sylus has twin boys and one of them is shyer than the other :<
baby one takes after his smug, charming bravado— speaks with a loud playful voice, emotes like a cute little cartoon and always ready for a spotlight. baby two is quieter, just wants to be held, hides behind papa's pant leg when he's introduced to new people and buries his face in mama's neck when he's asked for his name.
sylus is gone for forever (two days) before finally coming home. your voice is hoarse of repeating "papa's not home yet, angel," to little boys who want to play on their moving, talking, loving jungle gym of a father.
baby one runs headfirst towards him to play-fight— pulling at his hair and tugging on his ears— while sylus lifts him up, tickling him and blowing raspberries into his round cheeks.
baby two waits. he toddles after sylus only once he settles on the couch and sighs the stress of the day away. with great effort, he climbs up. sylus hears the squeaking stretch of leather, then feels the familiar weight on his side— a little ball of warmth nuzzling his cheek and shoulder to his papa's torso, squeezing himself under his arm to receive an embrace.
sylus responds quietly, bringing him closer and placing a tender kiss in his messy starlight hair. baby plays with the fabric of his expensive sweater, pulling and crumpling it in his little fists, just as mesmerized by the sensation as both are by the crackling fire.
baby one— a rocket— climbs on him too.
sylus has learned more sound effects since his sons were born, beyond your own favorite "bang!" when you poke his side. baby one's little fingers dig into his father's cheeks, as he goes, "pow!"
sylus lets out an indulgent play-dead 'eugh'— then a completely involuntary 'oof' as his son plops on his stomach before he slides to the other unoccupied arm. sylus's palm hovers over his head ever so slightly, making sure he lands safely. there, he also winds down and stares at the flames.
"pa?" baby two says, lifting his head. sylus turns to him— it still astonishes him how much of you he sees in his little angel's sleepy gaze. he carries your same wide, gentle look, now blinking slowly, dreamily.
"hm?"
"home?"
sylus hums. baby feels its steady rumble beneath his fingers. "mhm."
the baby nods slowly— only now understanding the word fully. connecting the dots between when mama says he's not and when he is. this is home. this feels like home. papa is home.
to that, he murmurs a soft m'kay and nestles his head back where it was before.
and you find them bathed in firelight, their white hair turned orange in its glow. his carbon copies, little lips parted, their chubby cheeks squished against their father's warm embrace. and your darling husband, head tilted back against the headrest, arms wound protectively around his sons.
you walk around, pressing a kiss to the crease between his brows before slipping a pillow underneath the base of his head. the photo you take of them stays as sylus's lock screen— until further notice.
⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
ᝰ.ᐟThe little things they do for you that just make you fold.
His hands are always in the back pocket of your jeans when you're out in public, subtly squeezes when he notices you're zoned out or not paying attention to him.
Always has a extra hairtie on his wrist for you whenever you need one.
Has a ritual of kissing your nose, lips, cheek and then temple in that exact order everytime he leaves or wakes up in the morning next to you.
Brushes the back of his hand over your cheek when you’re zoning out.
“Earth to you, pretty girl.”
Charges your electronics, that ipad you always leave around, the smartwatch that you set down but never charge but always wonder how it's on full battery.
Will geniunely get confused when you don't let him carry things or just do things yourself, he will tilt his head to the side and furrow his brows "do you not need me anymore?"
Puts away some of his shirts in your side of the wardrobe so you can wear them whenever, only choosing the one's he heard you call 'comfy' or you wore more around the house.
Likes to 'assert dominance' by pulling up to your work/uni with a bouquet of flowers and little gifts to show your friends and coworkers who treats you so well.
Warms up the bed or the shower for you before you get in because he knows you hate the cold.
Has a album in his phone of all the pictures he took of you while you were sleeping, he swears you look adorable in all of them but you just don't see it.
Always grounding you in crowded and overstimulating environments with a hand on your knees under the table and rubs small circles with his thumb.
"I'm right here angel, focus on me".
was this a tad bit self indulgent? Yes. low quality but i wanted to get out of a slump.
The most surprising thing about Sylus is not his obscene wealth, not his secret soft spot for stray cats, not even the fact that he likes to walk his mechanical bird in the middle of the night.
No, it's his sex drive. Or rather, lack thereof.
At first, you chalked it up to him being respectful. Surely he just didn't want to seem too eager and overwhelm you. After all, he looks like that. He's practically walking sex on a stick. You're sure he knows it, just like you're sure he wants more.
But as months of you being the only initiator drags on, worry starts to find its' way in your mind. Did he not want to have sex with you at all? Was he only going along with it because you wanted to?
Maybe you just weren't good enough for him.
"Are you okay?" Sylus nudges you with his shoulder, the movie paused. You pull yourself from your racing mind, pressing your lips together. A part of you wants to lie and pretend nothing's the matter, but you're tired of feeling like this.
"I've just been wondering...you never seem to initiate sex. Am I not..." He cuts you off quickly.
"It's nothing to do with you. I suppose...sex is only one form of physical intimacy. I feel the same type of pleasure from your mere presence as I do when we have sex." He says it almost casually, while you stare at him in shock.
"So like...right now. You're as happy as you would be if I was naked on top of you?"
"Yes." He answers easily, while your jaw drops.
"Are you sure you're a human male?" Your question makes him smirk, leaning in until his nose nearly brushes yours.
Well I know I’m late to the party but I had a moment of fridge horror when I thought about the fact that only Gilbert was qualified as “Glen’s servant” in the guidebook relationship charts and I thought that he is also the only one who technically can’t disobey him because of the oath in his left arm and Jury’s brainwashing.
So Oswald was probably brainwashed by Jury in the same way to obey Levi unconditionally, right?
For the record, Oswald is right-handed
But when he banished Lacie to the Abyss he used his left hand
which is the same hand Gil used to shoot Oz
The purpose from Jury’s brainwashing is from the start to force the new Glen’s to obey their master when they order them to banish the child of misfortune they were born with right before they give them the title Glen. Literally in that small period of time where the future Glen has all five chains but is still technically a servant to the previous Glen.
Oswald only thought he had a choice in the matter, but he never did because he was bound by the oath in his left arm to kill Lacie.
Jury never took any risk because no one would actually kill their sibling of their own free will.
shinsou who knows he’s not a good boyfriend. he loves you more than anything, anyone- and he thinks he always will. but he’s a bad boyfriend. he’s a pro hero, and you never fault him for that. but that means he constantly misses dates and anniversaries. whenever he comes home to your excited face he can’t help it whenever he’s out as soon as he hits the pillow. he’s not the best at communicating, and seeing you try to keep your composure whenever he does something that makes you angry makes his love for you grow. because even though he’s a horrible boyfriend- you’re the best partner he could ever imagine. when he misses the dinner he promised he’d be home for since you had a new recipe you wanted to try, he found a cat shaped sticky note taped to the table reading “I know you’re probably starving, so I left you a plate in the microwave! <3” whenever he pushes you off of him because he’s too tired too overstimulated too much, you hide the hurt and tell him you understand with a sympathetic smile. when he comes back from a rough day, you’ve seen it all on the news, you welcome him with his comfiest pajamas in your hands and gentle touches. but he sees it wearing you down. he sees the permanent furrow in your brow that was never there before. he sees that you’ve stopped waiting up for him (and even though he told you to it still hurts). he sees that this relationship can’t be saved, no matter how many heart shaped bandages you carefully place on the cracks. but he can’t bring himself to break up with you-even knowing you’ll be happier in the long run.
“babe?”
“yeah toshi-“ you freeze, mind clouded in a thick fog.
“break up with me.”
the hurt that is painted across your face once he releases you from his quirk is something he’ll never forget.
Despite his words, Shinso’s hands settle on your waist comfortably, violet eyes boring up into yours, and a lazy smirk on his cheek as you pout your pretty face down at him, arms crossed over your chest. “Something wrong, baby?”
“Don’t baby me,” you grumble, and he pokes his tongue in his cheek to fight back his snarky remark. “You’re in trouble.”
“Oh I am?”
“You absolutely are.” You let out an angry huff of air as behind you, the movie plays on. He wants to, briefly, look over your shoulder and watch the film to piss you off, but he’s more than happy to play the staring game with you. He chuckles and lets his thumbs run over the meat of your hips, “would you like to tell me why I’m in trouble?”
“The fact that you don’t know is absolutely horrid. Kaminari would never treat me so bad.”
Shinso finally lets out a flurry of laughter, and while he sees the smile that wants to crack on your own cheeks, he knows better than to say anything just yet. He’ll let you pout for just a little bit more. “Okay,” he sighs, letting his eyes glaze over you, “before you dump me for our Pikachu, can’t you give me a hint?”
You huff. He blinks patiently.
With gentle hands, you card his purple locks through your fingers, and he mewls and angles his head into. “Feel good, doesn’t it?” He goes to nod, but is cut off by your mumbled “dickhead,” and soft smack to his head.
Now he huffs. And you blink patiently.
“What?”
“You stopped rubbing my head!” You whine petulantly, shoving at his chest. “I came all the way over here to snuggle, and for my kindness and efforts, you stopped giving me affection to scroll on your phone!”
“I thought you fell asleep!”
“Well I clearly didn’t!”
“Yeah, got that!” He tries as hard as he can to fight the smile that wants to spread on his face, but it’s futile as he rubs the spot softly, his lips creaking up. You stifle a laugh of your own, and he grumbles as he pulls his hand away, “if you lay down again, I’ll give you all the affection you want.”
You pout and nudge his chest, “I just want your undivided attention all the time. I feel like that’s not asking for a lot!”
He snickers some more, “you’re right. I should put the entire of my existence on pause when I’m in your company. Which is most of the damn time.”
Now, you smile, and give him a small kiss in compensation, “good. Glad we’re on the same page.”
mafia bakugou where you’re just not aware of how crazy his job actually is. like you know he’s rich, his job is serious, he’s got a big ass team, something about real estate, moving product(?) and he’s obsessed with blacked out windows.
so when bakugou stomps through his apartment floor with about five of his men, all over six foot in black suits, you jump in shock. until you notice bakugou’s closest, kirishima with his red hair hidden under a black knitted beanie and equally large figure in a black hoodie, black gloves and black boots splattered with red. the only red you see on the man.
you, lounging on his cloud L shaped sofa in your pyjama bottoms and oversized tshirt, are confused. very confused.
oddly, bakugou also looks confused at the sight of you but you don’t know him well enough to notice him working out the best outcome for this current situation.
you speak before he does, “kirishima? are you okay?”
you sit up, your tshirt neck line slipping off a shoulder as you look over at the men.
kirishima doesn’t reply, just sends you one of his usual cheeky grins though you realise it’s dimmer. kirishima is quick to look over to bakugou when you blink, unsure how to approach this.
bakugou walks over to you, a finger finding your chin to lift you to his mouth. he bends over to kiss your lips, then your cheek.
“what blesses me to see you today, baby?”
immediately, he takes all your attention. his thick voice with a growly infliction has you staring up at his ruby eyes and you’re crooning your head to fit in his palm. he’s so handsome in his pristine white shirt, black tie and black blazer. even the way his black slacks hug his thighs has your hand inching to grab at his belt and unbuckle.
you don’t though. you just tilt your head.
“what do you mean? we planned to meet today?” both your hands fly to his single hand holding your face.
you feel a flare of embarrassment snake up your throat and face. did your boyfriend forget about you? and it had to be done in front of an audience of his friends and colleagues who are still standing in the corner of the room.
he can sense how you’re feeling though, your eyes dropping away from him and how your shoulders shrink smaller.
“out.” it’s loud and clear, said staring in your eyes and you jump at the order. even you’re about to pounce up like a solider until you notice it’s for his men who leave the room in a single file.
“oh i thought you meant me,” you awkwardly laugh, crossing your legs over each other, “can’t believe you forgot you were supposed to see me today. i’ll go, you look busy.”
bakugou sits beside you, eyebrows furrowed deep on his face. he leans forward on both his knees as he pulls out his phone, going into his message app to his texts with you.
you’re about to get up, preparing your shameful cry in an uber until he puts his shining phone screen in your face.
“fuck, you had me thinkin’ i got my days wrong. i never get my days wrong,”
you read the screen and there’s the message. you got the day wrong, you were supposed to meet tomorrow.
“ooooooo,” you hum, now you’re embarrassed for a whole new reason, “oh. my bad.”
an arm wraps around your shoulders and two kisses land on your cheek. “thought i was the worst fuckin’ boyfriend in the world there,” you feel his chuckles vibrate through his body but it only makes you groan.
“i’ll leave! they’re all waiting for you and i’m sure there’s something wrong with kirishima,” you ramble.
“can i get another kiss hello or are you gonna run away from me?”
you pause, then you rest a hand on his thigh and kiss your lover. a lovely kiss, a sweet one that’s nudging towards steamy. he attacks your bottom lip, lightly biting and when you open your mouth, suddenly you’re both rolling around in his sofa. his tongue slips through, brushing and sucking yours and everything inside you begins to burn.
it doesn’t help that all your clothes are pretty thin and he’s found a way to flip you under him as he fits his body between your thighs and he holds his weight with his forearms over you.
when you finally separate, it’s not for long because you duck in for another and then he does and then you and before he can again you blurt, “they’re waiting for you!”
you giggle, pushing his face away from yours though he just looks back at you, eyes weak with a tiny smile.
“you’re not leavin’ though, they are. i’ll speak to them quickly and we’ll have tomorrow today, yeah?”
there’s nothing for you to reply with but a soft, “okay.”
bakugou sits up, taking his hands through his hair to look like the mafia boss he is and fixing his suit. you still lay on your back. “you look beautiful, ‘suki.”
he huffs at the compliment, beautiful isn’t a word for him, it’s one for you but you don’t listen.
instead he stands, rolling his eyes. “i’ll be back in a sec.”
Being aroace is so cool, but so, so hard sometimes. Watching all the persons you hold dear finding *their* person. Grieving the idea of an allo relationship. Realizing that, maybe, somehow, you're the second choice fo everyone. Because friends are great, but **lovers** are the goal in our society.
Most of the time, i am sooo happy to be aroace. And then, when im alone in bed, at 3 am, i find myself crying by fear of being alone.
And I think it's normal. It's grieving a certain way of thinking. And it's hard, especially when you were raised this way, and that everyone keeps doubting your identity.
So yeah. Shout-out to all the aroace people, wanting a deeper connection, without wanting romantic love.
talking to sylus about your disorganised attachment style
contents- hurt comfort, swearing, mental health issues (helpful articles linked at the end)
there's something so out of place about sylus in your cosy little apartment. he's all dark and egotistical, black leather and gun powder surrounded by soft cream cushions and a handmade blanket that took you ages to finish. a bit like a giant, he towers over your bookshelves and makes your couch look miniature.
when his phone wouldn't stop ringing, you encouraged him to take the call. his cocky cadence fills your apartment, able to be heard where you are in kitche, pacing back and forth and waiting for your tea to brew. you mumble to yourself in your daze, pouring over how exactly you're going to approach today's nerve-wracking topic with him.
you see, you didn't just invite him over to watch a movie with you. as things have been developing between you, you feel it's time to be open and honest with him about why your texts can go from energetic to numb in seconds. it's not him, unfortunately. it's you. it's your mind and at your very core, the way you operate on a day-to-day basis. it's something you've been trying to manage on your own, but your fear is becoming too overwhelming as sylus begins encroaching on your life. encroaching in the best, scariest way possible.
"you warming up for something, sweetie?" your head snaps up. there he stands with his confident smirk and smug attitude near the island bench.
abruptly, you stop pacing. "fine. um. i made tea." you swivel around and beeline for the two steaming mugs next to the kettle, picking up them up by the handles clumsily and almost spilling the boiling water onto yourself.
sylus swoops in. "careful, kitten. wouldn't want you to get burned, now would we?"
shaking your head, you mumble, "no," and let him take the mugs from you. upon returning to the living room, he grabs the tv remote to continue playing the film. but you stop him.
"i, um. can we talk?" you blurt out, your hands shaking as you pry the sleek remote from his warm hands. the plastic retains his heat, unsettling. you drop it on the coffee table.
"something the matter?" he asks, his grin lazy yet his eyes follow your every move, curious and calculating.
"no." instinctually, you curl in on yourself. hiking up the wool blanket to your chest, you scoot back to place a safe distance between you two.
"you're a bad liar, sweetie. so tell me, what is it that you want to talk about? i'm assuming it's not this god-awful movie." sylus shifts to face you better, his manspread widening slightly. your eyes dip. fuck. no.
"hey," you hiss, but it comes out damp. "i like this film, thank you very much." your brow draws together like his comment upset you, but it barely reached you. your thoughts are multiplying by the second, overcrowding your mind and closing in. it's getting hard to breathe.
your gaze comes to rest on his cufflink. it's a ruby. nice. looks expensive. probably cost a month's worth of your rent or more. but that's sylus for you. he's got a loooooot of money, which is good for you because he's generous enough to share it. but even more than that, he's a wonderful man whom you could see yourself with in ten years time. so it's imperative that you don't fuck everything up like you always do.
"sweetie." his voice cuts through your chaos. "i'm waiting."
"i know. um." you press your lips together, smushing the drying balm that's already on them. at last, you say in a small voice, "i like you, sylus. i really do, i promise. i really, really like you."
"but?" you can't spare a glance at him, you can't bear to see the kind of pain that you're about to inflict on him. even if his tone is playful, it's just a mask. it must be.
"i just... i have problems, okay? i... just fuck things up. and i try not to, but i... you know, i can be very hot and cold sometimes. and it's not that i don't like you. it's not your fault. it's just this thing in me, it's a part of me.
"like i want to be with you, i do. but sometimes, i get scared that once we're close, you'll turn around and hurt me, and so i push you away. i know it's all very confusing for you, and it's all very confusing for me, too, but... i'm trying to manage it better. i am managing it better, i promise.
"but if you, um, you know? want more with me—because i do with you—then i'll just need a little extra love and care, you know?"
"mhmm." that's all he says. low and resonate. fuck. he must be so disappointed in you. he must be so disappointed that the months of hard work which brought you both here have been wasted. he must be so disappointed that some loony has feelings for him and dares to ask for more. more than a 'normal' person would.
"i know i'm asking for a lot—"
"sweetie," he cuts you off. "you haven't asked me for anything yet. what? 'extra love and care'? is that it? if it is, then quite frankly, i'm offended that you're not asking for more." his large hand finds yours which remains under the blanket. you gaze up, and oh—the expression on his handsome face is so gentle and sweet that you must be imagining it. tender eyes and a gooey smile. your heart beat quickens.
he murmurs, "so tell me what you want, and it'll be yours." your mouth feels dry. you swallow painfully, wincing as sandpaper slides against sandpaper. he notices and grabs your mug of tea. you clasp it with your covered hands, it's sweltering heat seeping through the soft blanket. it's too hot to drink, but his simple gesture gives you the strength to speak your truth.
"i like how consistent you are. i know things can be dangerous sometimes, especially with you. but you always respond to me, and you read my texts, which i really appreciate—"
"i'm sorry, uh, sweetie. you do realise that is the most basic thing a man can do, don't you? read your texts and respond to them?"
"i know, i know!" you scramble. "i just really appreciate it, and it would make me feel good if you could keep doing that, please?" he stares at you like you've grown a second head. you adjust your grip on the mug, the temperature unbearable.
ever aware, sylus takes the mug from you sets it down, un-drunk. he breaks out into a chuckle and shakes his head in disbelief before encouraging you to continue.
"what?" you pout. "is that already too much to ask?"
"no, not at all. it merely shocks me that something so simple forms part of your definition of 'asking for too much'. but please, continue." he extends his hand out, gesturing that the floor is yours before settling it on his meaty thigh. nummy-nums. the way his trousers are straining against his muscles—you have to stop yourself from following that train of thought.
"right, um, also, i like how reliable you are. i like how you always do what you say you're gonna do. that's really comforting and makes me feel safe."
"ah, yes, i believe that's called 'the bare minimum', kitten," he remarks.
you scowl, "stop being a dick, sy. i'm tryna express to you my needs and wants in our relationship."
"and i'm confused as to how such basic things have made your list. don't tell me the dating pool is that rough these days."
"you'd be surprised," you quip. composing yourself, you continue, "and it's not necessarily about the action, it's about the feeling. that's what i'm trying to get at. i like how you're reliable and consistent. and i like how you initiate things. and it's not that you do this because you don't. but i just wanna be clear that i like it when you initiate, but i don't want you to push me, you know?"
"push you?" his brow furrows. "why would i push you?"
"i don't know. i think it can be very frustrating, you know?"
"frustrating?" you've lost him. if he was feeling frustrated, his reaction wouldn't be to give you a little shove, no matter how metaphorical that shove might be. on the contrary, his reaction would be to draw you in close and get a whiff of your shampoo or that expensive perfume he's been considering buying for you as of late.
"yeah. i don't want you to force me, you know? i just need a lot of time to... unfurl, i guess?" ah, now you're making much more sense to him.
"take these cups of tea, for example." you glance at them. "think of it like our relationship is the tea and i'm the tea leaves in the tea bag. i don't know who you are. you can be the water, i guess? the point is that you put the tea leaves in the hot water and then it takes maybe three to five or even ten minutes for the leaves to release their full body of flavour into the water, brewing the tea.
"what i'm tryna say is that i need time and space to get comfortable and relax. you can't just dunk the tea bag into the water a few times and get a nice brew. you gotta let it steep. like i just need you to give me that time and space, so i feel ready to be vulnerable and intimate with you.
"i don't like when people ask too many questions too quickly, you know? like, i’m not some puzzle for you to piece together. and i don't like people who come on too strong. it's very overwhelming. like, i just want that space, you know? i want you to initiate, but i also want you to leave room so that i can initiate and play, test what feels safe for me and what doesn't."
out of all the comforting things he could say, he's already offering before he can stop himself, "like a kitten?"
"what?"
"you're like a kitten. you want space to come out of your shell, to approach and play, yes?"
oddly enough "yeah. i guess, you could kinda say i'm like a kitten. i mean, i don't think i'd put it that way but."
"would you like me to return to the tea bag analogy? shall i call you 'my little tea bag'?" you can't help but crack up at that, a smile worming it's way onto your lips.
"no!"
"then i'll call you 'kitten', just like i always have." his signature smirk is wide and oh-so dreamy. you can feel the tightness in your throat and chest receding, taking with it resultant tension from many days spent in contemplation. perhaps sylus knew how you were from the start, and all of this is a refresher for him. after all, he is a good judge of character.
"and last thing, kinda," you start. "i want you to help me create a space where we can tell each other anything and be vulnerable, but we're not obligated to share. like, we can open up on our own terms when we both feel ready, if we ever feel ready. i think it really just stems from consistency and reassurance. reassurance, especially! i didn't say it before, but i just need reassurance, you know? at least for now, i just need you to remind me sometimes that i'm loveable and i'm worthy."
"you know, sweetie. i think everyone needs a little reassurance sometimes."
"really?" your eyes light up as you subconsiously lean toward him, awe and excitement dancing in your features.
"of course," he shrugs, like it's perfectly reasonable for you to want your partner's reassurance and that's not a by-product of your childhood trauma. because somehow, in the psychological garble of it all, basic needs can suddenly turn into attachment style-specific requests that are far too effective in othering those seeking help. sometimes, despite all the good that lies in trauma healing advice, you end up walking away from the article perceiving yourself as more of a freak than you did to begin with.
"you know, i just feel like i'm broken sometimes," you admit. and then pause. silence. what have you just done? "i mean, like, i feel like sometimes i can be such a headache to deal with." you're just making it worse.
"sweetheart." sylus's hand crosses the boundary between you both and grasps your knee. "you're not broken, nor are you a headache."
instead of nodding and accepting his comfort, you counter, "yeah, i am. or at least, i feel like that. you know, no one wants to date someone who's as fucked in the head as i am, okay? and it's not like i wanna be like this. but i can't just undo it, you know? and i'm sorry that i'm putting you through this. i'm just causing all of this trouble and shit. i know that you probably wanted someone baggage-free and 'normal' and—"
"kitten. the only person i want to be with is you, alright? baggage and all." he's already shifting closer, his other hand stroking your chin, and the blanket tightening around you under his weight. but you don't mind it. you were doing so well until you weren't. you were powering through until somehow, you were holding on by a thread. and sylus is there to catch you unravelling.
he wraps his arms around you as your lips begin to tremble. you told yourself not to cry—hell, mentally screamed it at yourself. but the tears are coming on fast now, and there's no way to stop them.
"is this too much?" his arms flex around you.
"no," you sob into his chest, your voice cracking and your sadness staining his designer button-up.
"good. but if it becomes too much, you'll let me know, won't you?" he asks, his tone gentle. you nod in response and clutch onto him tighter.
as you continue to cry, you begin blurting out random things about yourself that you think he should know, such as "i like control" or "i don't like loud noises."
to which he responds with "do you now?" or "is that so?" or some other variation. whatever he murmurs back to you is quiet and reassuring. a little teasing but that's his style. he leaves room for you to keep talking or to say nothing at all, which you asked him to do. and at some point during your cry, you realise that everything you asked him for is a given. you're not being a hassle by wanting love, acceptance, or understanding from your partner. even if it takes you a little while, he'll deem whatever you share with him is well worth the wait.
sylus isn't in love with the idea of you. there's no boxes you need to tick or beauty standards you need to fulfill. you are not idol he's projecting his fantasy onto.
sylus loves you for the depths of your being, even if those depths are rocky and volatile at times. with him by your side, you'll be able to face your intertwined future head-on. and if you're not strong enough, then he'll wait until you're ready and encourage you every step of the way.
elle's notes: this piece is deeply personal to me, but i thought i'd share it anyway. currently experiencing some turmoil in my dating life (throwback to ron if you remember that yap session on here a while ago), which has really turned me off romantic relationships for a little bit. genuinely, i'm feeling very exhausted with men. and i'm also feeling a bit frustrated because even though i know i'll need some extra tlc, much of it is just standard shit like reading my fucking text message or not hassling me to go on a date with you. like if i said no, i said no what's your problem ARGHHHHH. boys😒 need a secure man like mr sylus qin over here pls when.
some resources you might find helpful:
disorganised attachers in relationships
all about disorganised attachment
daughters of unloving mothers
daddy issues and impact on relationships
how to spot a narcissist
narcissistic gaslighting
if at any point the links stop working (or if i screwed them up), lmk in the comments!
since he's your first relationship, you can't help but feel shy around sylus.. luckily, he's happy to take things at your pace!
to anyone with eyes, it was no secret that you were one of the dearest things to sylus. the terrifying boss of onichynus, reduced to a lovesick fool whenever you were around.
you yourself would notice too, if only you weren't so shy around him.
you had never been in a relationship before him, and you hated how obvious it was. any attempts he made at touching you had you freezing up, your mind malfunctioning as you stared at him, almost in shock he was trying anything in the first place.
"is this alright, sweetie?" his voice was always gentle, never trying to push you as his hands hovered over you.
the most you could offer in your flustered state was a nod, still freezing anytime he touched you.
he noticed. of course he would, he wanted to know everything about you after all. and while at first he thought it was you being scared of him, your flustered state told him otherwise. it was clear you weren't used to the contact, and how would he change that?
keep touching you, of course.
he made sure to never push. that was a big thing for him, he never wanted you to feel pressured to reciprocate or even initiate if you weren't ready.
but he stayed constant, persistent, his affection as sure as the sun rising and falling each day. he would always offer you a hand, a warm smile on his lips as he led you through the base or wherever you both were, his warm palm finding a home on your hip.
you were still nervous to initiate anything, and he was fine with that. he would give you what you were willing to take, and take what you were willing to give. even a mere smile his way was enough to have his heart fluttering as he watched you with endless fondness.
"i'm sorry." you had mumbled one day, flustered as you hesitantly placed your hand in his outstretched one.
"what for?" he asked, not a hint of judgement in his tone as he gently squeezed your palm.
"for.. you know." you avoided his gaze, staring down at your intertwined hands instead. "i'm sorry i haven't been as affectionate as you've been."
"oh, sweetie," he breathed, gently tugging you closer with a soft look on his face, "it's alright. you know the last thing i'd ever want is to push you when you're not ready. if this," he motioned to your intertwined hands, "is all you can give me at the moment, then i'll have it with an open heart."
he smiled, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, "never force yourself to do anything you're not prepared for. i'm happy with you like this, and i'd be just as happy if we were merely standing next to each other." he kept his gaze on yours as he kissed your wrist, "i'll be here no matter what."
If I had a nickel for every time a colleague would make subtle-not-so-subtle remarks and not answering my questions when I ask to be more direct I would have 2 nickels.
Pandora Hearts mini drama: Knave of Hearts (from the official animation guide book)
Translation by @lilyginnyblackv2
I've been wanting to typeset this for quite a long time, finally did it. The original is gray-scale,but I really wanted to add some colour,so I did the background from scratch. I'm attaching it here, along with a bonus: Cross dressed Gil from the Odds and Ends artbook.
