#l x reader hurt/no comfort

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Your throat burns something awful and no matter how many times you try, you can’t swallow the lump in the back of it. L’s hands are in his pockets casually as he watches you from across the room. He’s sure you’re bluffing, otherwise he’d show some emotion, right?

“L, are you even listening?”

“I hear you, do you?”

“What?” It comes out more of a sigh.

“Hear yourself, do you?”

“You better not be saying I’m talking crazy for wanting my boyfriend to give me affection.”

His face gives nothing away still, large eyes unblinking as if you’re discussing something minute.

“You know I don’t have enough time and you’re demanding more.”

You throw your hands down from where they had been conjoined in front of you, “No, I’m asking that when you are present with me, you’re actually there. You barely touch me anymore, you hardly talk to me if it’s not an emergency or a favor!”

“So.. you want to have more sexual intercourse.” His thumb is between his lips, lips you haven’t kissed for weeks and lips you want to sew shut to see him struggle like you do when he shushes you to silence.

You’re standing in front of the bed, he’s by the door where’s he been since he came in and you tried to talk to him about his neglect.

“Sure, I don’t know. Just acknowledge me when you spend time with me.” You huff out, irritation pinching your expression.

“If you don’t know, why are you starting a fight?” He asks like it’s a genuine question and not a dig at your attempts at communication that have gone without comprehension. He quirks his head to the side, stepping forth to examine you head-to-toe like you’re a piece of evidence. His gaze is far away, two weeks in the future on a date he’d been awaiting for months but to you it just looks like he’s spacing out, lately a consistent state when he’s around you. It drives you crazy, the insane itch of hatred crawls up your spine and vibrates off of you.

You shake in rage, knowing it’s intentional your crazy smart boyfriend is pretending to be confused until you drop it. It won’t work this time.

You’re done explaining, done begging and suddenly all the fight dies. Your shoulders slump and your expression relaxes, a smirk twitches on L’s face, gone before you can point it out.

You turn around and march towards the closet, soft and purposeful as you reach the bag you’ve packed. You swing it over your shoulder and watch the faint victorious smile fall from his face when you emerge.

You don’t say anything as you pluck your phone from the bed, walking towards where he stands beside the door.

You remember every time you’d pleaded with him and he spun your words like a web around you, sticking you in meanings you both know you hadn’t intended. Every time, he would urge you to get some rest, pecking your cheek before disappearing out of the room and leaving you with teary eyes, trying to make some sense of this so loveless love you lived in.

You stopped by his frame, noting the close friendship between his eyebrows as he tried to mentally explain away your behavior. Ever so slowly, you lifted yourself up on tippy toes and pecked his cheek, leaving a harsh red stain before opening the door and leaving him forever.

You’re not sure if he’s crying, if he misses you but you are sure you’ve done enough of both of those while dating him and now that you’re free, you’re not going to waste anymore time on him.

And as he watches you on street cameras, climbing into a taxi and fading into the traffic, he wishes he’d spent more free time with you and not planning for the perfect proposal.

[loveanddeepthroat]

Baby Blues

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.

Word count - 2.7k

���️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.

Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.

It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.

You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.

It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.

Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.

Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.

That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.

He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts. 

Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.

You just wished she would settle with both parents.

It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.

“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.

Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.

“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.

You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.

“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”

You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”

Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.

You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.

Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.

He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.

He wanted to help.

The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.

You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”

“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”

“But—” 

“No buts.”

He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself. 

You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.

“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.

It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.

You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.

“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”

You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.

He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly. 

You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.

“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.

Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence. 

This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.

“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”

Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”

You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.” 

“Eat.”

The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”

He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.

Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.

Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.

“Knows what?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.

His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”

“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”

You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.

You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”

His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.

You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.

“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”

“Unsafe?” 

His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.

You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.

“Eat.”

Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.

You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.

Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.

After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”

You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.

Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?

“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”

The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.

Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.

“Don’t cry—”

“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.

The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.

He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”

“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”

He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.

“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.

Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.

“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.

And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.

Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.

“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”

He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.

Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.

A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️

[beneathashadytree]

YOU’RE ANXIOUS TO HAVE SEX BECAUSE YOU’RE CHUBBY - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : chubby!reader, slight suggestiveness, body image issues & insecurities, autistic!Zayne, mentions of sex, reader is AFAB!

Genre : hurt/comfort n lots of fluff <3

Additional notes : This was commissioned by one of my lovely mutuals, and I’m so thankful for the opportunity to discuss self-love and portray more diverse body types. Writing this was like therapy to me, seeing as—even when I was heavily muscular—I was a lot bigger than everyone around me. I always worried whether I’d be found as attractive as my thinner friends, but I know my worries would be unfounded with the LaDS men 💗

Commissions are open here!

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[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕝

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.1k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Profanities, Mentions of wounds Summary: There was a connection between you and Sylus that went beyond the typical boss & his right-hand woman dynamic. When you finally had enough of his recent behaviour since his return, you decided it was time to quit.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“We agree to your terms, and as soon as we finish the down payment, we expect to see the firearms—”

Before you could even finish, the heavy double doors swung open with a crash. Sylus strode in, a dark aura clinging to him, and you knew that nothing good would come out of it.

“The deal is off.”

You gasped. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

“Ms. Y/N, I thought you said you could handle this deal solo?” Marcel—that cunning eel of a man—drawled lazily. “Looks like Mr. Sylus here still doubts your ability, even after all this time.”

On any other day, you would have knocked the smug grin off Marcel’s face. But your attention was fixed on your boss, Sylus, whose expression was a cold, impenetrable mask of indifference.

“I’ve worked on this for months. Alone. When you were gone chasing shadows,” you hissed, “You have no right to dictate me.”

Crimson eyes met your gaze with a fire of his own as he stepped closer. “And do I need to remind you who’s the leader of this organisation?”

How dare he!

It took a while for the others in the N109 Zone to stop belittling you, to finally trust you as Onychinus’s indispensable weapon who could hold her own ground, even entrusted to run the organisation in his absence.

And he knew this.

“I don’t meddle in your affairs, so stay out of mine.”

He exactly knew what, or who, you were talking about.

Somehow, this conversation was no longer about the deal; it was about something else that had been creating a rift between you both.

“You don’t understand—”

“You have no idea what I understand!” you snapped, jabbing a finger at his firm chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Luke entering the room to usher Marcel out.

“If you’re looking for a new job, my organisation is always open for a pretty little thing, buttercup.” He threw a mischievous wink your way.

The man was clearly not uncomfortable with the commotion; it was satisfying to see Onychinus crumbling before his own eyes.

Kieran cautiously stepped forward. “Boss, Y/N, let’s take a moment—”

“You think I wouldn't find out about your little escapade with ‘Miss Hunter’?”

That struck a nerve; Sylus’s eyes narrowed. 

“What?” you continued, your tone dripping with sarcasm, “Mephisto accidentally charged your card with millions just to buy every single protocore in the auction?”

Any heartfelt emotion you held for him was swallowed by fury and disappointment that had been building for some time. This was the last straw, a volcano ready to erupt.

“I’ve warned you before, Sylus.”

Ever since he came back from doing who knew what, he had been distracted. Physically, he was there—but he wasn't present.

Conversations that once flowed easily between you were now peppered by half-hearted responses.

As a last resort, you decided to prepare dinner for him and the twins that one night, something you periodically did when the mood struck, in the hopes of getting him to come around.

Luke and Kieran were happily munching on the lasagna and sipping wine from Sylus’s favourite bottle, their lively chatter filling up the dining room.

But the man who was supposed to be the centre of it all took only a single bite before abandoning it for his phone.

“Sylus, could you please put your phone down and enjoy the dinner?”

The twins froze, eyes flickering between the two of you, sensing the impending storm.

Yet Sylus didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention firmly fixed on the screen in his hand. Somehow, it was more important than the company around him.

“Sylus—”

“Can you get off my back for once?” Red eyes snapped to yours, flashing with irritation.

“You are losing me,” you repeated the words you had uttered that night. The tremble in your voice was a blend of rage and a deeper, more vulnerable feeling.

Sylus's eyes flashed, revealing the first hint of emotion that you recognised—a wounded look, perhaps, or something else that you didn’t dare to think about.

Kieran, determined to defuse the tension, squared his shoulders. “We all should take a breather and approach this with clearer heads.”

Eyes still fixed on your boss’s handsome face, the words came out with unwavering finality, “I quit.”

Ripping the brooch from where it rested just above your heart, you hurled it with such force that it bounced off his chest before skidding across the floor.

The sharp, unmistakable crack echoed throughout the silent room.

Sylus's jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Fine.”

And that was it. There were no apologies, not even a 'thank you' for your dedication to Onychinus all this time.

“Please, don't do this. We need you,” Kieran’s voice had a note of desperation in it.

A bitter laugh slipped from your lips. “Your boss has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t need me anymore. Apparently, he has more pressing matters than ensuring the organisation's interest.”

Sylus crossed his arms, his voice cutting like a cold knife. “If you're going to leave, then leave. We don't have time for theatrics.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Luke, having just returned from escorting Marcel out, caught sight of the unexpectedly angry tears in your eyes and called out your name as you rushed down the hallway.

What you didn’t expect from quitting was the depth of void it created in your life. You missed the twins’ oddball humour and even found yourself longing for Mephisto’s often irritating caws.

It felt strange not to see the black bird outside of your bedroom window or atop the lamppost, as it normally would.

Despite the financial cushion provided by Onychinus’s paycheck, restlessness drove you back to the N109 Zone before long.

“Thought that we’d never see you again, missy.”

The familiar surroundings of Elysium provided a soothing balm to the loneliness gnawing inside you—the rich scent of aged booze mingled with the sound of rolling dice filling your senses.

“You’re not the only one surprised,” you muttered lowly, sitting down on one of the stools.

“Guess you are more used to staying here than Linkon now,” the young woman behind the bar chuckled. “Many might see it as a slum, but the N109 Zone has its charm.”

During Sylus’s absence, you had called the base as a second home. Staying there made it easier for you to manage the daily operation, sparing you the hassle of travelling back and forth to Linkon.

“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house.” Before you could answer, the woman beat you to it. “Rum and lemonade?”

A sudden feeling of yearning washed over you. It was Sylus who had first introduced you to this concoction right here, you had even questioned his taste at the time, but it had since become one of your favourite drinks.

You gulped the emotion down. “Yes, please.”

She sent you a sympathetic smile, obviously understanding what crossed your mind.

The burn of the rum started to warm your body as the second glass went down easily. Each sip brought back memories of standing side by side in battles and conversations shared in quieter moments, a foolish longing that settled deep within your chest. 

As you set it aside, you felt someone slid on the vacant stool beside you, encroaching on your personal space.

“What’s a pretty girl doing here all alone?”

“Leave me alone.” You didn’t even look at his direction.

Funnily enough, though you normally no longer felt the weight of the brooch—a symbol of your affiliation with Sylus and Onychinus—you now felt its absence vividly, like a phantom heaviness above your left breast.

With it, no one ever truly dared to come near you, wary of crossing paths with Sylus.

Without it, however, meant you were no longer under Sylus’s protection.

The man sidled closer, clearly not taking the hint. “Still playing hard to get even without Sylus behind you? You should have seen him dragged out of the raid like a ragdoll by his pair of thugs. It was pathetic.”

Your heart stuttered, finally looking at the man beside you. “What did you say?” 

Sylus, hurt? It was unthinkable. You had seen first-hand how his wound healed quickly.

“Heh, you really don’t know, do you?” His smile widened, revealing yellowed teeth. “The idiot went to finish Marcel off by himself last night. Imagine taking down dozens of Marcel’s men alone, with all their weapons.”

He daringly placed a hand on your thigh, fingers digging in. “So bitch, you’d better get off your damn high horse and listen. Without Sylus, you’re just another pretty face.”

In a quick manoeuvre, you slammed his head on the bar. His painful howl was cut short as you drew your concealed gun, the barrel pressed firmly against the back of his skull. “Touch me one more time and I’ll paint this bar with your brains.”

The barkeeper approached, her expression impassive as she took in the sight of your gun pressing against the man's head. However, when she noticed the colour draining from your face, a look of surprise crossed her features.

“You didn’t know?” she asked, her tone softer than you expected. “I thought that was the reason you came back here.”

Ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons, you stormed out of the bar, the weight of fear heavy on your shoulders.

The city's familiar streets blurred past as you made your way to the base, and you thought you heard familiar caws in the distance.

You didn't spare a second thought as the electronic lock still buzzed with recognision when your palm and iris scans were verified. The reinforced doors opened, granting you access just like usual.

Luke and Kieran met you in the hallway, no doubt alerted to your arrival. Whether by Mephisto or the security alert, you weren’t sure.

Even with their masks on, their surprised body language was unmistakable.

“How did you find out? Boss made sure that none of us tips you off,” Luke asked.

“It’s true?” you demanded, your voice was tight with anxiety. “About Sylus?”

The twins exchanged silent glances. “He’s in his quarters,” Kieran said slowly. “But be warned, he is in a foul mood.”

As you moved swiftly down the familiar corridors, your heart pounded in your chest. The smell of antiseptic hit your senses as you slid the door open, revealing the dimly lit room.

Sylus was seated on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he changed his bandages. “I told you guys to leave me alone. I’m fine,” his voice gruff.

You took a steadying breath. “Sylus.”

His silhouette tensed, and the set of his shoulders turned rigid. Slowly, he turned to look at you.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was rough.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. The sight of bandages covering his injuries made it difficult to articulate your thoughts. “Why did you go after Marcel?”

“This isn’t a place for someone like you right now.”

That comment was odd, but you dismissed it as you crossed the room, closing the gap between you. Up close, you could see the bruises and wounds peppering his body—dark, angry splotches that marred his skin, evidence of the brutality inflicted by Marcel’s men.

While the healing process was slower than usual, it was still significantly faster than it would be for an ordinary person.

You had been working with him for quite some time yet you had never before seen him in such a state.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, catching your concerned gaze.

“You don’t look fine,” you said firmly. “I’m not going anywhere until you explain what happened.”

Sylus shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he rested his back on the headboard. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke, “Marcel was the one behind the bombing of the hunter’s grandma’s house.”

As much as you felt sorry for the UNICORN hunter, you couldn’t understand why he would put his life on the line for her.

Was it because of the connection they had with the Aether Core? Or was it something else?

Unconsciously, your steps faltered backwards. The anxiety for his well-being took a backseat as the grip of jealousy clawed at you.

It was stupid to feel this way.

Suddenly, you felt rooted to the spot, your body freezing in place. The unexpected use of his Evol caught you off guard. 

“You came all the way here, so you’d better damn well listen to me before jumping to any conclusions.”

Even in his weakened state, he managed to pull you back to the edge of the bed and keep you seated there. He wasn’t close enough to touch, but not so far that you couldn’t see the fatigue etched into his features.

“I kept her around because she was useful. Marcel had been trying to frame Onychinus for the bombing.” His fists clenched, knuckles white. “But that wasn’t what set me off, that scumbag had been running his mouth about you, spreading lies of your incompetence, claiming that you’re nothing more than an empty shell.”

You looked at his injuries pointedly. “You took on his entire army because he taunted me?”

He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “Don’t you see? I was the one feeding him that narrative. He had the front seat to everything that happened that day. I’m the one who unravelled the respect you worked so hard to earn.”

Was that a hint of guilt you heard in his voice?

“He’d been saying that you’d be better suited working in a whorehouse.”

Well, that explained the man's aggressiveness back at the bar, you thought.

“I’m not your responsibility anymore, you don’t need to protect me.”

Sylus looked away. Despite his rough edges, there was a glint of raw, exposed emotion that he struggled to conceal.

“It’s not just about responsibility,” his voice low, “Some things... they’re not as simple as just walking away.”

This was the Sylus you recognised—the same man who, in fleeting moments, had looked at you with an intensity or a softness that spoke of unfulfilled longing.

Everything had shifted since that one kiss, an impulsive act born from an evening of too much drink and unspoken feelings. A kiss that, in its haze, blurred the lines between what was accepted and what was desired.

Yet, every subtle brush of his hands, every act of ensuring your safety, was a quiet rebellion against the boundaries he had set from the start—this was not a place where work and pleasure were meant to mingle.

“That was the reason you called the deal off that day.” You fit the puzzles together.

He nodded. “I had a feeling that he was up to something.”

“And yet, I still don’t understand why you had to go behind my back with the hunter. This”—you gestured to his injuries and the distance between you—“could’ve been prevented.”

You tried to mask the hurt. “I thought you trusted me.”

Sylus shifted closer, and even though you felt that his Evol no longer held you in place, you allowed him.

“It wasn’t about trust, not in the way you think,” his voice was softer now, “If he found out you were involved, I couldn’t risk him coming after you.”

“I don’t need your protection as much as I need your honesty. And you were being a jerk.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning in closer, he cradled your jaw with a careful touch.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat at the intensity in his eyes that he didn’t try to mask any longer. “For caring. But I’d rather not see you get hurt again.”

“Can’t promise,” he murmured, “I will always stand between you and anyone who dares to harm you.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath before his lips touched yours, moving in a gentle, unhurried rhythm.

He wanted to savour this moment, to truly taste you with a clear head, unclouded by any alcohol.

Though, before long, a more primal voice seemed to overtake him. The intensity of the kiss grew, fueled by the unfiltered emotions coursing between you.

It was a fierce, unrestrained need to claim you.

No longer feeling tender, his tongue urged your lips open with a determined persistence. Sylus groaned into your mouth as you parted easily, the need to taste you becoming more urgent.

As he took a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back, your gaze locked with the searing flame in his eyes.

A sudden weight pressed against your neck, and you looked down, startled, to find a crow whose wings arched protectively around a red diamond pendant. It was similar to the brooch he had given you, but this was more than an accessory.

It was more personal—more intimate.

“Will you do me the honour of becoming my partner again?” His voice was husky with emotion. “Onychinus needs you. I need you.”

Carefully, you pushed him down the bed, legs spreading daringly caging his form. “Maybe if you beg a little more, I’ll consider it.” 

Both his eyebrows arched in surprise, visibly taken aback by your boldness.

“But, weren’t we supposed to keep work and pleasure separate?” you teased.

A hint of a smirk curled at the edges of his lips. “I’m the boss. I make the rules. Besides, this is more than just a pleasure.”

His large palms settled on your hips, fingers splaying across the curve of your body with a possessive yet tender grip, pulling you closer.

“Can I start by begging you to kiss my wounds and make them better then?”

As he whispered his request, his masculine hands sneaked their way inside your clothes, fingers trailing a line of fire against your skin. Just as the moment heated up, a rustling noise came from outside the door.

The two of you paused, eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

Suddenly, the door creaked open just a fraction. Before either of you could react, Luke and Kieran let out a startled yelp.

“Oh no! They’re doing the hanky panky!” Luke whispered loudly, scandalised.

In a flurry of hurried movements, the twins slammed the door closed and bolted down the hallway, leaving you both staring after them in stunned silence.

Sylus sighed, hiding his face in the soft bend of your neck. “We’ll definitely have to set some new rules about privacy too.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[xlmibby]

rafayel can't seem to leave you alone.

sometimes it's a bit too intense, you think; when he's pretending to be tired after going with you back to your apartment after a date just so you let him crash at your place for the night. you don't say anything as his arms wrap around your bare waist the next morning, pulling your sore body closer to his chest. his lips brush against the nape of your neck, then, with a raspy whisper that asks you to stay.

you don't answer for a moment, trying to come up with an argument that will be strong enough for rafayel to understand you have to get up. but the moment lasts for a moment too long to his liking.

a breath catches in the back of your throat when rafayel starts to press open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder and trailing his way up your neck.

memories of countless times he's tricked you into making you stay longer than you planned - longer than you should - in his arms, tangled in the bedsheets, with his body pressed so tightly against yours that you can't even tell anymore where he starts and you end.

you know rafayel uses the same old method on you again. you know he's coaxing you to bend right into his wishes, give in the way he wants you to - because he needs you. in his arms, with your lips moving against his and his hips pressing harder against yours - faster, deeper - in a way that makes your body arch into his.

rafayel always touches you like he wants to devour you.

like he can't get enough until his name is etched in the deepest parts of your soul. like he wants to melt all your rational thoughts away so all that remains is desire that matches his own hunger nothing can quell.

you know it all... and yet...

you're so, so weak when you feel his fingertips sliding over your skin. no matter how much you'd try to push rafayel away, he'd still find a way to make you shiver with the way he's tracing the curves of your bare body as if he wants to learn it by heart once again. and again, and again–

until all you'll be able to remember will be the sound of his name lingering forever on the tip of your tongue.

[mephisto-reporting]

More to Love: With Sylus

Summary: Sylus wants to spoil you rotten and takes you shopping. But things don't go as planned in the fitting room as your insecurities take over. pairing: Chubby! reader x Sylus Note: Sylus and reader are in an implied relationship. This is based on this request. Content warning: insecurities, self depriciation, body image issues, slightly suggestive towards the end, angst (hurt-comfort).

The boutique’s soft lighting bathed the room in warm, golden hues, casting a glow on the endless racks of designer clothes that stretched before you. Sylus had dragged you out here, his hand firm on your lower back as he guided you into the posh little shop without a word of protest allowed.

“Indulge me, kitten,” he’d said with that signature smirk of his, his silver hair catching the sunset through the boutique’s large windows. “Pick something you like. No limits.”

As if limits had ever existed when Sylus was involved. He was a man of excess, of extravagance, and he was determined to spoil you rotten—even if you argued you didn’t need it. But you relented, knowing there was no saying no to him when he had his mind set. As you browsed through the aisles, your fingers brushed over silken fabrics and embroidered hems, eyes catching on the occasional outfit you usually would pick for yourself, only not in a store like this. Maybe he just liked to see you in pretty things. Maybe he liked watching you fumble over making decisions. But no matter the reason, you couldn’t help but feel a slight warmth bloom in your chest as you picked up a few pieces that caught your eye. His attention was there, but only just.

And then you saw it.

A little black dress, understated yet elegant, with faint red accents that shimmered subtly in the light. It screamed Sylus in every way: sharp, refined, and impossible to ignore. Your chest tightened with a flicker of excitement as you imagined yourself in it, standing next to him in his usual immaculate attire. He’d look at you the way he always did, with that blend of teasing confidence and a softness he reserved only for you. You could picture how well you'd complement each other, the two of you so flawless together that you felt almost… untouchable.

Grabbing it from the rack, you added it to the pile of clothes you’d picked for yourself and headed to the dressing rooms. The velvet curtain whispered shut behind you, enclosing you in a quiet little space with a single mirror framed in warm lights. The changing room felt cold and sterile as you slipped into the dress, carefully pulling it over your body. It should have fit perfectly—after all, you’d picked it out. It was your choice. But as you zipped it up, a knot tightened in your stomach.

The fabric clung to your body in ways it shouldn't have, and not in a flattering manner. It sat all wrong on your bosom, the seams straining against the curves of your chest, barely able to close. You tugged at the zipper, trying to pull it up the side, but it caught painfully against your side, tugging uncomfortably at the soft roll near your bra strap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection unfamiliar. The dress, which had seemed so perfect on the rack, now felt like a cruel joke. The skirt, meant to be a silhouette, flared out over your thighs in a way that felt mocking. It hung awkwardly around your thighs in a way that made your legs look thicker, not more elegant. Your belly, which you’d always been conscious of, seemed to bulge in ways that felt out of place, unnatural against the black silk. The faint shimmer of the red accents only seemed to draw attention to the areas you least wanted highlighted.

What is wrong with me?

The voice inside your head was loud now, relentless.

I don’t belong in this dress.

Your fingers clenched the fabric at your sides as a wave of self-consciousness washed over you. The dress wasn’t the problem—it was you.

The mirror seemed to mock you, reflecting back every feature you’d learned to hate over the years. Your belly, round and soft, pushed against the fabric. Your thighs looked larger than ever, the material refusing to lie smooth. Your arms, left bare by the sleeveless design, felt exposed and unwelcome in the polished setting of this boutique.

As you stared, echoes of the past began to surface, unbidden and cruel. Your face twisted into a frown as you turned from side to side. The more you looked at yourself, the more you hated it. The reflection staring back at you seemed foreign, as though it was someone else’s body you’d somehow ended up in.

"You’ve got such a pretty face; you’d be stunning if you lost a little weight,” your mother’s voice chimed in your head, the way it had so many times over the years. Well-meaning, she’d always called it. But the words had planted themselves deep in your heart.

"Are you sure you want seconds?” a friend’s teasing voice from a high school cafeteria, laughing as though it was just a joke. It hadn’t been funny then, and it wasn’t funny now.

"I’m just saying, you’d feel so much better if you exercised more," someone had told you once, their tone dripping with condescension disguised as care.

Your friends in high school, laughing when you couldn’t fit into the trendy outfits they wore, saying, “Oh, don’t worry, you’ve got such a cute face!”

The offhand comment from a coworker last year: “Have you tried keto? I heard it’s great for people like you.”

Your father, well-meaning but always critical, pinching your belly and saying, “You’d be so much prettier if you lost all this fat.”

The memories compounded until your chest tightened with a mix of anger and shame.

God, I look disgusting in this.

And now, in this too-small dressing room with this too-tight dress, those voices joined your own as you whispered to yourself.

"I look ridiculous. Why did I even think I could pull this off? Sylus wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like this. Someone like me."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. Crying here would be too much, too embarrassing. You turned away from the mirror, pulling at the dress, wanting nothing more than to get it off. Your breathing hitched as the panic rose, your nails biting into your palms to keep yourself steady. But the tears were already threatening to fall.

The curtain separating you from the world felt as thin as paper and just as fragile. The muffled murmur of boutique shoppers and the faint hum of music didn’t penetrate the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. The dress felt tighter by the second, suffocating, and your own reflection stared back with an almost accusatory glare.

Why did you even think you could look good in this? You were out of place, weren’t you? Not just in the dress, but here—here in this boutique, in Sylus’s world, in his life. The idea of walking out of the changing room, of standing in front of him and seeing that ever-present smirk falter for even a second, was unbearable.

Your fingers fumbled at the zipper, trying to undo it, but your hands were shaking too much to find the tab. The fabric bunched awkwardly around your side, pinching and pulling in a way that only made you hate it more. Hate yourself more. A sharp inhale turned into a shaky exhale as your vision blurred with unshed tears.

He’s going to see right through you. He’ll realize you’re not the kind of person who belongs at his side.

The voices in your head grew louder, and you didn’t even hear his approach until his voice broke through the storm, smooth and teasing, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Kitten,” Sylus drawled, his tone dripping with amusement, “don’t tell me you’ve gotten lost in there. Or are you planning to make me wait all day?”

Your breath caught. “I’m fine. I just… need another minute,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracked ever so slightly. You winced, praying he hadn’t noticed.

But he had. Of course, he had.

“Hmm,” came his thoughtful hum, followed by the sound of his boots against the boutique’s plush carpet. Closer. Too close. “You don’t sound fine, sweetie. Should I come in and—”

“No!” The word came out sharper than you intended, panic rising in your chest. “Just—stay out there. I’ll be out in a second.”

There was a pause. Long enough for you to realize he wasn’t moving away. His teasing edge was gone when he spoke again, quieter this time. “Sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine!” you snapped, your voice a pitch higher than you intended. You winced at your own tone. The last thing you wanted was for him to push further.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent. “Sweetie, you’re never fine when you say you are,” he said, the teasing edge returning, but softer now, as though he was testing the waters. “I’m coming in.”

“No, don’t—” Your protest was cut short as the velvet curtain slid to the side.

The curtain shifted slightly, and you turned away from it, clutching the fabric of the dress like a shield.  Sylus stepped into the small dressing room, his broad frame somehow making the space feel even smaller. His usual air of control and confidence filled the room, his sharp crimson eyes immediately locking onto yours. But his smirk faltered as he took you in—your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands, and the ill-fitting dress that clung awkwardly to your frame.

“Sweetie…” His voice was low, laced with genuine concern as he stepped closer. “What’s going on?”

You turned away, hugging yourself tightly. “Nothing. Just go, Sylus. Please.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “Look at me,” he said, his tone soft but commanding.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And why not?” he asked, his brows furrowing. “You’re my kitten, aren’t you?"

You turned away, hugging yourself tightly. “Nothing. Just go, Sylus. Please..I don’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Like what?” he asked, stepping closer, his hands reaching out but not quite touching you yet. “What are you talking about?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Like you’re trying to fix something that’s broken. I’m not—I’m not—” The words caught in your throat, but they spilled out anyway, raw and jagged. “I’m not good enough for this. For you. For any of it.”

His frustration was evident in the way his jaw tightened, but when he spoke, his tone was calm. “Where is this coming from?”

You gestured helplessly at your reflection. “Look at me! This dress—it doesn’t fit. It doesn’t look right. I don’t look right, Sylus. I thought I could—” Your voice broke. “I thought I could make myself… better. For you. But I just… don’t fit.”

The air grew heavy with your words, and for a moment, Sylus didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his hands firm but gentle as they gripped your wrists, lowering them from where they clutched the dress. His touch was grounding, solid.

“Stop,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “Stop tearing yourself apart like this.”

You blinked up at him, tears slipping free despite your efforts. “But it’s true. I don’t fit in your world. I don’t even fit in this stupid dress.”

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers curling around yours to still their trembling. “Stop,” he repeated, his voice firm but not unkind.

“No, I need to say it,” you continued, the dam breaking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “You’re this—this untouchable, powerful, perfect man, and I’m just—” You gestured helplessly at yourself, the words catching in your throat. “I’m not good enough for you, Sylus. I’ll never be good enough.”

He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he studied you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something far more serious. “That’s enough of that.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

“You think I care about any of that?” he said, his eyes boring into yours “Sweetie,” he murmured, his tone laced with exasperation and something deeper—something tender. “You don’t need to fit into anything to be enough for me.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away a tear. “You think I give a damn about some dress? About whatever bullshit standard you think you’re failing to meet?” His crimson eyes burned with intensity as he spoke, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You don’t need to impress me. You already have me wrapped around your finger.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in even as you tried to resist them. “But I—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “No more of that. Do you know what I see when I look at you?” His hands slid to your shoulders, his grip firm but warm. “I see the person who challenges me, who stands toe-to-toe with me even when she’s scared. The person who’s made my cold, miserable world worth living in.” His lips quirked into a faint smile. “And, if you must know, I happen to think you’re absolutely stunning. Always.”

“But I—” you began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No buts,” he said firmly. “You don’t need to dress up to impress me. I’m already smitten, in every way possible.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease, the storm in your mind quieting as his presence anchored you. He reached for the zipper, his movements careful and deliberate as he began to undo the dress.

“Let’s get you out of this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll find something that makes you feel like the goddess you are. And if we don’t, then to hell with the clothes.” Sylus’s hands lingered at the zipper, his eyes meeting yours with a teasing glint as the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Though, between you and me, kitten…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, “I think you’d look better without anything on at all.” His fingers brushed deliberately against your skin as he slid the zipper down further, his touch light but intentional, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Your cheeks burned, the heat rushing to your face at his boldness. “Sylus…” you began, but the words caught in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of his gaze.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he spoke again, his tone a mixture of playful and reverent. “But let me make one thing very clear, sweetie. Clothes or no clothes, none of that matters to me. You’re already perfect to me—just as you are. Nothing you wear or don’t wear is going to change that.”

His hands rested firmly on your hips now, steadying you as the trembling in your legs began to subside. “And by the time I’m done worshiping you, adoring you, loving you over and over again,” he continued, his voice husky, filled with an almost dangerous promise, “you’ll see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you. Stunning, irresistible, absolutely mine.”

You shivered, not from the chill of the room, but from the weight of his words and the warmth in his touch. He tilted your chin up with one finger, forcing your eyes to meet his. “You’ll see it, sweetie. I’ll make sure of it. Because in my eyes, you’re more than enough—you’re everything.”

The air between you was thick with unspoken emotion, the tension melting into something softer, something unyieldingly honest. His lips brushed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulled back, his hands never leaving your sides. “I’ll remind you every single day, sweetie. Over and over again, until there’s no room in your mind for anything but how much I adore you. Do you understand?”

You nodded, tears prickling at your eyes again—but this time, they weren’t born of pain or self-doubt. They were tears of relief, of something lighter and more hopeful.

“I’ll believe it,” you whispered, your voice trembling but earnest. “I’ll try.”

Sylus’s smirk softened into a smile, his thumb brushing away the tear that escaped down your cheek. “That’s all I ask. But just so you know…” His voice turned playful again, his lips quirking up at the corners. “I’m not above a little convincing, sweetie. And believe me, I’m very persuasive.”

“So,” he said, his smirk returning, though softer now, “what do you say we ditch this boutique? I’m thinking we’ve got better things to do than fuss over dresses that don’t deserve you anyway.” His thumb stroked gently over your hip, his touch grounding and sure.

The storm within you calmed as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if shielding you from the weight of your insecurities. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed that maybe—just maybe, you could accept yourself just the way you are, just the way he did.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[matsunoluvr]

i need to see sylus cry like not in a hot way as in i need to see this man bawling, heart broken, tears streaming as he begs for something. maybe MC dies and he’s sent into a flurry of emotions, losing track of time & drinking excessively, mumbling incoherent pleas to anyone, anything for his love back. i need his voice wobbling and cracking as he falls into a pit of despair i need angst right now.

[dawnbreakerluna]

NOT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU (W. SYLUS QIN) wc. 1050. hurt/comfort. reader is the mc and experiences a panic attack. canon compliant to the l&ds story, no spoilers. character study-ish on the mental state of the mc. sylus is perceptive person and sees through the reader. non-established relationship. not proofread. side note: my writing program crashed after i pasted it to the tumblr draft. lol!

‘Does any of it matter anymore?’

You write those words in a pocket-sized journal every night. The very same one that’s tucked away in your drawer where an assortment of lingerie overfills and molds within one another. You have to do something, anything, to keep your body aware of its movement, its functionality and life.

Does any of it matter anymore?

You almost want to reach out to Zayne about it. To talk. To explain this stream of endless thoughts and the endless void of questioning your worth. Things haven’t been easy, to the point where you wonder if taking the Hunter Exam, valuing your worth on whether or not you passed, was worth it in the end. Not after everything you’ve found out. Not after everything you’ve witnessed and lost.

Now, you had bargained your life. A bold, risky step that required more trust than you could ever ask for. (You got it, regardless. You had nothing to fear in that aspect.)

“Does any of it matter anymore…?”

You ask yourself again, your voice a low whisper. You needed to make sure you were here, still. Some way, somehow. You were now shrouded by a blaring red sky and even darker red moon. Your gaze, holding faux grit, stares into a crimson gaze that looks over your sunken, kneeling form.

He wears a light curl of a smirk, lowering himself to you: “You should speak up, little Hunter. I can’t quite hear you.”

You push down that growing dread in an empty chest. But if it were empty, your heart wouldn’t be housed there, beating ferociously as you were face to face with the one who had answers you needed. If not all, at least some. The ones to point you in the right direction.

You call it going away in your own head—it’s what you do when you feel more than just your heart on the verge of giving out. It’s what you do when your fingers begin to twitch and tremble, your words struggling to come out. You don’t consider it freezing up completely, but a different sensation.

It’s just something you always dealt with on your own, always aware of.

The gentle flick of your fingers at your side gauges your knowledge of it happening again. Surrounded by desperate brokers and merchants; people with vile intentions and greed that isn’t a homely territory back in Linkon City.

You’re reminded why Onichynus thrives. Why Sylus wears the success and pride he does.

Despite his teachings intending to help you hold that same pride, you can’t. You realize too late in this room full of people who could eat you alive, you bit off more than you could chew. You remain by Sylus’ side as he indulges in the meaningless chatter of those who throw themselves at him with wretched desperation—but the room is beginning to feel hazy.

You know you should’ve arranged something. Some kind of signal to let him know you needed a breather.

This was more than a breather you needed. This was an emergency where you’re a glass sculpture, waiting and begging to be knocked over. You hated being made of glass, regrettably—hated being ogled at in that way. You feel it in the worst form now, being the guest of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone.

Your arm, securely wrapped around his bigger one, shifts back just slightly to tug at his sleeve. It’s not an obvious action, not even to the keen eye like yourself. But it’s enough that you feel the slight jerk, that startles him. To Sylus, this would be a disturbance as little of a fly on someone’s shoulder.

Yet, the air between you two shifts.

Sylus holds a hand up to the two men standing before you both, “Ah—you’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I just recalled that I am to assist the security detail with an issue. Please, do enjoy the rest of the evening.”

He leads you away without another word, brushing off the guests.

Vultures. Vultures. Vultures. Every single one of them.

You hold your breath in a subtle manner, your throat constricted. Sylus’ movement is swift and urgent at once, heading towards the back of the ballroom. He opens one of the double doors, ushering you out first before following closely.

It’s just you two now, in this empty, grandeur hall.

You felt sick. You wanted to die. You wanted every fiber of anguish to leave you be and never come back. You never wanted to feel anything again. You wanted to rip your heart out and burn it, to bleed out to death by its side—

—Does any of it matter anymore?

“Little Hunter,” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through your clogged mind. His hand comes forward, knuckles gently brushing against your cheek, catching stray tears that roll down, “Just focus on me. You’re alright now.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen, your faint breath an overwhelming echo in your head as you come back to yourself. Never before had you seen his eyes so… fond. Gentle. Comforting. It makes you feel sick. You feel the need to lurch and throw up everything you’ve eaten.

Instead, your tears thicken. You blink a few times before lowering your head, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as you pant heavily. Clawing through your throat is a string of sobs, your body tensing along with it.

Sylus reacts with instinct, his voice lowered as he gently shushed you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing you into his strong torso. To hide you away from the world, to delicately hold your sorrows.

“You’re alright, Little Hunter.” He whispers into the top of your head, lips brushing softly against your hair, “I feel your shame, there’s no need to carry such a thing. I’m not upset.”

You hiccup, pulling away just enough to tilt your head back—looking up at him: “You’re… not?”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. His fingers gently tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, offering you the most warmth he possibly can in this moment. Unfamiliar, but not unappreciated. You’re more grateful than anything, in spite of everything you two had rough edges about.

“Never,” he assures you with a smile. “Not when it comes to you.”

[bee-writes-n-spins]

the mask goes on the minute other people look.

make eye contact. too much, look away. now smile and nod. stop bouncing your leg. make them like you.

those are his thoughts. because too many people have called him weird. too many people have pointed and laughed. too many people made fun of him for just being himself.

oh, but you..

you remind him it's okay to unmask. you smile, listening to him ramble about his interests. you could listen for hours and never get bored.

when you notice his discomfort in a crowd. when you help him communicate when he's too overwhelmed to talk.

with you, the ribbon that holds the mask together comes undone. with you, his mask falls to the ground.

POE, RANPO, dazai, GIYUU, kenma, l lawliet, near, WANDERER, AL HATHIAM, kaveh, LYNEY, and any of your autistic favorites!

[hatsunemitskislobotomy]

ੈ✩‧₊“ 𝙨𝙤 𝙞'𝙢𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 ”✧.*

“ i’d wanna hold you, just for a while ”

↳ ❝ ¡love and deepspace zayne x reader centric fic based on 4* doomsday card— early birthday piece!❞

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤

zayne was ever the nonchalant person.

even after hearing about the potential doomsday, he continued as if it were business as usual. something about his ability to keep his cool, perhaps it was tied to his evol.

you on the other hand, were not as composed no matter how much zayne seemed to tease.

“you really believe that an article can predict such an event with no substantial proof?” he would chuckle as he threw in another pastry into your shared shopping cart

of course you knew better, but the seeds of doubt and anxiety had already been planted in your mind. rationally speaking there would be more articles about it, more media coverage— but you couldn’t help but feel like the post landed on your feed for a reason. after all if it wasn’t true why did you have to see it?

you continued to chastise zayne who was careless about his sugar intake, as if he didn’t just recently recover from a toothache. at the very least he could’ve waited until it was his birthday where he could have his mandatory sugar.

his birthday.

if the world was set to end today, if a meteor was meant to wipe them and the rest of the world out…

then zayne wouldn’t see his 28th birthday.

the thought was a permanent damper on your mood as you continued to shop for snacks and ingredients for dinner.

it didn’t go unnoticed by him, even as the day dragged on and the two of you were in his home cooking up dinner. it was obvious you were distracted, bumbling about in his kitchen.

“your food’s burning.” he’d murmur as he took the spatula from your hand

“hey..! how can i show off my awesome cooking skills if you don’t let me cook..!” you couldn’t help but huff

“if we keep this up we’d be wasting our last moments cleaning up the kitchen.” he tried to poke fun at the situation but winced when he noticed how you just deflated even more

“i recently bought some new games if you’d like to see..?”

you perked up slightly at the mention of a distraction, giving him a weak smile.

“i’ll give them a look.”

as soon as you left the kitchen and made yourself comfortable on the soft plush of the carpet to look through his video game collection, you couldn’t help but regret leaving his side. perhaps with the impending feeling of doom you couldn’t help but feel clingy.

you looked through the games, some seeming familiar and others not so much. you’d hope looking through the collection would ease your mind or at the very least distract you but you found yourself missing him even more.

what if the meteor hit right this moment and you two were apart—

“you don’t recognize that game because the last time you played you fell asleep.”

his words snapped you from your thoughts as he emerged from the kitchen, carrying two plates. he set the steaming food onto the tabletop as he got comfortable on the couch.

“girl who saves the world is a new one, we can play that one after we eat.” he motioned for you to sit next to him

so that’s what you did, enjoying your (potentially last) meal in his company at peace save for a bit of small talk here and there before the two of you decided to pick up the new game. but even he could tell your typically competitive demeanor was dampened, if anything as time went on— you were more focused on the clock rather than the screen.

each tick of the clock was deafening to you as the uneasy feeling continued to pool in your stomach.

“you’re not exactly any good at this game, not to mention your lack of concentration.” his words pulled your head back up for air

caught off guard you couldn’t help but splutter out in protest, wanting to call him all sorts of ridiculous but you just… couldn’t.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” you simply state

“so we’re lying as well?”

you couldn’t help but huff in defeat as you set your controller aside.

“and you’re giving up?”

you scrunch up your face at his words before taking his controller away as well.

“as if you were any better than me— i’m giving up for your sake..! you should just do the same!” you scoff before tossing the two controllers away

zayne could sense your agitation, or rather the anxious feeling that was gnawing at your stomach.

“i’d appreciate it if we avoided breaking my things—”

“how are you so calm?!” you cut him off, finally breaking the tension that was clearly in the air

you felt like your world was in shambles yet he didn’t bat an eye, you didn’t know if you were angry or jealous of his calm demeanor.

“whatever do you mean?”

“don’t be coy with me..!” you poked at his face

“the world’s literally gonna end in like what..? four? five minutes..? and you’re just… okay with it?” his lack of fear was mind boggling to you

he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as his hand enveloped your wrist to prevent any more poking.

“ah, so that’s what’s been bothering you?” he shook his head in amusement

“it’s not funny..! it’s like you’re not nervous in the slightest!” you protest like it wasn’t fair

“what’s there to be nervous about?” he couldn’t kick the hint of amusement in his tone

“we’ve had our dinner which was plenty filling, speaking of— we should probably clean up…”

his nonchalance was pushing you to your breaking point.

“so what? you’re just okay with this? we could literally die and you’re just worried about cleaning up? do you even care?” you couldn’t hide the frustration and snark in your tone before shrinking back, you didn’t even know why this was effecting you so much and why you were taking it out on him of all people. for all you know, it most likely wasn’t real.

but what if it was?

zayne’s expression couldn’t help but soften as he pulled you closer into his arms.

“so it’s like that hm?”

your throat tightens as you bury your head against his chest.

“it’s stupid… it’s probably not even real… but i’m scared zayne.” you grumble

he runs a hand through your hair in a soothing manner.

“okay, how about this…”

he pulled away slightly to reveal two pieces of the chocolate cake he snuck in the shopping cart earlier, you couldn’t help but tilt your head at him in confusion.

“we can make a wish.”

you immediately think of the birthday he won’t make it to.

“you make a wish… it’s your birthday that’s almost soon anyways.” you grumble burying your head back into his chest

“ah, so that is true.”

he began to ponder quietly.

“i don’t think i have any specific wishes, if anything… i’d say they all came true if i’m being honest.” he hums softly

you couldn’t help but look up at him, your nose scrunched in confusion.

“all we did was shop for groceries and cook… we didn’t even play video games all that much and i got on you for having sweets when you’re not supposed to.” you frown

“what? is that not exciting enough for you?” he couldn’t help but chuckle

“it’s not exciting for anyone! it’s just normal stuff..” you sulk a bit

his hand that was typically cold held a unusual warmth as he placed it on your cheek, guiding your eyes to his.

“sometimes the most mundane things become ever the more precious.” he chuckles softly

“frankly, if a meteor really did hit the earth today… i’d be the happiest man alive because i got to spend it with you.”

you couldn’t help but bury your head into his chest once more.

“don’t say stuff like that, you’re gonna make me cry..!” you huff out

he let out an airy laugh.

“well, we can’t have that— not when there’s just a mere few seconds before doomsday.”

your eyes widened as you immediately take his wrist into your hands to look at his watch, the seconds counting down.

you couldn’t help but panic as you frantically figure out what to do, but big warm hands keep your face in place.

“perhaps maybe there’s one more agent of normalcy we could have before our final moments.” he murmurs softly as he rests his forehead against yours

“i’m afraid.” you mumble out, you wanted to close your eyes but the warmth from his calmed you ever so slightly

“i’ve got you.” the weight of his words hushed the storm in your head before he pulled you close, his lips finding yours

the kiss was a light, fleeting moment— yet it felt like it lasted a million lifetimes.

then he pulled you tight to his chest.

——————————————

it had been almost two hours since the time the alleged meteor was supposed to hit.

zayne stayed awake as he continued to stroke the back of your head as you now laid on top of him against his chest. he didn’t have the heart to pull you from him after the first few minutes and even now, only feeling your grip loosen when he realized you had fallen asleep.

perhaps the stress of it all really did exhaust you.

he couldn’t help but let out a quiet humorous chuckle before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you were warm, you were alive. he was alive.

and he’d love you every time like it was the last time.

❀° ┄───╮

a/n: omg does anyone else remember back in 2012 when they said december 12th was gonna be the end of the world? something to do with the mayan calendar ending or something I don’t remember but eight year old me was in SHAMBLES like even the news put fucking meteors in the weather forecast that day it was SICK omg like when i tell you i snitched on myself and then told everyone i loved them before hiding under a table… not my best moment tbh

anywhozies i wanted to capture that emotion because im obviously projecting LMAO, no but seriously you cannot speak to me about the world ending or like apocalyptic events like i’d become inconsolable

also… this is lowkey my contribution to zanye aka love of my life’s birthday! my favorite virgo i love him so much it’s not even funny—

yall school is starting up soon im so cooked but like live laugh love i guess

i’ll see you next time loves 🫶🏾

╰───┄ °❀

[musedeluce]

Emergency Procedure: Medic + Hunter

Zayne x Reader -Protecting the medical personnel is priority number one in a combat zone, and you are very good at your job.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Injuries, Triage, Medical emergencies, Combat, Hospitalization

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The various sounds of human pain echoed throughout the area. It had one been a pristine, modern park and city center, but debris now littered the ground, rumble and shattered glass strewn around, bodies of the wounded and dead scattered. The response had been quick, the Unicorns squad deployed to neutralized the wanderer attack and medical teams embarking soon after, waiting to enter the area until given the all clear.

Every hunter squad had an assigned area, as did each team of medics. For medics, it generally was the same area the hospital they worked at served. For hunters, it was based on which station throughout the city you were assigned. Then, each hunter was further assigned a specific person or persons on the medical squad to protect. Because Akso Hospital and the Hunter’s Association Headquarters were in the same area of Linkon, Unicorns and Akso’s triage team were assigned together and partnered up. Partnered hunters were usually assigned medics who were also partnered up. Thus, hunter partners could still work together and medical personal wouldn’t work alone even if their Hunter couldn’t work. When the medical teams were cleared to enter, procedure dictated that any capable hunters accompanied their assigned medic to protect and help them, due to the unpredictable nature of metaflux and any lingering danger. Hunters who were able were also expected to cover for hunters who could not. To Zayne’s deep relief, and honestly, some happiness, you were his assigned protector in these situations. Your partner, Xavier, had been assigned to Dr. Greyson.

Quickly, Zanye moved from casualty to casualty, assessing their condition and, essentially deciding between life and death for some. Triage is, perhaps, the most difficult situation any medical professional might have to go through. You must assess the patient’s condition, determine if they can actually be saved, and move on if they cannot. If they can be saved, those with the worst injuries are treated and evacuated first. The goal, of course, is to save as many people as possible with the limited resources available.

“Zayne, there’s a person over there.” You gesture towards a pile of rubble that had once been a building. “There’s small meta – fluctuations, but that’s normal for the aftermath of a protofield event like this. It should be safe, but be careful.” Zayne patiently waited for your assessment, thinking to himself just how useful the energy detection part of your evol was. A small, keening cry sounded from the direction you indicated and the both of you started off, moving quickly and efficiently. The source of the cry was easy to identify. A teenage boy lay trapped under the rubble, buried halfway with blood pooling under his body. Scanning the debris, you relayed information to Zayne. “We could pull him out, in theory because he’s not impaled or stuck on anything according to the scan. But the rubble isn’t stable and his vitals are erratic...” Carefully, Zayne positions himself to pull the boy out, and while he did so, you positioned yourself in a way that if the rubble toppled, you could drag Zayne out of the way, as well as help him with the patient.

“On three.” Zayne put his hand on the ground, an ice crystal materializing under the slab pinning the boy in place, growing towards it to push it off him.. “One.” You both braced yourselves. “Two.” You both began to focus especially on your breathing. “Three!” Applying all your strength, you were able to lift the slab just enough for Zayne to pull the boy out from under the pile of rubble. Unfortunately, the slab falling back into place dislodged large pieces of rubble from the top of the pile, crashing down and dislodging other pieces of rubble. Adrenaline pumping, driven by pure instinct, you dragged Zayne and the boy out of the way. An intense, crushing pain bloomed through your leg as pieces of debris pinned you to the ground instead.

The cry of pain you let out sent panic searing through Zayne’s blood. Actual anguish gnawed at him, swirling with a pang of guilt. Logically, he knew this wasn’t anyone’s fault. Logically, he knew you had been doing your job, and he had been doing his. Oh, but he longed for you to be safe and sound. He finished treating the boy, and called for backup before making his way to you, the very definition of grace under pressure.

“Hello, Doctor.” you smile as he kneels by your side, playful in an effort to diffuse the tension. After a brief pause as he examines you, you ask the main question on your mind at the moment. “How’s the boy? Will he survive?” Luckily, you had managed to get clear of the main debris pile before your leg got pinned under one piece of rubble. Using his evol, ice protected your leg from further damage and held it in place as more ice shifted the debris. “Zayne?”

“He’s alive. I’ve given him the best treatment possible and have called for assistance to pick him, and you, up.”

“And you?”Zayne’s ability to deal with a crisis was something comforting, and you felt happy to be his partner, but he had been at risk too.

“My condition is acceptable for the circumstances. I’m physically fine and able to continue my work.” Zayne pauses, and looks you in the eye again, a subtle smile gracing his face. “Thanks to your quick thinking.” A bright, genuine smile lights up your face.

“I’ll always do my best to keep you safe, Zayne.”

“Your leg won’t be permanently injured, and your protocore syndrome isn’t showing any abnormal symptoms” He finishes bandaging your leg, having set it in an emergency splint. “Our backup should be here soon. I’m going to go check on my other patient, but I’ll return to you.” As he speaks, he slips a small piece of candy into your hand. Right then, your backup arrived and you were evacuated, along with the injured teenager, to Akso Hospital. It wasn’t until most of the chaos died down that you and Zayne crossed paths again.

A soft knock at your hospital room door alerts you to someone’s, you assume Zayne’s, arrival. “Come in.” Gratified to see you were correct, a small smile spreads across your face as Zayne walks in. Despite being on his feet, doing triage and emergency surgeries, he looks almost the same as always. But exhaustion dogs his every step, his eyes narrow as tiredness bears down upon him. “Sit down.” Zayne doesn’t argue, instead sitting in the armchair by your hospital bed, almost melting into it, leaning back and covering his face with the crook of one elbow and resting his other arm on the armrest. You reach out and take his hand, and neither of you move for a while.

“How do you feel?” Zayne is the first to speak.

“Tired, but my injury feels better than before. As for my heart, I’ve been taking my meds diligently and haven’t felt anything since you checked at the site.” Dutifully you report to him, knowing that this information is what would reassure him the most.

“What I wouldn’t give for you to be healthy and safe...” Zayne murmurs, almost to himself. His hand tightens around yours. “Life is better with you here… Please… do your best to stay.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A/N: Hopefully I'll improve as I continue to write for these characters. Originally this was going to be all 4 of them together but the length would have been a lot I think, for a single post lol. Still also getting a handle on tagging and stuff, so please let me know if there's anything I can improve.

[leafzu]

Remnants of the Heart ⟡˖ ࣪

contents: Family trauma | Attachment issues | Trust issues | Hurt/Comfort

The constant arguments between your parents. All the trauma dumping on you. But when you needed someone, no one was there for you.

Growing up, the way these things affected you emotionally weighed you down so much

You had a hard time opening up to your parents. Kept everything to yourself. Barely let your friends know the real truth.

You didn't bother much about it. Yes some random nights you would burst out crying from a childhood trauma. Or get envious of seeing other's relations with their siblings because even your own kin always shut you out.

But even after all this, you made it through everyday. You don't know how, but you did. If there was one person there for you, it was you alone. It was always you. At least that's what you thought.

From highschool to later adult life, Zayne has always been a good friend to you and now your primary care doctor.

He knew its and bits about your family problems and your own emotional problems. He's a doctor, he knew about your emotional stability.

Between the two of you, Zayne was more reserved. You were so transparent, a bright light that got along with everyone.

But there was a part of you that was kept hidden so well that not even Zayne could enter. And it always bothered him.

It bothered him how such a free spirited person could have a place in there heart that was forbidden for him to know about.

Zayne didn't know when he started to see you more than just a friend. Maybe he never really saw you as just a friend.

Your affection towards Zayne weren't all platonic either. Your heart yearned for him.

But afraid to tell him, afraid of getting attached to him. To make him yours.

Friendships have a safe boundary. But when you're in love, you pour your hearts out to each other.

When Zayne confronted you about his feelings, you felt scared. You wanted to run. No. You should be happy. He reciprocates. Why are you scared?

Zayne was a family friend. He knew about your family. About you. He knows you and understands you so well that sometimes you think he's peeking right inside your heart, your mind.

Running away from home and crying in the swings. Walking aimlessly towards home from school, because you cried yourself to sleep and didn't even get much sleep. Late night calls to make sure you're feeling okay. He was all there.

Yet why that forbidden part of your heart couldn't let him in? What more must he do to gain your trust. He would do anything. He might not show it, but Zayne would do anything for you.

So when he took your hands in his and gently opened up to you yet again about how he felt for you. Saying he was there for you no matter what and uttered those three most precious words, you couldn't keep it in anymore.

You burst out crying. Exactly like you did when you were nine, all alone as a child. Quiet sniffles so that no one heard you.

But now, you couldn't even keep it in. Sobbing loudly like a child as he took you in his arms and let you cry it out.

He never understood how anyone could hurt someone with a good heart. You weren't naive or maybe you were, but you never understood the complexities of human beings, their complex emotions.

You never understood what you did wrong for your mother to not listen to you. You never understood what you did wrong for your sister to shut you out. You never understood what you did wrong for your father to see you as a burden.

You never understood any of it.

But Zayne, he knows your pain. He understands it. He's your best friend, your soulmate.

He understands the pain your heart has gone through. The traumas, the betrayals, he knows it all.

"From now on," he kneels down in front of you. "I want you to know that I'm yours." With his thumb he wipes your tears away. "That your heart is safe with mine." Zayne puts your hands on his chest. "Because I knew from the start that I can't trust my heart with anyone but you."

You've never felt this much love. You could only sob in pain because you weren't able to say anything to him. You loved him. You loved him so much. But you felt so helpless.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." Your cries inflicted pain upon him. "I love you a lot. I'm so sorry." He didn't know why you were apologizing.

You always blamed yourself for anything bad to do with your family. That's how it's always been.

Felt isolated all this time thinking you had no one. But there he was, offering his heart to you, looking at you with eyes that spoke of love and that you were the only one that mattered. Nothing compares to you.

He waited, patiently for you to let him in.

He loved you, silently as to not scare you away.

He healed you, with love because love was all he had for you.

His heart was long given to you, because you were his safe space. His one and only.

But now, you had someone to call yours. Someone who would put you first above anything and anyone.

Someone to call 'home'.

All this time, home was but a place to you which you desperately searched for. Never realizing your true home lied within the person whose fate is intertwined with yours.

. ❄️♡

[bigassmoonchild]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: The results came back, the pregnancy results. You fear losing Simon, even after your talk and he holds you close. Things slowly go back to normal, but by god was Simon starting to smell a little too good. And the scent was coming from his door.

Content Tags: Angst, Almost Pregnancy Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Simon Communicating, DROPPING THE L WORD (leprosy), Simon likes compound drama, Mentions of Masturbation, Use of Pet-Names, Teasing, No Use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: I'm working one day a week because they only need me one day a week. I might quit, ngl. Anyways, I'm getting better! Not as sick! I'm going to figure out at better way for people to navigate the maple syrup series, but you know the drill. Content under the cut and asks are open!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

The next few days felt incredibly slow. You'd worked on a bit of paperwork before heading back to your rooms and sitting in your nest, going through the clothes you were intending to give back to Simon because the scent was growing stale. As you were folding one of the last hoodies, a knock on your door made you pause.

Opening it, you saw a soldier standing outside. He gave you a salute before looking down and reading off of the paper he was holding.

"Your presence is required in room 62B. Please be presentable and there within the half hour," he handed you the paper and marched away. Glancing at it, they were requesting you for more questioning based on the hearing you'd been part of.

Shit.

You stood and dug through the wardrobe you had, pulling out a few of your better shirts and pants. At this point, you didn't really care what you wore. So long as it wasn't dirty and didn't have any rips or holes.

Reading the door numbers down to 62B, you took a deep breath before entering, nodding at the few people who were sitting, glancing past Price. You sat, folding your hands on your lap as the people across the table looked at you. They shifted, glancing from the door to you for a few minutes.

"We're just waiting for Riley, you needn't be so stiff, Doctor," you looked away from them, finding Prices eye before looking the other way. You just wanted to get this over with, they hadn't even notified you about your test, so the fact that they only told them about it was weird.

The door opened, and all you could smell was Simon. Leather and tobacco, hints of the gunpowder used on base came through. It smelled muskier, though, and as much as you could smell it wasn't sweat. Not like normal.

He sat beside you, not looking in your direction. The people in front of you shifted the papers about on the table, looking between each other. They didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"The pregnancy test came back," you heard Simon scoff beside you, a quiet 'no shit' coming from him. You rolled your own eyes, glancing down to the carpet under you. It was old, probably older than you.

The man cleared his throat. "It came back positive, at least at first," you looked up, brows furrowing. "After a few minutes, though, it turned negative. We did a few more tests and they eventually came back negative. Conclusively," you closed your eyes, head tilting back.

Why were you feeling so disappointed? Were you actually somewhat excited about having a pup, even if Simon didn't want it?

"Although, they did find some hormones synchronous with what is called a 'false pregnancy'," they explained, reading off of the sheet they had.

You glanced up, watching as they tried to find a way to explain it. "My body had hormones, probably from a fertilized egg that never attached properly, and it left my hormones thinking I was pregnant. They never cleared my body, so my scent and body was changing to prep for the pup," you explained, playing with your fingers.

So close, and yet you were so far from having a pup. You could almost smell distress on Simons scent, but you didn't want to go into the specifics. You couldn't think of his normal scent, not with how deep in your head you'd become.

You could faintly hear them explaining the outcomes, faintly heard a few 'probable cause for the attack' and a few other 'nothing is being pressed,' and finally you came to.

"We're considering this almost exactly the same as if the Omega was actually pregnant," they explained. "So you're getting off on just about the same as a slap on the wrist, but don't think we won't add this to your file," and you stood, turning and walking out.

There was nothing you'd realized you wanted more. A family. A pup to care for and watch grow and eventually maybe, just maybe, add more to your little family.

But no, you didn't have the luxury of that. No, you weren't allowed to have your family, your Alpha had been so mad at you and possibly didn't want you sometimes.

Alpha doesn't want a broken Omega.

You had to fight the tears you could feel building, jaw locking in place as you found yourself moving to your room. A few more halls, one or two more turns and you'd be able to curl up in your nest and hope to God that your Alpha would still want you.

As you went to close your room door, something stopped it from closing. You turned to figure it out, slightly pissed off that it happened. Simon.

"I'm sorry," you could feel tears starting to run out of your eyes, felt him pulling you into his chest and sobs tearing out of your chest. "I'm so sorry," you were muffled by his chest, hands grasping at his shirt and holding tight. You could faintly hear the door close, your legs moving with him as he dropped you back into your nest.

Simon pulled you into his chest, hands running along your back. Your hands never left his chest and you could hear him murmuring into your hair.

"S'alright, lovie, s'alright," he whispered, arms wrapping around your back to pull you in as close as he could. It felt like everything was back to normal but nothing was. Everything was changed but nothing was at the same time.

For what felt like hours, you laid there, grasping at Simon to stay where you were. He rubbed at your back and chuffed into your ear, your tears slowing and sobs breaking into hiccups, breathing slowing as you laid there.

His hands stopped, albeit slowly, before pulling you back to look at him.

"Y'alright?" He asked this time, wiping your face dry. You nodded, then shook your head before dropping it back onto his chest.

"'m sorry, Simon," you whispered, his hand finding your back and resting there. "Failed you," you added finally. He hummed in confusing, head lifting to look down at you.

You swallowed, closing your eyes. "Lost the pup," he shook his head, squeezing you a little. He ran his hand down your arm, rubbing it slowly.

"Didn't lose anything, lovie," he whispered. "Your body was just confused, it's not your fault," you wanted to argue with him, wanted to tell him he was crazy. You lost the pup, and he should get rid of you.

He kept murmuring loving words into your ears, telling you how good of an Omega you were, how much he cared about you. How much he adored that you were his and didn't want to leave.

"Love you, y'know that?" He whispered, hours having passed since the two of you found yourselves inside your nest. He slid you into his hoodie within the first hour, let you lay there and inhale his scent.

You hummed, fighting sleep. It hadn't hit you what he'd said, not yet at least.

"Love y'too," you whispered into his neck, breathing slowing as you were falling asleep. He loved you, Alpha loves you, your head snapped up. "Huh?" Simon barked out a short laugh, pulling his mask from his face as he looked at you.

"Y'didn't hear me?" You blinked slowly at him, smile slowly spreading on your face. His voice grew softer, eyes drifting away from you. He seemed almost, nervous. "Y'forgive me?" He whispered, hands tightening on you.

You nodded, dropping your head on him. "Thought you would've thought of me as a bad Omega," you whispered. "Thought I'd lost you after I said I might be pregnant, then again when they told us I wasn't," he shook his head.

He gave a humorless laugh. "Never lost me," he said. "'m not good at emotions," he started, looking down at you briefly. "Never was, never will be. I want to try, though, try and make sure you never feel like that again," he spoke into the side of your head, pressing his lips against your head.

You swallowed thickly.

"Thought I lost everything," you whispered into his neck, closing your eyes.

You glanced at your new squad, looking them over.

"If you don't want to be led by an Omega, leave. Get out, I don't want to see your face," you said, glancing amongst them. "If you don't like that I'm leading you, get the hell out. I don't want to see you, if you're going to cause problems, get out," you said.

No one moved, looking down at their boots and away from you. Nobody said anything, it all remained quiet. You smiled, arms crossed as you watched them stand still.

You crossed your arms, glancing amongst them. "The only problem I've ever encountered is you guys not understanding what it means to be a soldier. Combat medic, combat comes first," you told them. "Which means you're a soldier first,"

You sighed deeply, rubbing the migraine out of your temples. They were the worst group you'd ever had. They seemed to not have any knowledge on anything medical, and even less knowledge about combat awareness.

"Bad day?" Simon asked, placing a tray of food in front of you and putting his own on the side of your desk closest to him. You groaned at him, dropping your head down.

You glanced up, watching him pull the mask off of his face and place it next to his food, scooping some of it into his mouth. You snorted softly, watching him.

His brows raised in questioning. "We went from me absolutely despising you just a few days ago to you eating in my office," you laughed softly. "Anyways, I have the worst squad ever," you groaned and he paused his eating.

"They saying things?" He said, moving to stand and you hushed him, hands gesturing for him to sit back down.

In the few days since you two had been cleared back to work, he had made it a habit to bring you at least two meals during your shift. Usually lunch and dinner, which he had at the same time as you, quite thankfully.

You'd grown to begin telling him tales of what happened, whatever drama you could find that happened throughout the day. Oh my god, Simon, apparently Amanda now has an Alpha? And he works on another force, I think something air, you told him the first night.

Surprisingly, he was really interested in what was happening around base. Today, though, he appeared a little more out of it. He seemed slightly off, watching you closer and staring down Alphas who walked by you when he just so happened to be near.

It was weird, but you hadn't put too much thought into it. You were finally back to a normal, something the two of you were putting together. Maybe it was just his new normal, but you weren't going to ask questions.

He stayed quiet, giving you a few murmurs of agreement or interest at all of the new things you'd discovered. Once the two of you finished, instead of sitting with you until you were finished to walk with you back to your room he grabbed your trays and walked out, giving you a short murmur about needing to workout or something.

It left you a little confused, but you weren't going to mention it. You knew this took up a lot of his own time, and you knew that he would want to spend some time on his own to relax.

You felt the same way, but something was off and you could tell. By the time you finished putting away the last paper into its file, it was nearing 10 at night. You walked to your room, bag in hand as you watched the door numbers slowly shrink to your room number.

As you entered it, you'd been expecting to see Simon there, but maybe tonight he just wanted to relax in his own room and take some time to chill out. You understood, and found yourself slowly going through the motions of your nightly routine, some part of you hoping he would walk in right before you finished this part. Then it became this part, then the next.

Eventually, you were curled in your bed, lights all out while listening for movements outside. You found yourself waking up the next morning, groaning as you turned off your alarm clock. Simon never came to your room, but that was okay you told yourself.

It was fine, because everyone needed a moment to themselves here and there. So you began your routine, getting something small to eat as you walked through the clinic, checking on people who had come in overnight to be treated for something.

You ran your training, having the squad work on taking care of those who were harmed and trying to tourniquet them.

"I'm bleeding out, help me! Aaah! It hurts so much, I'm writhing in pain!" Soap was all too pleased to help you with this. Gaz was helping as well, but had stopped his acting to roll on the ground laughing at him. It seemed to work just as well as Johnny's screaming and writhing.

Shutting your eyes tight, you had to hold yourself silent to keep from laughing too hard or distracting everyone. Even as your back was turned, you could hear little squeals coming from Johnny, but as you opened your eyes you saw Ghost watching from a distance.

Gesturing him over, he shook his head and turned back to his own training group, leaning over to shout at someone. You sighed, turning around to watch the group once more.

"Steph, no, that tourniquet is way too tight, I can see it from here. You're cutting the blood flow off, not his leg,"

At lunch you grew a little worried when Simon didn't show up. He had been making sure to bring you food (and letting you watch him eat) every lunch and dinner. Sometimes it was breakfast instead of lunch, but he hadn't come during breakfast.

It took you a few moments before you decided to try and find him, but everyone you spoke to had turned away from you, telling you that it was in your better interest to leave him alone. When you found Gaz again, you pulled him to the side.

"What's up with S- Ghost?" You asked and he looked away, grimacing a little. "Go on, tell me. I'm his mate, it's not like he's doing something that would kill me," you said, brows furrowing as he didn't say anything.

You gestured for him to tell you. "He's been really violent today. Look outside, there's more people running than usual, and his temper is getting the better of him," he whispered, looking around like Simon would jump out of nowhere.

At dinner, when Simon didn't show up you found yourself walking the compound to look for him. To find out where he'd gone, or what was wrong. He wasn't anywhere you'd expected him to be, not the gym or field.

Walking to his room, it was a few halls before when the scent hit you hard. Leather and tobacco, some hints of the gunpowder used on base. You walked a little closer, musky tangs of something just entirely Simon breaking through.

Standing outside of his door, you stared at it. Hearing long groans and whines, huffs of your name. Trying the door, it was locked and everything in the room paused.

A bang on the door made you jump back before leaning in. "Simon?" You whispered, trying the doorknob again. He whined at the sound of his name coming from you, and you could hear nails on the door.

"Please," he whispered back, voice muffled by the door. You could hear another bang on the door and you gave a little laugh.

"Y'gotta unlock the door first, Alpha," a growl came from behind the door.

Next

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@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon

If I forgot you, please send me a message, reply or ask. I apologize for any mistakes in the Tag List, I'm trying to get it all organized.

[beneathashadytree]

SILENT TREATMENT - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : realistic arguments, giving them the silent treatment, autistic!Zayne, Zayne being self-sacrificial, references to Rafayel’s myths, fear of resentment, Xavier’s cautiousness, Sylus being overprotective, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : hurt/comfort to cause some pain🙂‍↕️

Additional notes : Just realized that it’s been ages since I posted my SMAUs on here (got so caught up on Twitter and with irl problems😵‍💫). This was one of my favorite ever commissions because it aligns PERFECTLY with my tastes and my fav tropes to write about. I decided to approach this from a realistic standpoint: what issues would I likely have with the LaDS men? And then this SMAU was born from that train of thought!

Commissions are open here!

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[xvysarene]

𝕌𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you.” Words: ~2.5k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Antagonist MC, Mentions of wounds

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

His childhood friend exuded energy just as vibrant as her Anhausen class Evol, captivating those around her with her bubbly demeanor.

However, beneath the cheerful façade lay a calculated use of charm, a trait you couldn't help but notice, especially in her interactions with Zayne.

As a senior hunter, your responsibilities included supervising new recruits, and you discerned her manipulative tendencies over time.

“Just because you've seen me at my weakest, you’re not entitled to pass judgment on those dear to me. It proves how I've known her longer and better, as she would never stoop so low as to speak ill of you. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Quick to defend his adored friend and seemingly caught up in emotion, he voiced those unfavorable words your way.

You knew Zayne was a direct person, but being on the receiving end of those words hurt. Especially as you later realized that you harbored feelings towards the cold doctor, feelings that had unknowingly woven into what you had always believed to be a purely platonic friendship between the two of you.

“—and you’re here because?”

His voice jolted you out of your reverie.

Somehow, standing in the exact spot where your last conversation occurred, resulting in months of silence between the two of you, had clouded your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on the present moment. “Greyson and Yvonne have been trying to get in touch with you.”

When news about Dr. Zayne taking recuperative leave had spread like wildfire throughout the UNICORNS, you had considered reaching out to him. 

Your fingers had hovered over the phone, composing and deleting messages repeatedly.

In the end, you completely abandoned the notion altogether when you heard his childhood friend’s not-so-subtly mentioning her plan to visit and cook for him while chatting with the short-haired girl from the Data Analysis sector.

“I’m fine,” he managed to huff out after a while.

Taking a swift glance at the unexpected mess on his kitchen counters—scattered papers and remnants of food packaging—you challenged him. “I thought we had moved beyond the superficial ‘I’m fine’ responses when asking about each other's well-being.”

Zayne didn’t reply and you noted that he had absentmindedly leaned his long legs against the kitchen counter as if seeking support from it.

“You, the Chief Cardiac Surgeon of Akso Hospital, someone who enjoys his lack of free time, couldn't possibly have felt ‘just fine’ after being placed on recuperative leave.”

“I wasn't aware that you still kept tabs on my whatabouts," he retorted, eyes slightly gleaming competitively. However, they lacked the usual spark; instead, they hinted at tiredness and something indefinable that looked familiar but you couldn't quite pinpoint.

“I understand that your friend has probably visited you, but my great buddies insisted I come and check on you. They didn’t want to pester, but after two days of no answer, they are beginning to worry.” You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender. “Though if I’m not welcome, I’ll leave you be.”

As you moved past him towards the front door, you felt yourself emotionally drained from the brief exchange.

“Why you, specifically?” his whisper caused you to stop in your tracks.

“They know we are—” you stopped yourself, “used to be each other’s confidant. They thought you might be willing to speak to me if not to them.”

He chuckled dryly. “Used to…”

His muttered words compelled you to turn. Your hunter’s awareness noticed how he had subtly shifted, leaning more against the counter with one hand supporting his weight while his body slightly hunched forward, facing your retreating figure.

His body trembled with involuntary shivers, and the silver-framed glasses that had been perched on his nose earlier now lay discarded on top of the black granite.

“What’s wrong?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Your eyes instantly snapped to his arms, expecting to see the familiar bluish hue and the delicate, yet deadly patterns of ice crystals.

Instead, you saw fresh cuts on the back of his hand. Both of them.

A sound must have escaped your lips because Zayne quickly tugged at his light gray pajama sleeves, trying to cover his hands. He took a step back as he heard you stomping towards him.

Helplessly, he played a brief game of tug-of-war with you before yielding to your unexpected strength.

“What the hell,” you breathed out as you took the angry red marks marring his pale skin, making them stand out more. When you rolled up his sleeves further, you discovered fresh lacerations, a chilling reminder of the frost's icy grip.

You cupped his cheeks. It took his gaze a moment to gradually refocus on you, seemingly startled by the sudden skin contact. “Zayne, what happened?”

His lips were sealed shut. He began to resist, however, as you guided him towards his bedroom, but your hunter strength slightly won over his sluggish state.

Zayne watched you intensively check his wounds after you managed to get him to bed. They were more severe than the scratches you saw after you had cradled his frozen arms and succeeded in defrosting them using your Evol. It was when you found him beating himself up in regret for failing to save your partner during surgery.

As you stood up to fetch the medical supplies, his hand swiftly caught your forearm, surprising you with its speed. "You don’t have to take care of me," he insisted.

“Respectfully, Zayne,” you began, knowing he'd grimace at your next choice of words, “Fuck your pride and let me look after you.”

Seeing his familiar disapproving grimace at the brash word, you chuckled quietly to yourself. 

Your boldness and recklessness often clashed with his calm and collected nature, one that left people wondering how a friendship could blossom between two such opposites.

As the antiseptic scent filled the air and silence enveloped the room while you tended to his arms, memories flooded back to the griefful night when you had lost your partner.

He had treated your temporarily forgotten battle wounds after the frost had thawed from his arms.

“It’s not your fault,” Zayne had spoken softly as he cleaned your wounds.

Your breath stuttered, surprised by the doctor's attempt to console you. Many people regarded him as highly reserved due to the carefully crafted mask of indifference he wore.

"The other staff told me what happened. You couldn’t have known that he was bitten; a child Chlorostaga leaves a very small puncture, and it would only feel like an ant has bitten you. With adrenaline running high, he wouldn’t have felt a thing."

“He told me that his heart was racing unusually fast during the transport back,” you whispered, feeling the tears clouding your vision. “And I jokingly suggested he needed to do more exercise.

“He laughed at it until—” you forced down the bile rising in your throat before being able to continue, “until he suddenly collapsed from cardiac arrest. We were only a few minutes out before arriving here to treat our wounds.”

Zayne continued gently dressing your gashes as you recounted the last moment with your partner. “His last memory was of happiness with you, feeling fulfilled knowing he had once again protected Linkon City from Wanderers... With his trusted partner."

The tears you had struggled to contain finally broke through, cascading down your cheeks in torrents. He held you close that day, offering comfort until every tear was dried.

From that moment, a bond seemed to form between both of you, drawing you closer from mere acquaintances to individuals you could trust with your deepest emotions. Only a few had ever witnessed each other's vulnerable state.

In the present, you noticed his breathing had calmed, and the hazel eyes that had been watching you carefully moments earlier had closed as you finished tending the last cut.

Gently smoothing out the crease between his brows, you couldn't help but wonder how troubled he must have been. “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you,” you whispered, afraid of him hearing your secret.

You had tried to shield yourself from future heartache after you slammed his front door the day he had spoken harshly. Yet, seeing him so vulnerable, your caring for him only deepened.

Listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, an unexpected exhaustion washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sleep claimed you swiftly, and it wasn't until you felt Zayne's gentle touch on your shoulder that you awoke.

“You’re going to strain the muscle in the back of your neck sleeping like that.”

Still groggy from the unplanned nap, you couldn’t protest as Zayne easily deposited you to the space he occupied earlier, as if you weighed nothing.

Your skin flushed hot feeling his fleeting touch behind your knees. Blinking, you met his gaze as he settled back beside your feet on the bed, already looking much better than before.

As the heat from his body permeated the wool blend of his pajama pants, you could feel it warming the tips of your toes. “Are you feeling any better?”

He nodded, casting a glance down at his arms adorned with scattered adhesive strips. Awkwardness filled the air as you both grappled with the ever-present unresolved tension.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. You looked up, startled.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated more clearly. His hazel eyes, appearing browner under the dim lighting, seeking yours. “For saying those hurtful words to you, for failing to accompany you on mourning day.”

Your eyes widened, surprised that he even remembered about the day that had occurred months earlier.

When he didn’t appear at the cemetery of fallen hunters on mourning day, an annual tradition to honor your late partner whom he couldn't save, you learned just how much he cherished his childhood friend.

While he hadn't explicitly promised to join every year, he had always done so without fail. At that time, you couldn't help but feel disappointed when you discovered he had spent the day with his childhood friend instead.

And perhaps, an ugly thorn of jealousy had begun to bloom inside your heart.

“Greyson gave me an earful after he found out about our... conflict, and then he pieced together why I was absent that day. Why didn’t you remind me?”

You broke away from his gaze, not prepared for the sudden query. “You are under no obligation to accompany me, so there's nothing to apologise for.”

“I absolutely have to apologise, for on the day you mourn for your late partner the most, I callously had fun with my friend.”

And there it was, his childhood friend once again stealing the spotlight in your conversation. You felt the barriers you erected creeping back into place.

“It's getting dark outside, I should head home,” you said, retracting your legs and hurriedly standing up.

However, a warm hand on your wrist carefully pulled you back down, knee bumping with yours.

“I was ensnared by my memory of her innocence from our childhood,” he confessed, voice heavy with regret. “She envied the deep connection we share and after overhearing your conversation with Yvonne, purposefully suggested a day trip to our hometown that exact day. She exploited my weakness for her gain, knowing my fond memories of our past together.”

Zayne tenderly unraveled each of your tightly clenched fingers, soothing the nail marks that had etched into your palm.

It was one of your bad habits, surfacing whenever anxiety and stress took hold. Ever the observant person that he was, it was something he was well aware of.

Your breath hitched as he wove his fingers with yours, larger palm easily covering your smaller one.

“I'm the one who foolishly let myself be blinded and stooped so low, wrongly accusing you when your intentions were nothing but good-hearted.” He swiped a hand over his face in frustration. “People praised me for my good judgement, but I evidently failed to make the most important one.”

“And so this happened?” you gestured towards his arms with your other unoccupied hand. “Punishing yourself because you felt guilty for your lapse in judgment?”

She had heard bits and pieces of what happened from Greyson. The Chief Psychologist in the hospital had noticed Zayne’s peculiar behaviour for weeks—moments of zoning out and evident emotional distress.

Not wanting to jeopardise his patient’s health, he agreed to take a leave until he felt mentally prepared to return to his responsibilities, which required a clear mind above all else.

“No, it's me losing myself because I've taken advantage of the only person who understands me; to the extent of hurting that one person who, despite knowing her for a shorter time, has selflessly always been there for me.” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand. “And fearing I may have already lost her, as I come to realize the depth of my feelings for her.”

You whipped your head to fully face him, face flushed at his confession. His gaze unwavering, trapping you with fierce affection.

“You don’t need to say anything—”

“Zayne—”

“I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for causing you pain—”

“Zayne, I—”

“And I would understand if you don’t want to do anything with me again after everything that’s happened—”

"Zayne!" You moved to cover his mouth and lost your balance in the process, tumbling together onto the bed.

Him beneath you.

As you stumbled, his hand found the curve of your hip, supporting you from falling on top of him. While his other arm remained thrown over him, fingers still intertwined with yours amidst the sudden movement.

You could see him trying to mask his discomfort, no doubt feeling some of the deeper slashes being tugged.

“God, you really need to shut up sometime,” you blurted out, catching Zayne off guard with your abrupt remark following his heartfelt revelation.

This close, you could see his pupils dilating at your close proximity, almost consuming the green in his eyes.

With profound confidence and a fuzzy feeling spreading inside your heart, you eased his mind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The content smile painting his lips tugged at your heart. It was a genuine happiness that chipped away his usual cold demeanor. 

He squeezed your hip and slowly urged you to lay on top of him, a silent invitation to be closer. Strong arms circled around as you nestled your head against his throat, enveloping you in his scent—grounding, and slightly musky, like the scent of a forest after rainfall.

“I never want you to lose control of your Evol over me again,” you warned him, eyes closing as you felt his lips pressing on your forehead.

“I can’t promise, but—” he interjected before you could interrupt him. “I’ll work on myself for the better. It’s the least I can do for the one who holds the dearest place in my heart.”

When you opened your eyes again, you could finally pinpoint that familiar glint in his eyes, the one you noticed when you confronted him hours earlier in the living room; it was endearment.

As you lay down on his bed that night, fingers gently combing through his tousled midnight-black hair as he rested against your chest, it dawned on you that the glow of affection had been there all along, subtly shimmering in his eyes throughout the years whenever you were by his side.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[p0ssywhippedcream]

a/n; for my L lovers!! it's been too long since I wrote for him and im going back to my roots, hope y'all love it! this is hurt/comfort and fluff, L celebrating the reader's mother's birthday with them since they can't be w their family. enjoy <3

The quiet is stuffy, suffocating you in your desk chair next to L. With an achy soul, you persevere through another file and try to ignore the time that screams retreat to your room and take a bath. You’re frankly exhausted and already miserable to be working on the Kira case today.

And apparently, it’s noticeable because both Matsuda and Misa have mentioned your gloomy demeanor to which you brushed them off.

Now as you sit typing up a report on the evidence you just read, you realize you didn’t really digest any of it and have to re-examine the whole page. A soft groan slips out.

L’s keen ears alert him of your distress and suddenly your boss is turned in his chair to fully face you. The sight is mildly amusing, on account for the biscuit-stache he’s sporting above his top lip.

“What is it, Y/n?”

You shake your head, waving him off, “Nothing, sorry.”

His big eyes invade your vision as he shoves his face closer into yours inspecting your disheveled appearance. “Your eyes are bloodshot, you’re shaking slightly, you forgot my coffee this morning and you’ve been slow at work all day.”

You take the evidence he’s presented with an incredulous face, “I’m just tired, it’s almost ten.”

“Which you’ve never complained of before.” This isn’t the first time you’ve wanted to deck the guy but the urge is much stronger now.

“Your point?” You’re semi-grateful to be alone here with him, knowing full well the childish back-and-forth you’re having would’ve embarrassed you if the other taskforce members were here.

“You’re troubled. I’m curious, what bothers you?”

You huff as you come to the revelation that L was going to pry until you relented. You drop eye contact, twisting the ring on your finger. “It’s my mother’s birthday.”

“How come you didn’t request off?” He replies immediately, to which you snort and meet his abyssal eyes, “Would you have let me?”

His face says touché and you look back down, “Besides, she’s in the states right now. I wouldn’t be able to fly out there with everything going on.”

He nods and his thumb slides into the bed of his puffy lips, tucked in by his teeth. “Well..” He pauses, hesitates for one of the first times since you’ve met him and clears his throat, “I wouldn’t have personal experience with the event, but it is tradition to celebrate your parent’s birthday, no?”

When you shake your head in agreement, L’s pointer finger locates the Watari intercom button. He requests a piece of strawberry cake and glancing at you, a piece of red velvet with a couple candles. You never told him it was your favorite, and realizing he cares enough to find out on his own loosens the strain on your heart a little.

The deserts are brought within mere minutes, placed in front of you with a handful of wax sticks and a small lighter. He hands you the candles in his strange way, your fingers brushing on his pale, nimble ones. You smile softly to yourself, arrange them to make a 57 in the cake and watch as he flicks the lighter and sets ablaze the wicks. You look up, a bashful grin as you say “It’s not technically my birthday, so i don’t know if i’m supposed to blow them out.”

“Suppose we do it together, do you reckon it cancels out?”

You giggle then, the sound airy and light in the cold room. “Like PEMDAS?”

“Sure.” He tosses a singular nod to the right.

“Okay,” Your happy eyes squint at his, seeing the playful quirk of his mouth as you both lean forward. His white skin shines with yellow and orange in the light and he looks strangely handsome so close to you. You purse your lips, watching him copy you before you close your eyes and wish for this stupid case to end, feeling the light gust of L's sweet breath on your cheeks.

When your eyelids crack open again, you find his ever-searching gaze on you as he starts to pluck the wax from your cake. You give him a small smile, finding peace and intimacy in the place you risk your life everyday with a man you never thought you’d come to like.

You wonder what will happen when Kira is gone, if you’ll ever see this strange introvert again and it makes you almost sad to have wished for its end. Guilt comes after when you remember all those who have lost their lives and pain flashes in your pupils. L mistakes it for maternal longing.

“She misses you.” Your mouth pops open in surpirse, eyes doing the same when he tilts his head and you can see how he feels for once. Compassion sits in the inky depths of his gaze and it stuns you to your core. “I would.”

The moment sits heavy with emotion before a fork is plunging into your piece of cake and he’s stealing a bite with a mischievous expression. You chuckle, opting to reply with a roll of your eyes and nimble at the desert yourself.

“Thank you.” You whisper, the sound of monitors the only noise in the empty room. He lets out a noncommittal grunt and you lapse back into the quiet. As you eat your separate cakes, you swallow around the understanding that you don’t mind sharing the silence if it’s with him. In fact, you wouldn’t mind sharing anything if it was with him.