#it hurts so much I want to feel the love I put into the world but I don’t

[ladsonlads]

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you. 

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning. 

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway. 

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway. 

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.” 

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.” 

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock. 

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock. 

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead. 

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered. 

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond. 

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion. 

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. 

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket. 

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?” 

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant. 

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all. 

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits. 

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand. 

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically. 

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you. 

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam. 

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you. 

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you. 

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her. 

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief. 

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow. 

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option. 

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short. 

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan. 

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score. 

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style. 

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11. 

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it. 

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again. 

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall. 

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them. 

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus. 

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace. 

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate. 

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer. 

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground. 

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck. 

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house. 

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home. 

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree. 

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return. 

“A million dollars.” 

“Done.” 

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more. 

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests. 

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.” 

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request. 

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?” 

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.” 

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck. 

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun. 

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation. 

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life. 

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.  

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions. 

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will. 

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no. 

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded. 

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake. 

“You threatened an old man with a gun…” 

“Yes.” Kieran responded. 

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief. 

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected. 

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one. 

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find. 

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?” 

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right? 

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed. 

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress. 

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?” 

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.” 

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.” 

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair. 

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone. 

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question. 

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others. 

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued. 

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling. 

“You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her. 

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod. 

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.” 

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.” 

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.” 

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom. 

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other. 

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing. 

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.” 

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.” 

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb. 

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year. 

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too. 

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.” 

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you. 

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office. 

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting. 

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile. 

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary. 

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ. 

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left. 

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now. 

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence. 

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity. 

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly. 

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings. 

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour. 

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours. 

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s  voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday. 

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive. 

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic. 

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk. 

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?” 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them. 

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head. 

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go. 

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed. 

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.” 

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life. 

 _______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb. 

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response. 

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway. 

“Order whatever you’d like.” 

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu. 

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied. 

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny. 

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne. 

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand. 

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with. 

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course. 

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead. 

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.  

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night. 

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter . 

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it. 

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare. 

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours. 

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman. 

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down.  “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.” 

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry. 

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural. 

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free. 

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break. 

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare. 

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment. 

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name. 

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you. 

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war. 

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.” 

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.” 

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.” 

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption. 

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice. 

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw. 

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset. 

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately. 

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne. 

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded. 

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back. 

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material. 

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind. 

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.  

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was. 

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left. 

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.” 

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew. 

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?” 

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well. 

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces. 

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged. 

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies. 

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.” 

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work. 

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided. 

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast. 

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner. 

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before. 

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see. 

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory. 

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet. 

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide. 

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked. 

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused. 

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now. 

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?” 

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand. 

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.  

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave. 

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him. 

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game. 

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions. 

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.” 

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important. 

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?” 

All sound came to a stifling halt. 

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus. 

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”  

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned. 

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again. 

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse. 

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return. 

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism. 

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side. 

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth. 

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure. 

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued. 

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.” 

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms. 

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream. 

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time. 

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?” 

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success. 

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves. 

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about. 

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk. 

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands. 

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you. 

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store. 

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead. 

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship. 

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick. 

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice. 

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress. 

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.” 

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose. 

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace. 

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?” 

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone. 

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight. 

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response. 

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. 

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his. 

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane. 

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy. 

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise. 

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice. 

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date. 

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind. 

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away. 

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him. 

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse. 

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.  

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them. 

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly. 

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart. 

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next. 

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent. 

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you. 

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!” 

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back. 

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts. 

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.” 

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear. 

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone. 

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful. 

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you. 

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time. 

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation. 

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality. 

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you. 

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible. 

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary. 

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt. 

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.” 

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex. 

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.” 

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again. 

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.” 

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.” 

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this. 

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet. 

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop. 

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that. 

Tag list: @blue-sky336 @sei-chuun @astolary @luna-looniesblog @rainkissedberries @syluslittlecrows @escape-your-nightmare @mangooes @bibistarx @kathypellar @stxrrielle @mansonofmadness @babygirl-panda19 @wegottastayfocus @zoezhive @futurecorpse92 @diabolichii @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @cathuggnbear @blue-serendipity @huuvu @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @sh3sa1dwhat @justpassingdontworry @sylustoru @poptrim @mikachux3 @thargelalia @eolivy @vyntheria @dana-nite @miffysoo @babyx91 @fealy @sillyfreakfanparty @cassiesversion @serenity-loves-red @nommingonfood @sylusgirlie7 @browneyedgirl22 @silverbrain

Sorry if you were tagged but didn't get a notif, I think some of you might have your tags off because your blog wasn't coming up for me >:c

[lexirosewrites]

Day One: Courting Rituals

for @stmarchmm

Before Eddie officially starts courting Steve, they’re together nearly every day.

Steve tends to hang at the trailer and watch movies with the alpha. Sometimes they go to the arcade with the kids or they host a DnD night at Steve’s place.

Everyone can see that they’re inseparable.

Robin even lightheartedly complains about how Robin and Steve time became Robin and Steve and Eddie time.

Steve wants to be around his new friend constantly and Eddie seems to want the same thing.

So they’re always together.

The funny thing is that Steve doesn’t even recall it becoming more than a friendship.

One day, they’re goofing off, cracking jokes, and getting high on Eddie’s rooftop.

The next, they’re holding hands at the movies and sharing milkshakes at the diner.

It’s an easy transition.

When people start asking about labels (Joyce keeps prodding Steve, reminding him that dating an alpha without clear intentions is a dangerous affair), Eddie beats him to the punch with a traditional bouquet of flowers.

Wildflowers. Hand-picked, colorful, and unique just like Eddie.

He’s received many attempted courting presents before, but these are Steve’s favorites.

Of course he agrees immediately to the unspoken request and that makes things between them official.

They can spend all the time in the world together now without speculation or judgement!

Only… now Eddie is barely around.

It makes no sense to Steve (or the other half of his brain, Robin). They’d been attached at the hip when it was casual and now that it’s serious, Eddie just up and disappears?

Steve is more than a little hurt, but he tries to be reasonable.

Maybe Eddie saw their official courting as a victory and he no longer has to work so hard to get Steve’s attention. Now he can put some space between them.

Or…

Maybe Eddie changed his mind.

Maybe Steve isn’t what he wants anymore and he’s delaying the pain of breaking it off by avoiding him entirely.

The uncertainty eats away at Steve. It’s one too many cancelled plans, dropped calls, and flimsy excuses.

Steve storms into the Munson trailer at 9PM, beyond panicking when Eddie didn’t answer his phone call they’d agreed to have at 8:30.

Eddie’s van is in the driveway.

In his rush to check for Eddie’s vehicle, he’d apparently missed Wayne’s truck.

“Evenin’, Steve. Eddie expectin’ ya?”

Steve’s anger deflates slightly in the face of the man he assumed would be as good as family soon.

Wayne has always been kind to him.

“No, I guess not. He was supposed to call me half an hour ago. I even tried ringing, but nobody picked up. I got—”

Paranoid. Angry. Hurt. Devastated.

“Worried. I was worried about him,” Steve explains truthfully.

Wayne pats the free spot on the couch next to him.

He hesitates.

If Eddie’s in his bedroom and willfully ignoring his calls, Steve would rather get this break-up over with.

The quicker his hearts breaks, the quicker he can start repairing it.

He sits anyway.

“I’m sure he lost track of the day again. Been happenin’ more and more lately.”

Wayne’s never lied to Steve before. It’s hard to imagine he’d start now.

“I just thought Eddie would want to be with me more since we started courting. It feels like he’s too busy to even see me anymore,” Steve confesses, a little shocked at his own honesty.

Wayne has that effect on people.

The old man hums thoughtfully, not outright agreeing or disagreeing.

“If there’s one thing I know about my boy, it’s that he’d give anything to spend every moment of every day with you, kid. He may not always do it perfectly, but Eddie loves you, Steve. Trust that much.”

He snorts.

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it these days. He used to at least make time for me, Wayne. Now, he’s practically avoiding me entirely. How else am I supposed to interpret that?”

The wrinkles of Wayne’s brow furrow deeper.

“Have you… really talked to him recently?”

Steve shakes his head briefly, trying not to let the tears fall.

“That would require him to pick up the phone for anything other than cancelling our plans.”

“Ah. I see.”

Wayne lets out a hearty laugh and Steve has to wonder whether Eddie’s uncle has lost his mind entirely.

“You should go see your alpha,” Wayne advises him with a smile. “Ease your troubled mind, omega.”

“What?”

“Go on, Steve. Just try not to startle him. That silly boy hardly sleeps as it is… I’ve got the night shift, but I trust you two won’t start on grandpups if I leave ya alone here?”

Steve nods frantically. His face is more than flushed at the idea of starting a family right now.

He’s not sure Eddie likes him anymore, let alone loves him enough to do that with him.

“Yes, sir.”

Wayne stands with a reassuring pat on Steve’s back, heading for the door after a pitstop for his keys.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, Wayne.”

He stays on the couch by himself a little longer, working up the nerve to go confront whatever is waiting for him in Eddie’s silent bedroom.

Steve would rather face another demogorgon than deal with Eddie’s incoming rejection.

Still, he promised Wayne.

He treads lightly on the creaky floors until he reaches Eddie’s bedroom.

It used to be a place Steve loved being. Full of Eddie’s personality and warmth. Smelling strongly of his loving alpha. Music always playing on the radio or turntable.

He turns the handle slowly, heeding Wayne’s advice to not startle Eddie.

It ends up not being an issue since his boyfriend is completely dead to the world, deep in sleep.

Weirdly enough, he’s still dressed. On top of the covers and wrapped around a box that Steve’s never seen.

Steve doesn’t flip the lights on, but he leaves the door open enough to light his way so he can come further into the room.

His hands move of their own accord, reaching for Eddie despite his brain saying it’s a bad idea.

Instead of a t-shirt, he touches a collared button down.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie in anything so formal.

It’s a short sleeve shirt, but looks like nothing the alpha would ever choose to wear.

His fingers continue to wander until he finds a patch on Eddie’s chest. It’s ironed haphazardly.

He gets close enough to read.

‘Eddie.’ A name tag?

Steve continues to search Eddie’s shirt silently. He finds more words. Embroidering on the pocket states ‘Dan’s Auto.’

Dan’s Auto Shop is a garage in the next town over. Steve’s taken his own car there before. It’s decent, if a little rundown.

Does Eddie… work there?

Eddie has never held an honest to god job. Selling drugs to locals? Sure. But never a 9-5 blue collar hourly rate.

Why would he get a job and hide it from Steve?

Steve’s heart can’t take the suspense. He reaches for the strange box without care.

What’s inside makes him freeze.

A handcrafted brown leather collar with Steve’s name burned into it. And a ring. Simple, beautiful, elegant.

It matches Steve’s tastes exactly.

It has to be for him.

Steve lets out a shriek of surprise when an arm appears around his waist.

He’s pulled down onto the bed, Eddie’s strong hold tucking Steve right back against the alpha and keeping him in place there.

“Hi there, sweetheart.”

“Hi alpha.”

Steve doesn’t mention the missed phone call. Or the cancelled dates.

He’s missed his alpha too much to hold a grudge over such silly things.

In the morning, they’ll have a long and important conversation about proper communication and how Eddie doesn’t need to buy Steve any more fancy courting presents in order to impress him because he’s already in love.

Tonight, they just sleep peacefully in each other’s arms as (almost) mates.

[aspenmissing]

HI! I’ve been LIVING off your writings for arcane and they’re so HEHEHE 🎀🎀

I’ve been struggling lately with severe episodes of depression and only if your comfortable with it, I would love to see your take on the arcane characters reacting to our (TW) suicide attempt.

especially for a female reader who always puts on a happy front for the people around her; it would hit close to home 🫂

(I don’t mind which characters you use, but pls include Viktor)

ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 5497 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛꜱ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴅᴏꜱᴇ/ᴘɪʟʟꜱ/ᴘᴏɪꜱᴏɴ (ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ/ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ) ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ʜᴀʀᴍ/ᴄᴜᴛ ᴡʀɪꜱᴛꜱ (ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ) ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ(ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ) ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛᴇᴅ ᴊᴜᴍᴘ/ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴜᴍᴘ (ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛꜰᴜʟ) (ᴊɪɴx'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ�� ᴏꜰ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛɪᴇ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ꜱᴀʏꜱ "ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏʀᴛᴀɴᴛ" <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Jayce had always admired Y/N’s resilience, the way she lit up every room she entered. She was a beacon, a guiding light that never seemed to flicker, even in Piltover’s darkest moments. The people adored her, drawn to her warmth like moths to a flame. But Jayce—Jayce loved her.

Perhaps that was why it hit him so hard when he found her.

=

The moment he pushed open the door to their shared home, the air felt different—thicker, heavier. A cold dread slithered down his spine as he stepped forward, calling her name. Silence. His heart pounded as he searched, fear taking root deep in his chest.

Then he found her.

Y/N lay crumpled on the bathroom floor, her skin pale as the moonlight filtering through the window. A broken glass bottle lay near her trembling fingers, the liquid inside having seeped into the tile. The sight knocked the breath from his lungs.

“No—no, no, no.” He dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking as he cupped her face. “Y/N, wake up—please.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, her gaze met his—distant, hazy, filled with an exhaustion he hadn’t seen before. Had he been so blind?

Jayce fumbled for his communicator, hands clumsy as he called for help. His mind raced, the realization hitting him like a hammer: he had failed her. He had been so enamored with the light she shared with the world that he had never noticed the darkness she hid within herself.

Tears burned in his eyes as he pressed his forehead against hers. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw with emotion. “Why did you feel like you had to go through this alone?”

A weak, trembling breath escaped her lips. “I… didn’t want to burden you.”

Jayce’s heart shattered. “Burden me?” He shook his head fiercely, gripping her hand tightly. “Y/N, you are everything to me. I don’t care how much you’re hurting—I want to be there. I need to be there.” His throat tightened. “I love you.”

His fingers smoothed over her cheek, his touch light as if she might break further under his hands. He could feel her pulse beneath his fingertips—faint, but there. Relief battled with anguish as he kissed her knuckles, his own hands trembling.

The sirens in the distance barely registered in his mind. All he could focus on was her—his Y/N, the woman who had given so much of herself to others that she had nothing left for herself. How had he missed it? The tired smiles, the way she lingered in moments of silence, the distant looks when she thought no one was watching. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I don’t care how long it takes, I just want you here. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out together.”

Her lips parted, and for a brief moment, he saw something flicker in her gaze—not quite hope, but not despair either. He clung to it.

=

When the medics finally arrived, Jayce refused to let go of her hand, riding with her to the hospital, his grip never faltering. Through the beeping monitors and sterile white walls, he stayed, whispering soft reassurances against her forehead, tracing circles into her palm. He stayed because he couldn't bear the thought of losing her, because for once, he needed to be the light she could rely on.

Jayce made a silent vow that night. He would not lose her—not to this. He would remind her every single day that she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to pretend. That she was loved.

And most of all, that he would always, always catch her when she fell.

VIKTOR

The evening had settled over Piltover, the golden glow of the city’s skyline stretching across the window of their shared apartment. Viktor had just finished at the lab, exhaustion weighing heavily on his limbs as he made his way home. The scent of rain lingered in the air, a storm having passed through earlier, leaving the streets damp and glistening under the flickering lamplights.

Viktor had always admired your ability to bring light into the world, how you could make anyone smile even on their worst days. To most, you were the embodiment of warmth and laughter, always ready with a joke or a gentle touch to ease the burdens of others. But Viktor… Viktor had seen something else. Something deeper.

There were nights when you thought he was asleep, but he had caught you staring blankly at the ceiling, your body curled into itself like you were trying to disappear. The way your laughter would sometimes falter for just a moment too long before you forced it back into place. The way you’d look at your own hands, as if they didn’t belong to you. It was subtle, so well hidden beneath that dazzling exterior, but Viktor saw it. He had always seen it.

And yet, he hadn’t known the depth of it. Not until tonight.

=

He pushed open the apartment door, the familiar warmth of home greeting him. But something felt… off.

There was an unnatural silence, a stillness that sent an uneasy chill down his spine. He called out your name, his voice carrying through the small space, but no response came.

Frowning, he stepped forward—and that’s when he noticed it.

The floor outside the bathroom was wet.

His heart leapt to his throat as his mind raced. The water trailed from beneath the door, pooling slightly against the tiles. He reached for the handle, his grip trembling, and pushed it open.

His cane slipped from his fingers the moment his eyes took in the scene before him.

You were in the bathtub, submerged in water tinged with crimson. Your wrists were slit, thin ribbons of blood curling through the water like a painter’s delicate strokes. Your face was tilted to the side, eyes half-lidded, your usually radiant expression now eerily blank.

“Moji bohové… Y/N!” (My Gods)

Viktor lurched forward, his knees hitting the wet floor as he reached into the tub, hands shaking violently as he cupped your face. You were still breathing—barely, but you were. He let out a ragged breath, urgency overtaking his horror.

He dragged you out of the water, cradling you against his chest as he pressed his trembling fingers against your wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me, moje láska, please—please stay with me.” His voice cracked, thick with desperation as he pulled off his scarf, wrapping it tightly around your wrists. His mind was screaming, urging him to act fast, to not let you slip away from him. (My Love)

He had seen you smile through pain so many times before, always the light in the room, the one who comforted others, who laughed as if sadness was a stranger to you. How had he not seen? How had he not noticed the weight you carried behind that smile?

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as tears slipped down his cheeks. “I would have listened—I would have done anything to help you.”

Your lashes fluttered, a shuddering breath escaping you, and Viktor held onto it like a lifeline.

He wasn’t going to let you go.

Not now.

Not ever.

His hands remained firm around you, his warmth seeping into your cold skin. He rocked slightly, whispering soft reassurances against your damp hair. “It’s alright, moje láska. You are not alone. You never have to be alone.”

He kissed your forehead gently, lingering there as if he could will his strength into you. “I will stay by your side for as long as you let me. No matter how dark it gets, I will be your light, just as you have always been mine.”

The soft rise and fall of your chest told him you were still with him, still holding on, and he vowed in that moment to never let you carry this burden alone again.

The night was long, but Viktor would spend every second of it reminding you that you were loved, that you were wanted, and that you were not alone.

JAYVIK

The apartment was warm, filled with the scent of parchment and lingering traces of oil from the lab. The soft flicker of gaslight cast long shadows on the walls, wrapping the space in a false sense of comfort.

Viktor sighed as he leaned his cane against the entryway, rolling his stiff shoulders. Jayce followed close behind, locking the door with a weary exhale. Another late night at the workshop—hours of calculations, adjustments, and tense discussions—but at least now, they were home.

Home, where Y/N would be waiting for them.

Jayce set his bag down and ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N?” His voice was warm, familiar, expecting her usual hum of acknowledgment. When only silence met him, he frowned. Maybe she was already asleep. She had been exhausted lately.

Viktor busied himself with his brace, fingers fumbling with the straps. “She must have gone to bed early,” he murmured, though the silence gnawed at him, unsettling.

“I’ll check on her,” Jayce said absently, already striding towards the bedroom. He pushed the door open, expecting to find her curled beneath the blankets, perhaps with a book still open in her lap.

=

The room was dim, moonlight spilling through the curtains in fractured silver strands. But something was wrong. The air was too still.

Then he saw her.

For a moment, his brain refused to process it. A trick of the shadows, a distortion in his vision—but no. His breath left him in a violent gasp, the world snapping into cruel clarity.

Y/N. Hanging.

His body moved before thought could catch up. The chair was toppled beneath her, her feet barely brushing the floor. Her body swayed ever so slightly.

A strangled noise tore from Jayce’s throat, raw and broken.

“Oh, Gods—”

He lunged forward, his hands finding her legs, lifting—lifting—his arms shaking with the effort as he tried to take the weight off her throat.

The rope cut into her neck, biting deep. Her skin was pallid, lips parted slightly as if in the middle of an unfinished thought. Her eyes, half-lidded, unfocused. Too still.

He couldn’t breathe. His mind was a mess of static, a scream trapped in his chest.

“Viktor! A knife—now!” His voice cracked, desperate.

In the next room, Viktor froze, the world tilting violently around him. Something inside him fractured at the sheer panic in Jayce’s voice. He turned too fast, his brace slipping as he nearly collapsed against the wall. His hands fumbled, shaking, as he pushed off toward the kitchen.

He could hear Jayce in the bedroom, his voice hoarse, pleading.

“Come on, Y/N—stay with me, please! Just hold on—just a little longer—”

Viktor’s fingers closed around a knife. He nearly dropped it in his rush, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he forced his legs to move faster. The bedroom felt miles away.

When he stumbled inside, the sight nearly shattered him.

Jayce was on his knees, still holding her up, arms trembling with exertion. His face was tight with barely restrained panic, but he refused to let go. He couldn’t.

Viktor swallowed down bile and forced himself forward, lifting the blade with unsteady hands. His breath hitched at the sight of her face—slack, unmoving, the deep bruising already forming around her throat.

She had always smiled. Always.

The girl who laughed in the morning sunlight, who brought warmth into their coldest nights—who held their hands even when hers were shaking.

His grip on the knife tightened. The rope frayed beneath the blade, splitting apart with a final, sickening snap. Y/N collapsed into Jayce’s arms, boneless and eerily limp.

Jayce cradled her against his chest as they hit the floor, his breath coming in frantic gasps. “She’s not—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He pressed his ear to her chest, his heart hammering so hard it nearly drowned out the sound of—

Nothing.

Viktor knelt beside them, his fingers trembling as they found her wrist. Searching, searching— But she wasn’t breathing.

His stomach dropped. “We need to—Jayce, lay her down. Now.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the panic.

Jayce barely registered the words before he obeyed, carefully easing her onto the floor. His hands hovered over her, shaking.

“She’s not—she’s not breathing,” Jayce whispered, and something shattered in his voice.

Viktor adjusted himself beside her, forcing composure into his hands. He tilted her head back, fingers brushing against the bruising at her throat, and pressed his ear to her mouth.

Nothing.

His chest clenched. No. No, no, no—

“Jayce.” He barely recognized his own voice. “I need you to count.”

Jayce blinked at him, dazed. “What?”

Viktor’s hands found her chest. He had studied this. He had learned. He could do this. He had to.

“Count, Jayce!”

Jayce flinched before snapping into action, his voice shaking. “One—two—three—”

Viktor started compressions. He pressed firmly, methodically, ignoring the way his hands trembled. “Fifteen,” Jayce choked out, and Viktor moved back as Jayce tilted her head, pinched her nose, and pressed his mouth to hers, breathing for her.

Nothing.

“Again,” Viktor ordered, voice hoarse.

Jayce counted. Viktor pushed. Jayce breathed. Again. Again. Again.

A sound.

A weak, shallow gasp.

Jayce jolted, his hand flying to her cheek. “Y/N?”

A cough—ragged, barely there. Then a wheeze, her body twitching as her lungs fought for air. She was breathing.

Jayce let out a sob, hands clutching at her like she might disappear. “Oh, thank the Gods—”

Viktor exhaled shakily, his head bowing as his hand gripped Y/N’s. She was still pale, her breaths uneven, but she was here.

Jayce pressed his forehead to hers, tears slipping down his face. “We should have seen it,” he whispered.

Viktor swallowed the lump in his throat. His fingers brushed over her bruised skin, shame curling around his ribs like iron bands. “She hid it well,” he murmured. And wasn’t that the cruellest thing? That she had carried this pain alone.

Y/N stirred weakly beneath their touch, her eyelashes fluttering. Her brows furrowed slightly, lips parting as if to speak—but no words came. Only a soft, broken whimper.

Jayce nearly choked on his relief. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice breaking. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Viktor leaned closer, voice thick with something fragile and raw. “You are here,” he whispered, “and you will stay. We will not lose you.”

Jayce nodded fiercely, his fingers lacing with hers. “Never,” he swore. “You’re not doing this alone anymore.”

They clung to her—whispering, holding, promising. She didn’t have to say anything. She didn’t have to smile. They saw her anyway.

They always would.

VANDER

Y/N always smiled. She laughed the loudest at the bar, kept Powder entertained with tricks and stories, reassured Vi when the weight of the world settled too heavy on her young shoulders. She playfully ruffled Mylo’s hair when he got too cocky, and she always had Claggor’s back when he was the quiet voice of reason in their little group. Even when her own demons clawed at the edges of her mind, she tucked them away, never letting them show. Never letting them burden the people she loved.

But tonight, the mask cracked. And then, it shattered.

She had gone upstairs first, excusing herself early under the guise of exhaustion. Vander had nodded in understanding, still busy closing up the Last Drop. He never truly slept until he knew everyone was safe, and Y/N had used that to her advantage.

The bar was nearly empty, the lanterns dimming as the night stretched thin. No one questioned her departure, not when the weight of the day had worn everyone down. It gave her just enough time to slip away into the small room she shared with Vander, her hands trembling as she emptied the pills into her palm.

She wasn’t sure how many she took. It didn’t matter. She just wanted it to stop. The thoughts. The exhaustion. The feeling of never being enough.

And so, Y/N laid back, exhaling softly as the weight of the world started to fade.

=

It was Powder who found her.

The little girl had woken up from a nightmare, the kind that left her chest heaving and her hands shaking. She had wanted to go to Vi, but for some reason, her feet had led her to Y/N and Vander’s room instead. Powder liked Y/N. She was warm, safe. Always had a way of making her feel like everything would be okay.

But when she reached the bedside, shaking Y/N’s shoulder gently, she didn’t wake up.

“Y/N?” Powder’s voice was small, hesitant. She shook her a little harder. “Y/N, wake up.”

Nothing.

A chill raced down her spine. Then she saw the empty bottle on the nightstand. Then another. And another.

Powder’s breath hitched. Fear crashed into her, stronger than any nightmare. But she didn’t understand. Y/N wasn’t waking up. Maybe she was sick? Maybe she needed medicine? Powder’s tiny hands tugged at the blanket, trying to wake her up again. But Y/N didn’t move.

She scrambled back, panic rising, and bolted from the room, feet pounding down the hall. She didn’t stop until she reached the stairs, nearly tripping over herself in her rush. Powder didn’t stop running until she burst into the bar, tears streaming down her face.

“Vander! It’s Y/N—she—she won’t wake up!” Powder’s voice cracked as she tugged at his arm, desperate. “There’s bottles—she took something—I think she’s sick, she—she—”

Vander’s heart stopped.

The rag he’d been using to wipe down the bar dropped from his hands as he bolted past her, his heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards. As he thundered up the stairs, Vi and Claggor appeared from their rooms, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. One look at Powder’s tear-streaked face was all they needed.

“What happened?” Vi asked, voice thick with worry.

“I dunno! She’s just not waking up! She won’t wake up!” Powder sobbed.

Vi and Claggor exchanged a glance. They understood. Powder didn’t. Mylo peeked out from behind Claggor, rubbing at his arm, confused and grumpy.

Vander didn’t stop to explain. He threw open Y/N’s door and the sight that greeted him stole the air from his lungs. Y/N, lying far too still. Pill bottles littering the bedside. The rise and fall of her chest barely visible.

“No, no, no, no, Dammit.”

Vander surged forward, gathering her up in his arms. Her skin was too cool, her breaths shallow. He didn’t think—just acted, hauling her toward the small bathroom down the hall. He barely registered Powder’s panicked sobs behind him as he forced Y/N over the toilet.

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing Mylo’s arm. “Come on. You and Powder, let’s go.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong with Y/N?” Mylo protested, but Vi’s grip tightened.

“Claggor, help me.”

Claggor nodded, stepping in to gently but firmly steer Powder away. She kicked and fought weakly against him, her sobs growing frantic. “No! She’s sick! I wanna help!”

Vi bent down, brushing Powder’s hair from her face. “It’s okay, Powder. Vander’s gonna take care of her. We just… we just need to give them space, alright?”

Powder sniffled but nodded, clinging to Vi as Claggor led them away.

=

Inside the bathroom, Vander’s hands shook as he forced Y/N forward.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he muttered, voice rough with barely restrained panic. “You gotta fight for me. You hear me? You gotta—”

He forced his fingers down her throat.

She gagged, a weak protest leaving her lips before the contents of her stomach spilled into the sink. Vander didn’t stop, rubbing rough circles on her back, murmuring reassurances as more came up.

His heart was a hammer against his ribs. He had seen plenty of things in his life—seen friends die, seen blood spill, seen too much suffering. But nothing, nothing compared to this.

To the sight of Y/N, the woman he loved, lifeless in his arms.

Her body shook, her limbs too weak to fight him, but finally, finally, she coughed, a wet, ragged sound. Vander let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tightening his hold on her.

“There we go,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “There we go, sweetheart.”

He kept her close even as she trembled, even as the reality of what she had done settled between them like a heavy fog.

Y/N tried to pull away, but Vander wouldn’t let her.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, voice raw. “I just—I couldn’t—”

Vander closed his eyes, his jaw tight.

“We’ll talk later.” His voice was gentle but firm, a thread of something unshakable woven through it. “For now, you’re staying right here. With me.”

She sagged against him, too tired to argue. Too exhausted to do anything but let him hold her.

Vi and Claggor lingered near the doorway, their faces tight with worry. Powder and Mylo were gone, safely away from the scene. Vander met Vi’s eyes and gave her a small, reassuring nod.

He wasn’t letting her go.

Not now. Not ever.

SILCO

The tavern was alive with raucous laughter and the clinking of glasses, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and smoke. Y/N sat among them, a dazzling smile gracing her lips, laughter bubbling from her throat like a melody. She was the light in the darkness, the one who brought ease to those around her, the one who always knew how to make even the most hardened criminals feel warmth.

But Silco saw through it.

He sat in the corner, swirling the last remnants of whiskey in his glass, his sharp gaze locked onto you. To everyone else, you were nothing but joy and sunshine, the one who never let the weight of the world press down on her shoulders. But Silco saw the exhaustion lingering behind your eyes, the way your laughter was just a touch too forced, the way your hands twitched slightly when you thought no one was looking.

It was an illusion, a damn good one at that, but he had spent enough time around you to know when the cracks were showing.

=

Later that night, when the festivities had died down and the streets of Zaun were shrouded in the quiet hum of neon lights, he followed you. Your steps were hurried, unsteady, like someone desperate to escape their own shadow. And when he saw you disappear into your room, he felt the cold dread settle deep in his gut.

The click of the hammer being drawn back cut through the silence like a blade.

Silco’s breath hitched as he entered the dimly lit room, his eye immediately locking onto the sight before him. You stood near the window, your hand trembling as you gripped the pistol, its barrel pressed firmly against your temple. The usual warmth in your eyes, the ever-present, easy-going smile—gone. Instead, there was a hollow emptiness, a void that threatened to swallow you whole.

A cold pit settled in his stomach.

He moved before thought could catch up, his body acting on raw instinct. A single second stretched into an eternity as your finger tightened on the trigger. Just as the shot rang out, Silco’s hand collided with your wrist, jerking it upward. The deafening crack of the gun filled the room, the bullet embedding itself into the ceiling. Dust rained down around you both, but neither of you moved. You stood there, breathless, wide-eyed, gun still clutched in your fingers.

Then, the weight of his grip crashed down upon you.

Silco’s fingers curled into the front of your shirt, yanking you forward with a force that stole what little air remained in your lungs. His crimson eye burned with fury, his usual composed demeanor shattered. The grip on your collar was tight, almost suffocating, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was venom, raw and shaking with something unrecognizable—fear? Anguish?

You had never seen him like this. Never heard his voice crack beneath the weight of something so... human. You tried to speak, tried to push back, but his grip only tightened, his face inches from yours.

"You were going to leave me." His voice was a rasp, barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of an unforgiving storm. "After everything, you were going to take the easy way out?"

Tears welled in your eyes, though you stubbornly tried to blink them away. "Silco, I—"

"No." His voice cut through whatever excuse you were about to give. His free hand shot up, fingers tangling in your hair as he forced you to look at him. "You don’t get to smile through the pain for everyone else and then fall apart when no one’s looking. Not to me. Not ever."

The weight of his words hit you harder than any bullet could have. The mask you had carefully maintained for so long cracked, splintering like glass. A sob clawed its way out of your throat, raw and unfiltered. You expected him to let you go then, to leave you standing there in your misery.

But he didn't.

Silco pulled you into his arms, his grip still tight, still grounding. His chin pressed against the top of your head, and you felt the rise and fall of his breath—ragged, desperate.

"You don’t get to leave me," he murmured, softer this time, but no less resolute. "Do you hear me, Y/N? I won’t let you."

Your fingers curled into his coat, clutching him as if letting go meant shattering completely. He wasn’t soft, nor was he gentle. But he was there. Unyielding. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself break in the arms of someone who refused to let you disappear.

"You stupid, selfish girl," he muttered into your hair, the words rough but laced with something deeper, something unspoken. His grip didn’t loosen, if anything, it tightened. "You think you can just slip away, leave me in this wretched place alone?"

You shook against him, silent sobs wracking your body, unable to form words. He let out a shaky breath, as if forcing himself to regain composure, but his arms never let go.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, his grip on your collar loosened, his hands instead smoothing over your back in slow, grounding motions. "You are not a burden," he muttered, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. "You are not alone. Do you understand that?"

You buried your face into his chest, his scent—cigarettes and the lingering traces of whiskey—somehow grounding, anchoring you to something tangible. He let you cling to him, let you fall apart in his grasp as if holding you together was the only thing keeping him steady as well.

"We'll figure this out, Y/N," he said, voice quiet but firm. "But you don’t get to leave. Not without a fight."

His fingers curled into your hair, holding you close as his body shielded yours from the ghosts that threatened to pull you under. The room was still, the weight of the moment settling between you both like an unspoken promise.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe him. Silco would never let you disappear.

JINX

The wind howled through the empty alleyways of Zaun, rustling Y/N’s hair as she stood at the edge of a crumbling rooftop. The city stretched below her, its familiar neon glow casting eerie shadows on her face. Her hands clenched into fists as she stared down at the drop, heart hammering against her ribs.

She had spent her whole life being the light for others—smiling, laughing, pushing forward no matter what. But cracks had started to form beneath that bright façade, fractures so deep that even she couldn’t pretend anymore.

“Y/N?”

The voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Jinx.

She turned slightly, just enough to see the blue-haired girl standing a few feet away. Jinx’s usual manic energy was absent; instead, her wide eyes were locked on her, her expression unreadable.

Jinx took a step forward, boots crunching against the rooftop’s gravel. “What… what the hell are you doing?”

Y/N exhaled, forcing a small, tired smile. “Hey, Jinx. Didn’t think you’d find me here.”

“Yeah, well,” Jinx’s fingers twitched at her sides. “Didn’t think you’d be doing this either.”

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Y/N turned her gaze back to the drop. “I just… I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Jinx’s hands curled into fists. “Pretend what?”

“That I’m okay.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Jinx sucked in a sharp breath, a storm brewing in her chest. Her whole life, people left—either by choice or because the world took them away. And now Y/N, the one person who always smiled, who always pulled her out of her worst moments, was about to leave too?

Jinx’s mind raced, her heart hammering in her chest. Y/N had been there, through the madness, through the worst of it, the only one who never looked at her like she was broken beyond repair. And now she was just going to leave? Just like that? After everything? After she promised?

“No,” Jinx snarled, stepping closer. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to come into my life, make things better, make me think that maybe—maybe I’m not alone, and then just leave! That’s not fair! You promised me, Y/N!”

"Jinx I-"

“Shut up!” Jinx’s voice cracked, anger and fear twisting inside her. “You think you can just disappear and it won’t matter? That it won’t tear me apart?” She was trembling now, fists clenched. “You wanna jump? Fine. Go ahead!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and for a second, she thought she had misheard her. But Jinx’s expression twisted into something broken, something raw—grief and fury tangled together in a storm she couldn’t control.

“Go on, then! Don’t just stand there acting all hesitant! You wanted this, right? So do it! Jump! Leave me like everyone else has!”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Jinx’s expression crumbled as the weight of her own words hit her like a freight train. Her knees buckled, and she fell forward, clutching at Y/N’s hands with desperate strength. “No, no, no—I didn’t mean that.” Her voice broke, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I take it back, okay? Just—please. Please don’t go.”

Y/N felt Jinx’s grip tighten, her desperation sinking into her bones. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel invisible.

Her legs trembled as she stepped back from the ledge.

The adrenaline, the fear, the sheer weight of everything crashed down on her all at once. Her knees buckled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed onto the rooftop floor. Her body shook with exhaustion, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Jinx didn’t hesitate. She dropped down beside her, arms wrapping around Y/N in a crushing embrace. She held on like Y/N was slipping through her fingers, like if she let go, she’d disappear forever. “Please,” Jinx whispered, voice raw and trembling. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Y/N buried her face in Jinx’s shoulder, her fingers clutching onto the fabric of her shirt as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. Jinx’s grip only tightened, rocking them slightly, as if trying to ground both of them.

“I got you,” Jinx murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I got you, okay? You’re not alone.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, allowing herself to be held. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself believe those words, even if just for a moment.

Jinx pulled away slightly, her fingers brushing over Y/N’s face, tilting her chin up to meet her eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, voice still unsteady but firm. “We’ll go somewhere, anywhere. Just… stay with me.”

Y/N hesitated, but the warmth in Jinx’s grip anchored her. She gave a weak nod, and Jinx exhaled sharply, relief flooding her features.

Jinx helped her to her feet, keeping an arm wrapped protectively around her. “We’ll figure this out,” she muttered, more to herself than anything. “Together.”

Y/N glanced back at the ledge one last time before turning away from it for good. As they walked, Jinx’s grip never loosened—not once.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t completely alone after all.

[sibsteria]

pls for the love of god write more spencer. ur writing is everything

The difference between love and pretending…

Spencer Agnew x fem!Reader

a/n ask and ye shall receive

Masterlist

Warnings/Content: This be a short one, little bit of angst, pining, kissing, cheating, alcohol

Summary: He dated your friend, granted she treated him like dirt and you, doesn’t that break some kind of girl code? But he stood there, oh so beautiful and you just…

New! Spencer Agnew Prompt Series!

Prompt: “I can’t stop thinking about the last time we kissed.” “You say you don’t love me but you kissed me back like you did.”

Flashback

The living room was heavy with the heartbreak of your best friend and colleague, for that matter. A stupid romcom blaring colour from the tv that he swore he didn’t like in the dim light room, wine drunk to high heaven, scattered takeaway containers around the table and a big big box of chocolate.

Having just broken up with your friend, catching her kissing one of her guy friends when she thought she was alone, you were here to help him feel better. You didn’t know if it was working, but you hope it was, you hated seeing him like this- not because you had a crush or anything. You set them up together so really it’s your own fault, your own fault that you had to watch the two people you love in this world kiss over and over, your own fault he sat here upset.

The tension grew awkward after he spoke, “I should have dated you instead.” He laughed, but in a sort of self deprecation way. And the alcohol that cling to your brain made the case even worse as you blurted out- “Maybe…” Your eyes met his, you know it was wrong- he was going through heartbreak and he had belonged to your friend not six hours ago and…

He leaned down, unsure of what he was actually doing right now, and sure enough your lips met. It turned sloppy and messy, your lipstick smearing over his face as you gripped each others clothing.

What were you doing?

You felt embarrassed at yourself, he was hurting and you just let him kiss you like that, how selfish can you be?

Soon after you had pulled away, you made an excuse and left, you can’t do this to him or to yourself. You didn’t want to stay and become a rebound girl for the man you were pretty sure you loved.

You didn’t talk about it after that night, the rooms went silent and stuffy when it was just the two of you, neither of you knowing what to say.

Both of you tried to build your friendship back up, eventually getting to a point where you could exchange niceties when working, but in the back of your head you were sort of regretting what happened.

Until….

“Can I talk to you for a second…alone?” You paused as you packed up to leave, it was getting late and you didn’t want to bother the clean up crew.

“Um, yeah, sure- is everything okay?” You ask, your eyes darted anywhere but his face.

“No.” He put it plain and simple, it had been at least four months since that night, was he still angry at you?

“Oh…” Was all you could say, waving goodbye to your desk buddies before it left just the two of you.

“I can’t stop thinking about the last time we kissed.” He huffed out, swiping some hair out of his eyes.

“Ah…what do you mean?” You knew this was coming eventually, it was stupid to think it wouldn’t.

“I can’t stop thinking about it, about you…” You blink at his words, about you?

“About me?” Your breathing became a little heavier as the office was silent and still.

“About how much I want to kiss you again…” You gasped quietly, was he on drugs?

“Spencer…”

“I get it, if you don’t feel the same way but…I kind of know you do…” He trails off, looking a little awkward.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You panicked a little, how did he know about your feelings? Was this a trick? You betted on Ian spilling the beans, of course he did!

“I feel like I used you that night, the night we kissed because…I knew you had feelings for me and I just…wanted to feel like someone loved me.” He’s upset at his own words, at himself for taking advantage of you and your feelings for him. You had gotten it all wrong, he wasn’t angry at you. You stayed calm even thought you felt utterly embarrassed that he had known about your feelings for so long.

“I…thought I was using you…because of how I felt and I thought I was being selfish letting you kiss me when I knew you loved her.” Her being your friend, of course.

“Let me kiss you again…” He stepped towards you, a fire in his eyes.

“What? Why?” You don’t want your feelings played around like that.

“Because…I, I like you back.” He softens at you, “Since that night, since the kiss, it’s like you messed with me…and I can’t stop thinking about you.” This can’t be true, it was just convenience.

“Spencer, no, you don’t. It’s just-“

“Yes…I do, I know the difference between love and pretending.” He was a smart man, of course he knew, not that you fully believed it.

“Okay, well…” You couldn’t do this to your friend, could you? You had only just patched things up after being angry at her for so long for breaking his heart, how would it look now if you just swooped him up? “I can’t…because she-“

“Forget about her, I stopped thinking about her the moment our lips touched and it’s not like she doesn’t deserve this…you shouldn’t care about her feelings more than your own.” Why was he so right?

“How are you so sure I love you, still? I don’t.” You had it coming as soon as you said that, your voice wavering because of the dishonesty in it. You couldn’t do this to her-

He scoffed, putting his hands up and cupping your jaw before pulling you into the most phenomenal kiss of your life, it happened quickly and you followed suit- kissing him back with the same passion.

His hands tangled in your hair as you came up to steady yourself on his chest, it went on for a while before he pulled away- a sick grin on his features.

“You say you don’t love me but you kissed me back like you did.” His eyes are shining as you can’t find anything to deny.

“I…” You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat, you didn’t know what to say.

“One date? If we aren’t a match then that’s the end…but I don’t see that happening, I really, really want this to work with you. Don’t think about what she might think or say. We were friends for much longer and…you don’t need someone like her in your life” She did treat you terribly, you were always so kind to people and they took it for granted more often than not.

“You know, you are really stubborn.” You suppressed a smile, looking at him with a glint of joy in your eyes.

“Tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at 6? They do discounts on the bowling place down the street after 8, we could get some dinner…or something like that?” That sounded amazing, a chill first date.

“Perfect.” You bite your bottom lip, smiling.

“You won’t regret it.” He leans in to kiss your cheek.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[milessunflowers]

wag!franco and footballer!reader!!!!! :D

FOOTBALLER!READER MY BELOVED WITH FRANCO TOO VINVIN YOU SPOIL ME

wag!franco colapinto x footballer!male!reader

synopsis: franco loves his life as a football wag, especially because your uniform looks amazing on you

author's note: I LOVE FOOTBALLER!READER SO MUCH YOU GUYS DONT UNDERSTAND. like footballer!reader has a special place in my heart so if yall wanted to send in more i wouldn't be opposed to it (as long as it isn't american footballer bc i know nothing about american football). also, i just really like that picture of franco and will use it at any given chance. it also did get a bit suggestive because franco is franco and it felt like the vibe

starting off, i really don't think he could ever play football

hes good at racing but not field stuff at all

loves watching you so much though

especially because you get all sweaty and hot and he goes crazy

youve tried teaching the different positions (forwards, midfielders, defense, goal keeper) but he just cannot get the hang of actually playing them

you are multi-talented and could play basically anywhere on the field but for this purpose, you typically play midfield

so you're running wherever you are need at whatever given time

franco's attention is always trained on you

he is so loud when he cheers because he wants to stand out (even though everyone knows you are dating him)

lowkey feel like he would boo when you are benched/if the other team scores

except when it's the national teams for the world cup and stuff

then when you play against argentina (if you aren't from there) he's so rooting against you

still supports you but he loves argentina more

you understand though, because if the roles were reversed, you would cheer for your home country (unless it's argentina then it's self explanatory)

during the normal season you play for barcelona though (guys im sorry if you don't like barça but they're my favorite)

goes to every game he can and when he's working on his degree in engineering or business (idk why but i feel like those suit him?), he's streaming it on his phone/tele

curses a lot in spanish if you miss the goal or the other team scores

absolutely panics if you get hurt

like one time you fucked up your ankle that it ballooned and bruised so much you couldn't move it so you were out for a few games

you were so whiney about missing them but you were so happy to be at home with Franco

franco, at any chance, wears your jersey because he loves showing his support/showing off he's yours and vice versa

he would also look incredible in a barça jersey if i do say so myself

especially if you got him a size smaller and it just shows off his pecs and stuff

and when he wears your jersey you go absolutely insane because you find it so attractive

his legs absolutely are shaking after you guys are done

hes not complaining though because he loves it

you also have huge hickeys you have to cover up with makeup the best you can before the next game

you're so proud of them though and want to show them off

you cuddle with him all the time because you claim it's good luck

it kind of is because it puts you in a good mentality and happy mood so you perform better

next thing you know, you're teammates are ruffling their hair for some "buena suerte" as they all say

boom, you guys win that game

plus franco is just happy to be there

he loves supporting you just like you support his degree

and you go to his graduation and cheer just as loud as he does at your games

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[cupcakelvr]

jinx x f!reader who is pregnant (it’s jinx’s baby don’t ask the logistics) and to follow the boobenjoyer jinx reader begins to produce milk. not like baby is gonna need it yet it’s still months away!

love this a lot, tysm! Mentions of pregnancy, boob sucking, lactation kink.

One suckle couldn’t hurt, right?

"Oh *Puh-lease*, babe!" Jinx groaned.

For the past week Jinx had been bothering you about this.

All that nagging combined with pregnancy hormones, stupid cravings and emotional outbursts all turned into a tsunami of emotions towards you.

You were 20 weeks pregnant, your whole body was changing rapidly and you could definitely feel some of the more obvious changes.

You put on some weight, ate a lot more and much more. Though the part Jinx absolutely loved was you starting to produce milk. 

Shit - it was just so hot to have you doing something like that. Your boobs looked so different, so plump, those two tiny buds now slightly swollen and a lot more pink than when you weren’t carrying her child.

In the early mornings Jinx would roll over, hazy gaze quickly glued to the two little damp spots on your shirt right where your boobs were.

One suckle couldn’t hurt, no? The little one wasn’t even there yet!

_________________________________________________________

"Jinx, I’m gonna say this one last time, *no*." You hiss at her as you lean back against the headrest of the couch, letting out a tired sigh.

God - couldn’t a woman just peacefully suck on some boobs?

To have you snapping at her was unusual so Jinx had decided to approach you differently, choosing a more soft and sweet approach.

"M‘sorry, baby." Jinx lowly murmured as she scooted closer while putting a hand on your bump, gently stroking up and down.

"But ya gotta understand me, you just look so..hot and I don’t know how to control myself around you." She sighed, giving you *the* puppy eyes.

Before you knew it her hand had sneaked under he hem of your shirt before gently cupping one of your boobs, giving it a gentle squish and gasping as she felt little droplets drip down to her fingers.

Jinx didn’t hesitate to pull her hand back and lick off all the white droplets on her fingers, it was like her dream could finally come true.

With an exaggerated groan Jinx licked off all the little droplets, looking at you again with those damn puppy eyes until finally - you gave her that sigh of defeat.

With a gasp Jinx came even closer and slid her head beneath your shirt, her big eyes staring at her favorite two things in the world.

"Careful, don’t do too much.." You gently warn her until you eventually feel her lips wrapping around one of your nipples. The soft groan spilling from your lips made her grin, oh how she loved this. 

Then she started suckling, like a little kitten would do to its mother, just like her *baby* was going to do it once it was born.

Jinx’s eyes rolled back in exaggerated pleasure as a low purr left her throat, her arms loosely wrapping around your waist as she drank from you.

The tension in your bosom slowly faded, which made you less tense and irritated.

The way the liquid gushed onto her tongue felt like heaven, it’s taste subtle and almost unnoticeable yet so. .sweet. Shit - this was going to be her new addiction.

Sucking, sucking and sucking. Eventually you gave Jinx a gentle pat to her head, wanting her to stop.

"Alright, enough." You uttered.

A whine left her lips as she let your nipple go with a "pop" while keeping her head beneath your shirt, she hadn’t even started with the other one!

"But babe, the other one?" Jinx whined, pouting even though you couldn’t see it.

"Alright..the other one." You sighed.

Hopefully your baby wouldn’t have the thirst Jinx had.

[dramaticallytotal]

Izzy The Matchmaker

Don't look at me. Yes! Another World Tour Au!

I'm weak.

I love this season.

Anywho!

New idea! A new idea which I got listening to Matchmaker from Fiddler on the Roof!

Izzy saw Noah and Alejandro sneaking peaks at each other at the Gemmy Awards when no one else did, and she immediately felt a love connection between the two. And as Noah's favorite sister (he claims he doesn't have a favorite, but Izzy knows better), she was contractually obligated to be his wing wingwoman/matchmaker! And Izzy always got the job down no matter what it entailed. Then the insane race happened, and Izzy had been having so much fun! Except when they wrecked. But no one got hurt, so that's a win! Then they were rescued, and Izzy noticed that Noah pretended to be asleep on Eva when some of the others went off to find help. It seemed fun, so she joined the pile! She put two and two together when they were rescued that this must have been a weird test of Chris's that determined who got to star in the new season.

She mentally thanked Noah for making sure Eva stayed and got to participate this time. Team E-Scope was finally together for a season and ready to play! This means he needed to be rewarded, and what better way to reward her lil' bro than by getting him a boyfriend?

She tried to make sure he sat next to the guy on the bus ride to the film lot but was unsuccessful since he sat with Eva instead, and Izzy couldn't be mad about that. But on their way to the location of the new season, she made sure they had to sit together. Izzy was definitely not spying on the two talking, and she definitely didn't see Noah laugh at something Mr. Charmer said.

Then they were on the plane, THE PLANE!!!, and Chris tossed out Ezekiel, which was sooooo fun. And next thing Izzy knew they were in Egypt! Just when she was about to go under the pyramid with her friends, she snatched up Noah and tossed him perfectly to Alejandro, who caught him in a panic. "Haha, you caught him! That means you have to take him over the pyramid, no takebacksies!!!

"IZZY!" She heard Noah yell, but like a good friend, she ignored him and pushed Owen and Eva into the entrance of the pyramid. Now, usually, she would have loved to be wrapped in those fun bandages, but Izzy was a woman on a mission, and she ran around until she spotted an intern and pounced. No... literally...

She grabbed their walkie talkie and changed it to the channel that only Chris and Chef were on, she only knew this because she visited Noah at work often and saw him switch channels because apparently Chris and Chef hated being on a channel with everyone. "McLean."

"Uuuuh who is this?"

"Izzy!"

"How did crazy get a walkie-talkie?" That one was Chefie! Fun!

"That's not important! I have demands!"

"She probably got it from an intern." Chefie again!

"Keep the intern. We got plenty." That was Chris, and that statement was sad. Not for her. For the intern still squished under her.

"You don't want to play with me, McLean. I'm just asking you make sure my No-No and that Alejandro guy end up on the same team."

"...and why would I do that?"

"You'll do that because I'll tell Granny Mudaliar that you were the one who broke her late mother's handmade vase even though you blamed Nanette (Neelima's cat)."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me!"

"Ugh! Fine! Fine! Just don't tell Elayanila! It would break her heart! I'm her favorite!"

Izzy didn't bother responding to that and just hopped off the intern and continued the challenge.

_________

Over the pyramid:

Alejandro ended up carrying Noah and Bridgette because Tyler carried Lindsay. No, Lindsay forgetting Tyler in this au, and Tyler is still clumsy, but I feel like it suddenly evaporates when he is holding Lindsay. Love makes him capable of incredible feats!

"You know you didn't actually have to carry me this whole time." Noah drawled, but made no move to escape the arm that was holding him up. He would have tried to make conversation with Bridgette, but she seemed off in la la land.

Alejandro raised an eyebrow and somehow managed to looked a little offended at the same time. "I am a man of my word amigo!"

"You didn't even give your word or agree!"

"A thank you would be nice instead of a lecture, you know."

"Thank you for being smarter than Justin yet still not knowing the difference between a lecture and facts. This isn't a lecture. You'd know if I was giving a lecture. I am merely stating facts."

".....You are....something."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You do that."

__________________

Izzy's plan worked, and Noah was put on the same team as Alejandro. The teams are:

Team Victory: Bridgette, Lindsay, DJ, Trent, Justin, Ezekiel, and Sadie. (Duncan was supposed to be on this team, but he quit.)

Team Amazon: Courtney, Leshawna, Heather, Gwen, Katie, Sierra, and Harold.

Team Chris: Noah, Alejandro, Eva, Cody, Izzy, Owen, and Tyler.

Chris put Team E-Scope on the same team as a peace offering despite the fact he listened to Izzy's demand and made sure to put Noah on a team with Alejandro. It was due to fear but also for his intern. He knew Izzy was planning some kind of shenanigan with him in the center and wanted to do something nice. The small, grateful smile he was given by Noah totally didn't make him happy or proud of his decision. Absolutely not.

__________

Team E-Scope + Owen all on one team!!! Poor Alejandro.

Alenoah shenanigans so much earlier because of Izzy.

Chris and Chef catch on to why Izzy wanted Alejandro and Noah on the same team and throw a fit. Not their son!!!

Mixed up teams, which means new dynamics!!

Izzy tries to get Alenoah together at least once per episode, and she's determined to stay in the game until that happens. Izzy is playing seriously, so she stays in.

Alejandro is trying to scheme but keeps getting distracted by his attractive and witty teammate!

Owen figures out what Izzy is doing and is her official assistant! Both are bummed out that they couldn't find a cherub cupid outfit for Owen to wear, but despite the setback, they will persevere!

Eva doesn't know what Izzy is planning and doesn't care as long as it's not harmful to them, and so far, it hasn't been, so she's content to pretending everything is normal.

Noah thinks Izzy also caught on to the fact that Alejandro is an eel and is using him to distract the charmer to foil his plans! That's the only reason he goes along with her shenanigans. Totally.

[madamenaomi]

Guided Masturbation /Edging Session For Needy Good Girls.

Hello, sweet girl, I’m glad you are. Thank you for joining me.

My name is Naomi, but for this session, call me Mommy.

I need you to get comfortable if you aren’t already, preferably in your bedroom or on the sofa. Make sure your space is quiet and dim, Mommy will wait for you.

•

•

All done? Good girl.

Take a soft breath.

Hold.

Exhale. Slowly.

Feel your shoulders relax. Feel your muscles soften. Unclench your jaw and follow Mommy’s words.

Can you be an obedient little girl for me?

Nod.

Good.

🛑 You stop.

❇️ You go.

That’s all you need to know right now.

Say you understand.

=====

Good girl.

Take another slow breath in. Let it fill your chest, warm and steady, and then… let it go.

Again.

Feel the tension slipping from your body, unraveling like a ribbon. Loose. Soft.

You’re safe with me. The whole world is out there vanishing and it’s just me and you.

You don’t need to hold onto anything right now. Not your worries, not your fears, not the tightness in your chest.

Let it all go, sweet girl.

Feel the fabric against your skin, the weight of your body growing sinking in as it loosens.

Let these words wrap around you.

I know, sweet girl.

I know that little heart of yours has been hurting.

I know how it aches when you wonder if you’ll be left alone.

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 they 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆?

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 they 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓?

𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓?

Shhh, baby.

That voice inside your head is not Mommy’s voice. Those are not Mommy’s words.

My words are here, with you, and will always be.

You deserve it all. The warmth. The tenderness. The softness. The pleasure.

Run a finger across the lines of your stomach. Gently. Slowly.

Run that finger upward, until you can feel your breasts, plump and warm, your nipples slowly becoming needy and achy like that sweet little spot between your legs.

Run a finger across your nipple. Yes, that sensitive nipple you love to play with, the one you love having sucked. The one you’re going to let Mommy squeeze and fondle until you completely lose yourself.

You deserve every bit of the pleasure coursing through your veins right now. You have always deserved it.

Slowly trail your fingers down.

Mommy said, Slowly, princess. Don’t rush. Carefully, tenderly, treat your body like the precious little thing it is.

Run your fingers along the lines of your panties.

Are you needy? You want to feel the warmth between your legs don’t you? You want to find just how wet Mommy’s wet are making you. You want to show me just how much a good girl you can be with that precious pussy if yours? Then then Mommy how good you are first.

Go ahead. Say “I’m Mommy’s pretty girl”.

Good. Good.

Spread your legs just a little—just enough.

Now slide your warm fingers between those pretty thighs of yours, right over your needy clit. Rub. At a steady pace. We’re going to take our time with your needy clit.

Good girl. Look at you being a pretty needy slut for me.

That feels good doesn’t it? Playing with your pussy while reading Mommy’s words. The pleasure traveling all around your hips, making you wish Mommy was right there next to you, rubbing your clit while sucking your nipple.

🛑

Take a deep breath.

Exhale.

Another deep breathe breath.

Exhale.

❇️

Tease yourself for me. Circle, stroke, but don’t press too hard. This is my pace, not yours.

Your pussy must be getting so wet and needy now, your fingers doing their best to keep up with your desperate horniness.

You must enjoy putting yourself on display for me. Having me watch you while the pleasure consumes you. I wonder how much of a slut you’d be if I brought all twelve of my friends to watch you being a needy little girl. Desperate and a little pathetic for attention while touch yourself.

Maybe I will let them take turns on you. Threat you like the precious little while you are.

🛑

Hands off. Don’t whine. Don’t squirm. Just breathe. Feel the ache settling in. That’s mine too. That frustration, that throbbing? Mine. You don’t get to move until I say so. Be still. Be obedient.

Look at you? You’re so good at being wet. You’re so pretty with your legs apart, your clit calling out to me to spank it tenderly before finger fucking your cunt.

Would you want that princess? To be bent over, kept on your knees while getting finger fucked. I bet you’d take it so well. I bet you’d be so good at riding my fingers like a good little whore.

❇️

Let yourself feel it deeper. A little more pressure. A little more speed. You are following so well, aren’t you? You’re making me proud.

Faster now. Rub that clit like the pretty precious slut you are.

Faster.

Keep your pace steady,

You’re being so good with your pussy. Such a good girl.

🛑

Let the pleasure simmer, let the denial sink in. Every time I stop you, you learn. You learn that pleasure is not a right—it’s a privilege. And privileges are given, not taken. Keep still. No cheating.

❇️

Let me hear it. Let me feel how much you want it. Faster. Wetter. Needier. You’re close, aren’t you? It’s so unfair, isn’t it? But you don’t get to decide. I do.

🛑

No matter how close you were—let it go. The denial is mine, just as the pleasure is. Hands off. Breathe. Feel what I have done to you. The longing, the ache, the helpless surrender. Feel how good obedience can be. Maybe I’ll let you finish. Maybe I won’t. But that’s not up to you, is it? That’s up to me.

Good girl.

[the-kr8tor]

YAAAAAYYY REQUESTS! so something simple but angsty? maybe? reader can’t get out of bed. like literally ever. they always have to make plans way in advance so that they can know when they actually have to get up and do things (that’s on depression baby) and hobie, however, always wants to go out with reader. and one day hobie wakes up reader to take them out and they snap. i don’t know where i’m going with this it’s just really relatable to me 😭

Thank you so much for being patient with your request! I hope you like it ❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW depression, CW anxiety, CW panic attack, hurt/comfort, CW food mentions, established relationship.

Also requested by anon: Sorry to bother friend but may I ask for a comfort piece of hobie comforting reader when the depression just hits extra bad one night and they’re struggling to accept and believe that they’re loved 🥺? Like they full know that they’re cared and loved for but their brain just refuses to let them accept it and suddenly the thoughts just spiral from there. Feel free to skip and ignore if you aren’t comfy with this. Love your writing sm <3

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Your eyelashes stick together, tears clinging in each strand as you vigorously wipe it all away with your sleeve. The clock on your night stand blinks, the late afternoon time mocking you for not getting out of bed the whole day when you have plans. Or Hobie has plans that you truly don't feel like getting up for, or for anything else.

The boulder on your chest feels heavier today, heaving through it, inhaling through the stale air of your bedroom. You've curled around yourself, been in the same position for hours now. Back aching, legs numb and fingers tingling from wracking sobs you've let out. It feels as if the dark envelopes you, ebbing through you, embracing you as its own. Sometimes the world feels like that, sometimes it's better— when the light would shine on your skin, laughter in your chest instead of the heaviness wrought by everything. Sometimes, his whispered words help you, sometimes it drags you back down. And as much as you want to bask in the night, the sorrow drags you down into the void.

It's just there, gnawing inside of you until you're no more. You feel like you're nothing in your bed, sheets sticking to your clammy flesh, pillow marked by tears. You were doing well, better than before but it tugged you back, and it feels like the very walls you exist in are crumbling down on you.

The muffled sounds of your breathing are joined by the sound of keys jingling outside. You know who it is, and you'd usually greet him with a smile and kiss or two. But right now, all you want to do is lay there, let the mattress hold you in its embrace.

“You ready, love?” Hobie comes sauntering in the bedroom, all decked out in his leather and denim outfit for tonight's party. And yet, he finds you still in bed, face tucked in between the pillows and body hidden underneath the dense blanket. His smile wavers, socked feet slowly closing the distance. “Love?” You're a stark contrast to him, dressed to nines compared to your pajama pants and old worn out sleep shirt.

Insecurity nips at you as you stare at how handsome he is. He can have anybody else and yet he puts up with you. You sniff at the thought, head turning further away from him as you feel the bed dip down next to you.

“I–” your voice cracks, words stuck in your throat. “— I don't feel well, Hobie, I'm sorry, you'll have to go on your own.”

His hand reaches towards your shoulder, palm meeting with your stiff muscle. “I'll just stay ‘ere then, keep you company.” He whispers the words, and yet it feels like a knife thrust into your back. You promised him that you'll go, and there you are holding him back.

“No, you should go. They'll look for you.”

Hobie's thumb rubs small circles around your skin, chin propped atop your shoulder blade. “They'll look for you too.”

The simple words tug at your heart. “Hobie, please go.” You curl further around yourself. “I'll be fine.”

“I can't leave you like this, love.” He knows it too well, the heaviness that makes a home in you, a trembling blighted thing that would have anyone shaken to their core. He could leave and go out without you, but he can't when his light is being snuffed away at the seams right in front of him. “We can make a day out of today, watch some shite movie on the telly, order somethin' greasy—”

You abruptly turn towards him, eyes red, brows furrowed like you're in pain, and tear stained cheeks glinting in the lamp light. “Please just go.”

His hand instinctively flinches, but as he sees you frown deeply, he lays his palm gently right on your heart. “Can’t, and won't do that, sorry.” He scrunches his nose with a lopsided smile to help ease you, even just for a bit.

“I d–don't want to hold you back.” Warm tears escape from your heavy eyes. “Please just go, I've handled myself like this before, I can do it again.”

“Doesn't mean that you have to go through it alone again.” Hobie says softly, words sticking to your chest. “‘m ‘ere now, love, and you're not holdin’ me back.”

“It’s not your job.” Your hand wraps around his wrist, and he immediately intertwines his fingers around your own, right atop your heart. “You didn't ask for this when we got together.”

“It's not, ‘m doin’ it pro bono.” He jokes, chuckling at the small smile that tugs at your lips. “And I want to stay. I signed up for all of the good and even the bad days, it comes with lovin’ you.” Hobie smiles gently, palm placed on your head as he rubs you lovingly. His thumb brushes along the corner of your eye wiping away any stray tears. “Do you really want me to go? I'll stay by the door though, no way in freezin’ hell ‘m leavin’ you.”

You gaze up at him with shining eyes. His words strike the shadow looming over you, it still lingers, but with Hobie cradling your face and his warmth ebbing through you, it helps. His presence helps.

“...Can you really stay? I can't promise how long I'll be like this.”

“I'll wait it out with you.” With a tug at his sleeve, you pull him towards you in a tight embrace.

[onyourj-uls]

˚｡⋆୨୧ i wish ⋆ sungchan, anton.

pairing: anton x fem!reader x sungchan

genre: angst, slight fluff, past romance, emotional tension

warnings: slightly suggestive themes, unspoken feelings, heartbreak, smut (just a little bit).

wc: 2.8k~

note: it had been a long time since i listened to "i wish" by 1D and yesterday it played by itself and omg, suddenly an idea came to me hahaha, i suffered a bit writing this because i'm so in love with all rii7e members😭😭 also, i have an intense love for sungchan since nct 2020, so i decided he would be perfect for this.

the first time sungchan saw you, he thought you were grumpy or difficult to approach because of your expression. you always walked alone through the school hallways, headphones in your ears, eyes steady, giving no impression that you wanted company. it wasn’t that you were rude, you just seemed to live in your own world, as if you didn’t need anyone else.

but everything changed when you were put on the same team for a project with shotaro. that’s when sungchan realized how wrong his first impressions had been. not only were you not grumpy, but you were also funny, passionate about what interested you, and had a sense of humor that made him laugh more than once.

from then on, you, shotaro, and sungchan became inseparable. if anyone saw you together, they knew you were up to something whether it was a prank or just a spontaneous hangout after class.

over time, there were days when shotaro couldn't go out, leaving just the two of you. at first, your outings were normal, just two friends spending time together. but little by little, you both started to notice it:

the accidental brushes of your hands when walking side by side.

the lingering eye contact that lasted longer than usual.

the hugs that became longer and warmer.

until one afternoon, on an ordinary day, you were lying on the grass, and he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair while you slowly traced your fingers over his face, admiring his pretty features. no words were needed, the tension in the air spoke for you.

and then, it happened.

a kiss. one that shouldn't have happened, yet felt as natural as breathing. it wasn't planned, it wasn't premeditated, it just happened.

from that day on, things changed.

sometimes, you'd go out and hold hands in the darkness of the movie theater.

other times, you'd find yourselves alone, and your lips would seek each other out, like magnets drawn together.

but you never talked about what you were, because deep down, you both knew you couldn't be.

sungchan was older than you, and even though his heart wanted to try, he knew it wasn’t right, he was already an adult, and you weren’t. you understood, even though it hurt.

so, you made a pact: no one would know about this.

except Shotaro, who accidentally caught you kissing near the school lab one day and had to promise to keep it a secret.

Eecept for you and a trusted friend.

no one else.

until one night, after spending the whole day together as usual, sungchan was walking you home to make sure you arrived safely.

the difference that night was that you invited him in, and he agreed, something he never did. you sat on the couch, snuggled in his arms. you loved feeling his warmth, his scent, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat...

without thinking too much, you lifted your face, and he looked into your eyes. you knew what he wanted—you knew him well. he wanted to kiss you, so you leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a tender, innocent kiss that quickly grew in intensity.

you climbed onto his lap, as you often did.

sungchan’s hands moved up and down your waist, slowly pressing against your hips.

as he often did.

until you felt the urge to try something new, not because what you did before wasn't enough, but because your body was asking for more. for the first time, a sensation spread through you, making you want more and more. You needed more of sungchan at that moment.

you slid your hands under his shirt and kissed your way down his neck, making him release small sounds, sounds you had never heard before, but you loved them.

you kept going, and so did he. one of his hands slipped inside your shirt and under your bra, playing with your hardened nipple. a gasp of pure pleasure escaped your lips, it was the first time you had felt anything like this, and you couldn’t think about anything else.

not knowing what else to do, sungchan started moving you, guiding you to grind against his lap. he positioned you directly over his hardness. you were surprised to feel him like that, but without thinking too much, you did what he wanted.

without warning, sungchan’s hand slipped down to your heat, still covered by your pants, and he started rubbing your sensitive spot quickly. you were completely lost in the overwhelming and new sensations flooding your body.

until your hand moved down to his hard length, ready to pull it out from his boxers.

but before you could, he suddenly lifted you off his lap, covered his face with both hands, and whispered:

"i'm sorry, i got carried away… but i can't do this."

and he left, leaving you confused and drowning in a sea of emotions.

you thought that, in a few days, he’d come back to invite you for ice cream or a baseball game.

but he didn’t.

two weeks passed without hearing from him.

then, he reached out to talk. he said it was best to keep some distance for a while, and he was clear about it:

"if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other someday."

you knew it was the right decision, but it still hurt.

that night, you called shotaro. he took you for a walk in the park, listening as you poured your heart out. he hugged you and comforted you, whispering:

"everything will be okay, just give it time."

months passed. time moved forward. and then, the others arrived.

shotaro and sungchan joined the music club, where they met riize. you weren’t in the club, but you visited them sometimes.

and it was on one of those days that anton saw you for the first time.

from that moment on, you were the only person he could think about.

the day anton first saw you in the music club, sungchan noticed his reaction immediately.

it was subtle, but sungchan knew him well enough, even after such a short time, to catch it:

the way anton looked at you a little longer than necessary.

the way he smiled just from hearing your voice.

the way he got nervous when you talked to him.

the way he found excuses to include you in the conversation, despite his shyness.

sungchan wasn’t the only one who noticed.

"he likes her," shotaro whispered to sungchan one afternoon, when anton was staring at you while you laughed with the others.

sungchan didn’t reply. he just watched anton, wondering if it was really true.

over time, his suspicions were confirmed.

anton always found an excuse to ask sungchan things about you.

he wanted to know what you liked, how you were when you weren’t around them.

he made sure you were invited to every plan.

until one day, it was sungchan who encouraged him to talk to you, since he was sure he no longer had any feelings for you and thought that by doing so, he could confirm that his chapter with you was completely closed.

"she's a good girl," he told him. "take your time to get to know her."

he was sincere. he truly believed anton was a good guy. and almost two years had passed since everything happened.

but now, seeing anton getting closer to you, there was something inside him that refused to accept that someone else would take his place.

the first few times you went out with anton, sungchan tried to convince himself that he didn’t care.

but he did. a lot.

especially when he saw you with him.

when he really saw how anton looked at you, how he cared for you, how you also started opening your heart to him… that was when he realized that what he felt for you had never fully died.

of course, he couldn’t say anything, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. he had let his moment pass; he had made the decision to walk away, to do the right thing.

but he couldn’t say anything.

so, he masked it with jokes, sarcastic comments, playful shoves, light punches, a passive-aggressive kind of affection.

"where are you going all dressed up?" he teased when you ignored him to talk to anton.

"do you not have time for us mere mortals anymore?"

and you answered just the same:

"oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sungchan."

to everyone else, it seemed like you two were always bickering. but in reality, only the two of you knew that those "fights" were just a way to disguise something that shouldn’t still exist, but had never really gone away.

only shotaro knew.

he saw what others didn’t.

he saw how sometimes, when you thought no one was watching, sungchan would stare at you in silence.

he saw how, when anton held your hand, sungchan looked away, as if it hurt.

until that party came.

it was anton’s birthday. everyone was having a good time, he was busy tending to the guests, and you and sungchan were in a corner, your little nostalgia-filled nook, with a few too many drinks.

both of you had a little alcohol in your system, but not enough to lose control, but enough for the barrier of "what ifs" to crack a little. His eyes shone with something more than just the dim lights of the place. A conversation that starts like any other, a sarcastic joke, laughter, until nostalgia sneaks in between.

under the table, almost without you noticing, his hand searches for yours, like in those days when you couldn’t hold hands in public. but this time, it’s different. it’s no longer a secret, it’s a goodbye disguised as a touch.

"you know… i don’t think u ever said it properly, but i really liked you." a small silence, his thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand.

"but not your age." he lets out a short, somewhat bitter laugh, as if mocking himself.

"so, i did the right thing, even though…" he looks you straight in the eyes, a hint of sadness masked as maturity. "even though sometimes i wonder what it would’ve been like if…"

his voice fades, as if he doesn’t want to finish the sentence, because it no longer matters.

and there you are, feeling a whirlwind of emotions inside you. It’s not that you want to go back. it’s not that you doubt what you have with anton. but those words awaken something within you, a memory, an echo, a possibility that will never be.

before you can say anything, sungchan slowly releases your hand and lets out a sigh with a small smile.

"but i’m happy that you’re happy."

and with that, he lifts his glass, toasts to you in silence. both of you knew there was no point in saying anything more.

so, you just gave him a sad smile and let go of his hand.

and when anton returned to your side, sungchan just stared at his glass, trying to ignore the emptiness in his chest.

now, with anton in your life, that past with sungchan is a secret you prefer not to mention. not because it’s something bad, but because there’s no point in bringing it up. anton doesn’t suspect a thing, because sungchan and you never let it seem like anything more.

because that’s how it is, some stories end before they even begin, but they always leave a mark.

well hahah, as you can see, i have a lot of ideas all of a sudden! i was going to start writing it last night but i fell asleep (sorry) but here it is:) i have to bring out my masochistic and dramatic side as a good pisces 😼 i'll do part 2? idk, i love you guys 🩵

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Ace - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: so uh, this was written for this request. But um. I really struggle with my own asexuality when it comes to telling people so like, I also wrote this for me. I’m sorry for the angst, I’m um, not having the best time emotionally as of late so I thought I’d write it out

Also, ✨it’s my birthday✨ so here’s my birthday gift to you all

CW: angst, fear, anxiety, Reader is very worried, nausea, Reader is a bunny!mutant, Reader is ftm trans implied, binder mention, major miscommunication, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, Logan has emotions and I make him feel them, Logan is fairly mature in this, break ups, crying, Reader calls themselves a freak, good communication, Logan loves Reader, some cheesy moments, ‘I love you’s, Reader is called buns and handsome by Logan, happy ending

1139 words

You’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror for far too long, but you can’t seem to look away. Maybe if you just look a little longer, you’ll get it. But nothing changes. Your body is just… there.

Soft fluffy ears. Twitchy nose. Eyes. Mouth. Neck. Shoulders. Just… same as ever.

You can hear Logan moving about in the apartment and it finally pulls your gaze slowly away from the mirror. It takes you a long moment, but you pull your towel around you, stepping away from the reflective glass.

You sit on the edge of the tub, staring at the floor instead. You feel… not gross, per se. But your stomach is churning and your heart is in your throat.

This is it.

You’ve put off saying anything for almost a month now. Deflecting and making excuses at every possible turn. But now you have no more left. Nowhere left to run.

You think about saying it. ‘Logan, I’m not really into sex.’ ‘Logan, I’m ace.’ ‘Logan, I’m sorry.’

You curl into yourself, trying to keep down your stomach. Nausea rises in your throat, bile pooling at the back of your mouth.

You want to run. You want to scream. You want to cry. Who’s ever heard of a rabbit who doesn’t like sex? And yet, that’s what you are. A silly, cowardly rabbit who for all the world just does not like sex.

You give yourself one moment to feel the depth of your fear before swallowing it back. Your hands are shaky, but you finish drying off. You get dressed; slipping on your binder for extra protection. It feels like a shield. Keeping you from crumbling to pieces. Keeping you from bolting.

Logan looks up from the sofa as you leave the bathroom. His brow furrows, clearly smelling the fear pouring off you, but he doesn’t say anything. He lets you come to him. Waits until you’re seated on the couch before quietly asking, “Everything alright?”

You almost throw up. Right then and there. Your hands are shaking again and grab onto your ears and pinch them tight to distract you. To do something to keep from spilling your insides on the floor.

You just nod as an answer, swallowing back your nausea yet again. You summon up all your strength. All the courage in your cowardly body.

You don’t look at him, though. That’s too much. You just whisper, “I need to talk to you.”

He straightens, but stays silent. Letting you speak.

“I—“ Your courage fails you. You curl into yourself, drawing your legs up to your chest. You press your forehead to your knees and desperately fight back the sting in your eyes.

Movement. A weight next to you on the couch. Logan’s warm hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. His voice quietly reaching through your panic. “It’s okay.”

But there’s a tremble to his voice. A crack in his solid foundation. It’s like a punch to the chest. What if he knows? What if he knows and thinks you’re… you’re…

His other hand envelopes yours, squeezing gently. “I get it,” he murmurs. “You’ve been stressed and I haven’t been there and…”

You blink and look up at him, vision watery. Slowly, you nod, unsure where he’s going.

Logan swallows and looks down. He looks so… vulnerable. So small for such a big man. It makes your chest ache in an entirely new way.

“Perhaps this is for the best.” It’s the most unconvincing thing you’ve ever heard him say. He seems to struggle with it too, like he knows how dumb it sounds.

And then the words click in your head. Tears well up all over again. “Are… Are you… breaking up with me?”

Logan lifts his head, brow furrowing. “I— What?”

“You’re… You’re breaking up with me.” It’s a thousand times worse than your heart shattering. Your entire being feels like it’s splintering. Tearing and distorting into miniscule shards of pain and hurt and grief. “I’m— I’m a freak and you’re— you’re—“

A sob wrenches from your chest. Shaking your body and spilling snot and tears down your face. You curl tighter into yourself, numbness slowly spiraling from your chest.

“A…” Logan stops. His hand pushes under your chin, forcing your head up so you look at him. “Buns, what were you gonna tell me? Before, what were you trying to say?”

His voice is so firm, so rushed and rough, you can’t do anything but answer. Through your tears, the words spill out. Tripping from your mouth in a sudden rush. All your fear from earlier seems trivial in the devastating face of a breakup.

“I’m asexual. I don’t like sex. I can’t do it— It’s— It’s gross and weird and— and I don’t want it! No matter how hard I try! I can’t do it, not even for you.”

You catch the briefest glimpse of pure relief on his face before his arms are around you, crushing you in a hug. You don’t question it. You bury yourself in his arms, pressing as close to him as you can physically be.

“Fuck,” he mutters, emotion trembling in his voice. “I thought you were breaking up with me. I thought—“

Clarity slowly dawns on you, causing a new wave of tears. “No! No, I wouldn’t—! I can’t—! I love you!”

He pulls back, cradling your face in his hands. Gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. There’s relief and adoration and… tears… shining in his eyes. “I love you too. All of you. Exactly as you are. If no sex means I get to keep you, hell, I’d cut off my own dick!”

That pulls a choked laugh from you. You nuzzle into his hands, slowly pulling your shattered pieces back together. “You… You don’t care I’m ace?”

“Of course I care.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I care because it’s you. What I don’t care about is having sex. Feels damn good, but you’re more important than that.”

You melt. Turn into nothing but a floppy puddle of fluff and frayed nerves in his arms. Relief exhausts you, making you lean against him for support. “I love you,” you murmur.

He idly strokes one of your ears, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, handsome. My handsome bunny boy.”

You snuggle against him, slowly letting the panic and stress and numbness ease from your chest. You can breathe again, and you take slow deep breaths. “I wouldn’t ever leave you,” you mumble.

You feel Logan relax. His arms wrapping tighter around you. Can feel his smile against your skin as he kisses your head again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know.

You’re safe with him. Safe and loved and wanted. Asexuality and all. And that’s more than you ever thought you’d have.

[wilmonsfolklore]

Wilmon fic recs!

my health has been shit lately but at least it's given me the time to read a lot of fics, so I thought I'd rec a few!! of course this is a non-exhaustive list and there is so much other beautiful fic out there. also remember to leave comments and kudos if you enjoy any of these!!

here's some of my favourite WIP's that im obsessed with and that brighten my days with their updates <3

like we've never touched before by nonalovesyou - Post season 1 angst in 2025? I'm so happy it exists. Simon gets assigned to tutor Wille in math and they (in a S2 way) awkwardly, inevitably, try to reconnect. Simon's characterisation is incredible, the angst hurts in the best way, and I'm so excited to see it continue.

Hope And Legacy by @malinowaj - Simon and Wille are both pro figure skaters and Simon gets forced to coach Wille by Kristina. Sports AU's have a special place in my heart and this one is just perfect. The way their relationship slowly and organically develops feels so realistic and is incredibly heartwarming. And it's actually gotten me more interested in figure skating, which is fun!!

Even If It's Just Us by queerfrogprince - Wille and Simon reconnect after years to travel Europe together. Wille is grieving, it's messy, it's painful, it hurts, it doesn't shy away from difficult yet important conversations. It's also comforting in a way their relationship kind of inherently is and their natural connection and pull towards each other is so well described. And also, they feel so grounded in every place they visit. I drop everything every time an update comes out.

Change My Mind by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic - Wille comes to Hillerska two years later, Felice wants to date him, and is best friends with Simon. I love Simon and Felice's dynamic in this, and the way Wille keeps subverting Simon's expectations never gets old to me. And Simon finding more of a place at Hillerska is really interesting and fun to read about, it feels really grounded and has those true high school experience-vibes to me. Really excited to see how this one will play out!

come closer and see into the dark by @bigalockwood - Simon and Wille are ghosthunters who work together and care a little bit too much for each other to be professional. There's angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, tension, everything you could ever want. The way their personalities got so perfectly influenced by the world they're in is impeccable and I could talk about it for hours. A masterpiece.

land between our bodies by @phneltwrites - Wille and Simon don't get back together at the end of S3, instead they start to fake date. But this is so, so, much more than that. It explores Simon's character in a way that has made me actually understand him better, the writing is gorgeous, it has one of my favourite OC's of all time, and the way the inevitability and yet the active choice of Wille and Simon's relationship plays into everything here... It hurts and it is so good.

Et c'est le but! by @piebingo - Simon moves across the world to play hockey and live with a host family, Wille's of course. There's only one chapter of this so far but the premise of this is so exciting, and the first Wilmon interaction had me invested already. Really looking forward to reading more of this!

Running With Wolves by @enjoythesilentworld - I'm kind of cheating by putting this one in because I've only read the first chapter but I am already so invested. I never knew the YR fandom needed their own crime novel but this made me realise we so do. Detective Simon, crimeboss Wille, an intricate and incredibly developed plot and so so so much tension. It doesn't get better than that.

And also, because I couldn't bear leaving these out, a few finished works that I really really enjoyed reading!!

Moon go down (do it again) by @skibasyndrome - Wille and Simon in Simon's dorm a few months into meeting and their first uni semester. This has been living in my head since I first read it. The atmosphere, the writing, the quietness of the scene and the loudness of their emotions, the sweetness of the moment. It's so perfectly captured and I want to be in it forever. I'm so happy to have this fic to read whenever I want some comfort.

Take A Punt by @gulliblelemon - Wille and Simon connect in a UK university town. I loved following along as this was posted. It's lighthearted and cute, and it's adorable and fun how Wille is so immediately mesmerised by Simon. But there's also some honest and emotional conversations, and the awkwardness of the transition from accidently spending time together to doing it very much on purpose. Perfect for a pick me up after a tough day.

Never Not You by @pagegirlintraining - Twelve years after the sex tape, Wille and Simon are best friends but have moved on romantically. Or have they?? I was lucky enough to binge this fic when it was finished because oh my god I don't think I could've managed to wait with how invested I was. The fact that this fic had both pov's added so much and puts you right into both of their headspaces. Characterisation is incredible and the dynamic is so Wilmon but has also clearly grown up with them. It's exceptionally painful and messy, but just like with their relationship, it is more than worth it.

[apple-onigiri]

assigning songs from mitski's laurel hell album to siffrin and loop (because they've consumed my life)

as mentioned by me and requested by @starrycat123-blog (so sweetly, might i add!! they were so polite about it, not realizing being asked to yap is the highlight of my day), i am putting together a comprehensive list of all the songs from mitski's laurel hell album assigned to sif/loop/sif and loop two sides of the same silver coin style

Valentine, Texas this is so loop-coded, to me. me when i become someone else only i am privy to (note: this includes my other self) and live in the constant state of remembrance of my ghosts. "who will i be tonight?" <- me when i lie. me when i create a persona to hide behind. me and my disconnected sense of self. me when please let me live in my memories of things long gone please please please

Working for the Knife both of them!! this is the Ultimate Time Loop song. looks at the "i always knew the world moves on; i just didn't know it would go without me" line with an understanding but still very aware gaze. this is also peak living in the midst of your poor choices. you wake up on the grass of the meadow and, as you start reconstructing the same blinding script because you keep deciding to do so, suddenly this starts playing. what do you do

Stay Soft the "if i refuse to be open and honest and vulnerable i'm basically impervious to being hurt" is so very much mid-game-but-specifically-act-4 siffrin, fake smiling his way through his stupid-ass script because it protects his heart from any change that has at least the slightest potential to hurt him. the sheer possibility is too much. also bonus guilt of wanting, and circumventing it by focusing on what others want 'do you need help with anything' style. also also bonus+ "where the dark remembers you". i need to kill, maim, destroy because this play is about mpd who haunts the narrative of this album and this post

Everyone act 5. act 5 siffrin to an insane degree. i feel slightly ill about this actually like you cannottttt be serious. this song is deeply siffrin just going through the house after pushing away everyone else. "i left the door open to the dark; i said, come in, come in, whenever you want" and "and i opened my arts wide to the dark; i said take it all, whatever you want". looks directly into the camera mouthing "mal du pays"

Heat Lightning both. really really both but!! specifically with loop being the first half and so to speak passing the torch in the bridge to siffrin who's the second half. goddd i genuinely could make an animatic for this if it was as simple as beaming the images directly from my brain onto the screen, i'm walking around my room like a demented detective haunted by a cold case just thinking about it. "there's nothing i can do, not much i can change", by their own unbreakable rules!!! it's about the act of losing strength to keep fighting after doing that for so, so long and just wanting to rest, please with the people you love, please. "would that be okay?" i need to stop i can't make 1/3 of this post be about heat lightning (it could be)

The Only Heartbreaker siffrin 'i manipulated him into liking me' no last name. because when you're the only one in the time loop and the only one also in the loop, it's easy to view the positive interactions you're constantly getting as ones that you coerced. "so i'll be the loser in this game; i'll be the bad guy in the play". i actually feel haunted by this, i'm not kidding

Love Me More are you kidding. both. that's a song about what started this whole mess. the love-starved anthem that also has themes of searching for something to keep you going and of not trying anything risky out of fear to avoid getting hurt and of days repeating and repeating and repeating, and of needing the love to drown you, overwhelm you, purge you clean. this is their song. goddd

There's Nothing Left For You loop 'formerly siffrin' 'not anymore!' 'get replaced by your other self, idiot, you can't go back!' no last name. 59 dead, 118 injured. "nothing waits for you; you had it before; not anymore". "so go on ot that sweetheart's door; and find a new you". "it was your right, it was your life; and then it passed to someone new". i literally don't think i need to add anything. it not only speaks but screams out for itself

Should've Been Me loop song. we all know this. i hate it here. "when i saw a girl looked just like me". c'mon. we've all seen the animatic, also. i literally have nothing else to say here, i'm basically out of a job

I Guess this is a spicy one - this is siffrin specifically after the two hats ending. this is a very short song but i'm struggling to keep this paragraph contained. "it's been you and me since before i was me; without you, i don't yet know how to live". i cry out dramatically, clutching my chest. "if i could keep anything of you; i would keep just this quiet after you". i fall on my knees and hit my fist against the floor. "it's still as a pond i am staring into; from here, i can say thank you; from here, i can tell you thank you". i'm sorry, siffrin. and thank you, loop. someone get me out of here

That's Our Lamp everybody say hiiiii act 5 siffrin but specifically pre-house. because he has a little demon in his shoulder telling him "they don't love you, they hate you" and making him crash out on everyone. so love-starved his body is rejecting any sign of care and love like someone starved eating too much and their body rejecting it. "that's where you loved me" in the context of looking over all the places in dormont where you "made" your found family love you is diabolical

and that's it!! i genuinely could go into deconstructing lyrics especially for some songs where it's clear i have more to say like heat lightning or love you more but i went into this determined to not go completely crazy with the length of this thing. love and light, everyone, hope you enjoyed

[akatsuki-tia]

"like, even putting aside tsuna altogether and how they should care to take into account his wishes on the matter, why would they be happy with the prospect of officially becoming mafia? tho the way the scene is framed they're solely being happy for tsuna here, and still the question remains because why would they be? don't they know tsuna at all??"

Was thinking back about this and I just had the thought that maybe, that's exactly why?

Hear me out:

These kids? They know Tsuna, actually. They do. They know how little he wants to have anything to do with Vongola Decimo’s seat. They know how little he wants to have anything to do with the Mafia business. And above all, they know how much of that distaste comes from how much he wants to keep them away from it.

Tsuna loves them. And they know this. Just like they know how much it has to eat him, that he’s the very reason they’re being put through so much danger. The reason they’re no longer free to choose their path in life for themselves. The reason, after the Future Arc, why in one timeline, they wound up dragged in a bloody war for his sake and paid their pound of blood (their family’s or their own) for it. The reason why they’ll keep spilling it until this life kills them. They know how much Tsuna has to hate himself for it. Of course, they know. They love Tsuna just as much as he does them.

And that’s exactly why.

They smile, they rejoice over being dragged into this bloody life, they never allow themselves to be anything but happy about it. Because the alternative? If they let themselves curse their situation, resent it, fear it, who will suffer the most from it?

Tsuna.

If they let the situation upset them, if they let it show, Tsuna will be the first to see it. The first to take it to heart. Just think about how much it already pains him to put them through all these hardships when he thinks they like it. Think about how much worse it would be if he thought it actively made them unhappy. Think about how much farther Tsuna would go to fight it.

And if he fights it, what are his options?

Try and brute force it? Against Vongola? The strongest Mafia Family in the world? I believe we can all imagine how bloody the consequence could get if it pushes Vongola to finally decide to stop playing nice. But the thing is, they know that Tsuna would, if he thought there was no other option. For their sake, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

If not that, then would he push his friends away? Give up on the very bonds they all held so dearly, somehow try and find a way to cut ties definitely so they can live freely, away from all the pain he would bring them? Would they lose him, because of the same love that brought them together?

At the end, the 10th Gen’s choices were this: They hurt Tsuna with their lack of support for his desire to keep them all away from the Mafia, leaving him isolated in a fight they ought to fight with him. Or they hurt him with their desire to keep away from the Mafia, leaving him isolated by his own crushing guilt, and facing the risk of seeing him hurt in ways they won’t be able to protect him from and potentially having him shut them out, losing him completely.

And so, we have Ryohei always ready to wave away his sister’s worry with a laugh and assured front so she won’t have to fear for him. Takeshi so used to put on a smile by fear of finding himself alone. Hayato, who’s been hurt countless times by rejection and is terrified to see it happen again. Even Chrome, who is much the same as him. Mukuro who knows exactly how far the Mafia will take cruelty to reach their own ends. Hibari, who despite appearance, does care.

Is it any surprise that they made this choice at all?

And yes, some of them might have taken the ‘Be unbothered by being dragged the Mafia' thing and transitioned to ‘Be absolutely delighted to become part of it’ to overcompensate, but they’re maladjusted kids presumably repressing a lot of trauma and negative feelings. Could they have gone about this better? Most probably. Do they know better? Debatable. I think they should be given some slack.

Anyway, that’s my take on this. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[ID: Three panels from the manga Katekyo Hitman Reborn, showing Gokudera Hayato, Sasagawa Ryohei and Yamamoto Takeshi. They say “Woah—!!”, with bright and happy faces while smiling widely. /End ID]

this is their reaction to reborn letting them know about the upcoming inheritance ceremony, and it made me think of that ask i got about how frustrating it can be that the 10th gen seemingly has no problem being/becoming mafia even if it’s the last thing tsuna wants. and i actually didn’t remember this scene, but seeing this it’s only fair to wonder if they do, in fact, even care about tsuna not wanting to become mafia, yeah.

but honestly this reaction feels kind of off to me? and a bit–well, not necessarily ooc, but also not the type of reaction the natural progression of the story should have led to, because they’re literally right out of the future arc here, and we all know how that one went. tho gokudera is one thing because being mafia is all he’s ever known, and becoming vongola, let alone the leaders of vongola and all that it implies, is the best thing and happiest ending that can happen to him, and he still projects that on tsuna and assumes he must feel the same, but yamamoto? whose dad was killed in the future because he was mafia? who was forced to give up on baseball (i.e. his civilian life), even if it was only temporary, so he could give his best trying to make things right again? and ryohei who was so mad (and scared) about tsuna involving kyoko in the mafia any more than she had to to the point he punched him?

like, even putting aside tsuna altogether and how they should care to take into account his wishes on the matter, why would they be happy with the prospect of officially becoming mafia? tho the way the scene is framed they’re solely being happy for tsuna here, and still the question remains because why would they be? don’t they know tsuna at all??

(and not quite relevant, but it’s interesting that hibari’s reaction isn’t shown, and in fact he disappears from the conversion entirely from this point onwards. and i know it’s likely just hibari being hibari and not considering himself part of the group and so not considering himself concerned by any of this but like… interesting.)

[starrycat123-blog]

tbh I'd get it if it was. This is kinda long so I'm putting it under a read more.

Sonic is shown here to have the metal disease, which infects people through contact, and he's sitting on top of her chair with his shoes dangling just a bit above her head. I'd be uncomfortable just with a person sitting there not infected. maybe I'd make an exception if we were close friends and I felt really secure in my chair's ability to hold them up but I don't think either of those things are happening here. like they're not close and ig sonic probably has really good balance and the chair probably won't break but he's really sitting at the very tippy top of it. I would for sure be worried he'd fall, and that's even without the disease.

And the disease is very much a thing and he might fall ON ME. Which, like. I'll literally die if this guy fell on me and he's right precariously above me??? What do you MEAN my personal space is being invaded by a person who will kill me if we accidentally touch in any way for even a fraction of a second and it's entirely possible that such a thing might happen. and I'm just supposed to put up with it?? Like yeah they're trying to fix things and so much of the world is already infected that they're all kinda screwed unless they succeed in curing the disease but I'd still be pretty unhappy about it.

And to make it even worse, this guy who is in my space and who might kill me is the literal savior of the world and he's kinda my boss or at least his friends are (I won't claim to remember what's up with the restoration's politics at this point in time). Like he's widely beloved and famous and going through a hard time right now bc the world's ending and everyone is suffering. This guy is terminally ill and recently watched a bunch of his friends get hurt and they're sorta dead and they might die for good and he might too. As uncomfortable and scary as it is to have him there, how on earth could I ever ask this guy to move? Worse than that, me talking to him might startle him and make him fall on me. Getting up to move would shift the weight balance of the chair, which could also result in him unintentionally killing me. And anyway I still have a job to do. Not doing my job might mean everyone dies and the world ends. But also I definitely can't focus on bc there's a person sitting above me very close to me who might kill me if the chair shifts at all on accident so really I should try not to move too much or do anything at all really. Just stay still until he goes away. stay still until he goes away. stay still until he goes away. stay still. stay still, stay still, stay still, please leave soon. please leave please please. Please leave please leave please leave please please please please leave please please

Like that'd be utterly terrifying. Super uncomfortable. How do you look the guy in the eye and just start being his friend after that? Even if he did apologize which he probably didn't and like the person above says he probably doesn't remember, I think that'd stick with a person for a while. Maybe he thought nothing of it, and probably anyone you talk to will also think little of it because nothing happened, everyone was so stressed and upset, and obviously everyone loves this guy or feels gratitude toward him so they're inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you were afraid for your life. You were afraid for your life and the guy threatening you didn't care, didn't even notice. And you can't really even complain about it bc he's a celebrity. And the metal virus got cured with his help so he kinda saved your life too. That's so messy, idk if I could ever look him in the eye again, idk if I'd even want to see him on tv. Kinda sucks that Lanolin has to be around him still bc I know I wouldn't want to be.

Like idk I don't hate Sonic for this bc yeah this is horrible and stressful (and also it's fiction so. Lacks that personal impact).

and as far as he sees it (though I doubt he thought about it at all, I think he was just moving the way he normally does without thinking about it) the options are probably just:

1) it's fine and they don't touch and the world gets saved (which to his credit is exactly what happened)

2) they touch but the world gets saved and she's included in that so it doesn't really matter. -> also to build off this, it's probably ok that they're in restoration HQ bc even if he touches her he'll have time to restrain her or get her out or do whatever else is needed to keep everyone else safe and able to keep working on the problem

3) they don't touch but the world ends anyway and eventually someone else touches her and she dies

4) he touches her and she dies but also so does he and everyone else. and so she would've died anyway and it doesn't really matter if it happened a little sooner rather than later.

He also knows his physical ability better than she does, and probably figures he's fast enough to handle it even if she moves and his balance on the chair is thrown off.

Although if I was her I'd be worried in this particular case bc he's sick and might be thrown off his rhythm bc of that so even if I was friends with him and normally trusted him to sit up there I still don't think I'd be okay with him being there in this situation.

Idk it's fictional so. Anyway have a good day y'all

Imagine if this was why Lanolin really hates Sonic so much.