4 Years Past My Bedtime

1998 | side blog to reblog stuff || MDNI

[roschea-behindthescreens]

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Hellooo! OwO welcome to my shitposting sideblog. Here I mostly reblog memes, occasional quite rare tbh NSFW stuff (minors be careful pls) and random things I like. If you are interested in art or fanfiction check out my other blogs!

Tumblr blogs: art tumblr || writing tumblr

About me + F.A.Q. - hello! I'm Natasha~

Fic Recs List - an extensive list of fanfics I enjoy and recommend (under construction)

[thewindanditslover]

The soft sounds of metal scrapping paper and flipping pages fills the study room. You and Alhaitham sit across from each other at a table. Books, papers and pens scatter across the expanse of the table–the result from the all nighter the two of you were pulling. With exams piling up, the only way to fully get into studying was with each other of course–except in Alhaitham’s case, you tend to distract him from his books.

Alhaitham can’t exactly remember the day you suddenly turned his world around. Perhaps it was when you grabbed the same book he was looking at in the library and unwillingly gave it to him, or maybe it was when the ‘once in a lifetime library study time’ became a weekly thing–Alhaitham can’t remember. You’re harder to read than the thousands of words he indulges in everyday; harder to understand than any abstract algebra problem. How can he describe how your face makes his heart pound just a little bit harder–his blood rushing through its cycle quicker than before–without sounding strange.

He doesn’t mean to watch you, you’re just a bit… captivating? Must there be a gravitational pull around you where his eyes and body can’t help but turn towards you–there must be some scientific reasoning to why he’s so attracted to you. When he catches your eye from above the book he’s holding in front of him, a teasing look is on your face, and he can’t help but furrow his eyebrows and purse his lips–unwilling to lose ‘focus.’ There was zero chance that Alhaitham was so captivated by one of his peers. A single look from you causes him to lose his composure, the thing he’s been so good at since he was a child. How strange–how unlike him.

[midnightcrw]

Please, not you

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Wife! Reader

Summary: Leon is already struggling to deal with the Raccoon City Syndrome, but since you were infected too, he has been finding it even harder to keep a clear head.

a/n: One-shot based on this request.

It was a normal day. You both had been at home, and it all started with a cough.

At first, you ignored it, but Leon kept his eyes on you throughout the day, and slowly things started to fall into place for him.

Your husband always observed everything around him, sometimes on consciously and other times unconsciously. It had been a habit he had developed ever since joining the DSO.

He noticed the things you didn’t. The way your skin had gotten paler, your hands trembling, the restless nights, and the sweating during your sleep.

It all seemed like a cold to him until he caught a glimpse of the back of your neck.

There it was. The dark spot that had crawled its way onto his and Sherry’s skin, and now onto yours too.

Everything went quiet in that moment. You had already turned around to look at him, and even though you asked him if he was alright, he didn’t respond.

His eyes were slightly widened, and his hands had involuntarily curled into fists. It was as if time had stopped, and the only thing he could hear was his heart rapidly beating in his chest.

“...I have to make a call.” With that, your husband abruptly stood up and went into your shared bedroom while you could do nothing but look after him.

Pulling his phone out, he could barely search for Sherry’s number due to his hands shaking ever so slightly, and he didn’t even notice that he had managed to dial her number until he heard his name being said.

“She’s infected.” That was the only thing that left his lips, and the young woman understood immediately, yet she couldn’t help but utter a “What?” in disbelief.

Trying to research didn’t help.

The blonde woman was on the computer most of the time, and everything she searched up wasn’t leading to anything.

Leon had even gone so far as to give her access to files only he was allowed to look through, and yet Sherry couldn’t find anything - not a single antidote to save you.

At this point, it didn’t even matter how Leon or Sherry’s condition were, because you had started feeling worse, drastically.

That one dark spot turned into multiple. Your sleep became even more restless, and you grew weaker day by day.

Your husband remembered the day clearly when he told you what was happening. Your eyes had filled up with tears, and you started to panic.

Each breath was harder to take than the next, and you were scared, probably even terrified, and Leon couldn’t do anything about it besides holding you in his arms and promising you that he’d find a way to heal you.

The days after became a bit easier to accept for you, as you had already been scared when he first got infected, so you weren’t alone with the Raccoon City Syndrome.

But Leon couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t going to.

He started staying up later than usual, never leaving your side, scared that today would be the day you would take your last breath.

He barely ate anything, having lost his appetite, but still got you to eat because he couldn’t bear the thought of you stopping taking care of yourself.

At work, he was easier to provoke, especially in the training room where it became visible. His movements were sharper, harder, and faster.

The people around him started to get worried. Leon would close himself off even more than he already had done before, and he would barely talk.

When he was at home, though, he was completely different.

He was very gentle and would try his best to make you feel alright, even when you would tell him to calm down and that you weren’t going anywhere.

And on one particularly stressful night, he broke down. You had been in your bedroom and were waiting for Leon to come upstairs, but the more minutes passed, the more you grew worried.

You had trouble getting up and you still tried, not caring if you could fall down, and the moment you made it downstairs, the sight of Leon broke you.

He was sitting on the sofa, his elbows resting on his knees as his face was buried in his hands. You could hear the frantic breathing and soft, unfamiliar sobs he was letting out while he was shaking.

Wanting to speak, you opened your mouth but stopped abruptly when you heard him say something. “Please, not you... I can’t.” And the sobs didn’t stop.

Tears had made their way to your eyes, and you slowly walked towards him until you laid your hand on his shoulder, which made him still before slowly looking up.

His eyes were red and his skin paler than usual. “You should be in bed,” he whispered, trying to get up, but you pressed your hand down so that he remained sitting.

“You’re hurting yourself, Leon. We’re both suffering, and you’re making this harder for yourself.” Your voice was gentle and comforting. Even though you wanted to cry, you didn’t, because right now he needed someone to calm him down.

Leon started shaking his head. “I can’t lose you. I have to-"

“You don’t have to, and I promise you we’ll both get through this.” A small smile made its way onto your face. “The Leon Scott Kennedy I know always finds a way, and he has not once failed to save the day.”

Your husband could only look at your face as a tear ran down his cheek. “I love you, remember that, Mr. Kennedy.”

And he did. He always remembered it, even when he was now standing bloodied up, back in Raccoon City.

But this time with a smile on his face, as he was going to bring you the antidote.

[phantomrose96]

You know the. You know the Femme Fatale "I grew up with 10 brothers so I know how to fight" character?

That's

That's Roy Mustang

Just the opposite.

Roy "I grew up with 10 sisters so I know how to disguise covert information reconnaissance as flirting" Mustang.

"I grew up with 10 sisters so I know how to weaponize my sexual charm to disarm others and win favor."

Roy led every higher-up to believe he was just a fuckboy and a manwhore in this for his own ego and that they shouldn't view him as any kind of violent revolutionary like "no sir I'm just a slut."

Roy Mustang.

[phantomrose96]

I'm surprised I didn't say this in the original post but to specify: Roy Mustang grew up in a brothel, specifically he grew up adopted by a woman running a brothel where, specifically, all the women there are in the business of covert information reconnaissance by playing escort to important politicians.

Which. is an absolutely batshit primary character backstory to mention once, late in the series, and then immediately move on from.

And actually Hiromu Arakawa did it so well that every single fan interpretation of Roy Mustang for the FMA03 anime treated him as an honest to god man-slut. Bought his whole act hook line and sinker.

And you do, in fact, need to get further into the manga/Brotherhood to realize he is just acting like a slut because surely a true and honest hand-to-god slut like this guy wouldn't be overthrowing the government.

[the-big-mood]

human pov following objects 😭

[brunosbambina]

𝑴𝒚 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚۶۟ৎ

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Leon has had to coax your voice during intimacy in your relationship, had to let you know that it’s okay to be sexual and openly communicate with him, no matter your preferences. He also made it clear that he’d never persuade you into doing things you weren’t comfortable with, and if you wanted to remain more vanilla, he’d be fine with it. So when his good girl, his princess, requested that he be a little rougher tonight, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, not when you’ve always been so reserved when it comes to sex. 

❥Labels & Warnings: 18+

Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Resident Evil 9 Leon, Reader insert, Reader is on the shy/reserved side, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Age gap relationship, References to the age gap, Use of daddy, Use of princess, Use of baby/good/dirty girl, Small mention of Leon putting a baby in you.

W.C. 2.3K AO3 Baby taglist: @depressedbearblogs <3

The sounds coming from your mouth are as vile as the gentle smacks and squelches that fill your shared bedroom with Leon. Clinging to his pillar-like body, you press your face to his, feeling the prickly scratch of his stubble against your cheek, lips, and chin. Large and rugged, his hands cup your ass with your legs hooked over the crook of his elbows. The unfamiliar position maddens Leon, driving him to handle you with a roughness he isn’t used to using on you. You’re forced to take the girth that splits you wide, the stretch more intense in this position. Your body jostles with his muscular frame, breasts pressing into his hard pecs. He’s hot against you, barely breaking a sweat while he’s carrying you and sinking into you with soft grunts. Every thrust pulls on your heart; the pleasure he delivers encompasses your mind, body, and soul. You’re like a melted candle in his big, firm arms, shaking while he’s sturdy as can be. He’s so strong; he can handle the powerful recoil from Requiem after all. 

“Too much, princess?” Leon checks in with you, the grip on your ass creating handprints.

“N-no,” you shakily respond, toes curling from their position at his lower back. “Can you do it h-harder,” you stutter, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. “Please,” you whimper out, your voice sweeter than candy as his glossy cock glides through your taut walls.

Leon’s hips stutter, only for a second before they begin smacking against you at a faster, harder pace. The request, paired with your hips trying to meet his pelvis, is downright explicit coming from you. 

“Thought you were my good girl,” he grunts, swiftly smacking your ass.

“I am,” you pathetically and eagerly moan, the sting on your cheek ringing through your skin.

Leon scoffs playfully, his bangs tickling your ear. “Good girls don’t moan like you’re moaning, and they definitely don’t try to ride their old boyfriend’s cock like this.”

Your hips pause their movements, tightening your arms around his neck and burying your face into his neck. “You’re not old.”

The way you said it in a hushed tone makes him chuckle. 

“Too old for you.”

“Just right for me,” you correct, walls clamping down on him.

“Fuck, you’re perfect for me,” Leon growls, delivering a single, harder slap over the same spot he smacked you earlier.

You squeal and dig your nails into his skin, drawing vibrant red marks over old scratches on his trapezius muscle.

“Let me look at you, baby,” he rasps.

You straighten your back so he can see your face, his thrusts slowing but still deep. Sharp and dark, his eyes lay their wonderment over your pretty features, taking in how divine you look. Your hair’s a mess, your eyes are watery, your mouth is agape; you’re in awe. 

“Mmm,” he hums, inspecting the obscene expression you wear, voice deeper than the vast ocean. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”

Leon often gets lost in how pretty you are, and right now is no exception, seeing you so fucked out is ruining any self-control he has left.

“My baby girl wants it rough, hm?” Leon’s question is punctuated with a brutal slam, resuming the speed he was at.

You can tell he’s far gone as his tongue drips with lewd words like honey.

“Y-yeess,” your stutter grows into a drawn-out moan, feeling the fat end of his cock push into a sweet spot that makes your heart flip, and your eyes roll back.

Leon’s pale blues observe your lips, traversing upward to your eyes, lost in thought, as if he’s thinking whether or not he should ask what he’s about to ask.

“Want me to ruin you?”

The million-dollar question sets the atmosphere ablaze. 

You nod, tears threatening to spill past your lash line. “Ruin me, Leon.”

Hissing through gritting teeth, Leon’s last threads of restraint snap. If you want him to break you, he will, just for his princess. 

The sharp jut of his pelvis catches you off guard, and you choke on your breath. Leon’s thick tip reaches deeper than ever before, a bulge threatening to show itself in your lower belly as he grows ruthless. You never felt him be this rough before, and it’s something else compared to his usual gentle yet dominant demeanor. There have been many times he wanted to be rough with you, but you were his fragile princess who couldn’t take too much. To finally feel his force, the one he uses during training and missions, is making your entire body vibrate. 

Your hands slip down to his firm pectorals from the impact, making Leon pause to make sure you have a good grip on him.

“Make sure you hold on tight, princess,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek sweetly.

Leon lets go of your ass to wrap a hand around your wrist, pulling it over his neck, his touch soft and gentle. You secure your hands together around his neck, your arms bending around his wide shoulders as you become flush to his body, your heart pounding against the hard planes of his chest. His steely fingers slowly skim down your arm, following it down to your ribs, waist, and hips until he’s cradling your ass with both hands.

“Gonna need it,” he grumbles, squeezing your cheeks. 

Leon’s hips pull back before pushing back in, renewing the tempo. He uses your ass as leverage to hoist you onto his cock while his pelvis meets you halfway for a hard smack. The whimpers that hit his ear as he fucks you nasty drive him crazy. You’re so incredibly wet, dripping down his balls as they smack against you with appalling squelches. 

“So fuckin’ wet,” he grunts, the force of his savage drives breaking up his words.

Leon’s mouth falls open with pants, savoring your heat that’s stretched over him like a glove.

“Makin’ a mess on the floor,” he says, grunting at the end of each strike of his ravenous hips. 

Sliding through your constricting walls, his cock pulses with a need to smear your insides with his semen.

“Let me see that pretty face of yours,” he asks you again, unable to help himself as he needs to see your face unravel. 

You shift back, but only enough to be a couple of centimeters away from his face. Seeing his handsome face causes you to moan aloud. With his bangs messy against his cheeks, his eyes are intense, mimicking the expression he has when a zombie is in his gunsight. The peppery stubble across his handsome face accentuates his features, and his charming wrinkles make you want to kiss every inch of them. He’s all yours, this beast of a man that’s capable of unimaginable feats, and he’s fucking you like his life depends on it.  

“Leon,” you whine, your heart skipping several beats as your fingers dig into his muscular back.

You almost want to tell him it’s too much, because it is, too much in terms of how good he’s fucking you. By now, he’s sure you’ve made him bleed from the scratches that sting his back, shoulders, and trapezius. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

Leon’s eyes falter to your lips, watching you chew on your bottom lip as you try not to scream from the overwhelming amount of pleasure shooting through you when he bottoms out. 

“None of that.”

Leon’s authoritative tone makes you snap out of it, and you leave your poor lip alone. Breathless gasps start escaping you every time his taut balls press up into you after he bottoms out. 

“Wanna hear you, baby,” Leon hums.

As if he wasn’t already ruining you enough, Leon’s thrusts quickly evolve into rapid successions. He knocks the air out of you, your voice reducing to short, broken cries as you try to breathe normally. Clapping skin rings through the room like dynamite, inciting a frenzy within Leon. 

“Pretty little pussy swallowing daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he snarls, a scowl painting his face.

The sudden drop of ‘daddy’ makes you cum instantly. Leon lets out a fierce growl that complements your scream as he bludgeons you with blinding pleasure. Your hips jitter uncontrollably against his pelvis, your pussy trying to close in around him. Small droplets leak out of you and around his gliding cock as his girth fights your walls from closing in on him. Clutching his muscled back, your hips' involuntary roll makes Leon’s rhythm stutter. 

“God damn, baby,” he laments, watching you cum harder than ever before.

Shaking like a leaf in the ample muscle of his arms, you whimper from the aftershocks of a mind-numbing orgasm.

“Leon,” you blubber out, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hide your face from him. 

“Sweetheart,” he coos, rushing to cradle your cheek with a hand he frees from clutching your ass. “Are you okay?”

With tears glittering across your eyelashes, you look at him helplessly, nestling into his large hand. 

“Mhm.”

Leon scans your face for any pain or regret you might have after he treated you roughly for the first time. “Why the tears, hm?”

His tender tone of voice makes your pussy quiver all over again, and he feels it. You catch one of his eyebrows perking up, and his mouth growing into a lop-sided grin.

“You fuck me so good,” you utter, eyes glossy and far gone.

Leon whistles to himself, chuckling darkly as he shakes his head. You usually don’t say things like that, but you’re completely dazed and drunk off him that you don’t care.

Though his reaction wakes you from your trance, and you soon realize the weight of your words, making you recoil in his arms. 

“Uh-uh,” he scolds you for trying to hide from him after all that, returning his hand to your ass and spanking you.

You gasp, clutching to his shoulders as he steps over the little mess of droplets on the floor. Leon lays you in a sea of sheets on the bed, and he doesn’t wait until your back hits the bed before he’s driving into you again. Such explicit whines fall from your lips, and his groans turn guttural and frequent as your sensitive pussy sucks him in. While embedding his cock into you, he maneuvers you into a position he wants you in. Sliding his palms up the bed, he pulls your legs up with his arms and plants his hands beside your ribs. Your legs are stretched out like your pussy is, allowing him absolute dominion over your body. 

You go silent for a few seconds, turning your head away as his cock burrows itself inside of you at a different, more pleasurable angle. Encircling the expanse of his vast shoulders, your nails rake his skin into new scratches, and it only pushes him further into you. Tears fall past your temples as he planks his body above you, putting his delicious weight on you. Leaning into your neck, his grunts vividly hit your ear with each slam of his hips.

“My dirty girl,” he whispers in your ear, the plump of his lips pressing against the shell of it. “Wanting this old man to fuck you like he hates your guts.”

You squeal in delight from his words, the tension in your core already building as it had no time to dissipate from your last orgasm. The mattress shifts off the bed frame with every merciless blow to your body, Leon fucking you like a complete animal. He’s never done you like this before, and it’s destroyed your state of mind. Your hips begin to shrink into the mattress, wanting to get away from the stunning pleasure as it amounts to something so intense that it’s scary. Your face contorts, and your eyebrows furrow severely, your permanently open mouth gasping for air as another orgasm starts to blur your vision. You shift your gaze to his face, and the two of you maintain explicit eye contact. His fine, but aged features harden into a smoldering expression that makes your heart swoon. 

“C’mon, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” he thunders, voice cracking through the air, feeling your pussy constrict him in repeated pulses.

Your eyelashes flutter, and the world around you pauses, and you wail out. Sobbing as Leon fucks bliss into you, your pussy chokes his cock in unyielding convulsions. The ebb and flow washes over you like nirvana, splitting you into two and putting you back together again, leaving you changed. Leon lets out a groan that is damn near a moan, his cock spasming within your blistering walls. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he roars, kissing you madly and sending a series of groans into your disjointed mouth. 

Goosebumps prick his agitated body while torrents of semen spurt from his tip and through your cervix. You moan with delight, your womb accepting his seed with utter joy. Possessively, Leon pumps in and out of you, his swollen cock throbbing in tandem with his erratic pulse. His breath stutters across your lips, stubble grazing your mouth and chin as you milk every lost drop of him like you were made for him.

As your respective heart rates calm, the two of you are lost in each other’s eyes, swimming in the shared afterglow. He’s looking down at you with reverence, his messy hair curtaining around his face, tickling you. Leaking out of you in thick globs, his cum drops down his balls and onto the bed as he stays buried in your delightful pussy. 

“Maybe I can get you to call me daddy next time,” he huffs, looking down at your body like it’s a work of art.

You sigh, panting with your breasts heaving under his gaze. “Whatever you say, daddy.”

Leon’s sharp eyes roll across your body and up to your face, and you feel him stiffen inside you.

“You keep that up, n’ I’ll put a baby in you.”

Your glossy eyes widen, and your heart rises to your throat, your pussy squeezing him.

“Leon,” you chide, your cheeks growing hot. 

Chuckling, he leans down and presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Guess you’ll be my only baby for now.”

[correctopinionhaver]

so many mental health issues these days are due to the fact that we no longer put the gargoyles on buildings that used to scare away the evil spirits that cause mental illness

[maudit]

[profeminist]

RIP Marjane Satrapi, author of the amazing graphic novels Persepolis about living during the fundamentalist revolution in Iran in the 70’s and 80’s. She also created the animated movie based on the graphic novels, which is where these gifs come from.

Gifset source

[missbliss12]

Reblogging in honor of Marjane Satrapi, one of THE great graphic novelists. Her comic Persepolis was a crucial text for shaping my belief that comics can deeply explore identity, culture, politics, and history.

[thewrldx]

inspired by this ask that sweet @rafayelkisses left, i love ur brain so much mwah

"Slap me."

The words, spoken in his husky, wanting voice, makes your movements falter on his lap.

"What?"

Sylus groans, one large hand cupping your ass and forcing you right back into an unforgiving rhythm on his cock.

"You heard me, sweetie." His nose brushes along your neck before he pulls back. One eyes pulses with need so intense it makes your cheeks warm. "Slap me. On the face."

Your fingers curl against his shoulders. You bite your lip as you rise and fall on his length, each thrust dragging a rough sound from his throat.

Slowly, you lift your hand.

Your fingers twitch with hesitation before your palm connects with his cheek. It's not gentle by any means. But it isn't hard, either.

Sylus exhales sharply, his aether core immediately flaring brighter. His grip on your skin tightens, jaw flexing as he starts meeting your thrusts until his mushroom tip is bullying your cervix.

"Harder," he growls.

You mewl, nails raking down his chest, unable to think of anything coherent for a brief second.

"S-Sy—!"

Sylus, impatient in a way he usually never is, allows his hand to come down on your ass cheek, hard.

The provoking slap rings out alongside the wet sounds of your joining, and the sting makes you gasp. His fingers immediately squeeze the tender flesh afterwards, as if daring you to give him exactly what he's asking for.

Fine.

You lift your hand and smack it across his cheek with real effort this time, hard enough that his head turns from the force. When he looks back at you, his cheek is blooming pink.

Or maybe he's just blushing.

"F-Fuck, kitten," he moans, the sound quite needy from someone who had been so demanding only seconds ago.

He leans forward to steal a kiss, but the moment his lips crash into yours, his cock throbs violently inside you. Sylus shudders as he cums, trembling against your mouth.

"We're definitely doing that again."

2026 © thewrldx

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[artemisienne]

on the edge of salvation (pt. 2)

even after 214 years on earth, the nightmares persist

this is a two-part Xavier nightmare hurt/comfort fic. part one can be found here.

Ი𐑼 ♪⋆.✮ ─────────────────── ★ ˙ ̟｡

Xavier trudges into the washroom. He pulls off his shirt and unceremoniously tosses it onto the ever-growing pile of laundry. Did he even have any shirts left to wear at this rate?

Sighing, Xavier turns to the sink, absentmindedly running his hand under the cold water until he feels more like himself. He lets the icy water pool in his cupped hands before splashing it at his face one, two, seven times. He stops the tap.

It really wasn’t enough to make him forget his nightmare. 

Xavier glares at the sluggish image reflected in the mirror, inspecting his face clearly under the bright bathroom lights. His hair was disheveled, just a tad bit longer than he’d liked it to be. The bright blue of his eyes were duller now, ringed with insomnia. He’d never let his skin get this bad (never knew it could, for that matter), and the glaring realization that he was less and less his usual self only deepened his misery. What would it take to get back to normal? What would it take for him to stay as the Xavier you loved– gentle, warm, and eternally loving? What use was a fading star?

“Xavier?” 

He starts at the soft, somewhat groggy voice that calls out to him. He bites back a woeful smile. It was almost comical; the one thing he’d feared the most was waiting for him on the other side of the bathroom door. There’s no backing out now, he thinks. He’s been caught.

* * *

Cold, empty, nothingness greets you when you reach for Xavier. He’d typically be snoozing next to you, strong arms wrapped around your figure all throughout the night.

You reach for the lamp on the nightstand, but no light greets you as you turn it on. The bulb isn’t dead; you know that well enough. The two of you remain submerged in darkness, his occasional stifled huff puncturing the heavy air between you. What the hell happened for him to go as far as blacking out the whole room with his Evol so you couldn’t see him? 

Xavier stands at the edge of the room, clutching fistfuls of fabric to stop his hands from trembling. It was disgraceful— how much more avoidant could he get, choosing to kill the lamplight so he didn’t have to bare his pathetic state to you? It’s humiliating, and he relishes in that depraved mortification, let it wash over his wretched form as his mind works to find an appropriate response.

“Xavier,” you repeat, and this time his breath comes out sharp, quick, wrong. You can feel the fear radiating off his body in waves, and it takes everything in you to not reach out to him and hug him. Xavier would burrow himself through the crust of the earth and into the depths of hell before he would open up to you. Coaxing him into emotional vulnerability would take more than you’d thought. 

But he’d promised to try, and he wasn’t one to break promises. 

“It’s fine,” he hisses, like the words are painful to speak. “I’m alright. Just a bit shaken up, is all.”

His lousy attempt at nonchalance tugs at your heart. How often had he suffered like this alone?

“Xavier, you’re not alright.”

“I’m fine,” he echoes, the words coming out harsher than before. A sharp exhale follows. “Just… I’m sorry, I don’t feel so good.” His voice quivers with the apology, and you see your opening.

You silently pat the Xavier-less spot on the bed next to you.

He takes the bait.

Xavier climbs into bed next to you, and you take this chance to pull him into a hug before he can object. His body stiffens momentarily before he melts into your embrace, burying his face into your collarbone. His arms wrap around you securely as you feel his shallow breaths against your skin.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, relishing in the comfort of each others’ presence before Xavier lets go. His eyes glisten with suppressed emotion as he cups your face, tilting it upwards so he can scan your features under the glow of his Evol. 

Before you knew it, the lights were back on. 

Xavier’s gaze softens as he looks at the naive concern in your eyes. He hugs you once more, fingers trailing the curve of your spine as if to confirm that you were real and not an apparition, an extension of his nightmarish torment.

“I left them,” he breathes out. “I… I left you.”

You remembered it briefly, the time you’d spent with Xavier when he was a Lightseeker on Philos. The memory of his disappearance, the ache of his absence… you felt it in your bones, but those borrowed memories from a different “you” were still hard to grasp. Whatever really happened on Philos, it was clear that Xavier was still suffering the repercussions of it.

You rub Xavier’s back as his breathing stabilizes, letting him hold you as you do him. It was the only real comfort you could offer: proof that you were alive, living, safe in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Xavier mumbles after some time, raising his head to finally face you. “I’m sorry for not being able to protect you. For making you suffer alone, when I said I’d always be there for you. For being so pathetic, so pitiful in front of you. I just–”

“You’re none of those things,” you cut him off. “You’re the greatest hunter at the Association! The legendary Lumiere (at this, he grimaces), the leader of the Backtrackers, and above all, you’re someone I love. Don’t belittle yourself, Xavier. You’re my whole universe and more.”

You wipe a stray tear from his eye, frowning at the expression on his face. You give him a quick peck on the cheek, hoping it’ll stop another influx of tears. Instead, Xavier looks away. A slight rosy hue tints his ears and cheeks, stark against his otherwise pale skin.

He’s blushing.

You reach out and grab his hand, holding it tightly in your own. “I’m so used to being comforted by you in my worst moments– after I’d failed that exam, when I’d lost my wallet and cried about it the whole way home, that time you slept with me when I was sick, or when we’d failed a mission because of my incompetence and endangered both our lives. You’d been there for everything, anchoring me to you and providing me with comfort that I never needed to ask for.”

So why wouldn’t you do the same?

You fiddle with Xavier’s fingers, trying to verbalize the boundless love you feel with him. “What I’m trying to say is… In every timeline, in every world, you’ve always been there for me. Thank you for finding me, Xavier.

“It’s not your fault that the Traceback II crashed. Hate me if you must, but I’m glad it did. Otherwise, I never would have been able to meet you on Earth.” 

You flush at your own selfish confession, but Xavier seems to pay it no mind. He ruffles your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead in response. “Thank you,” he whispers against your skin, “For letting me be with you.”

He lies down, pulling you with him until you’re impossibly close.

When he wakes up tomorrow, you’ll be there– asleep in his arms, safe and sound.

Ი𐑼 ♪⋆.✮ ─────────────────── ★ ˙ ̟｡

A/N: thank you for reading!! I realized averaging 2.5k words per fic is not the most ideal for Tumblr, so I hope this format was a bit easier to read~ ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

[artemisienne]

on the edge of salvation (pt 1.)

even after 214 years on earth, the nightmares persist.

Xavier nightmare hurt/comfort fic inspired by To Your Yesterday and his Shining Traces 4*

this is a two-part fic, part two can be found here

Ი𐑼 ♪⋆.✮ ─────────────────── ★ ˙ ̟｡

It’s well into the night when Xavier finally wakes up. Midnight yawns, darkness stretching through the room, heavy, foreboding, strange. 

It’s a subtle difference that only the trained senses of a Light Evol user would be able to perceive. Darkness didn’t end at sight— Xavier could feel it seep through his flesh, sinking into the marrow of his bones. Yet, it wasn’t unfamiliar.

He runs a hand through his hair, contemplating the foreign familiarity of his bedroom. Leather chafes his forehead, and he stills. Curiously, he flexes his gloved hand, his fingers snugly moving within the fabric. Gloves? He certainly didn’t sleep with those. The rough brush of his gloves against his face is interrupted by a familiar rip in the fabric. Not just any gloves— his Lightseeker uniform.

Xavier glances down at his hands, but nothing meets his gaze. Light blooms from his fingertips for a moment. A blink, and it’s extinguished. He sighs, suspicions confirmed by the absence of warmth. 

A nightmare. 

He bitterly closes his eyes at the realization. After a moment, he opens them again. 

The scene changes. 

Mist curls around him, opaque tendrils dissipating at the brush of his fingers. Within seconds, they reappear, coiling around his hand again. It’s this kind of push-and-pull that he hates the most, the brief moment he’s awarded hope before despair so cruelly clamps around his throat. Xavier remains perched on the edge of the bed, waiting. 

Nothing happens.

He didn’t mind. After all, Xavier was quite good at waiting. Patience was a virtue, and he was a virtuous prince. Or at least, he’d been expected to be for the better part of 400 years. Old habits die hard. 

He steadies his heart for what’s to come. He strains his eyes in the dark, tracing the vague lines of the thatched cottage room above from his memory. He didn’t need to see it to know it was there. His fingers skim the hard mattress beneath him. At least some semblance of this dream was still solid. They catch on a thin, tattered blanket. The periwinkle fabric has long decayed since he first arrived here, and now he can feel the rough threads fraying at the edges. 

A few beats pass. 

Exhausted, Xavier relents to the dream. It took quite a few runs to figure it out— the vaguely game-like dream sequence wouldn’t progress until he did its bidding. He never stopped trying to stall it, though— that sort of stubbornness came easy to him. He’d ignored the well-tread path of fate to forge his own uneven trail right next to it. But for now, he’ll play along. 

Xavier leans against the hard body of the mattress; It doesn’t creak under his weight. The room seemed to exist in a cosmic vacuum; no sound arose from any of his movements. He can’t hear the beating of his own heart, only feel the irregular drumbeat of his pulse echoing in his chest. He places his hand over his heart, desperate to cling to the faint reverb of it. It’s the only indication that he’s alive— and as long as he was alive, he’d always make his way back to you. He promised, after all. Xavier Shen wasn’t one to break promises. 

At another stretch of nothingness, Xavier relents to the whims of his subconsciousness. Sleep, it speaks. He pulls the thin sheet over his body. The threadbare rag barely covers his torso, blanketing his midriff alone. It offers no warmth, but he lets himself pretend. It’s after he’s peacefully settled that the odour hits him, assaulting his senses. Heavy, foreboding, familiar. 

Decay. 

He sits upright with a start. Xavier instinctively reaches for the other side of the bed. There isn’t anything there, he knows, he’s known the last hundred times he’s done this. But he reaches anyway, because something is different this time. Something is wrong. Wronger even in this nightmarish dreamscape.

His fingers catch on something long, a weapon, he realizes. For a second, hope glimmers within the depths of his soul. The inevitability of space-time on which his dreams had been pillared on had now collapsed. His actions had changed something.

Xavier pulled it toward him, his belated realization drawing a noiseless sound from his throat. A human spine. At its apex, a skull. The soulless, fleshless remnant of life gleams white in the vast darkness, its empty sockets locked into his. 

From the depths of the fog, a scream erupts. 

…

Xavier runs his hand through his hair, slick with sweat. His shirt clings uncomfortably to his back, soaked in trepidation. 

The guilt doesn’t get any easier after 214 years. It was just another perk of being near-immortal— he’d remain trapped in this body, encased in eternal youth as his soul decays. Philosians weren’t the type to get attached, knowing their fates. And yet, Xavier foolishly believed the path he’d carved for himself would lead him elsewhere, let him defy the nature of his being to be with you.

He couldn’t change fate. You were destined to die, no matter what he did, and he’d sworn to find you as long as his heart kept beating. But what after that? When the clock of his life had ceased to tick, and you’d remained a knightless queen waiting for a dead star for an eternity? How much longer could he go on like this?

It was easier to bear the guilt when he was asleep, but even that momentary reprieve has been stolen away from him. Once his breathing steadies, Xavier dares himself to look at you, slumbering away next to him. His pupils trail your undulating chest. He leans back against the bedframe, a small sigh escaping him.

You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive. And as long as you’re alive, as long as you’re safe and within his reach, it was okay. He’d bear the weight of it all on his shoulders for you. 

“I hope your dreams are sweet,” he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. He lightly pinches your cheek. “At least one of us deserves to be happy.”

He takes the flutter of your lashes as an affirmation of his wish.

[protoscars]

Exposed

Just a little hurt/comfort/fluff with Reader x Zayne

There is a long pause as Zayne looks at you carefully over the edges of his silver rimmed reading glasses. Then he slowly, methodically, sets down his coffee mug, and lowers the paper he was reading.

"Say that again?" It's part question, part command the way he intones it, his piercing eyes fully settling on you.

You've already screwed up all your courage, there's no going back now. Yet still you quirm a bit under his stare.

"I...I just wanted to know, would you see me naked if you did heart surgery on me?" You can feel the flush creeping onto your face now, a burning embarrassment that bleeds across your the apples of your cheeks.

You don't get the immediate and clinical answer you expect. Instead, he removes the glasses, folding them gently. You can't be certain, but you almost think a soft sigh escapes his lips as he stands from the breakfast table, coffee now abandoned, and steps around it to place himself at your side.

With your boyfriend towering over you, you can't help but look up at him. You are engulfed by his shadow, which eclipses the early morning light. It's a strangely comforting place to be.

Then the sun is blinding your eyes once again, as he crouches, one knee down, to bring his face level with yours, intimately close.

"My love, I have seen you naked countless times." His tone is measured, but soft, and he seems to be resisting the urge to reach out and trace the flush on your cheeks, something akin to mirth but much kinder dancing in his eyes. "Why are you asking this now?"

You finally break yourself away, choosing to focus on a button near the top of his shirt, rather than his penetrating gaze.

"Because..." You begin softly, but are interrupted by a hand on your chin, gently lifting your head, and eyes, back up to meet his, not giving you the choice to look away. "Because...then it wouldn't just be you. It would be everyone else in the operating room. It would be Greyson, and- and-..." you choke on the tears that are just starting to spill over your cheeks.

His thumb wipes them away, and before you can react, he is rising from the floor in front of you to lift you from the chair and take your place, while placing you in his lap in one smooth motion.

You bury your face in his chest without thinking about it, the comfort of his scent welcome and grounding. One hand cups the back of your head, a possessive and comforting motion, the other rubbing small circles on your back.

His voice rumbles in his chest when he speaks, and you feel his next words as you hear them. "I can tell you all about how we protect a patient's modesty, and I can tell you all about how no one is thinking about anything besides what is inside that perfect chest of yours, but this isn't about that, is it?" It's a true question this time, asked so kindly you all but melt into him.

He gives you time. Continuing his motions of gentle reassurance and soothing. Daring to lift your head from his chest and peer up at the man who holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world, you nod slightly. "How do you always know?"

"Mmm..." He hums and removes his hand from your head long enough to wipe away a few more stray tears, "Because, my love, I know you." You reach up and catch his wrist, a soft smile managing to find its way onto your face.

"That's not a real answer." You tease, and he smiles, ever so slightly, back down at you.

"And you haven't given me one, either." He lets your hand slide from his wrist up into his. But his other hand doesn't leave your back, pressing ever so gently into your lower spine.

"I just...I guess...I suppose..." You start three times without finding the right words, but he continues to watch you with a patience that seemingly knows no end. You fiddle with his fingers, slotting yours through his, marveling for the thousandth time at the size of his hands, and the precision of the acts they perform.

Eventually, you try again, "I was thinking about what it must be like for you, in surgery." You see his brows lower, the look on his face telling you that he is weighing every word you say as if they are insights more valuable than any researcher or physician could offer.

"I was thinking about what it must be like for you, in surgery." You repeat yourself, letting the words feel more comfortable in your mouth this time. "And it made me think...how it must feel...to see someone, so helpless, so...exposed. Laid out in front of you." Your eyes are searching his now, looking for any clue as to what lies behind his composure. "And how you...how...how intimate...that has to be..." You trail off for a moment, and lick your lips, struggling to find the right words. "And I wondered...if you've ever seen me that way?"

Zayne reaches down, his face blocking out the sun once more, and you blink in the sudden change of light. His hand begins to trace the contours of your face, as if he can commit them to memory simply through touch.

"I have." He answers simply, but with an intensity briefly takes your breath away. His hands never falter, they are tracing your body now, finding their way down your shoulders, as if still trying to memorize every inch of your skin.

"But more importantly - I have had the privilege of knowing that you in ways that matter even more." He pauses, drawing you closer to him, a certain and firm guiding of your chest to his, as he encircles you with his arms. "And most importantly, you have known me." His voice dips low, and he lowers his forehead to yours.

"I have bared my heart to you, and you alone, my Jasmine." You feel his breath with each word, and his heart beating against your own. "What can there be left to fear?"

[sharieb]

This has been an idea I had in my head for a while and I'd be honored if you would write it: Hurt/comfort fic of Non-MC learning about the LIs' past/relationship with MC. For whatever reason, Non-MC wants to know what MC is to the LI and he chooses to be honest. Cue feelings of inadequency because what's our love compared to one that's spread throughout lifetimes? And then the LI assures us that we are the love they chose this time/a different kind of love/something like that

The Love I Chose Is The Love That Stays (Revised)

Setup: You didn’t mean to ask. But some silences demand to be broken. One quiet evening, after weeks of unspoken distance, you finally look him in the eye and ask what she meant to him—MC, the girl who lingers in his story like an echo.

You already know she mattered. What you don’t know is if you’ve ever stood in her place.

Pairing: LADs X Non-MC reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Writer's notes: After personally reading this fic (fully awake this time), I realized that most of the boys don't sound so serious about their new love commitment, which didn't sit right with me. Thank you to my lovelies in the replies for pointing it out to me. So here's a revised version.

You ask while seated beside him in his home office, a soft blanket draped around your shoulders. The room is dimly lit, filled with quiet warmth and the faint scent of brewed herbal tea. He’s reviewing medical reports on a tablet, his expression unreadable in the glow of the screen. You’ve watched him like this before—composed, clinical, detached. The Zayne everyone else sees. But not the one who closes his office door when you’re cold. Not the one who adjusts the lights for your comfort. Not the one who sets aside everything when you cry in his arms.

Did you love her?" He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t need to. "Yes." It’s a scalpel-sharp honesty. You flinch. Zayne finally sets the chart aside. Turns toward you. "She was the first person I tried to save. And the first one I lost." He pauses. His brow creases. "Not just once. Every time. Every lifetime. She died in my arms more times than I want to remember. Different faces. Different wounds. Same end." You can barely breathe. "And I spent years," he continues, quieter now. "Making decisions as if she might still be here. As if every moment was just another attempt to fix what fate refused to let me undo. I defied fate more times than I can count—rewriting timelines, breaking sacred laws, gambling everything for a different ending. And every time, I paid the price. In blood. In memory. In silence." Your throat tightens. You nod. "And me? What am I?" Zayne leans in, taking your hand. His fingers are cold. But his grip is sure.

You are the reason I stopped trying to go back. That one person who made me realized that there is no point in recreating the past. Cause you're the only future I want to walk toward.

He brushes his thumb across your knuckles.

I didn’t stop loving her because I forgot or even want to forget her...I stopped because I met you. Because with you, love doesn’t have to be tragic to be true.

Your lips tremble. "But what if she returned? What if fate asked you to choose again?" He exhales. The kind of breath that sounds like letting go. Then I’d choose you. Again, and again. Not because it’s easy, but because you’re real. Because I’m not chasing ghosts anymore. I’m holding on to you." His voice drops lower, more tender. "With you, I don’t feel like a surgeon trying to hold back death. I feel like a man who gets to live." And you believe him. Because Zayne does not say what he does not mean.

The Onchinus base hums low in the distance, underground machinery echoing in the walls. You and Sylus stand in the quiet alcove of his private quarters, lit only by a flickering terminal and the low burn of wall-mounted lights. The tension between you has nothing to do with the mission reports spread across his desk. Not really. It was already there, a heavy silence trailing both of you for days. A silence that had everything to do with her. But she came up anyway. "You loved her," you whisper, arms wrapped around yourself. "Didn’t you?" His back is to you. The war table glows faintly beneath his fingers. He says nothing for a long time. Then, slowly: "I loved what she meant. What she gave me permission to believe in. That I could be more than this." He pauses. The machinery behind him groans like a warning. "We weren’t just a moment. We were a loop. Again and again. And each time, I reached for her. And each time, I lost her. Sometimes to war. Sometimes to betrayal. Sometimes... to me." Your breath catches. "And I let it happen," he murmurs. "I let fate shape me into something that could never hold her long enough to keep her alive. Even though she carried half my soul. Literally. We were made of the same fire." You swallow. "And me? What do I mean?" He turns, eyes dark. Not angry. But stripped bare. You are not a myth. Not a prophecy. You are the reality I wake up for. The reason I no longer beg the stars for answers. The reason I look in the mirror and see someone worth saving.

You shake your head. "But I wasn’t fate." He closes the space between you. Each step deliberate. Measured. "Exactly. You weren’t written into the story. You disrupted it. You made me question it." His voice lowers. "She was the cycle. You are the change. Even with half my soul still tethered to her memory, I chose you. I choose you still. Because fate never asked me what I wanted. You did. And you stayed." His hand finds yours. Tight. Real. "I broke the loop when I loved you. And I’m never going back." And maybe that kind of love is fiercer. The kind that doesn’t dazzle—it endures

It happens in the quiet of his apartment, the light from the window slanting just right across the cover of an old poetry book left on the coffee table. One you’ve never touched, but always noticed. The kind of book that smells like memory, like a version of him that you never got to meet. He hums faintly as he waters a small plant near the window, his fingers gentle with the leaves. The same gentleness he uses with you. But tonight, it feels distant. Absent. Like something is missing. "What is she to you?" you ask. Your voice is steady. But only just. He freezes. Slowly, he turns, his hand still cupped around the stem of the plant. His eyes search your face. You can see him preparing to lie. But he doesn’t. He never does. She was the start of something," he finally says. "But starts aren’t always meant to last. She lit the match, yes. But it was always a fire I couldn’t live inside." He sits beside you, gaze distant. "For a long time, I thought I'd spend forever chasing her. Dreaming about what we were supposed to be. But even in my best dreams, we always ended in tragedy." You nod, gaze drifting to the book. The poetry she once quoted to him is written in the margins, ink faded but never erased. "And me?" Xavier walks over, kneels beside the couch you’re curled on, and rests his forehead against your knee. "You are the quiet I never knew I needed. The one that doesn’t burn me to ash."

Gently, his hand finds yours. "She was the opening act. But you’re the whole story. You’re the reason I stopped searching for endings and started building a life I want to live."

You let out a shaky breath. "So you’d still choose me... even if it meant giving her up forever?" He looks up, expression fierce in its tenderness. "It is. Because you are the one I would still choose, with or without fate's hand. Even if I never knew your name, I would find you again." He presses a kiss to your hand, then your cheek. "I already did. And I would again. Because she pulled me through the past. But you... you gave me a future." And somehow, that becomes the line that tethers you back together.

It comes late on Skyhaven, wind whispering through the grass near the launch pad. Caleb lies beside you on the deck, staring up at the constellations. You’ve traced them with him countless times. Tonight, they feel heavier. You’ve both been quiet. Until you ask, "Were they brighter with her?" He exhales slowly. You feel his hand twitch against yours. "They were... blinding," he finally says. "Because I chased them like I was running from something. And every time, she was there—always just beyond reach." His voice is quiet. "They made us together, you know. Me and her. Test subjects. Enforcers in training." "We were never supposed to love, only obey. But we did. In every loop. Every life. We fought back." "But at the end of it all, we never made it to the end. We were always a story half-finished. A mission abandoned." You close your eyes. Your chest aches. You look up at the same sky, feeling smaller than ever. "And me?" He doesn’t speak right away. Just takes your hand. You make me want to land. Not crash. Not flee. Just... stay. You blink, but tears come anyway. "But you were in love with her." He turns to face you. "I was in love with what we used to be. With the war, with the resistance, with the burn of hope that always cost us everything. But I love you for who you are, not who we were." He brushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb trailing the shell of it like it matters. "I’m not looking up anymore. I’m looking forward. And when I picture the future, it’s with you." His hand tightens around yours. "You are my gravity. And I’m not afraid of staying grounded anymore." And you realize he stopped flying because he wanted to build something here. With you.

The question escapes in his studio, between unfinished canvases and scattered sketches. The scent of linseed oil clings to the air. You see her in the curve of a shoulder he just painted. In the way light kisses the imaginary cheekbones on a half-done portrait. "She was your muse, wasn’t she?" He doesn’t flinch. Just sets down his brush. "Yes," he says. "She taught me that beauty could ache. That art could be a wound." A beat. And I spent lifetimes trying to paint her out of my memory. But every time, it came back to her... unfinished. Fleeting. Something I kept trying to capture but could never hold. You step back. Arms crossed. Voice quieter now. He notices. Paint-stained hands circle your waist. But then I met you," he says, more softly. "You didn’t haunt me. You held me. You didn’t ask to be remembered... you made me want to be present. B-But...

Shhh...

He shushed you lovely to stop you from second guessing you're worth while he tilts your chin up. "You gave me back color. Laughter. The belief that art could be soft. That I could be soft."

He kisses you with the gentleness of sunrise. "She was the inspiration I bled for. But you are the masterpiece I chose to live beside for the rest of my life." He said with a loving smile. Not like that of an successful artist. But as a man, who is is completely and utterly in love. "No," he says. "You make me want to wake up in the morning. You make me want to stay." He takes your hand and presses it against his chest. Because you're a love that's complete. You are here. You are real. And despite the gods and the sea and all the weight of stories, I chose you. "And if the world said to choose again, I'll choose you still." "Always." And you realize maybe you always were. Maybe he sees you not in brushstrokes, but in the colour he finally allows himself to live in.

Because sometimes the loudest love is not the one that echoes across lifetimes.

Sometimes, it's the one that remains when no one is watching.

The love that stays.

The love they chose.

[sharieb]

Can I request headcanons where Lads men accidentally overhear Non MC Reader telling MC that you do like him but it's definitely unrequited please? - 🌕 anon

Didn't Mean for You to Hear That

Setup:  After a casual hangout, out and about, you confide in MC privately; however, a certain someone overheard your conversation.

Pairing: LADs x Non-MC! reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

The hangout starts lively, ending with an impromptu street food crawl through the buzzing heart of the city.

Zayne tags along at first reluctantly, but you coax a few smiles from him between skewers of grilled dumplings and fried lotus.

As the others peel off, you and MC slip into a quiet promenade garden hidden behind a noodle stall.

You find a bench beside a koi pond. The lantern light makes the water ripple like stardust.

You exhale slowly. "Zayne’s incredible. But I know I’m not the one he turns to when he’s tired. I’m just someone he patches up and sends on their way."

MC frowns. "You think he lingers around everyone that long after stitching them up?"

You shrug. "He’s just kind. And I’m lucky to be part of his routine. That’s all."

Beyond a swath of night-blooming lilies, Zayne stands still, the shadows cloaking him. Routine?

He swallows hard. You think I bring coffee to everyone who comes in with a paper cut?

He grips the bench post. The urge to step out wars with his instinct to stay silent.

The next time you’re scheduled for a check-in, the appointment’s changed. Zayne greets you with your favourite coffee already in hand.

He meets your eyes. "I don’t keep you around because it’s convenient. I want you here."

During the examination, his touch is softer. His fingers linger just a second longer. He doesn’t ask why your pulse is fast.

After a tense supply run, the group winds up at a rooftop bar on the edge of N019, half-abandoned, still somehow fully powered, with static-ridden speakers and sputtering neon signs.

Sylus is the one who suggested the place. You think nothing of it, even as he looms near the edge, watching more than speaking.

You and MC eventually find yourselves pressed against the rusted railing, stargazing beyond the blinking skyline. You murmur, "I like him. Really like him. But let’s be real, guys like Sylus don’t destroy kingdoms for someone like me."

MC replies without missing a beat. "He lights fires just by breathing next to you."

You laugh. "That’s just who he is. Dangerous. Beautiful. Temporary."

By the stairwell, cloaked in shadow, Sylus stills. The word lands with venom. Temporary?

His jaw tightens. You think I wouldn’t tear the city down if you asked me to stay?

He says nothing. He walks away into the dark before his voice could betray him.

Days later, your inbox pings with an untraceable message.

It opens with static, then a haunting jazz loop. Then his voice:

"You’re not temporary. Don’t ever say that again."

After that, Sylus returns to acting the same, but never quite leaves the room you’re in. Never let you walk ahead alone.

The group got a rare aligned break to watch the planet rise from a sky-high station platform on Skyhaven.

Caleb brings cinnamon cocoa, wrapped pastries, and a blanket "for everyone" that he keeps folding just over your side.

After the others leave, you and MC linger on the transparent glass stairs overlooking the clouds.

You hug your knees and whisper, "You know… he was my high school crush... still kind of is. But now he’s a Colonel. I’m just a classmate from before."

MC side-eyes you. "He just sacrificed the last cookie to you like it was a noble death. That doesn’t feel casual."

You laugh weakly. "It’s nostalgia. He remembers the past, not... me now."

Caleb stands a level above, half-hidden near the lift. He doesn’t move. Still your crush? And you think I only see who you were?

His hands clench around the edge of the railing. Images flash: your hand wrapped around a toy plane, your voice calling his name, your eyes today, wiser, more tired, more beautiful.

That night, you find a model plane on your bed. Not new. One he saved. Painted again.

A tiny banner reads: "Some flights take longer to come back around. But I never stopped tracking yours."

The next morning, he waits at the mess hall like always. This time, the seat beside him is saved with a second thermos.

When you sit, he doesn’t bring it up.

But when you break your cookie and hand him half, he says, "Save me the wing, yeah? You always liked the middle."

Group hangout begins with indie bookstore hopping, laughter over mismatched recommendations, and ends at a quiet tea house with soft jazz and steamed windows.

The group splits off. You and MC take a detour through a neon-lit park on the way home, arms full of pastries and warm drinks.

Xavier claims he needs to catch the train before rush hour and ducks out early.

You and MC settle on a bench under a humming streetlamp. The hum feels like a secret keeper.

You sigh: "I like Xavier, but he doesn’t like me like that. He’s sweet, but I’m not the one he loses sleep over."

MC leans in, trying to read your expression. "He zones out whenever you talk. That has to count for something."

You smile weakly. "I think I make him comfortable, not... curious."

Behind you, half-concealed by a park pillar, Xavier stands frozen. You think I sleep easily because of you? I haven’t slept in weeks.

His breath hitches. So many nights he stayed up replaying your laugh, every shared glance. But he’d convinced himself you didn’t notice.

Later, he sends you a meme over text, with a comment that sounds light but holds tension beneath.

The next time you stop by the tea shop, the barista hands you your favourite order, already paid for. "By someone with blue eyes and a weirdly specific smile," the barista told you.

That night, Xavier watches your name flash on his screen and locks his phone before he can say too much.

The day winds down with the group meandering through an open-air mural alley by the shore, where art stalls display driftwood paintings and watercolor skies.

Rafayel is in his element, pointing out brushstrokes, teasing meanings behind abstract pieces, gifting you a souvenir sea-glass charm.

When the group splits to grab food, you and MC stay back near a quiet stone bench by the surf.

The ocean laps gently against the dock pylons below. You sigh, leaning forward.

"He’s so beautiful it hurts," you admit. 

"But he’d never see me that way. I’m not special."

MC laughs under her breath. "You’re literally the only person he painted in conversation tonight."

You shake your head. "That’s just Rafayel. Intense. Fleeting. He loves everything for a moment."

Around the corner, hidden near the faded staircase to the tide-walk, Rafayel leans against a mural with crossed arms. Fleeting?

The word slices deep.

He bites his tongue, staring out at the sea. You think I’m not serious about you? I memorised your laugh before I even knew your name.

That night, he doesn’t go home. He sketches by the sea, haunted by the truth you believe.

The next morning, a small framed canvas leans against your door. It’s the view you had from the bench, painted in aching detail.

Behind it, a card: "Some things don’t need to be said aloud. But I’ll still show you. – R."

When you see him again, he doesn’t bring it up. But he stands a little closer and asks questions with his eyes instead of words.

[sharieb]

Not that I believe any of them would do this, but say that the LADS did the “current girlfriend” prank on Non-MC (or something similar); and instead of getting upset or possessive, we just have this silent acceptance, like a part of us always believed our relationship with them was temporary. Cue intense backtracking, reassurance, and possible begging for forgiveness

Temporary, Until Proven Otherwise

Setup: It started as a harmless bet, one that spread through Linkon faster than common sense. A trending prank calling your partner your “current girlfriend” was supposed to be funny, a bit of teasing, a spark for laughter. But for the men who loved you, the joke landed wrong. They’d each expected a roll of your eyes or that soft pout you wore when you were pretending to be annoyed. What they got instead was quiet acceptance, a calm so sharp it hurt. And that silence, more than anything, made them realize how deeply they’d taken your heart for granted.

Pairing: LADs x Non-MC! reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It started off innocently enough, a small reunion with a few of his old college friends at a quiet bar overlooking Linkon’s cityscape. It had been months since Caleb had seen them, and they’d immediately fallen back into their old habits of teasing and laughter.

“Come on, Cal,” one of them joked, elbowing him lightly. “You’ve been too uptight. You used to have a sense of humor before the military drained it out of you.”

Caleb smirked, swirling his drink. “You mistake discipline for dullness.”

“Sure,” Gideon chimed in with a grin. “Then humor us. You’ve gotta try this trend. Call her your current girlfriend in front of everyone. Let’s see how long that ice-cold composure holds.”

He snorted. “What are you, twelve?”

“Pretty much,” Gideon said without shame. “Come on, man, for old times’ sake. You used to pull pranks better than any of us.”

Caleb rolled his eyes but chuckled. “You’re unbelievable.” Still, he couldn’t quite shake the playful thought. It had been a long time since he’d seen that look on your face, half exasperation, half fondness. Maybe, just maybe, this could lighten things up. When you arrived a few minutes later, joining them with a polite smile and a wave, Caleb stood from his seat and gestured toward you with casual ease. “Ah, there she is,” he said, tone deceptively smooth. “My current girlfriend. The one keeping me halfway sane these days.” His friends burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the open balcony. It was supposed to be harmless. But your expression faltered. Just barely. A flicker of hurt passed through your eyes before you covered it with a soft, practiced smile.

“Current, huh?” you repeated lightly. “Guess that makes me an interim assignment. How very on-brand for you, Colonel.”

The laughter faded almost instantly. Caleb’s heart dropped. “Hey,” he started, but you were already taking a polite step back. “I’ll go order another round,” you said gently, voice steady but distant. “You can finish the joke without me.”

You walked off before he could say another word.

Another one of Caleb's friends winced. “…Wow. Didn’t think she’d take it like that.”

Caleb exhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The temperature of the night air seemed to shift, gravity pressing heavier around their table, the kind of tension his evol mirrored without his consent.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Neither did I.”

He didn’t even bother with goodbyes. He just grabbed his coat and followed you out onto the quieter terrace, the city lights reflecting in your eyes when you finally turned to face him.

“You think that was funny?” you asked, voice even, though your hands were gripping the railing.

“No,” he said instantly. “It was supposed to be stupid. I let them talk me into it.”

You gave a small, humorless laugh. “You, of all people, letting someone talk you into something?”

Caleb grimaced. “Yeah. I forgot what it’s like to be around idiots who think teasing equals affection.”

You didn’t respond, just looked out toward the skyline. The silence stretched between you, heavy and aching.

He finally said, quieter this time, “You’re not current, you know. You never were. You’re the only thing that’s ever felt steady.”

That made you glance at him, surprise softening your features.

He took a step closer, voice low. “If I could erase that word from your mind, I would. But since I can’t, I’ll prove it every day until you stop believing it.”

You blinked, caught between disbelief and the flicker of warmth in his tone. “You’re terrible at jokes, Caleb.”

He smiled faintly. “Then I’ll stick to promises.”

The following day after that night, when you returned home, the smell of something warm and familiar filled the air. Caleb had beaten you there, sleeves rolled up as he finished plating your favorite dinner. A small envelope and a new, cute plushie of your favorite animal rested beside the table setting, his handwriting neat and precise:

Permanent reservation. No expiration.

It was supposed to be a lighthearted lunch break at Skyhaven. Simone, Tara, and a few Hunters Association techs were lounging near the café’s terrace, gossiping and scrolling through their feeds.

“Come on, Xavier,” Tara laughed, nudging his arm. “You never play along with these trends. You’d sound adorable if you said it. You know she’d melt.”

He chuckled softly. “The current girlfriend prank? That’s juvenile.” “Then prove us wrong,” Simone teased, waving a pair of coupons to his favorite hotpot restaurant. “One line, Starboy. That’s all it takes. The meal’s yours.”

He sighed, eyes flicking toward the engineering bay where you stood, calibrating a new stabilizer with your usual focus. “This feels ridiculous,” he murmured, but he took the bait anyway. When you approached to hand him a diagnostic report, he smiled faintly and said, “Ah, perfect timing. Everyone, this is my current girlfriend. She’s the reason the world still has light.”

The table erupted in laughter, the kind that comes too quickly, too loud. You didn’t laugh. You blinked once, twice, then smiled gently, an expression that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Current girlfriend, huh?” you echoed. “Guess even starlight shifts eventually.” Simone’s grin faltered. Tara’s phone slowly lowered from where she’d been recording. You placed the report on the table and added softly, “It’s fine, Xavier. I never expected to keep up with the stars forever.”

When you turned and walked away, the golden warmth of the terrace dimmed. The faint glow that usually followed him flickered out. The silence that followed was heavy, smothering.

Tara cleared her throat. “That… did not go how I thought it would.”

Xavier’s jaw clenched. The air around him shimmered faintly with his evol, threads of light fracturing like shards of glass. “No,” he said quietly. “It didn’t.”

He stood abruptly, chair scraping the ground, and strode after you. Every step left faint motes of light behind, fading as quickly as they formed.

He found you on the observation deck, leaning against the rail, eyes fixed on the skyline. The sunset made your hair glow like molten gold.

“You always did take pranks too literally,” you murmured when he stopped beside you.

He exhaled through his nose. “You think I meant it?”

You shrugged, gaze distant. “I think some people outgrow their constellations. Maybe I was one you’ll pass by.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the reason I stopped chasing everything that wasn’t real.” That made you glance at him, a hint of disbelief flickering through your eyes. “Then why joke like that?” He looked pained. “Because I forgot how easily my words can burn when I don’t guard them. Because for a second, I wanted to see you smile,and instead, I dimmed you.”

The silence stretched. Then, his voice softened further. “You’re not current, moonlight. You’re constant. My fixed point.”

Your breath hitched at the old nickname. The one he hadn’t used since the night he first told you he loved you.

When you didn’t respond, he stepped closer, close enough that the faint hum of his evol wrapped you both in warmth. “If it takes a lifetime, I’ll keep proving that.”

You turned, meeting his gaze. For a long heartbeat, the light in his eyes mirrored yours.

Later that evening, a small box appeared on your workbench, a plate of lemon tarts, carefully remade by hand, a couple of coupons to his favorite hotpot restaurant, and a folded note.

To my constant. Even stars need somewhere to come home to.

When you looked up, he was watching from the hallway, hands tucked into his pockets, the faintest, most tentative smile on his face.

Rafayel had been the first to laugh when Thomas mentioned the trend. He was painting in his studio, sleeves rolled up, streaks of crimson and gold smudged across his skin.

“Come on, Mr Rafayel,” Thomas goaded. “You’ve got the perfect muse for it. Just say the line. ‘This is my current girlfriend.’ I want to see her reaction.”

Rafayel chuckled, brushing a streak of paint across the canvas. “You really think she’d fall for something that trivial? She knows I adore her. Still…” His lips curved into a smirk. “A little mischief never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t think twice about it. He rarely did when it came to humor.

When you walked in, balancing a tray of freshly brewed coffee and a stack of exhibition notes, he turned to you with that trademark grin,the one that could melt crowds and infuriate critics.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he drawled. “Everyone, this is my current girlfriend. I figured I should at least introduce her before I trade her in for a new muse next season.”

Thomas snorted. The studio assistants chuckled.

But you didn’t.

Your smile wavered, just barely. The coffee tray clinked softly as you set it down, your movements careful, precise.

“Next season, huh?” you murmured, tone steady but eyes dulling. “Guess that’s the life of a muse—temporary inspiration.”

His grin faltered. He opened his mouth, but you were already turning away, quietly excusing yourself to check the drying racks.

The laughter faded. Thomas scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, maybe that wasn’t—”

“I know,” Rafayel cut in, voice low. The lightness was gone, replaced by something weightier. He wiped his hands on a cloth and stared at the paint-streaked floor. “I know.”

For the first time in a long while, his studio felt cold.

He found you later in the adjacent room, arranging finished pieces with your usual care. The hum of the dehumidifier filled the silence between you.

“You really think I’d trade you in?” he said softly, leaning against the doorway.

You didn’t turn around. “You joke about love a lot, Rafayel. Sometimes it feels like that’s all it is…a performance.”

He stepped closer, the scent of paint and rose oil trailing behind him. “Maybe I use laughter to hide the truth. Maybe I make light of things because I’m afraid they’re too real.”

You finally faced him, brow furrowed. “And what’s the truth?”

“That I’m a fool,” he admitted, voice steady but low. “Because I thought being dramatic would keep things bright between us, but instead, I made you believe you were disposable.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

He crossed the distance, paint-stained fingers brushing your cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness. “You’re not a muse, sweetheart. You’re the reason I still see color when I wake up.”

You blinked rapidly, torn between disbelief and the ache in your chest. “You shouldn’t say things like that so easily.”

“I don’t say them easily,” he whispered. “I just finally mean them.”

When you softened just enough for him to pull you into his arms, he exhaled shakily, the last of his bravado fading with the brush of your forehead against his chest.

Later into the next day, you found a small note on your work table, pressed between two paintbrushes and a tiny glass jar of dried roses.

For the muse who stayed long after the painting dried. Dinner tonight? No pranks. Just me.

It started as a harmless joke. Or so they said.

A few mischievous interns had been whispering about the “current-girlfriend” trend all morning, trying to see who could get the most stoic doctor in the hospital to play along. Zayne ignored them until the promise of freshly baked macrons and his favorite milk tea entered the conversation.

“Come on, Dr. Zayne,” one of the interns teased, “You barely react to anything outside the OR. Humor us for once. Just call her your current girlfriend in front of everyone, see how she reacts.”

He should have said no. He knew he should have said no. But the laughter, the sweets, and the harmless tone of it all dulled his better judgment.

When you walked into the staff lounge with a patient file tucked under your arm, Zayne cleared his throat and forced a small smile.

“Oh, perfect timing,” he said, glancing between you and the group. “This is my current girlfriend. She keeps me in check.”

The interns laughed, one nearly choking on his coffee. It was supposed to be funny.

But you just froze.

Not in surprise, not in embarrassment, but in that quiet way he had seen in patients who had already accepted their diagnosis. You smiled, soft, small, practiced.

“Current, huh?” you repeated lightly. “I guess that makes sense. Everyone’s got an expiration date somewhere.” The room fell silent. Your tone wasn’t bitter, just calm, like you were acknowledging a truth you had known all along. You handed him the file without meeting his eyes. “I’ll go update my charts,” you said. “Wouldn’t want your current girlfriend to mess it up.”

The door clicked shut behind you.

Laughter died instantly. The air in the room dropped several degrees. Frost formed along the edge of Zayne’s water bottle, a crystalline sheen creeping up the metal.

One of the interns swallowed hard. “Uh, Doctor Zayne?”

Zayne’s eyes were sharp enough to pierce through bone. His evol stirred beneath his skin, an instinctive surge of cold fury that rolled through the lounge like a winter storm.

“Which one of you thought this was a good idea again?” His voice was quiet, too quiet. The kind of calm that preceded blizzards.

No one answered. No one met his gaze.

He didn’t wait for an apology. He was already gone, footsteps echoing against the sterile tiles as the temperature slowly began to rise behind him.

He found you in the supply room, arms crossed loosely as you pretended to sort boxes of gauze.

“Hey,” he started, his voice low, uncertain.

You didn’t look up. “It’s fine, Doctor Zayne. I know it was a joke.”

“That’s not,” he stopped himself. “It wasn’t supposed to sound like that.”

You turned, finally meeting his gaze. Your smile was faint but tired. “It’s okay. I always figured you’d move on eventually. You don’t owe me permanence.”

The words hit harder than any scalpel slip.

He took a step closer, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. You’re not, this isn’t temporary. You’re not temporary.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Then why did it sound so easy when you said it?”

Zayne’s throat tightened. He reached out, fingertips brushing your wrist. “Because I’m an idiot. Because I forgot how words sound when they leave a coward’s mouth.”

That drew a breath of laughter from you, soft and unsteady.

He exhaled shakily. “I don’t want a current anything. You know me, I plan for the long-term. I see you there, in all of it. So if I ever sound like I don’t, hit me over the head with a stethoscope.”

You smiled then, just a little, eyes glistening. “That’s a dangerous request, Dr. Snowie.”

“I’ll risk it,” he murmured. When you finally let him pull you into a quiet hug, his heart steadied for the first time all day. The scent of antiseptic and your shampoo filled his senses, grounding him in a truth that wasn’t fleeting.

Later that afternoon, a delivery arrived at your station, a small tray of chocolate éclairs, strawberry mochi, and a note written in Zayne’s neat handwriting:

For my not-so-current girlfriend. Permanent position already filled, if you’ll have me. When you glanced toward the observation window, he was there, leaning casually against the wall, pretending to read a chart.

But his smile, when your eyes met his, was soft and full of apology, and this time, it held no expiration date.

The twins, Luke and Kieran, had been up to something all morning. Sylus knew that look, the shared grin that meant chaos was coming. They’d cornered him in his office, coffee in hand and mischief in their voices. “Boss,” Luke started, trying to sound innocent. “You’ve been all serious lately. When’s the last time you made boss lady blush?” Kieran grinned. “Yeah, it’s been ages since she gave you that look—y’know, the one right before she starts railing into you for being impossible. We miss that expression.” Sylus leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey glass in his hand, smirk curving. “You two are fishing for entertainment again, huh?” “Come on, boss,” Luke pressed. “It’s just a prank. Call her your current girlfriend in front of everyone. She’ll flip, you’ll tease her, and we’ll all laugh. Easy win.”

He snorted, exhaling smoke. “You idiots really don’t know when to quit.” But the idea lingered. The memory of your exasperated face, cheeks puffed, brows knit, trying to look stern when you were too cute to pull it off, sparked something in him. It had been weeks since he’d seen it. Work had been heavy, and you’d been quieter than usual.

“…Fine,” he muttered, placing his glass of whiskey. “But you two are paying for lunch if she stabs me.”

When you walked into the Onychinus control room, holopad in hand, the twins straightened in anticipation. Sylus didn’t even look up from his monitor when he spoke.

“Ah, there she is,” he drawled, voice lazy and sharp as a knife. “My current girlfriend, don’t mind the rest of them, sweetheart, they’re just jealous I get to see that frown up close.”

Luke barely stifled a snort. Kieran bit his knuckle, shoulders shaking.

But you didn’t frown. You froze mid-step, eyes flickering toward him before lowering to the floor. The humor drained from your face, replaced by something still, something that made the twins stop laughing instantly.

“Current?” you asked softly. The word fell like glass breaking. “Right. Guess even the strongest things have… limits.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut air. Sylus blinked, thrown off. You placed the holopad on his desk without looking at him.

“Excuse me, boss,” you said quietly. “I’ll handle the next report remotely.”

You left before anyone could speak.

Luke opened his mouth, but the words died when the lights flickered. The air around Sylus crackled, his evol leaking through his restraint. Energy hummed low, violent, static crawling over the room.

“Get. Out,” Sylus said, voice soft, dangerous. It wasn’t a shout…it didn’t need to be. The twins scrambled, mumbling apologies as they disappeared through the door.

He sat there for a long moment, staring at the spot where you’d stood. The words replayed in his mind, how soft they’d sounded leaving your lips, how final.

Damn it.

He found you outside the HQ balcony, arms crossed as you stared at the city below. The neon lights painted your face in shades of violet and blue. “You really think I meant that?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t look at him. “You joke about everything, Sylus. I figured… maybe I was just another thing to laugh about.” He stepped closer, the hum of his evol following him like a heartbeat. “You think I’d waste a joke on something I actually care about?” You turned then, eyes sharp but wet. “Then why say it?”

“Because I’m a damn idiot,” he said flatly. “And because it’s been too long since I saw you glare at me like I’m the worst man alive. Guess I forgot not every reaction’s worth chasing.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “You think that’s an excuse?” “No,” he admitted, hands sliding into his pockets. “It’s an apology wrapped in bad humor. You know me.” When he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch was steady, warm. “You’re not current, sweetheart. You’re carved into the foundation.” You let out a shaky laugh, half a sigh. “You really know how to ruin a bad mood.” “That’s my job,” he murmured, grin faint but real. Later into the night, when you returned to your desk, there was a small black envelope waiting, a sleek Onychinus seal stamped in red wax. Beside it sat a giant money bouquet arranged with red roses, crisp bills folded into petals, and a soft card tucked among them. Inside the envelope were vouchers for your favorite café and a handwritten note that simply read: I don’t do temporary. Dinner’s on me. No pranks this time.

[mrs-hatake]

While I Weep

Pairing: Sylus x F!Reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff.

Sylus hears three timid knocks on the door to his study. He waits patiently for the other person–whom he is well aware to be Y/N from her knock alone as Luke and Kieran would barge into his study without a shred of decorum. When a handful of seconds pass by and no one enters, Sylus gently calls for them.

Just as he suspected, the wooden door opens to reveal Y/N. She is standing timorously by the door, eyes downcasted while her lips twist left and right. Sylus’ eyebrow raises at the sight. Her gung ho attitude is replaced by a meager mouse, shoulders tense as hair on the skin raises in alert. Sylus has never seen Y/N like this. Even during a dangerous and life threatening mission, Y/N would march in with bravado, smirking confidently at the face of adversity.

It takes Y/N a drawn out pause for her to ask Sylus, “Can I join you?”

Sylus takes Y/N in. She’s dressed in lounge wear; a cotton shirt with matching sweatpants and a pair of fluffy slippers. There’s no makeup coloring her already beautiful face. Her hair is let loose, free. Sylus nods. But then clears his throat, “Yeah.”

As silent as a graveyard, Y/N shuffles into Sylus’s study, quick and light as a feather. Within seconds, she is standing in front of Sylus’ spinning chair. This surprises him as he, naturally, assumed that Y/N would sit on one of the few leather couches and chairs strewn about in his study. 

But as Sylus looks up at Y/N, he understands why she is standing in front of him. 

There’s a storm brewing in Y/N’s eyes, one she struggles to contain, desperately resisting the urge to be swept away by its fury. The air flowing from her slightly parted lips is thin and ragged, each exhale a fragile whisper of her inner turmoil. Unease is written all over Y/N’s face in bold strokes, vividly unveiling her fear.

No words are spoken as Sylus pushes his chair away from his desk. He gently pats one of his legs, as if coaxing a fearful animal to venture into its new home.

Hesitation flashes in Y/N’s eyes. Though it disappears as quickly as it has appeared. Gratitude can be seen instead. Slowly, Y/N sits sideways on Sylus’ lap.

Instantly, Y/N’s arms crawl up Sylus’ broad shoulders and make a home for themselves around his neck. Then, she is burying her face in that one spot under the curve of his jaw. Curious as he may be, Sylus remains silent. 

The ticking of the desk clock reminds Sylus of the report he needs to finish by the end of the night if he wants to spend his weekend with Y/N. But just before he can pull his chair forward and resume his work, a soft sound, barely audible, has him freezing in place like an ice sculpture. 

The sniffles grow louder by the second. The tears cascade like a ferocious river, instantly soaking his neck. Y/N’s frame quakes in his arms, her body trembling with each sharp intake of breath as sob after sob overtakes her. She remains utterly silent, crying like a storm in the night, its chaos and devastation wrecking everything in sight.

Each gasp, every tear shed, and the seemingly endless tremors are more painful than any bullet that has been lodged deep into Sylus’ body. 

Having been alone most of his life, Sylus isn’t sure how to comfort those in distress. After all, when he was haunted by sadness, all that Sylus had done was to fight tooth and nail to overcome it. No one was there to whisper soothing words for him. There wasn’t a hand gently caressing his back as he wept. He had to grow up quickly, hardening his heart before someone, or something, else breaks it.  

Yet, Sylus finds himself wrapping his arms around Y/N. His embrace encompasses her in a warmth that melts away all of her troubles. His hold tightens and he leans his head against hers, a gentle reminder that he is there for her, ready to catch her when she falls. 

Sylus doesn’t know how long they’ve sat like that but when Y/N finally lifts her head, her hair shielding her swollen eyes and tear streaked face, he notices just how drowsy she has gotten. 

“Hey.” Sylus whispers as he brushes away the strands of disheveled hair. He delicately wipes away the remaining tears lingering on her cheeks. 

Y/N says nothing but Sylus can clearly see the gratitude glowing in her eyes. 

Leaning in, Sylus rests his forehead against hers. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” 

Sylus then pecks Y/N’s forehead before he is carrying her to their shared bedroom, the important document left forgotten.

[akaashiit]

number neighbour — ushijima. w

𝒖shijima 𝑤akatoshi x fem!reader ( chatfic )

╱ 𝒘𝒄 # 8.6k — 𝒂uthor's 𝒏ote ﹕ reader is left handed btw! i really really like this one used all my brain power. it's been in my drafts for oh so very long (january 11) and i've just been slowly working on it :) hope you enjoy hah

more in the number neighbour collection

akaashi — smau // oikawa — chatfic

you're bored, to say the least.

it's a seemingly normal tuesday night, your homework is staring back at you with judgmental eyes, and you've scrolled through every social media app at least twice.

at this rate, you'll be forced to do your homework! and you really don't wanna do that..

that's when you see the trend going around again when you eventually reach for your phone: message your number neighbor.

it's stupid, risky, and exactly the kind of distraction you need right now. (anything to avoid homework ig)

your phone number ends in five.

you take a breath, open a new message thread, and type in your number, but change the last digit to a six.

you better be damn grateful i didn't make that six seven

you hey number neighbour! hope you arent a serial killer

you put your phone face down on your bed and wait. you expect to be ignored, left on read, or maybe blocked, like majority of the people out there on the internet.

five minutes pass. ten. then, your phone vibrates. with a racing heart, you glance at it.

xxx-xxx-xxx I'm not a serial killer, I am a student.

you snort, fingers already flying across the screen. who texts like that, apart from emailing a teacher? it's so.. stiff.

also, who just reveals that information?

okay then. you'll do the same.

you thats exactly what a serial killer would say im a student too how's life on the other side of the digit? xxx-xxx-xxx Life is fine. I'm currently finishing my evening meal. It's important to maintain a consistent schedule for digestion and recovery. you . okay 🥹 thanks for the health tip doc xxx-xxx-xxx You're welcome. you are you always this serious xxx-xxx-xxx I'm told I can be quite literal. I don't really see the point in unnecessary fluff. you unnecessary fluff 😭 well, im bored entertain me ! tell me something interesting about yourself without giving away your secret identity xxx-xxx-xxx I enjoy volleyball, and I'm left handed. you woah two fun facts and another lefty omg me too xxx-xxx-xxx Being right handed is more common, but it doesn't mean you cannot follow your interests effectively.

you stare at the screen. they sound like a textbook come to life.

you thanks for the pep talk, i feel so much more effective now 🤞 anyway im gonna go back to avoiding my essay xxx-xxx-xxx Okay you dont kill anyone tonight neighbor xxx-xxx-xxx I have already stated I'm not a murderer. Good luck with your essay. It's better to finish it now so you can sleep early.

you toss your phone aside, collapsing back on your pillows.

"what a weirdo."

you're sitting in the cafeteria, picking at your lunch, when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

xxx-xxx-xxx Did you finish the essay?

you almost choke on your own spit.

you hi to you too i did barely stayed up till two am xxx-xxx-xxx That is inefficient. Lack of sleep leads to decreased performance and physical sluggishness. you okay doctor xxx-xxx-xxx As I've stated before, if you scroll up to read our past conversation, I am not a doctor. you nvm what about you did you do your homework xxx-xxx-xxx I finished mine yesterday at 8pm. you sweat xxx-xxx-xxx Funny you should say, I'm actually at practice at the moment. you volleyball? xxx-xxx-xxx Yes. My teammate is yelling because I'm on my phone during a water break. He says I'm evolving because I'm texting a stranger. you LMAOO tell your teammate hes right you ARE becoming a social butterfly wait stranger?? we're neighbors theres a bond there xxx-xxx-xxx We share a numerical sequence. That is all. you ouch my heart 🥺 fine go back to your balls =3 xxx-xxx-xxx That is a crude way to phrase it, but I will. And what equals 3? ⤷ you hearted this message

you put your phone away, grinning. then you pull it from your pocket again, and change the contact name.

health inspector.

you're supposed to be hanging out with your friend, but they're currently hovering over your shoulder. still counts as a hangout, right?

"who are you texting?" they ask, squinting at your screen. "you've been smiling at your phone for, like, ten minutes straight."

"just my number neighbor," you say, tilting the screen away. you really need to buy a privacy screen protector.. "he's super intense. like, 'i eat for digestion' intense. well, im think they're a he."

"is he hot?"

"wha- i don't even know his name! we agreed – well, we didn't agree, but we haven't asked. it's more fun this way. no expectations."

your phone pings again, and your friend groans.

health inspector My teammate took my phone and saw your contact name. you oh no what did you set it as health inspector Number Neighbor. you BRO THATS BORING i have you set as health inspector hah health inspector I don't inspect health. Anyway, he changed your name to 'Eagle Bait'. I don't know why. you eagle bait 💔 tell your friend he'd better start running health inspector He is very fast. I doubt you could catch him. you bruh i hate u health inspector Well, I don't hate you. I don't know you well enough to harbor such strong emotions.

you groan and bury your face in your hands. he's so frustratingly literal that it's actually.. cute?

you find yourself wondering what his voice sounds like. does he talk as formally as he texts?

you hey neighbor? health inspector Yes? you nothing just making sure u were still there health inspector I am always here.

wednesday arrives with a heavy rainstorm that swiftly cancels your outdoor plans.

with nothing else to do, you're lounging on your couch, watching a movie you've already seen (and cried to) three times, when your phone lights up.

it's a photo – a blurry, shaky shot of a red haired guy making a peace sign right in front of the camera lens. he has a wild grin on his face, eyes wide and mouth leering.

health inspector My teammate took my phone again. He says hello, and that he doesn't care if you see what he looks like. His name is Tendou. you lol hi tendou tell him he has very chaotic energy even through a blurry photo 🥹 health inspector He says that it's his specialty. you i can imagine health inspector He's currently trying to read our previous messages over my shoulder. I've placed him in a headlock to prevent this.

you choke on your microwaved, triple butter popcorn. the mental image of someone putting a hyperactive redhead in a headlock is a bit too much for you.

you damn rip tendou health inspector Oh don't worry. He isn't dead you i cant with you 😭 you actually have friends? i thought you were a robot /j health inspector I'm not a robot. Tendou is my friend, although he is loud sometimes. you sometimes or all of the time? health inspector Both He's asking if you are cute. I told him I don't know. you well what did you tell him after that health inspector I told him that physical appearance is subjective and that based on your texting, you seem pretty you aw thanks 🥺 health inspector capable of basic communication. Sorry, I accidently pressed send. you wow i knew something was off you didnt use a full stop 😔 capable of basic communication.. i should put that on my tinder bio! health inspector Oh. Do you use Tinder? you no lol i was joking do you? health inspector No. I don't have time. you you sounds like you never have fun. do you ever just eat junk food watch a bad movie etc health inspector I eat what is necessary for my muscles. you okay mr buff guy 🫩 health inspector How did you know I was male? you magic ABRACADABRA health inspector Okay. Occasionally, I have hayashi rice. That is enjoyable. you hayashi rice is your wild side? health inspector Yes. you jeez we need to get you out more ⤷ health inspector reacted ? to this message

the next time you get a text from Health Inspector™, you're at the shopping centre with your friends.

it's unusual because he usually only texts in the evenings after his apparently strict schedule is done.

health inspector We won. you oh a volleyball thing? congratsss (congratakaashilations) health inspector Yes. It was a practice match, but we won in straight sets. I scored 19 points. you 19 oh wow is that good? idk much about volleyball health inspector It's a high number for a three set match. My setter was very efficient today. you go celebrate! get some uh hayashi rice or something health inspector We're going to a convenience store. Tendou is buying icy poles. The blue double ones. echo reference?? you what flavor are u getting? health inspector I don't like sweets very much. I'll have water. you you're literally the most boring person ive ever met 😑 health inspector But we haven't met you oh COME ON get a chocolate bar live a little ⤷ seen by health inspector

when he doesn't reply, you go back to window shopping because you're broke asf with your friends.

five minutes later, a picture comes through, a large, slightly calloused hand holding a small chocolate bar. in the corner, it has a small nibble in the corner, as though someone has taken a tentative bite.

health inspector I bought it. It's too sweet. you CRYING i can literally feel the regret through the screen 💔💔 health inspector My teammates are staring at me. They think I'm possessed because I'm eating chocolate. you tell them your neighbor made you do it trust 😏 health inspector Okay Tendou is now screaming that I have a secret lover.

your heart does a weird little skip at the word lover, even though it's just a joke.. right?

you tell tendou i said hi and that hes a visionary health inspector I will tell him hi, but I won't tell him the other part. It will only encourage him. ⤷ you liked this message

you hey health inspector Yes? you we've been talking for a while now i still dont know your name or what you look like or how old you are health inspector I am 18. you okay one mystery solved im 17 health inspector Haha. 😂 I'm older than you you please never laugh over text again. what about a name health inspector I would prefer not to. If we find out who each other are, things might change. I like that you don't know who I am.

you pause, thumbs hovering over the screen.

he sounds like people usually treat him differently because of who he is.

orrrr maybe you're overthinking things again.

you fair enough i kind of like it too you can just be my health inspector health inspector And you can be my Eagle Bait. you NOT EAGLE BAIT AGAIN health inspector It's what's written on my screen, I've grown used to it. Also, I've said multiple times I'm not a health inspector. you touché health inspector I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight, Eagle Bait. Oh, that almost rhymes you night hi get it hi health inspector h.i hello oh youre gone GRANDPA delivered

it's a monday morning, so of course you're dragging yourself through the school hallways, clutching a coffee like it's the only thing keeping you sane.

your school is buzzing because the volleyball team has just won something huge, but you aren't really one for sports. you literally know nothing about the volleyball team - you just know their gym is always squeaky and smells like sweaty feet.

your phone buzzes in your pocket.

health inspector I am tired. you omg what happened to consistent schedules for recovery?? health inspector Our coach was dissatisfied with our blocking. We had to stay late. I didn't get to bed until 11:30pm yesterday. you uh 11:30 is a normal bedtime for most people yk also why did you have practice on a sunday.. health inspector Not for me My legs feel heavy. ⤷ replied to also why did you have practice on a sunday.. My coach says otherwise we will forget how to play. you thats stupid do you want me to send you a virtual hug

there's a long pause, and you watch the three bubbles appear and disappear.

health inspector I don't know what a virtual hug is. Is it a digital sticker? Do you want to call me? you LMFAO no it's just me saying i feel bad for you health inspector Oh you but here (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ health inspector That is a strange collection of symbols. It looks like a person with very long arms. you thats because it is a person with very long arms 😭 health inspector I showed Tendou. Now he's trying to recreate the face. It's unsettling.

you burst into giggles, earning a sharp look from your teacher and bemused looks from your classmates.

"sorry," you murmur to no one in particular.

after school, your friend drags you to the gym, against your will.

"just for a bit," she pleads. "my brother is playing, and i promised i'd bring him his knee pads. the fat lump forgot them."

you groan but follow her.

you stand by the entrance, on your phone, completely disinterested in the teenagers jumping around.

you im stuck in a gym well, not in the gym, but close enough the squeaking is giving me a headache health inspector I'm also in a gym. The squeaking is the sound of effort. you yeah no. it smells like stinky socks in here health inspector That is a valid description. you SEE health inspector My setter just messed up. He's angry now. I should go.

you look up from your phone, scanning the court in front of you, but none of them seem to be checking their phones.

"ready?" your friend asks, returning from where she's just thrown the kneepads at her brother.

"yeah, let's go. this place is too loud," you say. she laughs. "and stinks."

as you turn to leave, a volleyball rockets off the court and bounces toward the door. you stop it with your foot.

"sorry," a deep voice calls out.

a tall guy with dark hair and a bit of a scowl starts jogging toward you. he looks intimidating, but his eyes are focused entirely on the ball.

you kick it back to him. he nods once - not a smile but rather a blunt acknowledgement of your existence - and heads back to his team.

you don't think twice about it.

you heyy neighbor guess what i ate today health inspector If it's not a balanced meal, I don't want to know. you it was an oreo with ham on it health inspector Why would you put meat on a sweet? you because it tastes good why else you should try it health inspector I refuse. you suit yourself health inspector I have a question. you shoot health inspector Why do you continue to talk to me? Most people find me difficult to converse with.

you lean back against your headboard, brow furrowing as you type your response.

you because you arent fake everyone else tries so hard to be cool or funny you just tell me about your diet and your early ass bedtime it's refreshing health inspector Huh. you plus you bought that chocolate bar because i told you to that was nice :) health inspector It was very sweet. I still have half of it in my locker. you HELP WHAT are you saving it 😭 health inspector I didn't want to waste it. you has anyone told you you're such a dork health inspector I am told that often by Tendou. you of course ⤷ health inspector liked this message you so since you wont tell me your name can i give you a nickname health inspector is getting old health inspector What did you have in mind? you toshi

you don't know why you picked it - it just popped into your head.

somewhere, a tall boy with dark, olive green hair freezes. his heart thumps against his ribs.

toshi.

only his family and his closest friends call him that. it's a fragment of his actual name.

health inspector Why that name? you idk it just suits you health inspector .... you it's fine if not i know that was random health inspector Fine. You may use it. you YES

( you have changed health inspector to toshi )

you okay toshi go do your squats or whatever it is you do toshi I will. Goodbye Eagle Bait you bruh i dont get a new name 😔?? ⤷ seen by toshi kys toshi Okay I will keep myself safe ⤷ you disliked this message

tonight, your screen stays dark.

you find yourself checking your phone every ten minutes, which is annoying. you aren't supposed to care this much about a guy who thinks salt is a bold seasoning. like, seriously!

finally, a message arrives, and it isn't a 'goodnight'.

toshi I'm at a team dinner. Tendou is standing on a chair. you of course it wouldnt be tendou if he wasnt toshi He's singing a song about chocolate bars and secret neighbors. I believe he is trying to provoke me into showing him our messages again. you and did you toshi No. I told him that privacy is a human right. He told me I'm whipped

your face heats up.

you whipped? 😭 pleasee you barely like me you just like having someone to tell about your digestion and shit toshi That is inaccurate. I quite look forward to our conversations you wow i think thats actually the nicest thing youve said toshi It's the truth. People usually only talk to me about volleyball. Or they are intimidated and don't talk at all. you damn toshi You just call me a dork. you because you ARE a dork toshi but a cool one in an i follow all the rules kind of way toshi That is nice to hear. ⤷ you liked this message

saturday morning, you're at a local cafe. you snap a photo of your overly complicated iced latte - the kind with a mountain of whipped cream.

you [attachment] look at this it's the complete opposite of your water bottle 😝 toshi That looks like a heart attack desguised as a drink. you it's delicious! i wish i could send you a sip toshi I'd decline you aw man hey if i sent you something would you eat it? toshi I don't give out my address to strangers, number neighbours or not. you no shit that would be dumb 😑 i meant like ill leave it somewhere toshi That seems unnecessary. you fine have it your way ⤷ seen by toshi

you put your phone down with more force than necessary, a little irritated. you weren't actually going to stalk him or anything, but his immediate rejection wasn't exactly a nice feeling.

you go back to your book, feeling a bit silly.

around an hour later, your phone buzzes.

toshi I'm at the park near Miyagi Prefectural Library. There's a large oak tree by the fountain.

your heart skips.

that's- not far from where you are now.

you ..and? toshi I'm leaving practice now. I'll be passing that tree in twenty minutes. If you were to leave something there, I might find it.

you're already shoving your book into your bag.

you run to the bakery next door, grab a single, high quality dark chocolate brownie (less sugar, more toshi friendly), and sprint toward the park as fast as you can.

the oak tree is huge and gnarled. you tuck the small white bakery box into a crook in the roots, hidden behind some leaves, then run again.

you hide behind a nearby gazebo, peeking through the slats.

not long after, a tall figure walks down the path.

he's wearing a tracksuit - white and purple. broad shoulders, long legs, and a walk that screams 'i own this sidewalk'. from where you're crouching, you can see he has dark, olive toned hair.

it doesn't occur to you that this is the same guy from the gym..

he looks serious, his eyes scanning the ground.

he stops at the tree, looks around, making sure no one is watching, and reaches into the roots to pulls out the white box.

he opens it.

he stares at the brownie for a long time. then, he looks around again, a tiny, almost invisible soften to his expression.

he tucks the box into his gym bag and walks away.

your phone vibrates.

toshi I found it. you it's a brownie! try it before you judge it toshi I'll eat it when I get home. Thank you. ⤷ you liked this message toshi You were there Weren't you? you guilty ⤷ seen by toshi

great.

he's much more intimidating in person than he is in a text message.

toshi It was acceptable you acceptable?? thats it? toshi It was the best thing I've eaten that wasn't healthy. you HA I KNEW IT toshi Perhaps. My mother asked who gave it to me. I told her it was a neighbor, and she seemed confused as to why our elderly neighbor, Mr. Sato, would give me a brownie. you LMAAOAOO 😭💔 did you tell her the truth? toshi No. I find I like having this to myself.

you bite your lip, a slow blush creeping up your neck.

you me too toshi me too ⤷ seen by toshi

—

toshi I'm at the doctor. you shit what happened?? are you okay? did the brownie take you out? fuck im sorry are you allergic i shouldve checked oh my gosh toshi No. The brownie was fine. you oh toshi My ankle is slightly inflamed. It's a common occurrence. you does it hurt? toshi Not really. I have been instructed to ice it and refrain from jumping for 48 hours. you oh noo forty eight hours of no jumping how will you survive? 🥹 you can go relax and sit on a couch toshi I don't like sitting on a couch. It makes me feel stagnant. you you are SO dramatic just watch a movie or something toshi I am watching a video of our last match to analyse my footwork. you NO that doesnt count watch something that doesnt involve a ball toshi Suggest something.

you spend the next ten minutes arguing over movies. he shoots down every romantic comedy you suggest (highly unrealistic human behaviour) and every horror movie (i dont find jumpscares logical).

finally, he decides on a documentary about deep sea creatures.

toshi The giant squid is impressive. you awh do you relate to a squid toshi Yes ⤷ you reacted 😑 to this message

you're walking through the school courtyard during lunch when you see a group of girls whispering and giggling over a phone.

"he's so stoic," one of them sighs. "i wonder if he ever smiles."

curiosity kills the cat, so you peek over.

they're looking at an instagram post from a local sports magazine. it's a photo of a volleyball player mid air.

the caption reads: Shiratorizawa's Ace continues his dominant streak.

your heart stops.

the jersey is white and purple.

just like the tracksuit the guy in the park was wearing.

aka. your number neighbour.

aka, toshi.

you can't see his face clearly, but the build is unmistakable. the thick legs, the broad shoulders, the hair.

then it occurs to you - it's the same guy in the gym from so long ago. you just didn't recognise him without the tracksuit.

you scramble for your phone.

you hey quick question toshi What is the question? you do you go to shiratorizawa?

the 'typing...' bubble appears, and stays there for a long, long time.

you're holding your breath. if he says yes, the mystery is basically over. you could find him in ten minutes.

toshi Why do you ask? you i saw a photo of a player he looked like the guy i saw in the park

another long pause.

toshi I have told you before. If we know too much, this changes. you i know but toshi Are you disappointed? you what?? no why would i be disappointed? toshi Because I'm not telling you who I am you toshi ive been talking to you for a while i know you think water is a treat and you relate to squids you can't disappoint me toshi I see. Then I won't confirm or deny. But I will tell you this: My ankle is feeling better because I'm distracted by this conversation. And you.

your face turns five shades of red, and you have to put your phone face down on a concrete bench to cool off.

you're back in the gym, this time because you left your sweater on the bleachers after gym class. you'd hoped you could wear it somehow, but the gym teacher had promptly sent you away.

you spot a familiar head of bright red hair.

it's..

wait.

tendou?

he's leaning against the net, looking bored while who you guess is the coach talks to someone else.

suddenly, tendou spots you walking toward the bleachers. he narrows his eyes, then a huge, mischievous grin spreads across his face.

he points at you and then turns to the giant guy standing next to him.

the guy turns his head.

you freeze.

you're wearing your school uniform.

you look normal.

but you feel like you have 'NEIGHBOUR' written on your forehead in black sharpie.

the guy looks at you.

he doesn't wave or smile. he just stares for a second too long before the coach barks an order and he turns back to the court.

you grab your sweater and bolt.

once you're safely in the outside, your phone vibrates.

toshi You were in the gym. you i was not toshi Tendou said, "There's the girl who smells like brownies." you i do NOT smell like brownies AND HOW COULD HE EVEN SMELL THAT toshi You didn't say hello. you because you were BUSY and INTIMIDATING and we have a DEAL no names no faces ⤷ replied to no faces we've broken that toshi I'm not intimidating. I was just standing there you toshi you are a 6 foot something mountain of muscle you are the definition of intimidating toshi 6'2 I didn't think you would be afraid of me. you im not afraid im uhm preserving the mystery toshi I think you were running away. you no i was walking fast toshi Tendou is laughing. He says you looked like a startled rabbit. you tell tendou im gonna put salt in his next chocolate bar. toshi I will relay the message. He says he likes salt in his chocolate bar. you for fucks sake toshi And for the record.. That sweater would look nice on you. It's a good colour.

you groan and trip over your own feet.

"fuck-!"

you can't stop thinking about what he said.

about the sweater.

because it means he was actually looking.

toshi I have a question about the long armed person face you (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ this one? what about it toshi If it's a hug, does that mean you are a physical person? you you're gonna have to give me more info than that toshiTendou says some people show affection through touch, while others show it through acts of service. you tendou is getting deep and idk! maybe? i think im a bit of both what about you? toshi I give them my full attention. If I'm talking to you, it's because I believe you're worth my time. I don't engage in idle chatter with people I don't respect.

it's so blunt – there's no 'i think you're cute' or 'i like talking to you'.

just the fact that because he's texting you, you're officially worth it.

you wait thats actually really sweet does that mean i have your respect sir 🫡 toshi You have had it for a very long time now. ⤷ you reacted 🥺 to this message

it was his texts like this that had you speechless.

you just.. didn't know how to reply.

it's the night before a big game for him.

you know this because he's been texting less, which usually means he's, quote, 'in the zone'.

you big day tomorrow? toshi Yes. We're playing a team with very persistent defense. It'll be tiring you you got this! just think of the giant squid or smt toshi I will. Will you be there? you i dunno wouldnt that break the rules toshi What rules? The gym is a public space. I cannot stop you from entering. you yeah it'd be weird if you could toshi Besides, Tendou keeps looking for 'the brownie girl' in the stands. It would be easier if I knew where you were so I could tell him to focus on the match. you oh so u want me there for team productivity toshi Precisely you ill consider it ⤷ toshi liked this message

the stadium is packed – you've never seen so many people there for a high school game.

you're wearing a simple hoodie, your hood pulled up slightly, feeling like a spy. (cue spy music!) you find a seat way up, far enough that you're just a speck in the crowd.

the whistle blows, and the teams walk onto the court.

and there he is.

number one.

he seems.. different on the court. at the park, he was just a tall, imtimidating guy. here, he's still intimidating, but he's also a force of nature.

when he scores, he doesn't celebrate much. he just resets, expression completely blank, eyes fixed on the ball.

in one word, he's magnificent.

during a timeout, you see him take a drink from his water bottle. his eyes scan the crowd.

they move slowly, methodically, starting from the front row and working their way up.

your breath hitches. you know he can't see you – there are thousands of people here. you turn your gaze away, looking somewhere else.

your phone vibrates.

toshi You're here. I can feel it.

you nearly drop your phone in absolute shock.

you how?? you're literally in the middle of a game PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY toshi My manager is holding it. I asked her to check for a message during the break. My coach isn't very happy but I don't care. you I CARE YOUR COACH IS SCARY ASF whats his name again washing board toshi Washijo You're in the upper area. To the left of the scoreboard.

yes in this shiratorizawa has a manager idc

you are exactly where he said.

you you are a freak. FOCUS ON THE GAME toshi I am focused. Watching you watch me is not a distraction.

the whistle blows again.

you watch him hand the phone to the manager and walk back onto the court.

he looks up directly toward your section and gives a single, sharp nod.

then proceeds to absolutely demolish the other team.

you slip out before they officially announce the winner, not wanting to get caught in the crowd – or by a certain redhead.

you're halfway home when the text comes through.

toshi We won. you i saw! you were incredible toshi seriously toshi Thank you. I'm tired now. My muscles are aching you do you want another long armed person hug? toshi No.

ouch.

toshi I think, next time, I would like a real one.

you stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, nearly walking into a mailbox, your face burning.

a real one.

the man who finds unnecessary fluff unnecessary – just asked for a real hug.

or at least, he admitted he wanted one.

you a real one? who are you and what have you done with the robot? toshi I'm the same. I'm just tired. Fatigue makes people more honest. you well go to sleep then mr honest toshi But it's still early. And I'm not home yet. you i dont care ⤷ seen by toshi

—

toshi Tendou is asking why I'm smiling at my phone. you youre SMILING?? toshi It's not a large smile My mouth is simply less straight than usual. you mmm sure ill take it so whats got u smilin toshi I was thinking about the way you ran away in the gym. you ?? I TOLD YOU I WAS WALKING FAST besides youre scary in person you have main character energy toshi I don't know what that means. It's my job to be reliable. And intimidating if necessary. you youre very reliable at making me nervous :/ toshi Why are you nervous? 🤔🤔 you BECAUSE we've been talking for months and i still dont know your real name i could find out rn but im respecting your privacy be grateful 😤 toshi I am grateful. ⤷ you liked this message toshi If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours? you maybe toshi Then not yet. I want to see how long we can last like this. It's like a game. you youre so competitive 💔 istg is everything a game to you toshi Only the things that matter.

you're in your room, folding your laundry and humming a song that has been fixated in your head lately. you really need to stop doomscrolling on tiktok. no, seriously ik damn well get off

your phone is on your bed.

not so wise decision.

you reach for a sock, stumble, and your palm lands flat on the screen.

and you had only been texting a specific someone moments earlier, so the screen is still on.

the phone starts ringing.

calling.. toshi

"no, no, no!" you scramble, fingers fumbling to hang up, but your phone is glitching. great – out of all times. it freezes on the calling screen.

he picks up.

on the other end, there's silence. you hold the phone to your ear, too nervous to breathe. you're too terrified to speak.

"hello?"

his voice. it's so much deeper than you imagined.

"eagle bait?" he asks.

"hi," you whisper. your voice sounds tiny compared to his.

"you called me," he states.

"..it was an accident. i was.. folding laundry."

"i see."

there's a pause. you can hear faint chatter in the background – he's probably in the locker room.

"you sound.. like i expected."

"and how is that?"

"kind. and a bit terrified right now."

you let out a shaky laugh. "me? never."

"i have to go to practice," he says ever so softly. "but.. i liked hearing your voice."

you smile into the phone. "i liked hearing yours too.. toshi."

"i will text you tonight." before you can utter a goodbye, he hangs up.

you collapse onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

now you aren't just texting a number anymore.

you're talking to a living, breathing person.

a person with a voice that makes your toes curl.

you're walking past the gym again – actually, lets be honest. you're taking the long way home just to catch a glimpse.

the gym doors fly open.

"BROWNIE GIRL!"

tendou is sprinting toward you, waving his arms like a windmill. behind him, he is walking out at a normal pace, looking slightly exasperated.

you freeze. you can't run this time; tendou is too fast.

"it's you! i knew it!" tendou skids to a stop in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face. "ushijima is always staring at his screen with this look like he's trying to solve a very intense math problem, but the math problem is love!"

"satori," ushijima booms. he catches up, stepping between you and the redhead. "leave her alone. you're being intrusive."

toshi looks down at you.

"are you okay?" he asks, a genuine look of concern on his face.

"yeah," you squeak. "im fine. just.. laundry. i mean, walking home."

tendou snickers. "laundry.." he scoffs under his breath.

the other man looks at you for a long moment. you notice his eyes are a dark olive, like his hair.

"you're wearing the sweater."

"it's my favorite," you admit, fiddling with a loose thread.

he nods, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. "it suits you. as i said before."

"WAKATOSHI-KUN!" tendou screams. "you're doing it! you're flirting! my eyes! they've never seen such a thing! actually.. she's shown me before.." echo reference??

toshi ignores him entirely. "ill text you later. i have to take satori away before he causes a scene."

"too late for that," you joke. "i've got to go as well."

he actually huffs a small laugh. it's a sound that blesses your ears.

"you're right. goodbye.. eagle bait."

"bye, toshi."

you walk away, feeling his gaze on your back until you turn the corner.

tendou turns to ushijima, grinning. "eagle bait? still?"

"she doesn't mind it. i think."

"you think-"

when you reach the front door, your heart is still trying to beat out of your chest through your throat.

you keep replaying it – the way he looked down at you, the way his voice dropped when he noticed your sweater, and, most importantly, the fact that he laughed.

your phone vibrates again before you even get the chance to take your shoes off.

toshi I apologise for Tendou, he has no sense of personal boundaries. you lol it's fine hes funny :) toshi He's a nuisance sometimes. But.. he wasn't entirely wrong.

you stop mid step, one shoe on, one shoe off.

you about toshi About the way I look at my phone.

friday evening, you're trying to study when a text comes through that isn't a text at all. it's a link to a destination on google maps.

toshi I'm going to a park tomorrow. Not the one with the oak tree. This one is further away, near the river. you okay? are you going to look for squids 😭 toshi No. I'm going for a run.

oh.

oh.

if hes asking u to run w him we cooked asf

toshi I'll be finished at 10am, and there's a bench near the bridge. you waiiit are you asking me to meet you like for real without any distractions or people around toshi I would like to see if you are the same in person as you are over text without Tendou present, if that's what you mean. you wow. rude justice for tendou ill be there toshi Nice 👍 ⤷ you reacted 🥹 to this message toshi ? you nothing toshi Also, I brought a brownie the other day. you you WHAT toshi Yes. It was good, but not as good as the one you brought me. you thats because i sprinkled it with some neighbourly love otw! toshi Oh is that a seasoning? I'll have to try it out you oh gosh ⤷ toshi reacted ? to this message

you arrive at exactly 9:55am. you're wearing a fresh outfit, your hair is actually done, and you've checked your breath, like, five times.

more like fifty.

the park is quiet, the morning mist still clinging to the river. you see a figure running toward the bridge.

he's wearing a black compression shirt and shorts. he slows to a jog, then a walk, as he nears the bench. drenched in sweat, his skin glows in the morning light. he looks like a perfect sculpture come to life.

ushijima stops in front of you, breathing hard. "you came," he says. his voice is a little raspy from the run.

"i said i would," you say, trying to sound cool. you fail miserably. "uhh, nice running?"

toshi wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. "thank you."

a beat, and you stare at eachother awkwardly.

"i realised something," he says, stepping a bit closer.

"what?"

"i don't know your name."

you smile, reaching out and gently poking his arm. damn, his muscles are like rock- "it's l/n. y/n."

he repeats it, testing the weight of the syllables in his mouth. "y/n. it is a good name. better than eagle bait."

you let out an unflattering snort. "i think everything is better than eagle bait."

toshi sits down on the bench, gesturing for you to join him. you sit, and for a while, you both just watch the river flow.

he reaches into his gym bag and pulls out a small, crumpled paper bag. he hands it to you.

inside is a single, slightly squashed chocolate bar. the same one you told him to buy weeks ago.

"i bought it this morning," he says, looking at his feet. "i thought.. maybe we could share it."

you feel a lump rise in your throat.

breaking the bar in half, you hand him the bigger piece. he promptly nudges it back to you and takes the smaller piece.

"to living a little," you say.

"to being neighbors," he replies.

the chocolate is slightly warm and has a papery taste to it, but it's easily one of the best thing you've ever tasted.

you sit on that bench for an hour. you talk about things that aren't volleyball, like how he likes the smell of old books and how you're terrified shitless of spiders.

"i am not afraid of spiders," ushijima says, looking at the remainder of his chocolate. "they're helpful. they eat mosquitoes."

"spoken like a true fearless soldier," you laugh. "but if one crawls on me, i'm using you as a human shield."

he glances at you, expression softening into a lopsided half smile. "i'm a very large shield. you'll be safe."

the.. peace lasts exactly forty eight hours.

by monday lunch, the school is buzzing (gossiping). apparently, someone (tendou) saw (spied) a mystery girl (you) sitting with the ace (ushijima) at the river.

you're trying to blend into the cafeteria wall when a shadow falls over your table. you look up, and it's not toshi.

it's guy with a black bowl cut and a guy with light brown hair, in a slightly more lopsided bowl cut.

"is it you?" the first one asks, pointing a finger at you like he's accusing you of a crime. "are you the one who made ushijima-san eat a brownie?"

"i.. maybe?"

"he hasn't stopped looking at his phone during stretches," the other one says, sounding personally offended.

before you can defend yourself, a hand lands on their heads and pushes them aside.

it's.. toshi!

he looks down at his apparently teammates with a look that would wither a cactus.

"go away," he states. "you are bothering her."

"we just wanted to see if she was real!" black bowl cut squeaks. "tendou-san said she was a forest spirit that lived in an oak tree!"

"uh. clearly im not a forest spirit," you say, finally finding your voice. "im a student."

toshi looks at you, then back at his teammates. "she is y/n."

light hair shrugs. "'kay. cmon goshiki."

they leave, albeit reluctantly.

"i'm going to practice. do you want to walk with me to the gym doors?"

you feel a hundred eyes on you, and you step forward, legs a little shaky.

"sure, toshi. let's go."

toshi Tendou has been banned from my phone. I've changed the passcode. you nah what was it before 😭 0000 toshi No It was 1111 you ..youre so predictable toshi I was joking Predictability is a sign of stability you in what world 🥹 toshi Anyway I have Friday evening free. My coach is attending a conference you are you asking me on a date perchance toshi I am proposing an evening with you. I'd like to go to the cinema. you oh? no documentaries about squids toshi There's a film about a man who survives in the wilderness. It seems logical. you okay it's a date but i get to pick the popcorn seasoning‼️ toshi Yes 👍 But no bacon flavour please. you DO THEY MAKE THAT toshi ... No. you ohhh they do dont they 😼 ⤷ toshi disliked this message

the cinema is oh so very dark and smells of buttered popcorn. you're sitting next to him, and even though you aren't touching, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

he's sitting perfectly upright, staring at the screen.

halfway through the movie, the main character gets lost in a blizzard. ironically, you shiver – the theater is a little cold.

without a word, toshi shifts. he doesn't put his arm around you – that would be too smooth for him. instead, he reaches over, takes your hand, and simply places it on his thigh, covering it with his own massive, warm hand.

"you're cold," he whispers. "this will help."

you bite your lip to keep from giggling. he is such an awkward romantic, and you love it.

you squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back. his hand is rough with callouses from thousands of spikes, yet it's incredibly gentle.

you spend the rest of the movie not watching the screen at all, just focusing on the feeling of his thumb tracing small, absent minded circles on the back of your hand.

when the lights come up and the movie ends, he doesn't let go immediately. he looks at you, eyes thoughtful.

"the movie was.. acceptable," he says.

"was it better than the brownie?" you tease, grinning.

"no. but it is unfair to compare food and entertainment." he says, leaning in. "the company was better than the movie."

you think he might kiss you right there in the cinema, but then his phone buzzes.

yay. cockblocker

( 38 notifications from tendou )

tendou HOW WAS THE MOVIE DID U HOLD HANDS I CAN FEEL THE ROMANCE FROM MY DOOM SOOM ROON ROOM TELL ME EVEYYITMG EVERYTING EVERYTGING ECERTITN fucj EVERYTHING USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI USHIWAKA U S H I J I M A W A K A T O S H I ANSWER MEEEEEEEE ew are u making out OR WORSE.. DOING THE NAUGHTY ‼️‼️ ewwwwwwwww that's naaasty wear protection kids 😏

toshi sighs, deep and weary. "i'm going to change my phone number."

"don't you dare," you laugh, standing up and pulling him toward the exit. "i like my number neighbor right where he is."

it turns out that when the most stoic, volleyball obsessed boy in shiratorizawa starts walking someone to class, people notice. i know! absolute shocker.

you're standing by the school lockers in the morning when you see him. he's, well, hard to miss – he towers over the crowd like a giant.

a group of first year girls is hovering near him, one of them holding a pink envelope.

ah.

"ushijima-senpai!" she chirps, her face bright red. "ive watched all your games! please, take this!"

you pause, feeling a weird, cold prickle in your chest. you've never been the jealous type, but seeing a literal fan club form around your.. you don't know what he is, but! it feels different.

ushijima doesn't take the envelope. he doesn't even look at it LMAO. he's looking over their heads, his eyes scanning the hallway until they land on you.

"i cannot take that," he says to the girl, his voice loud and clear. "it would be an inefficient use of my time, and i am already spoken for."

the hallway goes dead silent. the girl's jaw drops, and her friends giggle awkwardly.

toshi walks straight past them and stops in front of you.

"you're late," he says.

"sorry, captain," you answer, hiding a grin. "i didn't want to interrupt your, erm, fan meeting."

"it was not a meeting. it was disturbance. let us go."

and so the two of you walk off together, leaving the girl and her friends behind, her still clutching the envelope pathetically.

your phone pings during your afternoon break. it's a notification from instagram – you've been tagged in a post.

it's a photo someone took of you and ushijima at the cinema. the two of you walking out, hands briefly brushing.

and.. the comments are a war zone.

@.user1 who is she she looks so plain @.user2 does he even like her? he looks bored asf @.user3 ushijima kun deserves someone more athletic! ↳ @.tendersatoes definitely not you then 😂😂

a lump rises in your throat. you know you shouldn't care what strangers think, but it still hurts.

although tendou's comment does make you crack a smile. seriously, tendersatoes??

you're about to close the app when a new comment loads.

@.Ushijima_Wakatoshi Her name is Y/n. She is not plain, she is observant. And I'm not bored. I'm focused. If you have time to comment on my personal life, you have time to practice on whatever you need to do. You're lacking in discipline. @.Ushijima_Wakatoshi Fuckers. ↳ @.tendersatoes pop off ushiwaka 🤪 CLOCKED BITCHES ↳ @.user2 whatever

you stare at the screen.

toshi just commented a whole paragraph for you.

and on top of that – fuckers.

you toshi did u just flame your uh FANS in the comments toshi I didn't flame them. I provided an objective assessment of their behavior and their priorities. you yeah.. you basically told them to go touch grass toshi Grass is good for them. Are you upset? I can delete the comment, but I think many people have seen it already. you no actually i'm really happy but pls dont get suspended for me toshi If it means I have more time to spend with you, then I welcome it. you TOSHI 🥹🥹 ⤷ toshi liked this message

since the gym is being renovated for two days, ushijima actually has an afternoon off.

you invite him over to your house to study, which mostly consists of you trying to talk about work while he stares at your bookshelves.

"why do you have so many books about people who don't exist?" he asks, picking up one of your romance novels.

"because fiction is fun, toshi! it's about feelings and drama and shit."

he puts it down, then reaches for another one.

you gasp, jumping on his back. "not that one-!"

"drama is just a lack of communication," he says, sitting down on your rug. he's so big that your room suddenly feels half its size.

you sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. he freezes for a second before he slowly relaxes, resting his head on top of yours.

"i like your house," he says softly. "it smells like you."

you laugh, the sound muffled against his arm.

ushijima suddenly shifts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. he opens up your contact info.

"i have changed your name again," he says.

you look at the screen.

it doesn't say 'eagle bait' anymore.

it just says,

y/n ❤️

"the red heart means affection," he says, his face turning a very unnatural shade of pink. "tendou told me it was mandatory for this stage of a relationship."

"for once," you whisper, leaning up to kiss his cheek, "i think tendou is right."

but ushijima turns his head at the last second, catching your lips with his.

"i agree," he says matter of factly once you pull away, then lifts your chin to kiss you again.

called both of my number neighbours once on a dare, one sent me to voicemail and the other was a woman with a child crying in the background. and i was reading the manga the other day and ml ushijima does not talk like a robot all the time 😭 bro fanon ushijima is scary.

genuinely really proud of myself for this one tysm for reading (new top 3 fav unlocked ?!)

tumblr, please allow more than 30 images. thank you.

also ! im making this a number neighbour collection/series so lmk through my inbox if reqs are open if u want any other characters with a specific plot, and smau or chatfic :D (if a character's already been done, i won't do it again. at time of this post ive got akaashi, ushijima, oikawa and suna)

taglist ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form ) @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @owl-captain-of-fukurodani @tc-selmarillian @blythmourning @sevslover @fosfatodna @tearsoftae @heavenquilll @perlleta @noemivalorr @bookworm-center @thesmithslvr17 @lottiekarottiqd @fweakygyatt @wellitseugi @haniipie @charukii @imgonnashartmyself @toorubae @kotarosangel @leosxrealm @irethepotato @lithiumval @dreamayy @wanderless-musings @sunnyl1ght

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