welcome to my blog! you can call me d! or vivicia.
MORE ABOUT ME! interests &&...stuff
eighteen. south asian. ♋︎. intj. future game dev. 4w5. "i listen to everything" final boss. cat mom. cinephile who refuses to make a letterboxd account ( google docs supremacy ). rpg enjoyer. vampire media enthusiast. animanga & superhero nerd. terrible sweet tooth. chess player. can't stick to a theme. goth. horror media lover.
sylus x fem! reader. [ est relationship ]. cw: reader had a troubled childhood, implied childhood abuse (nothing too graphic tho dw!), sylus being the gentle giant he is. notes: i cried while writing this, so yea it's pretty self indulgent ^_^ w.c: 2.5k. mlist.
being in a relationship with sylus was great — too great actually, it sometimes felt like you don't deserve him, that you're one mistake away from losing him, no matter how much he reassures you otherwise.
with all of sylus' wealth, you barely have to lift a finger to do anything. does that sometimes make you feel guilty? yes. does sylus kiss you stupid until your brain shuts up? also yes.
cooking was always taken care of, whether by a chef or sylus himself. sure you'd help sylus when he cooked, but nothing too serious.
which is why when you decide to cook for the first time, all on your own— a recipe you'd been eyeing for a while now, your mind as always, starts coming up with all the possible way you could potentially mess up and ruin everything. you know it's not rational, you know sylus won't be angry at you if you do happen to mess up — the only time he has been angry with you, if you can even call it that because it was more like gentle reprimanding honestly, was when you were being unkind to yourself.
it is because of his understanding nature you even worked up the courage to do something new, you can't backup now, at least that's what you tell yourself as you desperately try to shake away any past experiences where your creative, curious endeavors lead to a very unhappy man — it lead to you feeling worthless, like you've wasted ingredients and time. and in some cases it lead to more uglier stuff that you'd rather not think about.
sure, you read each line of the recipe ten times, staring at the words like they owe you money but you're not giving up, not today. you cut the vegetables, put them in the pot and season them as instructed. you follow the instructions for the meat and other components of the dish as well.
let it cook for at least ten minutes, you read again and again until your brain stops telling you that you missed something important.
as you wipe the counter clean and wash the used utensils, your mind starts to race once again, did i even put in salt? i think i did, wait did i actually put the said amount. what if they mistyped the amount needed.
endless questions swarm your brain that you know deep down the answers to but unfortunately your mind is quite stubborn, your biggest opp if you will.
once you're satisfied with the look of the dish, making sure it's properly cooked through, you very carefully grab a glass dish to plate the fresh food in. it smells good, even you can admit that.
you feel nervous as the clock ticks, just a few more minutes before sylus arrives. just a few more minutes before he'll eat the food you've prepared, just thinking about it makes you feel all queasy and scared.
the question rings in your head, what if he doesn't like it?
the minute you start thinking of just throwing the food away and leaving no evidence behind, you hear the door open and the familiar footsteps of none other than your lover. he's back.
"sweetheart," he calls out for you in that soft voice of his that makes you melt, but right now it just makes you more nervous. when sylus opens the door to the kitchen, he can't help but smile, "it smells good in here," he muses out loud, his crimson eyes landing on the steaming dish. you know he's put two and two together, he's the leader of onychinus after all, but he's still waiting for you to take the lead — just like he always does.
"well...i uh made something."
"you made me dinner?" he asks, clearly very happy.
"i hope it's edible," you nervously chuckle, although you're sure the man who has half of your soul knows exactly what you're feeling but regardless you push through all the nerves and bubbling anxiety, serving the food to both of you in plates.
"thank you darling," he kisses your hand before bringing it back down onto the table, holding it gently. you want to tell him to stop, stop giving you so much grace for making something that's probably medicore at best but you hold your tongue.
you hold your breath as he digs in, your mind tells you to flee before something bad happens, before he shows how disappointed he is. but sylus keeps holding your hand as he take the first bite, eyes closing as he chews before finally swallowing.
"i hope there's enough, so i can go for seconds," he tells you.
"sylus, it's okay you can spit it out."
he squeezes your hand, eyebrows gently furrowing, "and why would i do that sweetie?" he asks.
"because it's bad." it probably is, you stare at your untouched plate.
"it's not," his voice takes on that slightly firm tone, "nothing you put your heart into is bad. it's amazing and don't think i didn't notice that heart shaped garnish," he chuckles, eyes trained on yours that are casted down on your plate.
you want to look at him, tell him you're glad he likes it. his praise fills your heart up with joy and warms you up from the inside — but you know the tears are going to start flowing when you meet his patient, loving eyes.
but you know he'll wait.
he always does. because sylus is the most patient man on earth, especially when it comes to you.
"there she is," he gently wipes the tears that do fall when you look at him, "i love you," he whispers before kissing your lips, pulling away only to peck your nose.
"i love you too," you wipe away any lingering tears, suddenly feeling a little shy under his gaze, this man is infuriatingly patient.
sylus then feeds you a bite from his plate, his hand never letting yours go.
and just like that he'd healed a part of you that had been crushed and left to hurt for years.
so when sylus catches you in the kitchen after that, all on your own and much more comfortable with the idea of messing up and failing — because that's what makes us human, it's a natural part of life, he can't help but smile and take a seat on one of the stools near the counter, waiting to try whatever it is that you're making.
you've gotten so used to just hiding parts of yourself that can stir up any sort of conflict, no matter how small it may be — it feels almost wrong to speak about them out loud.
so when your lover catches you looking stuff up to buy on your laptop, particularly for sewing, he's intrigued.
and that's how you two end up here, sitting on the couch which has a lot of space but of course he sits right next to you — close enough that you can feel him breathing, his shoulder pressed against yours. the laptop sits on your lap, momentarily forgotten.
"i never knew you wanted to get into sewing," sylus speaks softly, his thumb running small soothing circles over your knuckles.
well how could he? you never told him.
you take a deep breath. "i never got to try it out," you start, "and i don't want to waste your money," a familiar lump starts to form in your throat, ready to burst any moment now.
"you can't waste it sweetheart," he assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, "will it make you happy if we got you all these supplies hm?"
you nod, sightly hesitant.
"then it's not a waste, i want to see you happy."
he says it so casually too, so certain of himself and the way he feels — you're kind of jealous.
"what if i don't end up liking it."
"what if you do?"
damn him.
he continues, "and even if you don't, it's not the end of the world. but you won't know if you don't try."
you know he has a point, you know he's being rational — yet your mind still isn't fully convinced.
after sitting in silence for a good minute or two, you gather up your courage once again.
"....can i," you trail off, the sentiment clear, you want to try — you want to get these supplies to see if it really can be your new hobby.
"of course sweetie, you don't have to ask."
"thank you."
once those supplies arrive a week later, sylus finds you hunched over your desk, working on some piece of fabric — a tutorial paused on your laptop as you sew carefully with the new machine. you look happy and once again, that's all he wants.
needless to say after that you became a lot more open with your hobbies — specifically the ones you gave up because they seemed insignificant, pointless and a waste of time to your father. and every once in a while, if you wanted, sylus would join you in your hobbies, trying his best to learn more about you and your interests through these small activities.
and who knows? maybe he even picked up a hobby or two because of you, all you know is the small embroidered heart that he stitched on the inside of your coat — sits right above your own beating one when you wear it and it makes you feel seen and loved in a way that you never thought you could experience.
being with sylus has changed you, for the better definitely. you don't feel like you're constantly walking on pins and needles, you don't treat every interaction like a ticking time bomb that you're responsible for diffusing and your nervous system doesn't seem to work against you for once.
but it seems like some things still remain the same because when you accidentally knock a vase over, you freeze up — your instinct kick in as dread settles deep in your gut, your eyes sting with unshed tears as you prepare yourself for the inevitable.
"i heard something," sylus finds you in the hallway, the second he sees the broken glass on the floor, he immediately panics and picks you up and sets you down somewhere safe — away from the glass.
"are you hurt?" he asks, worry clear in his gaze as he frantically looks for any injuries.
"i'm sorry," you sniffle, "i'm sorry," you say again, as if your mind's on autopilot.
"sweetheart, no stop," he gently prys away your hands that cover your face as you cry. "it's okay, it's okay, i promise," his voice falters a little as he sees how deeply this has affected you mentally, your distress breaks his heart.
sylus envelops you in his arms, his warmth — that always soothes you does nothing in the moment, he can still hear your muffled apologies, "sweetie i told you it's okay, i don't care about the vase. please, stop this, you didn't do anything wrong, it was an accident," he rubs your back to offer some much needed comfort and kisses your head, "stop apologizing, please."
you hate yourself for acting like this when sylus has been nothing but kind to you, he's never given you a reason to act like this, but your stupid brain still hasn't forgotten the past it seems.
"i'm just glad you're not hurt, i don't care about that vase, i care about you," he softly rocks you back and forth, his arms still wrapped tightly around you. "no one's going to hurt you, i promise."
you don't know how much time has passed when you finally calm down, but it feels like an eternity — sylus still hasn't let go.
"......do you feel better?" he asks, whispering so he doesn't startle you.
you nod into his chest, your tears have made a mess on his shirt. you know he doesn't care about that but you still open your mouth to apologize.
"sweetie i swear to god if you apologize one more time my hair will turn even more white."
you can't help but let out a small laugh at that — he sighs in relief to see you back to normal, his shoulders are less tense and his brows are no longer furrowed.
when you pull away a little, your head no longer buried in his chest, sylus wastes no time kissing away the lingering tears on your face before pressing a firm kiss to your lips.
"i know you wouldn't hurt me, i don't know why i-"
sylus cuts you off, something he's never done before, "it's not your fault, it's okay. we're okay."
"are you trying to make me cry again?" you bump your nose against his.
"i'd like to, preferably in bed," he smirks at your scandalous glare directed at him.
sylus notices everything, from the small beauty marks decorating your skin to the way your eyes linger on the soft serve at the mall when you two are finishing up your little shopping trip.
"do you want ice cream?" he asks, although he knows you'll deny it. you'll probably say something like, "let's not waste time! we should get going," or "no no i'm not in the mood thank you," you're terrible at lying, he finds it cute. but he does wish you'd just be open with him, whether it's ice cream or something else, he'll happily give you whatever you want.
but he knows your past, the one filled with guilt for buying basic necessities — an angry father to whom you'd feel indebted to for basic stuff like a roof over your head and food. he knows how much you'd denied yourself just so the man wouldn't tick, you had grown to barely glance at anything that isn't a basic need. you deserve so much more and sylus wants to be the one to give you everything you ever wanted, everything you held yourself back from getting just so you wouldn't start a potential fight in your house.
"oh no thank you! i'm pretty full." like clockwork you deny it when you both know damn well your stomach grumbled a minute ago.
you already feel bad about all the extra stuff he bought you when you just came here to buy new shoes.
sylus stares at you, you stare back for a good ten seconds before you give in and ask, "... what?"
"you can be honest with me."
"i know."
"i know you do sweetheart, but i think you can be more honest."
"...."
"so, do you want ice cream?"
"....if that's okay."
he gently huffs, slightly amused, "why wouldn't it be okay? i'm the one who suggested it, you can't be in the wrong for saying what you want," he laces his fingers with yours as you two walk over the little soft serve stand.
you watch as sylus' gaze scans all the options on the menu, taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand.
"i want a choco dip," you tell him, voice small like you're still unsure about the fact you're allowed to be this open and honest but at least you're telling him.
and for the dragon that is more than enough. it's progress, it's proof that love can change people.
he turns to you, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "as you wish sweetie."
sylus thinks you deserve the world for trying — for putting your faith and trust in him, for standing up when the world has done so much to make sure you never do.
but for now he'll settle for a choco dip cone with extra chocolate, hoping one day you'll let him hand you the world instead.
caleb xia x fem!reader. just a thought i had that turned into whatever this is. fluff, like one suggestive line.
"aw come on pips, for old times' sake."
your boyfriend had convinced you with those exact words and a few kisses, to let him paint your nails in a shimmery pink.
you lie down on your stomach, on your shared bed comfortably, hands resting on your pillow — which acts like a makeshift table, fingers splayed out while he uncaps the small delicate bottle.
the applicator brush looks almost tiny in his hand, it's almost comical.
"stay still for me," he orders you playfully as he gets to work, one hand holding the small brush while the other one holds your's, positioning it so he could get a good angle to paint easily.
you can't help but reminisce about all the times he had done this same exact thing for you.
you can vividly remember getting your hands on nail polish for the first time when you were thirteen, excited to paint your nails. you worked carefully, dipping the applicator brush into the liquid and painting your fingernails.
you remember grumbling and being annoyed when you tried to paint the nails on your right hand, your left hand not being your dominant one made the process a little harder and messy.
you recall caleb's eager expression when you'd asked for his help — a little too happy to help you with such a mundane and simple task.
he worked meticulously, making sure to get the nail polish only on your nails, he'd quickly fix any mistakes or smudges with a q-tip.
you bite back a smile when you think about how smug he looked when you had thanked him for his help, flexing your fingers to admire your newly painted nails. caleb even held your hands and softly blew on your nails to help them dry faster.
your mind drifts to much simpler times, your fourteen year old self getting ready for your friend's birthday party. caleb had offered to do your nails, he had done them a couple of times by now and one could argue he'd gotten quite good at doing them. the polka dot pattern on your nails matched your outfit, needless to say you were very happy with the results.
after that caleb would almost always do your nails ( he just wanted to hold your hands and be close #greedybastard ). it didn't matter if it was for a fancy occasion or just because you wanted something cute on your nails, caleb would do it. he even learned some techniques to do intricate and pretty designs on your nails.
"remember when granny caught me wearing nail polish?"
right. you had painted his nails too, once — in a glittery pretty pink, which he refused to take off right away. and yes, he did go to school with his pretty pink nails with no shame whatsoever. we all know how down bad he is.
you gently brush caleb's hair back when it gets in his eye as he does a second coat of the pink polish on your nails, the liquid sparkling under the dim light of your bedroom.
"did you pick this shade because of that?" you ask, amused.
"maybe," he grins up at you, stealing a kiss.
it seems like he's still got it, barely any smudges or mistakes are made as he finishes up. just like always, caleb blows on your freshly painted nails so they can dry faster.
"do you really need to hold eye contact when blowing?"
"well, you do the same when you blow me."
this freak. "oh my god caleb."
he looks way too happy with himself.
once your nails are completely dry, you admire them, flexing your fingers as you watch the pink shimmer under the moonlight.
"so what do you think?" he asks, waiting for your praise like a dog.
"they look very pretty, thank you caleb," you press a kiss to his nose, smiling at the way his nose scrunches. he's still a sucker for your praise after all these years, he's still your caleb.
"you're welcome honey," he sets the nail polish bottle down on the nightstand, "now, for payment, we only take kisses in this fine establishment, no cash, no card."
well, you heard the man. time to kiss your favorite dork stupid. not that you're complaining.
you're MY goat, seriously i love the way you write sm! also ur blog is so GORG. and whenever i see one of your posts it genuinely motivates me to write :D ilyt <3
