasper, raising his arms to you from your feet where he stands. You smile at him, picking him up, his arms coming to play with your silky hair that lay softly on your collar. He babbles “pwetty ‘air” as his small hands run through the perfect waves.

If only Melody would hurry up.

If only Coriolanus would hurry.

It was nothing new for your President of a husband to be staying overtime with the senators and other politicians on Halloween of all days. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you signed that marriage contract. In fact, you knew much much earlier when you and Coryo had started dating during your time at the Academy. You knew that no matter how much he loved and valued you and his family, he’d always work so hard, too hard, just to make all of you proud. You knew that he loved you so much that he dedicated the quiet dark of his nights just to be with you while slaving away his days to achieve that dream that, not too long ago, felt so far away. 

You made sure your children knew that as well.

“Dada,” Jasper smiled, turning his brilliant blue eyes towards you. He had inherited all your looks, from your hair all the way down to the curve of your nose but his eyes were all his fathers.

You smile, pressing a warm kiss to your son’s cheek. “Yes, don’t worry darling, your papa is on his way here right now.”

“Is he really Mama?” Your daughter asked, you smiled at the girl who was now standing on the couch, not too far away from where you stood. You smile, carrying her with your other arm, noticing how she runs her fingers through her blonde curls much like her father. Her hair, a little messy from running around her room and downstairs.

“Why, of course he is baby. You know how bad traffic can get. I’m sure he’s running home right now on his own two legs.”

Jasper and Melody laugh, hugging you. You smile, setting them down and bringing Melody to sit on your lap so you can fix her twin braids. 

You knew Coriolanus wouldn’t be able to make it tonight, he had one of the most important meetings of his presidency tonight. Yet, it didn’t hurt to wait and you still had to fix Melody’s attempt at braids.

Jasper wobbles on his feet, walking to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab his bag. 

Melody hums as you braid her auburn hair, the color similar to Coriolanus’ mothers apparently. 

When you were pregnant with Melody during the beginning of Coriolanus’ campaign for President, you were so worried. The actual pregnancy was so so so painful, for you and Coriolanus. Many times he had urged you to terminate, making sure all Panem's best doctors were five minutes away in case anything went awry. Coriolanus barely slept at night, watching your form sleep curled up to his side. He watched in trepidation for even the slightest tell of pain. But it never came, not that that would stop Coriolanus from watching his beautiful wife sleep. that stopped him from watching his beautiful wife rest peacefully.

The actual birth of your darling was terrifying for Coriolanus. You had been in so much pain during your third trimester and hearing your cries and wails as you pushed Melody out scarred Coriolanus forever. 

He especially felt fear when you had gotten pregnant with Jasper. Coryo’s own mother didn’t make it out of the second birth, so imagine his fear after you smiled at him announcing your second child. 

You two had an enormous fight about it which ended with Coriolanus sleeping in his office for nearly a week while you could barely care for five year old Melody who always asked for her papa and why “mama and papa not talking to each other? You sad, mama?”

You nearly broke under the pressure, especially when you two had to attend the last minute dinner party of one of the senators with Melody in tow. You had forced laughs and smiled so artificially in your elegantly dark gown, the color a silent nudge at the growing rift between you and Coriolanus.

But by the end of that night, you were so exhausted from walking around on shards of glass, you carried Melody to the car, setting her down to lay in your lap before letting the dam overflow. Coriolanus had never seen you so low, he knelt in front of you after you brang Melody to your bed, hugging your tummy and nuzzling his face into your belly. He apologized so profusely, you wondered if that was all he could say.

Suffice to say that after that night, Coriolanus vowed to never again make you cry as you did on that tortuous ride home where you dug your palms flat against your eyes, sobbing softly while sniffling quietly.

“There you go Melody. Do you like them?” You asked having finished the second braid.

You reach for the mirror on the coffee table, holding it up to show your daughter her hair. She squealed, taking the mirror before bolting to where her brother stood. She held the mirror in front of her brother, Jasper turning his head slightly in the mirror watching his reflection. 

“Lookie, Jas! You as handsome as Papa and I’m pretty as Mama.” She giggles, setting the mirror down before dancing with her younger brother, squeals of joy filling the air.

“That you are my little snowflakes.” A deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

Jasper and Melody squeal even louder, if that possible, and run to their father who stands in the doorway. He smiles, bedding down in his pressed black and gray pinstriped suit, wrapping his strong arms around your two children, hoisting them up. Jasper hugs his fathers neck, nuzzling his face into the crook of Coryo’s neck while Melody smacks a kiss to his cheek before wrapping her arms around her brother and her father.

You smile at the scene, Coriolanus’ deep blue eyes meeting your own as he walks over to you. He plops the kids onto the couch before stepping right in front of you. His hands fall to your hips where the delicately black fabric wrinkles, accentuating your figure.

“Hello darling.”

“Why hello mister President.”

He barks a laugh, smiling down at you. He leans in, kissing you softly on your forehead, making his way to each cheek before finally kissing your nose.

You pout, “no kiss on the lips Coryo?”

He smiles, his hand coming to hold your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your perfectly vicious red lip now would I?”

“Good thing it’s kiss proof then, isn’t it?”

He growls before, bringing his hand to your nape, tugging you forward to meet his lips in a savage kiss. You hear Melody gasp before slapping her hands over what is probably her little brother's eyes.

His lips ravage yours, your hands flying to his chest, roaming the expanse. ALl that could go through either of your heads was mine. His hand comes up to your lower back, rubbing soothingly up and down knowing that ever since the birth of his two gems, your back hasn’t quite been the same.

“MAMA PAPA, CAN YOU PLEASE HAVE THIS MOMENT LATER?! WE NEED TO GOOOO!” Melody yells, wedging herself between yours and Coriolanus’ legs. 

Coriolanus finally lets up, heavy breathing and near panting filling the small space between yours and Coriolanus’ faces.

“Ma, Pa, kiss kiss.” Jasper says as he stalks over to your legs, grabbing the black fabric of your dress, arms stretched up to you. You chuckle, picking your baby up.

“Yes, Ma and your Pa were kissing.” You nuzzle his cheek, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Come on Mama, Papa, can we please go? They gonna run out of candy before we get there.” Your daughter runs to the door, slipping on her boots, candy bag in hand.

“Slow down there snowflake, don’t want you to melt before you get out there, do we?” Coriolanus pats her head as she turns her face to look up to her fathers, her eyes mirroring into her own.

“Okay Papa, I’ll slow down.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Trick or treat!” Melody and Jasper yelled, along with the other kids that had reached that particular door.

“Oh my, what a wonderful group of children I see.” The woman who opened the door exclaimed, handing each and every child at her door at least five candies each. Melody shouted thanks before walking over back to where you and Coryo stood waiting for them by the sidewalk.

“Oooo Papa, can we go to that house over there? And the other one? And the other one?”

“Of course we can have my little gem, but are you sure your bag will be able to hold all that candy?” Coryo raised his eyebrows even though you and Coryo both knew that you had each brought an extra bag for the kids knowing just how long they’d want to stay out walking door to door to get some free candy.

“Of course it can Papa!”

“Okay then Melody, we can go to every single house in the Capitol then. If that is what you want of course.”

“Mama said we should definitely stop by Mrs.Plinth house so can we go there after this street?”

Coryo raises his eyes to meet yours, a sheen of unshed tears brimming his eyes.

“Okay darling, we can go visit Ma Plinth’s if you’d like.”

Melody smiles, a brilliant smile, at her father. She runs off to the next house, her brother in tow. The subtle (although not really invisible, just in disguise) bodyguards follow the young kids, you and Coyo not trailing too far behind.

“So, Ma Plinth’s, huh?” He asks, his eyes watching his darling kids ahead. He takes your arm in his, his hands slightly trembling.

“Yeah, I just thought it’d, you know,” you pause. Your hands rubbing circles on Coryo’s, knowing everything that he did, all the sacrifices he made to survive. You sigh, turning to the man next to you, his gaze hardening ahead of him. “I just thought it’d be nice to pay her a visit with the kids.”

Coryo let out a shaky sigh, shaking his head while his jaw was clenched so hard, his jaw could seemingly kill a man. You leaned to him, kissing his jaw.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in, holding it for a second, and then releasing it. He takes your hand, kissing the blood red diamond sitting on the delicate band of your fingers before smiling at you, his deep blue eyes meeting yours.

You two continue to stroll along, watching Melody and Jasper walk from door to door, yelling “Trick or treat!” You and Coryo laugh, taking in all the sights and sounds that neither of you got to experience all thanks to the war. 

You and Coryo laughed, feeling fully at ease with each other on the night where you can be anything and anyone, anywhere.

Until your head cries that is.

You and Coryo both stiffen at the sound of your children crying. Both of them run back towards you, tears falling down their rosy pink cheeks. You crouch down, picking up Jasper whose sobs and cries could be heard all throughout the Capitol. You soothe him, asking him what’s wrong. He just nuzzles himself further into your neck, more and more tears falling from his eyes.

Coryo’s eyes had hardened, his long legs carrying him to where his precious First Daughter stood, the back of her hands rubbing profusely at her eyes. In that instance, she resembled him, Coryo thought. Her same marine eyes, tears rolling down them as he just found out that his mother died, his father died, that they had lost everything. 

He kneels down in front of Melody, taking his hands to cup her cheeks, nudging her own hands out of the way.

“What’s wrong my darling snowflake?”

She hiccups, kids around them stopping and staring at the strangely fancily dressed man and the small girl wearing twin braids in a gothic black dress.

“O-oh Pa-paa, w-” she stumbles over her words, making Coriolanus’ heart grow weaker at the sight of his daughter crying, “why are k-kids so m-mean?”

“Darling, you’re not a mean kid. What happened?”

“Th-They took our c-candy, me and J-Jasper’s. They took i-it saying i-it was taxes so I told them that y-you were my Pa and that y-you make the taxes.” 

Coryo’s hands balled, fists ready to hunt down whichever lowlife had dared tax his daughter, stolen her candy, and ridiculed the Snow name.

He lifted Melody up, rubbing her back up and down slowly as her tears slowed and her hiccups became few and far inbetween. He walked back over to you where Jasper had nearly cried himself to sleep, the previously full candy bag slung over your shoulder.

You met Coriolanus’ eyes, a quiet yet roaring fire brewing in his iris’. He sends the guards off to find the little shits who had harassed his daughter. He led you to the car you had driven there, setting a sleepy Melody down in the seat next to yours before shutting the door.

You rolled down your window, asking Coryo “where are you going?”

He simply replied, his eyes darkening. 

“Taking care of business.”

Needless to say, the next day Melody’s squeals of excitement and subsequent footsteps up the stairs and into your room were explanation enough for the truckload of candy awaiting you in the family room downstairs.

Bonus:

“Coriolanus Snow, what are we going to do with all this candy?”

“Eat it?”

“Don’t you think you went even a little overboard? Whatever did you do to those poor boys?”

“First off, they were not poor. And secondly, I didn’t do anything out of my reins as President of Panem and father of two gems.”

and that concludes this years flufftober!!! i hope you have enjoyed each of these as much as i have whilst writing them!!

[amialunatic]

Just trust me baby..

divider credits to @anitalenia

Based on anon request: would you be willing to write a sam fic about his first time between him and reader where she has scars from her time with a vamp nest (say she was taken a while back and that’s how she got into hunting) and she’s insecure and a little anxious with having his mouth on her body because of the way she was once treated but sam is very patient and understanding. basically just really sweet and sam is catering and talks her through it :,)

Warning: Light smut, Fingering, Sam Winchester/ Hunter!Reader, Fem!Reader, brief mention of readers time in vampire nest. 

A/N: Omg my first actual fic. I'm quite stoked to be putting it out. Nervous too. I hope you all like it. I'm starting simple and soft core ig.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

“Hey, you awake?” Dean called from the driver’s seat. That jolted you from down the memory lane. They were returning from the hunt. It was rough. At least 10 vampires. 3 newly turned, innocent, and pain-stricken but unable to control themselves. You guys had to kill them all. Everyone sustained injuries. That was natural. You getting bitten was not. You tried your best to not get bitten as it brought back nightmares that lasted quite a while than you cared to admit.

Sharp teeth piercing you had been a routine for weeks. Until you were rescued by Bobby and the boys. They found you on the brink of death. Several weeks of hospitalization later, you were fit to hunt. You hunted alone, focused mostly on vampires. And sometimes with the boys if the targets were nests. Helping those trapped there brought you catharsis. You wanted to be the hunter you needed all those weeks. And you strived your best to be that.

As you got out of Impala to the motel you were staying, you realized how tired you were. Slumped shoulders and bitten forearms, you moved slowly to your room. In the background, you hear Dean invite Sam for a drink and he refuses. As soon as you enter the room, you get into the shower. Maybe warm water can block out the sensations, the fangs that haunt your mind when you close your eyes. It never has, but you always hope it does this time. As you get out, red from the shower, you hear a knock. Sam’s voice calls out “Hey, it’s me.”

You open the door to see him standing at the door frame all fidgety. “I didn’t think you’d be showering.” he looked unsure almost second guessing his decision.

“I was done.” You moved back as he let himself in. Awkwardly standing with his arms on the chair, brows furrowed he asks “You okay?”. “As ok as you’d be after ganking a bunch of vampires I guess” you tried to lighten the situation. But Sam was having none of that “ You got bitten”. “Yes Sam, vampires bite. That’s like their whole MO.” you poured sarcasm to derail the conversation. This enraged Sam. “Don’t downplay this” his voice raises.

Reaching your breaking point and seeing that Sam wouldn’t leave you without a confrontation, you spit out the truth “You wanna know? OK. I’m fucking tired and I’ll probably have nightmares for days." Your outburst continued as you paced the room in a dressing gown. "You wanna know how weak I am, how the thing that happened to me years ago still brings me to my knees? There you go”. These moments were always followed by tears for you. But he didn't have to know that. You move across to the window facing the half-empty parking lot and turn away, not wishing to humiliate yourself further.

You hear the shuffling of feet as you feel two large hands wrap around me. “Y/N..” his voice laced with sympathy and concern. You lean into his familiar hug, your back nestled against his chest, his warmth enveloping your core. “Sam. I..I don’t want you..guys to see me weak. I am not weak.” you sigh. Sam chuckles “Now that’s the dean-est sentiment I’ve heard you express.” you appreciated his efforts to cheer you up.

“Hey it’s not like you too to sit around and express your feelings” you counter.

He sighs “I know. Me and Dean. Not the greatest examples of sharing feelings. But..you can tell stuff to me. You know that right?” He continues. “Also I don’t think you’re weak at all. Infact you’re one of the most badass hunters for recovering and facing your fears.”

You look down with a grateful smile “Thanks Sam.” As you turn around to face him, you take in his face. His eyes look desperate. Like he is trying to convince you that he can be your safe place. That you needn’t be scared of being vulnerable. And you can’t help but place a kiss between his furrowing eyebrows. Those lines that form when he is worried. You wanted to stop those and let him convince you. To forget the pain and nightmares even for a moment.

“Kiss me”

He looked at you, slightly surprised. “Now? You sure?”.

They had made out before. But this felt different. Somehow more intense, somehow more desperate.

“Yeah Sam, kiss me. Now.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. He bend down, caught your face with his hands as he pressed his lips on to yours. Restrained strength flowed through his hands that he tried to keep in check while pure gentleness caressed your lips. He lifted you effortlessly so your faces were leveled as he continued kissing you, gently tugging your lower lip with his teeth drawing out sighs. You mindlessly tugged his flannel, wishing it’d disappear.

“Patience” He chuckles as placing you on the desk, your back against the wall. You hastily removed the buttons one by one while he untied the knot of your dressing gown in a nanosecond. Your freshly showered skin glistening with water drops stops him in his tracks. As he stares at your underwear-clad body mesmerized, he stops to notice the bite on your forearm, still fiery red, even with the ointment around it. Around your shoulder and neck were faint scars. He caresses the skin around the bite, careful not to cause you any pain. After gently running his fingers along the scars when he looks back to your eyes he only notices your fierce stare, bestowed on his eyes, his swollen lips, and his now visible body, muscular and oh so strong. How you wanted him to take you then and there.

Not wishing to drag it any longer, he starts kissing you again as you gently run your hands through the battle scarred abdomen of his. Moving down to trace a drop of water from your jaw to your neck, he presses gentle kisses coaxing you to lean back your head opening up your neck and chest in the process. He practically groans as he gently nibble across you neck connecting to your shoulder.

In a flash, you freeze and push him away. All of it happened so sudden, Sam stared at you one feet away, confused. In a moment of clarity, it dawned on him. He gently came close to you and tentatively caressed your sides. Your apologetic eyes said everything it needed to. He lifted your chin up to him.

“hey hey..baby. , it’s ok. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He looked at you concern etched in his forehead. When you remained silent he coaxed you “Baby, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just..I..was bitten..mouths on my body.” you shudder, visions running through the back of your eyes

“ Does it bring back memories?” He gently asks

“Sometimes, I just can’t block it. I want to Sam, believe me. I want this. I want you..so bad.” I look at him desperate.

“I know. But you know I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with right? We don’t have to do this at all”

“I want to. Sam. I need you.” you lock eyes with him, forehead burrowing

His eyes searched mine for any trace of hesitation. Seeing none, he reaffirms gently “Do you trust me, baby?” “I do” I whisper as I breath out.

“You can stop me whenever you need to.”

A corner of his lips curled revealing the deep dimple. “So no biting I guess?”

“Yeah, no biting.” You bit your lips slyly. “ Well not you anyway”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart” He nudge your lips again easing them apart. As the same time, his hands part your thighs as he stepped impossible close.

You feel his hands slipping the robe off you. Before long, his long fingers were moving closer to your core. His fingers slipped in to your panties and finding the wetness pooling, he groans. I met his gaze, my eyes a blend of desperation and embarrassment at being so affected by him. “Sam..”.

“I know baby” He looks at you for permission before plunging his finger in the wetness. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your fingers never managed to reach that deep. He ease it out. And again and again until you were a slobbering mess. To add to the torturous pleasure he lifts his palm so each thrust is paired with your clit being rubbed enough to cause friction but not enough to tip over. This was agony but delicious agony.

Sam looks into your convulsing face, his features radiating nothing but the desire to please you. To make you forget, to have a moment of pleasure, away from the darkness that consumes both of you. As you almost reach the height of pleasure, he adds in yet another finger. Through your hazily closed eyes, you don't see him kneeling. Suddenly you feel his warm mouth enveloping your clit. You gasp as your eyes flew open. “Sam..Sammy..” you say tentatively.

“Trust me baby..this will feel good” his voice is laced with soothing promise.

Before you can have further doubts, pleasure blankets you and drags you up to the height of it. As he sucks and laps gently, your hands involuntarily wander through his luscious locks. Finally with a cry and grasp of his hair, you tip over. His hands and lips soothe you through the fall with barely-there touches of your slit.

“oh god..that was..” you breathe heavily through your mouth as you struggle to push words out. Sam leans over and kiss you sloppily, with a goofy smile. “it’s cute to see you all thoughless and spent”

“Sam..you little jerk” you say in amidst panting.

“Hey remember I was the one making you moan my name a moment ago. Some gratitude” he smirks.

“And I’ll make you do the same, just you wait” you rope your hands through his neck pulling him.

"Is that a threat or a promise, honey? Either way, I'm all in." He interlocks his lips with yours, the deepening kiss tasting like an invitation for round two.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

MAybe there should be a second part! Idk. This felt long but not long enough at the same time. Please let me know if anyone would like a second part. I'll try to write one (meaning I'll probably stress over it and write it in 2 weeks)

[nekropsii]

ALPHA TROLLS RANKED BY HOW WRONG THE FANDOM AT LARGE IS ABOUT THEM:

This is a personal challenge, based entirely on my own experience and perspective, and also ranked from Most to Least Correct. I was bored, and thought this might be fun.

Putting this under a cut, because it's long as hell.

MEULIN LEIJON

People get her mostly correct, from what I’ve seen… Most of the time, fan content of Meulin is absolutely recognizable as Meulin, but her pride in her deafness + joy of learning new ways to interact with the world through/due to her disability is always removed, and I do not often see people tackle the Toxic Positivity aspect of her character. That seems less like character assassination, though, and more like a combination of people not actually playing through the Openbounds, people not being able to fathom disabled people (especially those who gained a disability later in life rather than being born disabled) being happy, and general fandom distaste for the idea of touching anything uncomfortable, especially when that uncomfortable topic is highly mundane, normalized, and potentially applicable to them or their loved ones. Meulin’s toxic positivity was, of course, commentary on Tumblr’s ecosystem at the time, so… It was much harder to touch back then.

ARANEA SERKET

People tend to get her general, broad strokes personality right, but unfortunately she gets treated pretty roughly for the crime of Being A Serket. People refuse to understand her motivations, and she often gets demonized for what she was doing around/during [S] Game Over, even though that was something she’d gotten pushed to and also was cool as fuck to watch. God forbid a woman do anything.

DAMARA MEGIDO

People are right about the racism, 100%. It is completely despicable, hard to look at, and extremely blatant. She does, however, have character outside of that. No, it isn’t “whore”, it’s more like “angry, dysfunctional abuse victim”, and she’s genuinely a very interesting and tragic character. But, again, people are right about the racism, so she gets to be placed way up here.

MEENAH PEIXES

She is such a chaotic little bastard. I love her. I really do. Please understand that she genuinely does not understand the concept of consequences. This girl didn’t have a Lusus, she didn’t have parents, it was functionally illegal to tell her “No, you can’t do that.” That would fuck up literally anyone’s moral compass. That’s not me hand waving away all the fucked up and bad shit she’s done, we all know what she did, but people tend to forget this aspect of her character and it pains me deeply, because it is a very genuinely interesting concept that I want to see more of. She’s capable of regret, we’ve seen her feel it, I just don’t think foresight is her forte. No one raised her to consider consequences, or help her experience them in a healthy way, because nobody raised her period.

Also, her ass is not butch, she is the girliest girl in the entire comic. She is about hot pink and glitter and kiss marks and unicorns and cute little puns and you will respect that. She is not masculine. Her ass is not masculine nor is she butch. Let her be her hyper-feminine self.

LATULA PYROPE

Please for the love of god there is more to her character than “Gamer Girl” and “Mituna’s Girlfriend”. You are falling for her fucking ruse. Please. Please. Please recognize that her entire character is about internalized misogyny, and being forced to overcompensate for misogyny in gaming circles as a gamer who happens to be a woman. Please. I’m begging.

KURLOZ MAKARA

His character is not that deep, it’s mostly just a string of events he is mysteriously, inexplicably involved with. The Makaras are extremely Function Over Form- their characters practically do not exist, they're mostly just plot devices that exist to push the story along. I'm sorry to Makara fans. You just invented a guy in your mind and decided he was real. He is also not that soft, though, and his relationships with both Meulin AND Mituna are not healthy. Hard to stop people from ascribing cutesy squishy lovey dynamics to random men who happened to have looked at each other once, though. Some people truly haven't graduated from 2012.

HORUSS ZAHHAK

I am begging people to consider that maybe the biggest issue here is not that he is “Bad Otherkin/Therian Representation” and is in fact maybe the fact that Hussie was actually making fun of Systems when he was writing Horuss. Because Horuss is canonically a system. He uses the word system. He uses the word switching. He uses the word host. He literally talks about his Plurality at length in extremely upfront, plain terms. I don’t know how him being “Bad Otherkin Representation” was and still is the main discourse about him. It makes me insane. That is a commentary that truly writes itself. Talk about having your priorities out of wack, honestly...

PORRIM MARYAM

No, she is not a MRA, she’s just a regular feminist who happens to live on a different planet with different politics and social hierarchies from Our Real World Earth’s USA. Whatever argument you’re about to pull out of your ass to say that she sucks is bad. She already explained what she meant by that, in more detail, very clearly, and she was right. Half the time she’s literally just giving you factual information about what Beforus was like, and literal plot synopses. She isn’t saying anything insane. She’s literally normal. I don’t know why people cannot handle or process this. Porrim has not ever said anything controversial. If you disagree with this you’re either misconstruing her on purpose or you fell for Kankri’s bait, and that’s just fucking sad at that point.

Also, she’s more than a sex object, and her tits are not huge. Honestly, half the shit she was saying was just “I am more than my sex life”, and so many people took that and made her main character trait her sex life. Just pathetic.

RUFIOH NITRAM

This man is a fucking war criminal and I will stop at nothing until he is behind bars for his crimes against Damara. Raging misogynist. Total fucking cunt. Just the worst. If I talk any more about this, this part will be 1,000 paragraphs long. But also, I’m begging people to recognize his relationship with disability, too. He was similar to Meulin in the sense that he didn’t mind his disability, and his biggest gripe with it was the way that Horuss tried to “fix” it… Which is an interesting way to expand upon how Beforus’s culling system is not only very explicitly ableist, but mimicking real world systemic ableism. I also want people to recognize that Hussie is actively having a conversation about the reclamation of slurs with Rufioh’s character, and how not letting people reclaim such language is doing nothing but giving the word power against them while stripping away their own personal agency. Rufioh’s a complicated guy, and he’s interesting and also the worst, and I am really tired of how he gets watered down to nothing but “Pretty Boy Victim Of His Inexplicably Psycho Ex”.

MITUNA CAPTOR

Holy Fucking Shit, You Guys Are Ableist.

KANKRI VANTAS

To this day I see people saying he was just Hussie making fun of SJWs. To this day. To this day people think Hussie was trying to make Every Tumblr Leftist look bad, and that he hates them Because They Are Leftists. When will people recognize him as a bootlicker to the oppressive class and the violently bigoted. When will people recognize that. When will people recognize that this is more of a commentary on the legitimate real flaws of Tumblr’s politics at the time. When. When.

When will people stop portraying him as a lovey-dovey Catholic Whore. I’m going to stab my fucking eyes out and then kill everyone in this building. Me when it's based and cool to ship an aroace character with a sexual predator. I GUESS.

CRONUS AMPORA

I say this with every ounce of sincerity I can possibly muster as a person: What the literal actual fuck.

[yanderes-galore]

in love with the platonic yandere aegon ii and the greens too, will you please write more? 🥹💖 i cant imagine the thrill he’d feel when you bond with a dragon, and maybe even actively seeking him out and being there for him when the maesters treat him. i would love to see reader be so caring for helaena and their little sister, training to fight for the purpose of protecting them from harm. i can also see reader being inquisitive of their lineage as a targaryen, asking their uncle aemond to let them see vhagar and learn about their family. i can also see queen alicent being weirdly caring like seeing reader as another chance of being a better mother?

This is extended thoughts based on the Darling in this concept I'm linking here. Kept Darling Female as she was in the previous concept.

Based these extended thoughts on the Anon comments you made ^^ I don't mind making a few other cute ideas. Sorry it isn't all that yandere, I wanted to make cute content with the subtle echo of a threat without forcing unnecessary conflict.

Yandere! Platonic! Team Green Extended Thoughts

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Fear of loss, Violence, Dubious companionship.

While Aegon is nervous about it, a good Targaryen princess and queen needs a dragon of her own.

So eventually you'll be given one of your own.

Dragons are rideable rather quickly, so within a year and a half you'll have a rideable dragon.

It's a hatchling of your own with pretty scales and piercing eyes.

Aegon himself would want to teach you the ways of having a dragon.

Although he often comes off as arrogant with his explanations, using Sunfyre as an example as he shows you how to properly command a dragon.

Uncle Aemond may be the one to teach you High Valyrian to not only hold conversations and mess with Aegon... but to give better commands to your mount.

Even if Aegon was burned, he still asks for frequent updates on your progress.

Of course the burned king feels thrilled to see and hear you able to control a dragon of your own.

While he was anxious at first, he feels quite prideful to see his eldest daughter prove herself.

Aegon loves you the most out of his children, even if laws limit you due to being a woman.

You're just so determined to do good for your father.

Aegon usually doesn't want you to see him suffer when the Maesters treat him.

Yet you often go out of your way to show up and stand beside his bed.

You love him even if Aegon tries to isolate you from the world.

Aegon only wants you to focus on your family....

It makes him happy even if he's pained when you hold his hand.

You're loyal, staying by your father's side as he's treated after being burned.

Although, eventually, Aemond will call you away to teach you more.

Be that swords or ancient languages and history... Aemond takes a great deal of enjoyment when becoming your mentor.

He even offers to help you with your dragon bonding, showing you Vhagar and teaching you how to treat your own mount.

Aegon would hate you being shown Vhagar but Aemond knows he can't do anything about it.

Since you've been taught to care for family, you care for Helaena after the death of one of her sons.

You often help her parent your younger brother and sister, sitting quietly in her chambers as you watch the two babes coo to each other.

You beg Aemond to teach you more in order to protect your family.

Your uncle is amused yet teaches you of course.

Sometimes people wonder if Aemond is trying to gain your favor instead of Aegon...

Aegon was never into history or very dedicated to swords or language.

Which means Aemond spends a lot of time preparing you.

Your grandmother, Alicent, may wish her sons taught you like a proper lady.

Despite it, Aemond usually ignores her and gives you the lessons you desire.

Speaking of Alicent, you're right when you'd say she'd want to parent you to try and be a better mother.

You may be Aegon's kid, yet she finds herself also attentive to you.

She usually visits Helaena's chambers when you're there to interact with both you and your mother.

Alicent loves you too... and with how you're being brought up... she's happy at least one Targaryen seems to have their heart in the right place.

Even though Aemond, Helaena, and Alicent are usually the ones who have your attention... you still return to Aegon.

You lay beside him as he rests, telling him of your progress as a young Targaryen princess.

Aegon is pleased with it all... you're almost fit to be a queen... you just need a husband...

Although Aegon dreads the idea of promising you to anyone.

Sure, you'll have heirs of your own someday...

Yet for now Aegon wants to keep you to himself for a while.

You're his promising princess... more precious to him than anything...

The rest of the family feel a similar way, you're like their trump card.

None of them would ever let anything happen to you.

Blood has already been spilled in this war, so them executing anyone else in your name isn't too unheard of.

The last thing The Greens want is to let The Blacks have you.

They don't want you being tempted and betraying them... or being kidnapped... or worse.

So, for now, Aegon and the rest want to keep you isolated...

If you ever got captured by The Blacks... or were tempted to leave your family by other means...

Fire and blood will follow.

[minzis]

The Ghost Of Her

Art Credits: “Selene Thrown Down by Argus,” 1886 by Ferdinard Keller.

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨A Simon Riley One-shot୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

♡Summary: Even after being on the team for months Ghost has yet to warm up to you. On a drunken night he confesses a truth leaving you feeling worse then before when he simply hated you.

♡Tags: Angst, no comfort, sfw :)

♡Authors Note: so wow have I been gone….I have worked on other things. Can’t really use the I’ve been busy excuse cause I haven’t I’ve been literally doing nothing.-. ANYWAYSSS I did listen to “Sweater Weather” by The Neighborhood on repeat while writing this so take that as you will. If y’all want a part two let me know! Other then that I will work on things hopefully soon but no promises😞

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨♡୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

“You look like her,” he admitted blankly his hand half hazardously setting his empty glass on the counter. He’s drunk, very drunk.

You weren’t even sure why he was talking to you let alone why you bothered sitting next to the same man who treated you like complete shit during training, during missions. Just about any interaction with him was always ill ending but at the same time you couldn’t help but sit next to him based on the looks from the rest of the team. They all looked worried but couldn’t bring themselves to approach him. So you settled for being the sacrifice, he always yelled at you anyways what’s another night?

His gaze was unfocused as he looked at you, he was there but he wasn’t really there. His finger tapped as his glass as he went to take another sip but he placed it back down his glance of realization it was still empty.

“Who?” You asked softy, eyes drawing over his half covered face the balaclava just hovering above his lips. The blacked makeup around his eyes smudged, he looked messy. You wondered if he’d even remember talking to you tonight.

“My girlfriend,” his eyes crinkled the same way a person’s does when they smile. His brows furrowed shaking his head like he simply forgot something, he motioned over the bartender to refill his glass. Your eyes followed the bartender as she refilled his glass, that was his fourth glass since you had gotten here.

“Sorry my ex-girlfriend, she died a few years back. Some tumor in the brain they said, it was inoperable and terminal,” he spoke as you swallowed harshly sitting up in your seat. You tired not to frown but the pale look on your face would’ve been obvious if he hadn’t been so drunk.

The hatred made a sudden sense now, your hand clenched at your own glass as he continued. “Yeah she looked just like you, same hair, the laugh too and the eyes it’s really in the eyes the first time I seen you I could’ve sworn it was her but,” he trailed off his gaze flicking in hits of disappointed.

“But it wasn’t, it was just you,” he spoke taking another sip from his drink, more like half the glass. You hated the way he said you like it had been wrong for you to even exist at all, like it was some evil thing you had done showing up at all. You suddenly wished all he did was yell at you, for some reason that would have cut less deep.

You downed your own drink the alcohol leaving a stinging taste like the thoughts of wishing you had never even sat down next to him. Wishing you had just ignored him like he would’ve done to you. You glanced back at him surprised to find he was already looking, you thought he was but once again his gaze was unfocused. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at her.

This wasn’t just another night, it was a sicking one. One that left you feeling ill and guilty for hating him even more after his confession. How could you hate him but how could you not hate him? Your eyes watched him as you took in a heavy breath. He reached out to brush a stray hair of yours tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered but it sounded pained like he was being forced to speak. You couldn’t even move as your lip quivered at the sight. His eyes watered as he moved to hug you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, he was shaking horribly as he clung to you. The overwhelming smell of alcohol from him engulfed you, his fingers clenched at the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral. I should’ve been there but I couldn’t see you in that casket all dull and lifeless,” he spoke in a slurred speech as your own tears fell. Still even now he wasn’t even speaking to you, you simply weren’t even there to him.

The feeling was overwhelming you, being so unseen and invisible was truly something despicable. You bit your lip in attempts to keep yourself from crying any further. You felt sick, surely you’d throw up soon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited your grave. I swear I’ll come and I’ll leave your favorite flowers. I just wish…I could’ve been there to hold your hand, I should’ve been there when you died I’m really fucking sorry,” he spoke in rushed statements as you tired to bring yourself to push him away, to yell or scream. Just anything at all but you were stuck frozen, what are you supposed to say to a drunken man who thought he was talking to his dead girlfriend?

Your heart ached as you reluctantly returned his hug as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands rubbed up and down his back humming in response. Your teary eyes met with the rest of the 141, you shook your head glancing down at Ghost’s back. They nodded moving across the bar to pry him off you. Gaz and Soap each held up one of his arms and a supporting one along his back. What hurt the most was for some odd reason they didn’t seem all that surprised. The three men shuffled away Ghost mumbling more words but you could hardly understand.

You gaze met with Price’s as he looked sympathetic, he reached to offer a soft tap on you shoulder but you pushed his hand away. You felt angry and used, “you guys knew didn’t you? You fucking knew I looked like her and you still let me run around like some fool wondering what I had done wrong.”

You stared at him with a frustrated glare standing up on your feet ready to say more but held your tongue. You sighed shakily digging through your purse, you opened your wallet slamming a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

“For the drinks,” you muttered angrily turning on your heels, he grabbed your arm his own gaze softening. He moved to speak but you stopped him yanking your arm back.

“Don’t…just leave me be,” you sighed in disbelief, how stupid you must’ve looked complaining to them about Ghost’s antics as they joked along. A complete and utter fucking fool you must’ve been. “Respectfully sir fuck you and the rest of the damn team, I want a transfer put in,” you spoke through gritted teeth, he didn’t say anymore letting you walk away.

[stevie-petey]

we thought love was something (we weren't meant to find)

﹂ season two of "come home"

as you approach a year since will's disappearance, things seem to be back to how they were. you still have jonathan and the boys, hawkins is boring again, and you and steve harrington aren't really friends. you convince yourself that it's fine, but time can't heal all wounds, and you sure as hell have your fair share of them. when will starts having episodes and your brother hides a literal monster from you, junior year becomes a lot more painful than it already was. (and because you can never win, steve gets dragged into it). (more complicated feelings arise). (as usual).

episode one: MADMAX - what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

episode two: trick or treat, freak - you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

episode three: the pollywog - you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

episode four: will the wise - jonathan is gone for one day and suddenly all hell breaks loose, your hesitant friendship with steve is already rocky (thanks billy) but steve is hot when he's angry tbh, you become a couple's counselor to lucas and max (sorry dustin), and you're now officially the world's worst cat owner ever. and babysitter. but what else is new ?

episode five: dig dug - you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

episode six: the spy - dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

episode seven: the mind flayer - jonathan is back and has a lot of questions and you have even more for him, the gang gets back together and ties will to a chair, you tell the kid a story to distract him from his demons, steve is a confused mess but at least youre with him, and someone makes a surprise appearance (her name rhymes with shell).

episode eight: the gate - you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 2 and 3

﹂ episode nine: the fall - surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

⌑ status: FINISHED

⌑ season two title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[taskforce420]

leaked. simon 'ghost' riley

it was obvious something had happened, the way people stared at you as you walked past them, they watched as your hips moved, and chest bounced. however- you couldn't understand why everyone had taken some kind of liking to your figure randomly. there was no need for them to, you wore the same kind of clothes everyday around the base.

it wasn't until your captain jogged over to you and pulled you into his office, along with your fellow team mates, that you finally realised something bad had happened. it was obvious that your captain, price, felt a little uncomfortable in explaining the situation. he stumbled over his words a little, he cleared his throat far to much and for gods sake- why does he keep pacing?!

"for christ sake cap, what's goin' on?" you finally spoke up, looking at him and everyone else in the room with a frown. price, and the others looked down as you spoke, apart from one. ghost.

"the fella you, stupidly, got yourself associated with- has leaked somethin' of yours" ghost spoke with his awfully dull tone. you could have sworn you felt you heart and soul leave your body, my eyes stayed glued to his.

"what.." you finally muttered out, in complete and utter disbelief. the man you once trusted with those kind of photos had completely disregarded your wishes of deleting those images you had sent him a while ago.

"he hasn't sent them to anyone, but he's been showing them to people." ghost continued on, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down at you. he was...disappointed in you, thought you were better then to send those kind of photos to someone; but we all know he didn't understand why you did what you did, he doesn't understand why anyone does it to be honest.

you were stunned, how the hell were you supposed to get out of this? sure you could talk to that foolish man you once liked, but that probably wouldn't end very well, you couldn't delete it off his phone..

"what am i supposed to do?" you finally spoke up, your voice a little shaky and desperate. it was embarrassing to admit but you sent those photos because he asked you to and you thought, you liked him; but little did you know you was using him as a distraction. trying to keep you feelings hidden for someone else.

it sounds bad, but he was using you just as much as you were using him. he only cared about one thing, nudes, and he was willing to do whatever he could to get them off you and if that meant filling your head with sweet nothings then that's exactly what he'd do.

price looked up as you spoke, he heard the pain in your voice and god it was horrible. he knew about the issues of men leaking photos around the base, it happened more often then he'd like to admit, but seeing you in this mess; a sweet, caring lady with the desire to do good and treat those around her with nothing but respect, pissed him off.

it pissed everyone off, soap, gaz, but one in particular was ghost.

you couldn't tell, but his eyes were squinted, his teeth clenched, his breathing heavy, and his hand squeezing his own bicep out of anger. sure, it was annoyed at you, but he was far more angry at the man who threw your trust out of the window and purposefully showed you off. how could he?!

"i'll talk to em'" ghost finally spoke up, you and the others looked at him, dumbfounded.

"si, you don't have to do that. i-i'll handle it on my own, after all its m-" he cut you off, you were right. it was your own fault, but he knew how you felt and he was not about to let you deal with it on your own.

"don't be daft, i'll sort it" and he was gone. straight out the door of caps office. the door slammed behind him and you bit your cheek nervously.

"well, thats tha' sorted" soap said, and god was he right.

it was only the next day, and people stopped staring. their eyes no longer followed you or your chest as you walked, no, instead they stared at the ground or simply refused to look your way. it was hard not to smile to yourself. oh, simon. the man you are.

it was now even more harder to mask your feelings for him, he helped you, without a second thought.

where you walked into his office to ask him about it, he immediately looked up at you, his hands stopped typing away at the computer. you let out a small hi, as you closed the door to his office and made your way to the desk.

he replied with a small nod of his head and a quick, you okay?. "im okay, thank you for talking to him" tilting your head a little with a small smile.

he took notice of you small gesture and smirked under his mask, so pretty.. he leaned back into the chair. "'course love".

[worldlxvlys]

I need a fan fuck of those texts girly desperately

show me

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttttt, p in v, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), very fluffyyyy

a/n: here’s your soft smut 🤗

based off of these

once chris and i got to my house, we made ourselves comfortable on my couch. when we finished our food, i turned to face chris.

“do you wanna talk about it?” i asked him softly.

“not really, can you just” he paused before continuing, “can you hold me?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

my heart broke for him, hearing the pain in his voice. without another word, i opened my arms for him, and he accepted my embrace.

his arms wrapped around my waist as he laid his head on my stomach.

i ran my fingers through his hair, gently twirling the ends around my finger.

“she makes me feel so worthless sometimes” he whispered against me, toying with the hem of my shirt.

“you are not worthless, chris. you mean so much to me, i don’t know what i’d do without you” i spoke softly. my top was slightly cropped, and chris’s face was pressed against my bare skin.

“you’ve poured your heart into this relationship and you’ve received nothing but disrespect and insults in response. you don’t deserve that shit. you deserve to be loved and cared for too” i said as i looked down at him.

“i am loved and cared for” he began “by you”he spoke as he looked up at me.

my brows furrowed slightly at his words.

“you’re always there for me” he whispered into my skin before leaving a light kiss on my stomach.

“chris” i whispered as my heart began to race, my breathing becoming rapid.

“you always make sure that i feel loved” he breathed out against my stomach, the touch of his lips igniting a fire under my skin.

he gave me another kiss, this one slightly higher up as he held eye contact with me.

i swallowed harshly, mind running wild with possibilities of what could happen.

“i want you to feel loved too” he grabbed my waist, lightly rubbing circles into the skin.

“chris, you have a girlfriend. we ca—” “she dumped me” he cut me off.

my eyes widened at that, “chris, you’re obviously upset, i can’t take advantage of you like that. and i’m definitely not gonna be a rebound”

he pulled my hands from his hair and laced them with his.

“ you don’t get it. i’m not upset about her. i mean, i was, at first. but now, i’m realizing that her treating me like shit was what i needed to appreciate the way you treat me. and it shouldn’t have taken all of that for me to realize it. and you’re definitely not a rebound. you have no clue how long i’ve been waiting for this moment. i’m sorry, let me make it up to you”

he brought his face to my jaw, but stopped himself.

his breath tickled my face as the tip of his nose lightly brushed my jaw.

“tell me you want this. tell me this is ok” he whispered to me.

i was so overwhelmed, i could barely concentrate.

i spent years pushing my feelings for chris aside, thinking he would never feel the same way about me.

i had convinced myself that i was being selfish and i forced myself to be happy for him.

i spent so long telling myself that i was fine and that i didn’t like him, that i genuinely believed it.

but if that was the case, then why did this feel so right ?

why was his touch alone driving me crazy ?

why was it taking all of my self control not to push my lips onto his ?

i couldn’t think straight when his lips were just centimeters away from mine.

“please, let me show you how much i love you. it’s the least i could do. i need you to know how much you mean to me”

my eyes closed as i took in the intimacy of the moment. i nodded my head at him, unable to speak the words.

he gently placed his hand under my chin, making me look at him.

“look me in the eyes and say it. i need to hear the words”

i slowly opened my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. “show me, chris. i want you to show me how much you love me”

without another word, his lips crashed against mine in a passionate kiss.

his lips were soft and they moved against mine perfectly.

this kiss was unlike anything i’d ever experienced before.

he kissed me like he was scared i would disappear in front of his eyes, like he didn’t believe it was real.

i pulled away for a second, to gauge his reaction.

his lips chased mine desperately, as though he wouldn’t survive without another kiss.

he pulled me back in for another without hesitation. this one being just as good, if not better, than the first.

he broke away from the kiss for a second. “is it ok if i take this off?” he asked gently tugging on my top.

“only if i get to take off yours” i whispered back.

“go ahead” he spoke. with that, i gently pulled his shirt off and threw it on the ground.

he then pulled mine off, eyes widening when he realized i didn’t have a bra on.

“oh my god” he mumbled to himself, “just when i thought you couldn’t get more beautiful”

his words made me flustered as i hid my face in his neck.

“don’t hide from me, ma. wanna see that pretty face”

he left kisses on my collar bones, trailing down the valley of my breasts. his kisses went down my abdomen and stopped right above my waistline.

“please chris” i moaned out, feeling the ache between my legs grow in anticipation.

he hooked his fingers around the fabric and tugged it down slowly.

i felt goosebumps rise on my legs as the cold air came in contact with the newly exposed skin.

chris left a kiss on my covered clit, making me let out a whine.

he gave me a long kitten lick through the fabric.

“please, chris. no teasing” i didn’t want to wait any longer than i already had.

“wanna take my time with you, baby. didn’t wait this long to rush it” he spoke against me, the vibrations shooting straight to my core.

“all you gotta do is relax, mama. let me take care of you” he spoke as he slid a finger into my panties, collecting the wetness that pooled there.

he took the finger that was covered in my arousal and slid it into his mouth, moaning at the taste.

“hmm, gotta taste more” he spoke as he pulled my underwear down.

as soon as his tongue touched my heat, i was a moaning mess under him.

“love hearing those sounds” he groaned against me, making my hips buck up into his mouth.

he swiped his tongue through my folds slowly and sensually, never breaking eye contact with me.

he watched the way my face contorted with pleasure, flicking his tongue in different ways to see my reaction.

he brought me closer and closer to my orgasm with just his tongue, before stopping.

before i could complain, he was pulling his sweatpants and boxers down.

“want you to finish with me inside of you” he spoke as he grabbed my hand.

he guided my hand toward his dick, looking at me with lust-blown pupils as i pumped him a few times.

“is this okay? are you good?” he asked.

“yes, please chris. need you so bad” i moaned.

he lined himself up and slowly pushed his hips into mine.

his face scrunched up as he tried to control himself, wanting to go slow.

he let out a slight whimper, making me clench around him at the sound.

“f-fuck, not gonna last if you do that again” he spoke as he willed himself to stay still.

“you can move” i spoke once i adjusted to his size.

he slowly began to move, letting out a shaky breath as my walls hugged him tightly, relentlessly squeezing him.

“holy shit, you’re so tight. don’t think i’m gonna last ma” he groaned out as his hands clung onto my waist like his life depended on it.

“chris, chris, oh my goddd. feels so good” i moaned out underneath him.

he dropped his forehead to rest against mine, cradling my jaw in his hand.

“you’re so” he cut himself off with deep groan “you mean so fucking much to me”

“love having you this close to me” i moaned out.

he began to thrust deeper inside of me, making me moan with every thrust.

i wrapped my legs around him, pushing him even closer to me.

“don’t know what i did to deserve you” he started, “but i’m never letting you go”

i squeezed his biceps as his dick twitched inside of me, signaling that he was close.

“i’m so close, chris” i cried out, feeling my orgasm creeping up on me.

“ i’m gonna wait, wanna cum with you” he spoke.

he brought one hand to my nipple, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers.

“chris! i’m cumming!” i yelled out as my muscles began to tense.

“fuck, me too” he groaned out.

we both released together as our pleasure mixed together inside of me.

“oh my god” he breathed out, burying his face into my neck.

“you ok?” i asked as i drew little shapes into his skin.

“never better” he spoke as he moved his head back to look at me, smiling down.

“what about you? are you ok? did i hurt you?” he asked, looking my body up and down.

“no” i smiled lightly at him.

we both stared at each other for a while, silently processing what just happened.

after a little bit, i broke the silence.

“do you regret it?” i asked, not being able to get a good read on what he was feeling for once.

“of course not. i meant every word i said, i’d never lie to you. do you ?”

“no, baby. i’m pretty sure i’ve been in love with you for years, if it wasn’t obvious. i’ve wanted this for as long as i can remember” i said.

his face broke out into a grin at that.

“well that’s a relief” he spoke. “here, lemme help you to the bathroom”

he scooped me up from my spot on the couch, bringing me to the bathroom.

“you pee, i’ll run the water” he said, moving towards the tub.

once i did my business, he helped me into the tub and washed me off.

he helped me apply my favorite lotion and get into my robe.

after i was clean and dressed, he helped me to my room, and we got comfortable under the blankets.

the sound of his heartbeat and his deep breaths quickly lulled me to sleep.

“from now on, you’re the only person i’ll ever chose” was the last thing i heard before i fell into a deep slumber.

——————

masterlist

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