Fellas, Once Again, I Ask Your Aid To Denounce @ Aeyumiicore For Stealing Other People's Work.

cove hearing "i love you" for the first time

pairing: cove holden x gn!reader

tags: wholesome fluff, very emotional!cove, happy crying

hearing an “i love you” from you caught cove completely off guard!

the soft tone in your voice, the gentle look in your eyes and that hint of a smile resting on your lips was just too much for the poor boy!

his cheeks gradually get more and more red, until it's the darkest tone of red you've ever seen on his face!

and while cove opens his mouth and tries to reply something, he can't get any words out! it's like his brain short circuited when you said those words to him…

for a few seconds, he's completely frozen, before suddenly, tears begin to roll down his face!

“s-sorry–! sorry, i–” he manages to stutter out, trying to wipe away his tears, as they keep on rolling

cove doesn't understand why he would cry in a moment like this. he's happy! so why is he crying? he doesn't want you to think that he's upset about what you said!

“i-i love you too…!” he eventually manages to get out between tears, his eyes glued to yours, with a firm and loving look in them. “i've loved you like i've never loved anyone before, nor ever will…”

everyone's so leng--- I MEAN LONG

You know you're single (always have been, always will be) when your fav fanfic won't update for a while because the writer started dating *facepalms*

YASS

It might be almost 2 am but I am glad that I actually found out why that cat looked awfully familiar to me. I dare you to spot the difference 😼

the fact that starlord and quicksilver are both adhd coded guys named peter and run around doing hero shit with diegetic walkman music on feels kind of crazy like excuse me marvel how do you repeat that and still make two completely distinct characters

also maximoff was born 56 and quill in 80 but if they were the same age you know they’d be Best Bros Forever And Ever

—

not to mention peter parker and then just that other guy called peter like. do they need more white man names? at least i can hc that peter’s actual name is pietro

Call Me Up Again - pt. 2 Mike Schmidt x Reader

Part two of All Too Well Angst!!! So much angst everyone I've decided to turn this into a miniseries, this post being the second part. I'll continue to link chapters as I post them This is also being updated on ao3 (cough cough) No warnings this time 1.9k words

Snowflakes fall silently, coating everything around them in a white dust. The wind blows with a crisp chill, nipping at all the rose-pink noses. It sends shivers down the backs of those who dare be out in this weather. The pumpkins and fake graveyard decor that had once littered every home’s front yard has long since been swapped for tinsel garlands and pine wreaths. 

The Schmidt residence beams with colored string lights and holiday music. A tall, sturdy evergreen sits patiently by the window. Its branches are decorated with years worth of homemade ornaments, ranging in all size and age from both Mike and Abby. The red skirt beneath it falls relatively empty of presents, only donning the few small ones Mike could afford to buy this year. They’re wrapped pathetically in an old birthday paper, the only wrapping Mike could find to reuse. 

Usually, the tree is so full that he’s had to store things in his closet, but that was when you were still a part of their Christmas. Stockings hung happily above the fireplace and a love so innocent it wraps the house in a warm glow. However, it’s void of that feeling now, instead Mike is left to pick up the pieces that you once fit together. Abby doesn’t understand why you don’t come over anymore, or why Mike has been so quiet lately. All she knows is that something went wrong, and now everyone is upset. She’s stopped bringing up your name in conversation when talking to Mike, because it always ends with him withdrawn and retreating to the solidarity of his room. 

That didn’t stop her from drawing you, though. Sometimes she’d sit at her desk, tears collecting in the well of her eyes, and doodle old memories of the three of you. She remembers them being happy, but by the time the crayons were set aside and the picture was finished, it was a glum mess of dark blues and frowning faces. 

After a drawing is finished she’d slip past Mike’s room, quietly tiptoeing out the front door, and make a break for the house across the street. Your house. She’d work fast, her feet carrying her quickly to and fro. It was unclear from her perspective whether you paid attention to what she’d give you, but by the time she slipped a new piece of paper underneath your door, the old one she had gifted you was gone. 

Mike was unaware of it all. 

He had found a new job in town where he could bury all his thoughts. It was working construction for a local contractor, a job that certainly wasn’t ideal but it paid better than what he’d been used to. Unfortunately, it required longer hours and ate up all his free time, meaning Abby needed a new babysitter. A job that was once happily filled by your company, now replaced with an afterschool program suggested to him from a flyer he found at work. He hated the thought of her sitting in essentially another classroom, surrounded by strangers and snotty kids, but it was his only option left. 

With a third of his paycheck dedicated to it, Abby now spends her weekdays at the nearby YMCA. 

The first time he told her about the new program didn’t go over very well. He remembers it clearly.  

“Abby please,” his irritated voice interrupts her incessant protesting, “listen, it’s the only place that can watch you.” 

“No it’s not!” She yelled at him, her finger pointing to your house across the street, “I want her back!”  

A pang of guilt struck his chest at her words. The lack of your presence has clearly been taking a toll on the both of them, but it’s the first time Abby’s ever been so vocal about it. He crossed his arms with a sigh, watching his little sister stare up at him with solemn eyes. Her lip quivering ever so slightly, evident that she’s holding back tears. 

He crouches down to her level, just like he had done to you so many nights ago, “I’m sorry,” he pleaded with her, “but she’s not coming back right now.” 

Her head shook with disbelief, stubbornly stuck in her spot, “Then make her come back.” 

–

You’re not sure when the Mike shaped hole in your heart stopped aching, but it’s significantly less sore compared to a fresh wound. That’s not to say the constant reminder of him and Abby living across the street from you doesn’t sting. It’s hard enough to ignore all his calls, but trying to get to your car while avoiding his gaze is even worse. Eventually, he gave up on contacting you by the third month of radio silence. It hurt both of you, but you knew deep down neither of you could continue functioning like how you were. 

The back and forth pull of his affection took too big of a toll on your mental well being. You can remember every moment down to the exact detail of how much you craved for him to just do something, anything. 

All those times you held him in your soft embrace whispering sweet nothings in his ear, reassuring him everything will be okay, just for him to turn around the next day and never bring it up again. Or when you’d run your warm fingers through his hair to calm him down after a panic attack, and he’d let his head rest in your lap. Words of affection dripping off his lips like a rich honey, warming you up from the inside out. Then he’d disappear for a while, claiming he needed some space to figure stuff out, all the while you’d beg and plead for him to tell you what’s on his mind, only for him to give you nothing back.You stood by him regardless though, keeping a silent promise that you’d always be there for him when he needed it, a love that was never reciprocated back. 

A long sigh escapes from you, eying the new delivery that just appeared by your door. You shuffle towards it weakly, unsure if you really wanted to torture yourself by looking at it. It’s one of those things that curiosity will drive you to do, unable to ignore it like a pedestrian passing by a car crash. The paper crinkles under your touch, unfolding it reveals the familiar childlike style of Abby’s drawings. A man drawn in green crayon frowns up at you, holding hands with an equally sad looking child. Your gaze drifts over to the other side of the paper, highlighting a person relatively similar to you standing alone with their arms crossed, angry. Your heart hurts at the sight of it, knowing that Abby is implying that you’re angry at the two of them. You shake your head quickly, trying to evade any tears that threaten to spill. It’s not fair for Abby to be caught in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Mike, and you realize that. 

The sound of your phone ringing breaks your train of thought, and when you check the caller ID your breath hitches. Standing in the middle of your living room frozen with indecisiveness, you stare at the screen while chewing on the bottom of your lip. Without thinking, you accept the call.

“Hello?” 

There’s a sound on the other end of the line, somewhere in between a choke and a gasp, and then your name is mumbled out in disbelief. 

“I didn’t think you’d actually pick up…” Mike’s voice is still a little startled, mimicking the internal panic in your chest. 

You suck in a deep, steady breath before answering, “Yeah, I didn’t think so either.” There’s a slight pause from both of you, unsure how to continue the conversation. It’s felt like years since you last heard his voice. 

“Are you…doing okay?” 

“...Yeah.” Your answer is unconvincing, but Mike doesn’t have any ground to be able to question it. So it’s left like that, timidly dangling in the air between you both. 

You hear shuffling in the background, and a smaller voice asking a question before he dismisses it. Your heart lurches thinking about how Abby is there, trying to figure out who her older brother might be on the phone with. It almost makes your cool demeanor crack, urging you back into your savior complex. 

“Uh, sorry about that,” your phone crackles back to life, “anyways, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Oh okay.” 

“Can you,” he stops, leaving you on edge, “meet me somewhere?” 

The lack of response from you causes him to start rambling, going on about how it would be better to talk in person, and how it would be easier if you could see each other’s expressions. Soon afterwards, a string of apologies ensue, and you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. 

“Okay Mike. Promise me this will be worth it.”

“I promise.”

–

A young waitress stares nervously at your booth. Orders continually piling up, hungry customers giving her rude looks whenever she ignores their impatient huffs. It’s been a good thirty minutes since you first showed, and she’s checked up on you at least a handful of times by now. Mike had suggested this little diner down the street from your house, and you agreed to meet here. 

However, it seems like you’re the only one who showed up. 

Your back is pressed against the uncomfortable foam board of your seat, a leg bobbing rapidly out of habit. You pick at the pills on your sweatshirt sleeve, trying to avert your gaze from the sympathetic waitress. Prior to your predicament, she had asked if you were dining alone, and you told her no. However, It’s starting to look like you just might be. With anger bubbling inside of you, a voice in the back of your head is saying you should have seen this coming. It’s so typical of Mike to make promises that he’s unwilling to keep. 

The air smells like grease, mostly from the old fryers sitting in the back of the kitchen. Oil bubbling and brooding in their tanks, waiting for someone to drop a morsel of food so it could shrivel in the scalding lard. Stomach stirring with disgust, a wave of nausea washes over you. It’s unclear exactly what’s causing it, you’d like to give credit to the sleazy restaurant, but something deep down points to the lack of a certain person’s company. 

You keep your attention trained on the dwindling heat of your coffee. Both corners of your mouth scrunch downwards at the smooth ceramic now held in your cold hands. When did watching a cup of coffee become so interesting? 

“Would you like some more?” The sweet but timid waitress asks you, now back at her spot beside your table.  

A joyless smile flashes across your face, a futile attempt at masking your dejection. Pushing the cup forward, silently accepting a fresh refill from her kettle. 

“He’s not worth it.” She adds, tipping off your mug. Her eyes refuse to meet yours as she does so, and you are thankful for that fact. 

“No,” you respond back, “he never is, I guess.” Your voice is shaky, as are the hands that are folded in your lap. 

Mike is not worth the years of being hurt and pushed away. Not worth the tears that fall after coming home from a night spent at his house, inconsolably sobbing because you know no matter what you do it leads back to the same thing. To give up all your time, love, and patience just to receive nothing in exchange. 

It’s not worth the unrequited love. 

“Can I have the check please?” You ask quietly, still avoiding the gaze of the girl next you. 

Her head shakes with pity, fingers wrapping around the arm of the kettle, “it’s on the house.”

TAGLIST - @wriothesleysbimbo @psbc @victimsofadownn @that1lxnlybxch @callsignwidow

boy why are you so gorjus😭😭😕

this one took an annoyingly long time to draw and render. its very obvious doing bgs is NOT my forte

VERY INSPIRED BY THE STEP 3 OFFICIAL ART OF HIM IN THE OCEAN :]!!

pocket-sized

percy hynes white x short! reader

masterlist

mentions of: height? idk let me know if you find any!

synopsis: percy liked that you are shorter than him

i’m no longer writing for him so plz no hate!!!!

12 inches. a whole foot shorter. you were 5”2 and Percy was 6”2. he liked how he could tower you. he liked the way you would have to look up at him. he especially appreciated when it was sunny outside because you would have to look up and the sun would catch your eyes making you scrunch your face. he also enjoyed how your hands would be wayyyy smaller than his. but out of all these things, his favorite thing about how short you were was putting his head on top of yours and wrapping his hands around your waist.

You and Percy have been dating for a year. you bumped into him in a pharmacy, trying to develop your film. Percy was waiting next to you holding his camera and you with yours.

“you take pictures” he tries to start a conversation with a girl he found attractive

“yeah, just started with this, I have an actual camera,” you say smiling weakly

“I think you should keep using a disposable camera so we could bump into one another more often,” he says trying to secure a date with you

“or you could just ask for my number” a date you wanted

“would Instagram be included in that bundle” he tried to stalk you, he tried to find out who you were as a person

“or maybe on the other hand I actually don’t have a number” you try to joke

“no don’t be like that” he’s a little flustered now

a few days later after that interaction, you were on a date. after that date led to more dates than asking for you to be his officially. it was nice to have someone to call yours and be excited to hang out with whenever possible.

—-

“ready to head out,” Percy says wrapping his hands around your waist as you’re putting on the final touches of your makeup and hair

“yeah, one second,” you say putting on some perfume that Percy got you during his time in Romania. it was vanilla-scented. your favorite

you were ready to go out on your date. the date was a dinner and you wanted to bet Percy that he was going to move your seat next to his to be able to sit next to you.

right, when you were seated across from each other Percy gets up and moves his chair in the middle asking you to do the same and you did. the thing is that you thought that the distance between the two of you was perfect, but in Percy's eyes he thought differently, he scooted your chair so his practically touched. the whole night after was him with his arm around your shoulder or his hand lying on your thigh.

—-

during car rides, Percy likes to put his hand on your lap. squeezing it and making his fingers dance around. when it was summer he liked how you would dangle your head out the window. how your hair would dance in the wind.

he also liked how in the winter you would bundle up and wear his hoodies because they were so warm but you secretly liked the smell of them. he liked that you would wear the hood and sit on the car seat with yours legs held to your chest because you were so cold.

—-

he never cared about the arts really until he met you. he liked being able to take pictures of you in his bed in a small form but never liked actually making the art. he never learned from the lessons that Netflix made him do.

he liked how you would look when putting your head on his bicep. while you would observe the art. he would have you wrapped around his arms. his head on top of yours. you would talk about all the details of the painting and he would listen nodding and humming in amusement.

one thing the two of you had in common was liking films. every Tuesday heading to the closest AMC theatre. you would watch films and analyze them together afterward.

the theatre had reclining seats and you could move the middle cup holder up so the both of you could cuddle together. and that’s what you did.

every film no matters if it was scary or not you would lie on his chest while he wrapped his arms around you. (the same way you both slept) you liked the way his heart would beat speed up when he would look down on you. you could tell because his head would move around. and you could tell his shit-eating grin was on his face once again.

of course, afterward, you would talk about the film going back to your shared place. he would laugh at your theories of the film. he would play your theories in his head on the way to sleep and they would always make sense.

—-

he also liked baking with you. he liked how you would move around a lot and get the batter on your face somehow. he liked that you had your hair back in a messy style and would have an apron on. sleeves rolled up ready to take on whatever you were doing

“perc! I need your help” you yelled and saw him resting his body on the wall that splits your living room from the kitchen

“what do you need my highness” he bows down

“I need you to get me the pink bowl on the top right cabinet” you point to the thing causing your pissed-off state.

you never understood why he never got you a stool. maybe he liked being of help and being able to be in your bubble while you bake. because he never once got in the way of your work.

he never once let you put the pan into the oven because he was scared you would burn yourself. which never happened when you were on your own.

“why can’t I do it,” you ask feeling like all the work he has done

“don’t want you to get burnt,” he says opening the oven and putting in the pan

“there are mittens for a reason, y’know they aren’t decorations”

“but you look so pretty all healthy and smooth,” he says getting the brown batter from your nose and licking his finger clean

he liked cleaning up with you. playing with bubbles and splashing you with water. he grew in love with your face, he grew to be able to read your facial expressions. enough being said he could read how pissed you were but he knew to not mess around anymore.

waiting for the pastry was enjoyable. he liked waiting on the couch with you. you were in between his legs and your head rested on his chest. you would scroll on your phone and Percy would watch. when the pastry was ready you both would always burn yourselves it was like you never learned. and you would both laugh at each other. but it was enjoyable and you both would finish it in a day.

—-

the get-together was at his place. it was strictly just the cast. they slowly started to pile in through the door. he was excited to be reunited with them. he found the friends that he loved. and you were happy for him. as he greeted everyone he was ready to sit down on the couch and you were close behind. he was holding your hand guiding you to your seat.

another thing Percy was extremely mad about was you sitting on his lap. no matter if there was plenty of space everywhere else. he loved sitting with you. he especially did this when you were laying on the couch watching some TikToks and he would make you get up and lay on top of him. it would make you go crazy and not in a good way. but it made him happy so you let it slide.

“so how long have you two dated” hunter asked

“About two years,” Percy says playing with your hair. twisting it and fiddling with it between his two fingers

Emma was trying to get your attention. she thought you were interesting. she liked the way you probably have a lot to say but just keep to yourself. she knew deep down you were funny because well you were dating Percy.

“what’s something that Percy has done here that no one else knows about,” Emma asks looking directly at you. you start laughing at the thought

“no-“ Percy says trying to hold you from saying it

“he…he sings t swift when he’s bored” Percy tried to cover your mouth before you finished the sentence, but it was too late because what you said was out and everyone was laughing

“so- uh- so who wants to play uno” Percy says trying to move the conversation

wanting to get the Uno cards that were under the coffee table. in a red tin box that once contained chocolates, Percy got you for valentines day. once you got it you were walking to his kitchen. all the seats were taken and Percy put you on his lap. he shuffled the cards and something about that no matter who did it, was attractive. Percy however liked the way your hands made the Uno cards look humongous while he made them look tiny.

“Are you both teaming?” Jenna asked

“should we” Percy whispers in your ear sending butterflies straight to your stomach

“Sure,” you say kissing his cheek and everyone started teaming up.

halfway through the game, Percy has half the deck with him.

“I should've never teamed with you” you laugh at just seeing the cards

“I’ll make us win don’t worry” he had his eyes wide like he was determined. and that he was because he always kept his promises to you.

and by the end of the night you both did. he liked the way your eyes would sparkle with joy that only lit up with winning. how you would wrap your hands around him and laugh.

—-

one thing Percy hated was high heels. it was like they were enemies. you never understood it. it wasn’t like you would get whiny about the heels hurting you. in fact it was the opposite. you would run dance jump all of it and all Percy’s face was saying is how much he hated those things giving you height.

he liked that you would have to tip-toe for him but those were easy access they took one of his favorite things about you. and if he could he would destroy them all.

he liked that at the end of the day, you would dress in his clothes to go to bed. it was practically a nightgown for you. he liked how you would clean your face and make sure you felt clean. he liked the way you would be ready to go to bed and not even act like you didn’t want to be by him. because you did you wanted him to wrap his arms around you because it is reassuring and comforting. and wake up in that same form in the morning.

welded by water

— you take the time to explore the base he offers you as your home, wandering through countless doors. but your favorite will always be the one that leads to him.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: OR SYLUS SWIMMING IN A POOL 😩 sylus’s birthday is in 3 days & i’m unwell ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ he’s gonna be celebrated for the first time and my heart bleeds i love him sm. anyway! this idea was born out of that one ingredient story where he pulls u in the pool I SCREAMED its so romantic & thinking abt sylus in a private pool changed my life 😵‍💫 i hope you enjoy!! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | fluff, romantic tension, smoochie kisses, sylus in a swimming pool hehehe

tw: suggestive touches, very brief description of drowning

You knew the base was big. You barely found your way around to the training room, feeling as if the halls shift and shuffle like an enchanted maze. Usually, Sylus would show you around— lead you by the elbow pushing forward, clasp your hands together to pull you to a secret garden, hike you up his hips and carry you to his bedroom. 

But today you decided exploring would be a good thing. Equipped with Mephisto on your shoulder (a ceasefire between you two today), you walk down the dim crossroads and forks of the building with confidence. 

You’d asked permission before, to walk around and open doors. Sylus merely hummed, lips pressed to your shoulder, saying, “Everything I own is yours.”

You didn’t take that lightly. You refused— tried to— but you knew he was certain. Every word uttered from his lips weighs like a stone in water. You knew, in your heart, he would claim the world and say that all he has conquered is yours to take and use according to your will. 

So here you are, assuming responsibility. Knowing the kingdom where you lay claim. With your phone on the notes app open, you tap tap tap away at directions and take stock of the rooms there are in his— your home.

It’s fun to discover to an extent. Although, when all Mephisto can give you is a head nuzzle and a squawk, you quickly lose interest by the fourth armory. Light fingers trace a line down from the bird’s head to his beak, “Where’s Sylus?” 

Mephisto shakes, his metallic feathers fluttering like real ones except they sound like windchimes— extremely thin iron tendrils clinking against each other like rain. One of your many favorite things about him.

The bird takes off to fulfill your request. This time, he waits for you to keep up. He leads you past an artificial greenhouse, another showcase room displaying his many gem collections, the boxing gym and then…

Mephisto perches himself on the top of the doorway of two double doors. If you’re correct, you should be west of the house. Maybe a wall of the whole structure. Beyond the threshold could be taller windows and maybe the sky. Maybe a telescope. With all the things you’ve seen, an observatory wouldn’t be surprising.

“Bet you three nut-bolts it’s an observatory.” you say and lean your weight into your shoulder against the door. “Though, I never thought him to be interested in astrono…” 

The words fizzle and die on your lips as you’re kissed by a faint blast of moisture and the sound of splashing echoing loud through the hall. Your gaze is drawn upwards at the high ceiling reverberating the sound, and then across the molded crowns of the walls. You follow the pattern, bewildered gaze racing down the curves of the large french windows. The stars— no, the galaxies, splattered like paint onto glass. The moon shines through the glass, and reflects unto the rippling water of the swimming pool. 

The pool where Sylus swam with refined grace. Running through laps with no signs of tiring. Breaking the surface of the water for breath, and then going back under to pop up again on the other end.

You’re too engrossed by the look of it all— how a room with a pool can rival the size of a library, can also feel like an observatory. You file your initial guess as a win at that.

Carefully, you step inside. Almost as if afraid to disrupt the sanctity of it all. But you push forward, into the candle-like glow of the lamps around the pool.

You make your way to the edge, sit cross legged and watch him swim. Up and down. Fast, faster. Silently and then with more force. A faint beeping signals his stop, and he emerges from the water like a god that commands the seas. The moonlight shines on his hair and transforms it into liquid silver melting over his eyes. 

Warm and cool reflect of the wet planes of his body, creating an ethereal illusion glimmering an otherworldly glow. 

And his eyes, so dark and yet brighter than a dying sun, find you. Hold you captive in their focus. Your stomach caves and your chest burns at his perception. 

The little jolt he gets in his chest whenever he finds you staring at him like that never fails to fluster him. What a gift to see you in general, but he cannot deny that he loves when you seek him out. When you emerge from your world and join him in his. When he finds you sitting there, staring, waiting for him. 

He swims from the other edge of the pool towards you. A swan through the water with practiced grace. And when he reaches your dry little island, he pulls himself up by his forearms to greet you. “Done exploring, sweetie?” 

You swallow. Happy he is here, but you often tend to forget how he looks beneath all his designer refinery and comfy, steal-able clothes. Strangled, an “mhm” manages to wriggle its way out your throat. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he smirks, catching the way your pupils scramble down so quickly and clumsily over his body. Beneath his cool exterior, his heart spasms with endearment. “Kitten?” 

And he’s back— love of your life, most annoying man on the planet. Stupid, cocky look dripping along with the droplets of his face as he challenges you. You dig through your pocket and find a coin. 

Swift and easy, you toss it into the pool. It plops and leaves ripples right by his hip. A beat, and then he tilts his head at you in confusion. “Made a wish?” 

“Enriching this pool.” you explain. “It lacks gold, and I’ve always seen you as someone who should be swimming in it.” 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t take it then.” you huff.

He chuckles, turning your upturned nose back towards him with wet fingers, making you scowl. He grins wider, “No, no. it’s just… not enough.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry, would you like me to throw in a hundred in there?” 

He snorts. “Sweetheart, you can do better than that.”

“Your black card drowns then.”

He laughs, whole and soulful. And it echoes through the hall as this beautiful symphony. “None of that is enough to enrich the pool.” 

“Calling yourself broke isn’t as humbling as you think.”

“Darling.”

“What?”

“Hold your nose.” splash! In a single movement, he’s grasped your hand and pulled you into the water. Your arms flail, but his touch never leaves you as he hauls his soaked little dragon li up to the surface.

“Sylus!” you screech, finding his shoulders and pulling yourself flush against him for leverage. You didn’t expect it to be that deep. His arms wrap around you tightly as he chuckles. 

Truly, how delightful is your misery.

“Now it’s enriched.” he says slowly. Glancing down at your downturned lips and your angry brow. A request you recognize and melts you right away.

Your distance makes it easier to curl your fingers on the nape of his neck and tug his lips to yours in a slow, languid kiss. 

You breathe, “How’d you know my wish?”

He grins, pressing one, two, three kisses to your lips in rapid successions. He has no answer, but he lets you know that he wished for it too. 

You’re pulled further into the pool, his movements smooth and unhurried as he kisses you again. A man starved. The first drop of water in the desert. 

You cling tighter, worried when your feet can’t find the ground. But he guides your thigh up and taps the back of your knee so you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Sweetie.” he murmurs, motions taking pause. He delights in the way you push more, chasing his halted kisses with your soft lips. “Mm, beloved.”

“Yes?” you almost whine, irked by the interruption. Every fiber of his soul frays and blows into the wind at the sound anyway.

“Look.” he says, only because he knows you’ll love it. Gentle fingers wrap around your chin, turning your head towards the length of the pool. With your stillness, the water follows suit, and reveals an endless mirror for the endless sky. 

“Oh,” your lips part, your eyes widen, and you get the urge to cling onto Sylus’s strong shoulders a little more. You press your cheek to his to marvel at the beauty he beholds you.

The flecks of lights dance on the warbling glass you swim in, the lunar touch transmutes the water into silk. The sky is on your body and both are doused in starlight. 

“Beautiful.” you breathe, touching the silver surface carefully, watching the tiniest waves disturb the image. 

“Yes.” he says, but his fingers find your cheek. And his eyes have never left your face, waiting and watching for this reaction exactly. Delighting in the cosmos as well— on your skin, in your eyes. He thinks: Gorgeous. Ethereal. Divine.

All mine. 

You turn to see his drunken gaze at you and smile at the implication of his words. Noses brush and kisses resume. 

“I think this is my favorite room.” you say, but your head is filled with him who holds you in his space.  

His amusement takes form in a laugh, low and suave. “Yeah?” 

You hum. Brush his hair back— bundles of moonlight slipping through your fingers— plant your palms on his chest, and lean your forehead on his. 

His warm hands travel up your back, pushing you impossibly closer to his warmth. Until you’re welded by the sparks of light in the sky. Until you meld together in a warm loving tangle of limbs and breath. He says, “It’s all yours.”

But amongst all the wealth, the treasures and the rooms he chooses to share with you, he is the only one you truly desire. Him, and your soul asks nothing more. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

who writes these