Nope, They're Much Worse

beating, not still

— sylus slips into bed with you in the middle of his day to calm the specter that haunts you

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: sy’s chest has been thru the wringer so i wanted to show it some love. accidentally made myself sad writing this. something quick & cute, i’ll edit punctuation & caps in the morning hehe. enjoy! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | angst, fluff, mentions of killing, hurt/comfort, softsyloo

“you like that spot.” sylus murmurs, voice like caving ground and a simmering fire. his large hand comes up to brush your hair out of your face. warm like a furnace. through the curtain, you meet his sleepy gaze.

your lips press against his bare chest, just the tiniest tilt to the right of his sternum. he smells of clean soap, spice and something inherently him— crisp and familiar. the brush of your lips on his skin as you speak makes him shiver, ripples of sensation shooting through his nerves like fire. “good morning.”

“beloved,” he purrs, hauling you up by your shoulders to meet your lips in a tender kiss. “did you sleep well?”

you nod out of instinct. but you were awake in the middle of the night for a reason. he slipped in for a midday nap with you because of something you’d been doing in your sleep.

“are you sure?” he whispers, more sympathetically as he trails his thumb down the line of salt your tears left behind. he kisses your forehead tenderly, “Tell me.”

you turn away, crawling back down to his chest and planting your chin there as a silent protest. “i dont remember.”

he considers you— if you were being stubborn or secretive or brave yet again. but with the way you were trailing your fingers down the middle of his chest, how your ear is so meticulously close to his heart, listening for a thrumming heartbeat that was present and not still— he had a feeling he knew what it was.

“angel.” he implores you, large hand coming to rest on the top of your head. “i’m here.”

your chest tightens. a vacuum pulling every bone inwards until they shatter and crash into the cavity. and you are helplessly trying to ground yourself, match your breathing with the constant badump badump badump of his heart.

“i know.” you squeeze the words out, holding your breath when you do. controlling the amount you let out lest you let loose everything. “i know, sylus.”

“no, look at me.” his finger tilts your chin up from the spot. the spot he cherishes and the spot you despise. the spot you favor. the spot he kept protected until you. the spot where you pointed the gun, and where he pulled the trigger with your finger. the spot you hear his racing heartbeat. the spot you dug your sword into, and killed him the first time. once, a long time ago, relived in a dream.

he sees you. he sees every part of you in the darkness of your bedroom— and still you shine brighter than if all the stars in the sky were to combust. he holds your gaze, because let him keel over and die again and again instead of see you in this pain. “come back to me.”

something inside you stirs— not quite pain, but something deeper, more primal and abstract. your soul, like it was beckoned to heel. to be still as another wraps itself around it. to hold on to its other half that submits itself and never let go.

“i’m a monster.” you finally confess, shattering like glass, all too conscious of staining his palms red. of hurting him. of being foolish enough to take him away from you again.

his lips press into the skin above your brow— his favorite spot. his teeth graze it as he murmurs, “that’s not true.”

“sylus—“ you begin to argue, but he silences you with a kiss. you blink, but don’t let it deter you. “i hurt you.”

“have i ever complained?”

“dont do that.” because how could he not care? how could he look at you with such a loving gaze you do not deserve? how could he forgive you as easily as breathing?

he frowns and then studies your face. “you’re right. you have hurt me.”

and somehow that is worse. of course it is worse. your bottom lip trembles. his thumb comes to rest on the delicate flesh lightly. “my soul hurts with you. when you are in pain, so am I.”

his fingers dance down your spine and hook beneath one thigh. there, he pulls you up to his eye-line. your head rests on his bicep as he presses his forehead against yours. “so listen to me when I say you are the furthest thing from who you are in your nightmares.

“and if you are a monster, then so am I.” he rasps.

his heart races under your palm, his own hand spreading your fingers over his chest. “you’ve never hurt me alone. i’ve always been there to do it with you.”

“If you couldn’t heal—“ you start.

“Then I would have broken all my bones crawling back to you.” he vows.

“If you died—“

“I would have found you in the next life. And the next, and the next.”

“If you felt I hated you.” you hiccup, unable to hold back the tears. the thought of him believing for one second you felt anything but love for him devastated you beyond belief. His eyes fill with warmth as he lowers his tone.

“Then I would have done everything to remind you how much I love you.” He says steadily. “Don’t mourn over who we were, my heart.”

“We are here.” he says, kissing the tip of your nose. floating his lips over the lids of your eyes. “Come back to me and stay.”

ever patient, ever gentle and kind to you. he keeps you in his embrace until you calm, feathering the tip of his nose lightly up and down your cheek as he kisses each of your fingers.

you listen to his heart; to his steady breathing, swaying and cradling you like the push and pull of the tide. you listen to his words, turn them over and around in your head— once, twice, thrice— until they sink deep, deep in your heart. this truth settling like oil in your liquid thoughts.

he watches as you calm. and you melt back down his chest— to the spot where he found you.

“beloved?”

you kiss him there— over the invisible mark of the bullet and the sword and your hatred. what once was his undoing, but has always been his strength. the hand that killed him now holds him tightly, tenderly. lovingly and achingly so.

this is your promise to him— to undo all that was done.

to return. to love. to stay.

his face is almost feverish when you cradle it. his content smirk a charming twitch beneath your thumb as his eyes close at your touch.

your cheek to his chest, iron to a magnet— natural, inevitable. finally, you smile— small, but sincere. enough for him. “i like this spot.”

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

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

Hello!

I’m thinking of writing a Valentine’s Day special headcanon for each host!

If you have any requests, I’d love to hear them and would be thrilled to write them!

please teach me how to serve!

eeek so cute

he would 100% have a pink flip phone, maybe even bedazzled

he looks like the hot guy from tokyo-sims on instagram that interviews ppl in shibuya

ouran high school host club’s kyoya ootori

I’m happy you’re here

episode 6: the grade school host is the naughty type

my prince charming playing the piano <333 and playing a duet arrangement on his own??

my knees go weak for people who can play the piano and enjoy playing it

im at chapter 6 and i am in love-love with kyokao’s dynamic this is so perfectly characterised and makes me want to cry tears of joy and longing

this gives a whole new meaning to “i just dont think i’m supporting cast, homosexual or otherwise” THAT KYOYA SAYS IN THE DUBBBB OMGGGG (beware the physical exam) im reduced to a teenage fangirl on her knees begging for more of this slow burn (which is SOOOO KYOKAO like cmon none of them want to be the first to admit anything)

“What are you saying?” Kyoya sighs. “I guess…” Haruhi mulls it over for a second before settling on, “I’ve always thought you were the kind of guy we should trust knows what he’s doing. But actually, you’re rather stupid.” It’s times like these that Kyoya wishes he still had a metaphorical stick of debt to threaten her with.

Okay, Cupid! Ch. 10 is out now! And something's gotta give. (Again.)

i fell in love with tamaki

never thought of it this way but i love it

i lied put your pants back on im gonna tell you why tamaki hugging instead of kissing haruhi was actually the best option because it shows so much character growth within tamaki. throughout the entire show we see tamaki constantly breaking the boundaries of the club members and specifically with haruhi. he finds younger photos of her, puts her in outfits and dresses her like a girl, and picks her up, hugs her, and says things that clearly make her uncomfortable. he does all of this thinking that shes like his daughter and this is what fathers do but in the last few episodes we begin to see tamaki start to understand his feelings towards haruhi. in the second to last episode, tamaki begins to think that he has ruined all of the host members lives and this all comes together when he is forced to marry the bitch whos name i dont remember and forced to leave japan and go back to france. he agrees partially because he may get to see his mother but also because he thinks the host clubs lives will be better without him. however, once he sees haruhi trying to catch up with him and trying to get him to stay, you can see something click in his brain and he decides to stay with the host club. while its never really stated you can also sort of tell that this is the moment that tamaki understands his feelings for haruhi. he then jumps off a bridge to save her and theres a moment of staring at each other. you can tell that tamaki definitely considered kissing her but altogether decided against it because he finally realized that while he loves her, boundaries are still a thing and becauss theyre in mid air he decides not to and instead just hugs her because 1: he just figured out these feelings for himself 2: he doesnt know how haruhi feels. he still passes affection on to her but in a way that is consentual and doesnt cross any boundaries which is a major change from how he acted prior. despite the fact we all wanted there to be a kiss i think this one works way better because it just shows such character growth and respect