You're all I can think of, every drop I drink up
You're my soda pop, my little soda pop (yeah, yeah)
Cool me down, you're so hot, pour me up, I won't stop (oh, oh)
You're my soda pop, my little soda pop
Hello, my name is Nadin. I’m from Gaza. I’m a graphic design graduate, a wife—and now, a mother.
I finished my design studies just before the war began. I had dreams of starting a small studio, of creating art that told stories. I used to think about colors and fonts and the future.
Then, the war came. And the future became something we tried to hold onto, moment by moment.
On October 22, 2023, I learned I was pregnant when a missile destroyed my husband’s family home, killing 25 members—his mother, siblings, nieces and nephews—entire branches of our family in seconds.
We were displaced twice. Everything was gone—home, safety, routine, rest.
A few weeks later, I gave birth to our daughter. There was no crib, no celebration—not even stillness. But she arrived, quietly and beautifully. In her eyes I saw something I hadn’t felt in weeks: life that still wanted to grow.
Now, our days are shaped by decisions that could dismantle the future we are trying to build together.
Today, Israel’s government is discussing plans for a full military occupation of the Gaza Strip, including Gaza City and southern regions. The stated aim: to eliminate Hamas and later hand governing control to allied Arab forces—not Israel—but with no clear path to peace or normalcy.
The humanitarian fallout is devastating. More than 61,000 Palestinians have died in this war; hunger and malnutrition are rising sharply. Hospitals in north Gaza have shut down, and 193 people have now died of starvation, nearly half of them children.
Aid remains blocked, water is scarce, and many risk dying of hunger or disease long before future promises arrive.
We Don’t Know What Comes Next
There’s no clear path forward—only uncertainty for our daughter’s life and our ability to survive another day.
My name is Nadin, and I’m a mother from Gaza.
How You Can Help
I’m asking for support—not for comfort, but for survival:
Help us meet basic needs so we can breathe, heal, and preserve a world for our daughter.
Support us as I try to stand again on my own feet—even a glimmer of stability matters.
If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can give—thank you. If you can’t—just sharing this post is a lifeline I will never forget.
💔🇵🇸 My Daughter Was Born Under Bombs — I'm Just Trying to Keep Her Alive
My name is Abdulmajid.
I got married one month before the war.
Those were beautiful days — full of hope, love, and simple dreams.
I dreamed of a small home, a quiet family, and a baby girl I could hold without fear.
But the war came…
Suddenly. Brutally.
My mother was killed.
My brother was killed.
Children in my family were taken by the bombs.
My home was destroyed.
And my work stopped completely.
Then… in the middle of this nightmare, my baby girl was born.
A tiny soul, innocent, unaware of the war.
She cries from hunger, from cold, from the sounds of bombs shaking what’s left of our walls.
Today, I’m a father with almost nothing…
Fighting every day to find flour, milk, or even a small meal to feed my child.
Prices are sky-high — a single 25kg bag of flour can cost $800.
There is no work. No income. No safety. No stability.
I write this from under siege, hoping my heart will reach yours.
My name is Abedmajed Elderawi, and I live in Gaza with what remains of my once large and loving family.
Even $1 can make a difference.
It can feed a child, buy milk, or bring a moment of peace.
Be the heart that reaches Gaza. Be the hand that saves.
📌 Please share this post. Let our voices be heard — not buried under rubble.
Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #537 )✅️
Hellooo I saw from another ask that you were sick and I hope you’ve gotten better! Here’s a little prompt I drew of the little twins keeping each other busy when mama papa and biggies aren’t around to keep them company (i can imagine papa sy worried sick while he looks for them, only to find them hiding in one of the rooms in the dark playing missions with the cups as walkie talkies) ^^ If you’re interested maybe you could even turn it into a drabble!
Absolutely love your little twins series so much, they brought me out of my artblock 😭😭😭 Hopefully this can also cheer you up from your sickness :D
WHAT IF I CRY RIGHT NOW THIS INSTANT
theyre so perfect are u kidding meee 😭🤲🏼 what did i do to deserve such artistry of the littles im on my knees
@cheesenbutter u singlehandedly cured my sickies im cured IM CURED
thank you for making this, im in awe at the sheer artistry! the background; the colors, the lighting and the TWINS OH I NEED TO SQUISH THEM u made them extra squishy im emotional THE PINS IN KYROS’S HAIR IM ON TJE FLOOOREOE
im so honored to have the little angels envisioned in your art-style. thank you thank you thank you for this! im glad (SO GLAD) they helped with the artblock 🥳🥳
& how timely this is bc the sickfic i just wrote does have a little scene of them trying to entertain themselves while papa is taking care of mama 🥹 (i’ll definitely write a something on this soon!!)
again, i will treasure this for life. i appreciate u and love u so much. thank u!!! 🥹🥹💕💕
Summary: You spent years orbiting Dr. Zayne Li, but when a careless comment shatters the fragile bond you thought you’d built, you walk away. Only then does Zayne realize what he's lost.
Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst. slowburn. Zayne being emotionally constipated rip
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: This is my first time writing for LADS, and Zayne is my bbygirl, so I wanted to give this a try, hopefully it came out alright. I love me a good non-mc angst, so that's why this is the way it is. Part 2 will include Zayne's POV, but it's up to y'all if you want a comforting/grovelling chapter or more HURT lol. Would love to hear yalls thoughts <3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3
Dr. Zayne was an enigma of the most maddening, magnetic kind, and unfortunately for you, curiosity had always been your gravest sin. Nonetheless, it was a flaw you wore with something resembling pride. After all, not everyone could claim they'd managed to peel back even the faintest layers of the glacial fortress that was Zayne Li. But you had. Over the years, through careful observation and an embarrassing amount of persistence, you had glimpsed—just barely—the man who hid behind that frigid exterior. Not all of him, of course. He had never let you in entirely. But you liked to think you'd grown on him, just a little, like stubborn lichen.
Your fascination had begun back in medical school, the place where sleep went to die and energy drinks reigned supreme. Zayne was the kind of brilliant that made you question whether he was entirely human. The kind who could skim a textbook once and retain it with eerie precision, like his mind had never known the concept of forgetting. Meanwhile, you were a walking collage of colour-coded sticky notes, caffeine-induced tremors, and desperate all-nighters. A parody of a student, barely holding yourself together with mismatched socks and sheer willpower.
It wasn't fair, the way he always looked so composed. You'd catch sight of him walking into the exam hall, spine straight, slacks pressed to perfection, sweater vest unwrinkled and somehow smug in its neutrality. Meanwhile, you, in your hoodie that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in days, would feel something curdle inside you. Was it irritation? Admiration? You hadn't known back then.
At first, you'd approached him under the guise of academic interest. You told yourself you were merely studying the competition. A reconnaissance mission, nothing more. You wanted to see how he prepared, how he dissected practicals and diagrams with such mechanical ease. But somewhere along the line, observation turned into participation. You started joining him. Not officially, because Zayne didn't do invitations, but he didn't tell you to leave, and that was an invitation enough.
Were you friends?
You weren't sure. Not once in all those long years of shared library tables and late-night coffee runs had he properly smiled at you, but at least he let you stay. That had to count for something.
You suspected he only tolerated you because you came bearing offerings, carefully chosen pastries from the bakery three blocks away. Lemon tarts. Matcha cake. Anything delicate and within your meagre student budget. You'd Pavloved your way into his company.
Zayne's presence had a gravity to it, even in the silence, his attention never once straying from his notes. Watching him work made you want to do better as well. He didn't need to speak for you to learn from him. He just needed to exist beside you, head bowed over anatomy flashcards, long fingers ghosting over textbook pages like he was reading by touch alone.
It was enough for you. You'd learned long ago not to ask for too much. Life had a way of punishing the greedy.
It was a stroke of serendipity that after years of drifting through separate orbits, you and Zayne found yourselves working beneath the same roof again.
You hadn't expected it. The world was large. The medical world, larger still. Yet here he was, striding through the sterile white halls of Akso Hospital like a ghost from your past, just as distant and devastating.
You didn't expect your paths to cross often. As one of the hospital's new pediatricians, your hands were full with small patients and even smaller attention spans. Your pockets jingled with sticker sheets and crinkled candy wrappers, and your days were painted in primary colours. It was fulfilling, exhausting, and utterly chaotic work.
But somehow, you kept seeing him.
At first, you chalked it up to mere chance. But then a pattern began to emerge, and Zayne became a frequent fixture of the pediatric wing. Too frequent for someone whose field wasn't pediatrics. Too present to dismiss as a ghost.
Maybe you noticed because you were looking, or maybe the universe simply had a cruel sense of humour.
However, most surprising of all was his demeanour. Gone was the man who kept his emotions triple-locked beneath ice and iron. Or rather, he was still there, but softened in the presence of his smallest patients. You watched him kneel beside a whimpering five-year-old with a broken arm and distract her with the clinical grace of a magician. You saw him take time out of his rounds to bring puzzles and books to a chronically ill boy who refused to eat. And one morning, peeking around the curtain of Room 415, you caught him braiding a little girl's hair because she was weeping about not being able to do it herself post-surgery.
Your heart stuttered.
Admiration. That's what it was. That ache in your chest every time you watched him from across the room had to be admiration and nothing more. A professional curiosity and a desire to learn. You'd flourished under his shadow in med school, so it wasn't so strange that you wanted to do so again.
You told yourself that often, rehearsing it like a prayer.
Your own patients adored you, though your methods were far more chaotic than Zayne's methodical care. You bribed your way into affection with cartoon Band-Aids and fruit-scented stickers, offering jellybeans and lollipops like sacred talismans. The younger kids squealed when they saw you coming down the hall; the teenagers pretended not to smile while secretly pocketing the candy. You had always been this way—eager, perhaps too eager, feeding on approval like a deprived animal.
But there was one person whose approval you could never quite gauge.
After all these years, Zayne was still an unreadable cipher. You didn't know what he thought of you. Whether he remembered your shared study sessions or noticed your offerings. You carried forth the rituals from med school into the real world like a superstition you couldn't let die.
During late-night shifts, you'd sometimes find yourself hovering outside his office. You didn't knock to chat. You'd long lost the reckless bravado of your student days. No, you simply rapped twice on the door, cracked it open just enough to slip inside when he told you to enter, and placed a steaming cup of tea on his desk. Sometimes it came accompanied by a carefully wrapped dessert.
He never looked up right away, and his gratitude was an awkward mumble, but he never asked you to stop, either.
And foolishly, it was enough.
You never lingered long enough to chat, retreating with a bright, rehearsed smile and your usual farewell. "Make sure to take breaks, Dr. Li!"
You never got a response, but every now and then, you'd see expression soften the tiniest amount, which was akin to receiving a full-blown grin from a man like him. It made your heart hiccup.
You couldn't say how long this odd back and forth of yours continued like, but you began to catalogue your moments with Dr. Zayne like treasure.
There was, of course, that one time it was raining at the end of your shift, the vindictive kind that came down in sheets.
You stood under the hospital's awning, trying to muster the courage to open your umbrella and brave the trudge to the train station. But then you saw him, and all hesitation vanished.
Across the small stretch of concrete outside the side exit, beneath a narrow overhang, stood Dr. Zayne. His posture was immaculate as always, one hand clutching his phone, the other tucked neatly into his coat pocket. Water dripped in thin lines down the sleeves of his blazer, and you noticed—almost indignantly—that even in the middle of a storm, his expression was as unreadable as ever. His collar was damp, and his hair, though still neatly combed, was slowly giving up the fight.
You didn't think. You just acted.
You jogged across the short distance, the icy rain lashing against your legs. You flipped open your umbrella mid-step and thrust it up over both your heads, standing a little too close beneath its narrow span.
He looked up and blinked at you in surprise.
"Dr. Li," you greeted breathlessly. "You planning on standing there until the rain evolves into hail?"
"No."
You squinted at him, then angled the umbrella slightly more in his direction. "Lucky I found you before you melted."
His eyes flicked toward you, then back out at the storm. "I'm not made of sugar," he stated simply.
"Well," you replied, grinning, "you're certainly not as sweet."
Something in his expression shifted, like he wasn't entirely immune to the jab, and he stepped further into the umbrella's shade. Closer to you.
You adjusted your grip as the two of you fell into step. His legs were longer, and his pace brisk, so you had to hold the umbrella awkwardly high, your left shoulder slowly soaking through with rain.
Zayne noticed, but didn't say anything until you were halfway to the station.
"You're holding it too far left."
You glanced up. "I'm trying to keep you dry."
"You're getting wet."
You gave a half-shrug. "So? I'm replaceable. You're Akso's golden prodigy. Can't let you get drenched and catch a cold."
"That's a ridiculous hierarchy."
"Says the guy with the patent leather shoes."
"...They're waterproof."
You snorted. "Of course they are."
The silence that followed was companionable in a strange, off-kilter sort of way. Rain hissed around you, cars splashed by in the distance, but for a brief moment, the storm felt far away.
At the station entrance, you pressed the umbrella into his hands. "You need it more than I do," you insisted. "Your hair might actually un-gel out there."
In response, Zayne's brow creased like the suggestion had short-circuited a pattern in his brain.
"I'll return it," he said finally.
"I know."
He didn't reply, disappearing back into the crowd without a word, but the next morning, when you opened your locker at work, the umbrella was waiting for you. There was a thin elastic band wrapped around the handle, anchoring a packet of candy to its handle, and you felt a tentative smile tug at your lips.
You'd mentioned it once in passing during a night shift to one of the nurses—something about craving a very specific, obscure brand of citrus-flavoured hard candy your grandmother used to send you during your med school days. You had lamented about not being able to find in stores anymore.
Yet here it was, that familiar crinkled package winking at you.
You didn't stop grinning for the rest of the week.
Then there had been the incident with the wrist brace.
It had been a long week, an endless carousel of back-to-back surgeries, sleep-deprived consults, and aching hands from scribbling charts long past the point your fingers had gone numb. Everyone was tired, and even the invulnerable Dr. Zayne looked frayed around the edges.
You noticed his injury, almost instantly, a falter in movement as he flexed his right wrist after signing off on a file. It was expertly hidden, but you had spent years watching him, cataloguing every subtle shift in his expression like rare meteor showers. So, of course, you caught that wince.
"Overworked?" you asked mildly, leaning against the nurses' station as he passed by.
"Repetitive strain," he responded without inflection.
You hummed. "Do you want—?"
"No."
Of course not.
Still, when he left, you disappeared into the on-call lounge, rummaging through the staff med-kit you were fairly sure only you ever used properly. Thankfully, you found what you were looking for before he returned to his office. A soft, fabric wrist support brace in neutral grey. Nothing flashy, just something to ease the tension. You placed it on his desk without expectation.
He didn't bring it up the next day, or the one after that. There was no thank-you or acknowledgement, and you assumed that he'd thrown it out.
Until three days later.
You returned from rounds to find your usual patient folders neatly stacked on your desk, and beside them—perched so innocently it took you a moment to realize it hadn't been there before—was a box of your favourite pens. The ones you hoarded like treasure and had recently, much to your dismay, run out of.
There was a Post-it stuck to the lid.
"I assumed you'd prefer the 0.38mm ones. You always complain about ink bleed."
You stared at the note, and then at the hallway beyond the glass window of your office door, where Zayne was coincidentally passing by.
You stepped out into the hall and caught up with him. "Dr. Li!"
He turned and looked at you with an arched brow.
You held up the box. "You're not subtle, you know."
His gaze shifted to the pens. "I wasn't trying to be."
"Returning the favour, were you?"
"I don't believe in unbalanced exchanges."
You laughed. "I gave you a wrist brace, not a kidney."
He didn't smile, but his voice softened just slightly. "It helped."
Your breath hitched, but you tried not to show it. "I see...well, thanks for the pens."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Zayne calmly continued. "You should pace your charting. Your handwriting deteriorates after the fourth file."
You gaped at him. "Are you analyzing my handwriting now?"
"It's just always been that way."
"Wait. Always?"
Zayne's gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond your head. "Finals, third year. You wrote so fast during the pharmacology mock that your 'f's started looking like sevens. I wasn't sure if you were prescribing medication or unlocking a bank vault."
"You..." You squinted. "You remember that?"
"It was difficult to read your notes when we shared a study table."
"You remember us sharing a table?"
Zayne tilted his head minutely. "It was the only one near the east windows. You always took the seat closest to the outlet and claimed the light helped you concentrate."
"I didn't think you paid attention to any of that."
"You assumed I was unaware of the person sitting across from me for three years?"
"I assumed you were... indifferent."
Zayne's lips twitched in an imperceptible frown. "You used to rewrite your notes three times. All in pencil, because you said pencil was less threatening when you had to re-memorize everything from scratch. You also always sat cross-legged in library chairs and collected pens from every club's fair booth."
You let out an incredulous laugh.
"And," he added, still with that maddening calmness of his, "you muttered anatomy terms in your sleep during overnight study sessions."
"You—you heard that?" you exclaimed, horrified.
"You once said 'ischiocavernosus' so many times, I thought you were casting a spell."
You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I want to dissolve into the floor."
"You seemed very dedicated."
You peeked at him through your fingers. "That's a nice way of saying I was completely unhinged."
"Also accurate."
You shook your head, but under the mortification was something else. He had remembered, and not just a few throwaway details, but every odd little habit you thought no one ever noticed.
"Why didn't you say anything back then?"
Zayne shrugged, as if he had no response.
You had been making progress. You were almost certain of it. Not in any obvious, sweeping way—Zayne wasn't a man of dramatic gestures or sudden declarations—but in the quiet consistencies, and the way he'd started waiting a beat longer in the hallway when he saw you approaching.
You were still careful not to be greedy. You never dared ask for more. What you had was already more than you expected: acknowledgement. A place in the periphery of his otherwise closed-off world. You orbited him the way the Earth orbits the sun—at a safe, unchanging distance. Warm enough not to freeze, far enough not to burn.
That was until she appeared.
No, not appeared. That implied novelty. You doubted she was new in his life. No, she seemed important, someone who had long ago carved out a space that had never been yours to want.
The Hunter. Dazzling and alive in the way people like you rarely allowed themselves to be. She was a presence that demanded space and then owned it unapologetically. You understood immediately why he who lived so carefully might have made room for her.
You hadn't meant to see them together. You were only there to return his charger—the one he'd left at your station after overhearing you grumbling to the nurses about your broken one. You hadn't even realized he'd been listening.
When you knocked on his door and he called for you to come in, you had smiled hopefully.
Only to find her perched on the edge of his desk like she belonged there. She was laughing casually, legs crossed, one hand braced behind her as she leaned toward him. She was telling a story, something fast-paced and colourful, her hands moving animatedly. And he was...
Smiling.
Not the faint, fleeting lift of his mouth he sometimes gave you on your most persistent days. Not the polite nod of acknowledgment.
No, this was a whole half-smile. Unmistakably soft and real.
You'd never seen him look like that. Not in all the years of having known him. Not even when you had once tried to make him laugh with horrible anatomy puns.
You'd barely stepped into the room when Miss Hunter spotted you.
"Oh!" she cried delightedly. "Look at this, what a coincidence!"
You blinked, caught off guard.
She beamed. "You work here? I had no idea you were at Akso too!"
You nodded numbly. "Pediatrics."
"Right, of course, silly me. All our conversations, and I didn't think to ask you where you worked," she apologized.
"It's alright."
"She's my neighbour, you know," Miss Hunter added, turning back to Zayne like sharing a favourite secret. "I haven't seen her come home in days! I hope you're not overworking her, dearest Zayne."
You felt something inside you crack at her term of endearment. And then you felt guilty. You hadn't done anything wrong technically, but the feeling took root anyway.
Had you been pining after a taken man?
Oh god.
The thought alone made your skin prickle with shame.
You'd never so much as look at him again if that were the case. You'd pull away completely and pretend you hadn't spent the past however-many months—years, even—watching his every glance like a starving thing. You would bury your humiliation deep, fold it into some quiet compartment inside yourself, and walk away with your dignity intact.
But was Miss Hunter really with him?
You remembered her laughter echoing in your kitchen last weekend when you had finally managed to crawl home after a particularly long shift. She'd come over with refreshments, and after one too many drinks, she had begun to ramble. Her cheeks had been flushed with wine, feet up on your coffee table as she slurred names and nonsense.
"He's so frustrating," she'd said, in that melodramatic tone she took when tipsy. "Like, emotionally constipated. But god, when he lets his guard down, it's like... ugh. It ruins you. He lives on the floor right above ours—you've probably seen him around. Tall. Blue eyes. Smells amazing."
"I don't go around sniffing my neighbours," you'd deadpanned.
"Well, you're going to have to trust me on this one, then," she'd insisted. "He's from the Association. I've worked a few cases with him."
You dragged yourself out of your reverie.
Surely if she were dating Zayne, she would have said something. You were friends. Not best friends, maybe, but close enough. She told you when she hated her lipstick. When she found a new favourite song. When someone from the Hunters' Association made a pass at her.
She told you everything.
Whatever had begun to splinter inside of you deteriorated even further when Zayne finally reacted to her words.
"I hope you're not overworking her," she repeated, "or yourself, for that matter."
"I'm not her boss," he replied curtly. "She makes her own hours. Maintaining a work-life balance is one's own responsibility."
"I—well, yeah," you tried to laugh. "That's rich coming from you, Dr. Li. Pretty sure you haven't slept in three weeks."
You looked to him, searching for the usual twitch of amusement and the barely-there softness he sometimes allowed when you teased him. But he didn't look up, and his jaw tightened like he was holding back a scowl.
"I have paperwork," he declared flatly.
Your hand, still holding the charger, hovered in the space between you. You hesitated before setting it on the edge of his desk. "Right... of course, I just wanted to return this."
You didn't let yourself feel the sting until the door clicked shut behind you, and you were alone again in the hallway, blinking at the linoleum floor as if it might give you answers.
You thought you were making progress, but maybe all you had ever been was a convenience. A background hum in the routine of his life. And now, suddenly, you weren't even that.
Over the next few weeks, a new pattern emerged, one that kept chipping away at pieces of your fragile heart. Perhaps it was your fault, too. You kept returning to the scene of the damage, stupidly hoping this time it would be different, but it never was.
You kept stopping by Zayne's office, in the hopes of regaining his favour. You'd even started doing the routine errands that should have been passed off to interns or residents. You told yourself it was more efficient to do it all yourself, but really, you just wanted to catch a glimpse of those elusive hazel green eyes, even if they now looked at you with disdain.
And every time you passed by, Miss Hunter was there too. She seemed to be always in his office, no matter the time of day, even at odd hours of the night. Sometimes you'd catch sight of her perched on the window ledge with her legs tucked beneath her, and other times she was just by his desk, leaning into his space. And most miraculous of all, Zayne allowed it.
He only allowed it for her, though. While in med school, he might have allowed you to share a library table with him, these days, he seemed adamant to distance himself from you as much as possible.
You wondered if Miss Hunter was working on a project with him. You couldn't really tell the true nature of their relationship, but that had to be the only explanation as to why she was always around. On your rare days off, she still came over to your apartment to keep you company and gush about her charming coworker, so you were still under the delusion that she wasn't dating Zayne.
It was the sort of delusion that was going to hurt you one day. And that day was today.
Tonight, when you stopped by the man's office, you fully intended to pass by without lingering. That is, until you heard your name.
Miss Hunter’s amused voice floated clearly through the door. “…I swear, she’s the only person I've ever met who doesn’t hate double shifts,” she was saying, chuckling fondly. “That girl is sweet. Like dangerously sweet. Even to you, and I know you don’t exactly roll out the red carpet.”
Zayne’s response was as dry as ever. “I didn’t ask for her kindness. She’s not helping anyone by wasting time with personal errands. If she spent as much energy on her department as she does playing nursemaid, maybe the pediatrics wing would run on schedule.”
"Don't you think that's a little—"
You didn’t stay to hear the rest of Miss Hunter’s reply. You didn't care to see if she would try to defend you or join him in his condemnation. The damage was already done.
Humiliation was the only word for how you felt. Humiliation and utter defeat.
You had done nothing but your best.
Day in and day out, you poured everything you had into your work—your time, your focus, your very soul. You had held the hands of anxious parents, wiped away the tears of frightened children before anesthesia dragged them under, and taken on shifts no one else wanted. You stayed late, came early, and went without sleep. You had practically bled for this job.
And now here he was, the man you admired so diligently, cutting through you with a few harsh words spoken in private. Words that struck you like open-handed slaps across the face.
You felt sick. Like something had lodged in your throat and was refusing to budge.
So that was what he thought of you.
When he wasn’t pretending to be nice. When he wasn’t lending you his charger or leaving pens in your drawer, this is what he believed. That you were incompetent and unprofessional. That your kindness was a distraction.
Zayne hadn’t just criticized your habits. He had questioned your calibre and your right to be here.
Suddenly, you were ten years old again, sitting in the back of a classroom while a teacher shook her head at your test score. You were fifteen, being told by your guidance counsellor that maybe medicine wasn’t for someone “with your academic record.” You were seventeen, crying in the school library after your chemistry teacher told you some people just weren’t “wired for science.” You were eighteen, slumped at your mother’s kitchen table, listening to your parents whisper that maybe it was time to pick something “more realistic.”
You were every failure, every disappointment, every bruise to your spirit, and now Zayne had joined their chorus.
His anger might have been easier to swallow than his indifferent dismissal of your abilities.
And the worst part?
You didn’t think your patients were suffering. In fact, you knew they weren’t. You were a good doctor. You had earned every stitch of your white coat. The day you took your Hippocratic Oath, you had vowed to devote your entire life to it.
So why did you feel like a fraud now? Why did one man’s brutal judgment make you want to pack up and disappear?
You weren't sure how you made it back to your office without breaking down into tears, but when you finally closed the door, you sank into your chair with a sharp inhale and buried your face in your hands. You could not find it in yourself to cry, so all you could do was exist in that suffocating space where shame and grief and rage all sat too closely together.
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Dick Grayson x Jason Todd (separately) × fem! reader (Journalist)
Synopsis: He had a nightmare where you died because of him, and you're not by his side at this moment.
Warnings: kinda angst, warm ending
W.C.: 846
Bruce Wayne
He woke up panting, his chest rising and falling at a fast pace. It was 3 in the morning, the only sound being his own breath and some noises coming from outside, once all the rest of the city was asleep.
Except him.
His body tensed when he pushed himself up, now sat on the bed of that hotel bedroom. Traveling alone to another city was easier before, but now that he is used to sleep with you in his arms, the loneliness was unbearable.
He wanted you next to him, mainly after that nightmare. If he called you now, would you yell at him?
It's pretty obvious that you need to sleep, fuck, you have to work tomorrow and he is almost crying like a little kid.
But he need to hear your voice, to know that you are safe and unharmed.
That's why now his fingers are typing your phone number.
He looked at the window, trying to distract his mind while he waited for your voice on the speaker. Some cars were parked outside, a blue one, a red one, a…
“Bruce?” Your voice, a bit hoarse and sleepy, asked.
“Hi, Hi…” He said, almost murmuring, as if just hearing you could calm his heartbeat down.
“Did something happened? It's almost 4 a.m, why are you not asleep?”
When you asked that, he looked down, embarrassed for his next words.
“I had a nightmare.” He whispered, sheepishly. “You died, I couldn't save you and your body was cold and…” He stopped himself, breathing deeply. “I just needed to hear your voice, I am sorry I woke you up.”
His fingers found the pillow, playing with its texture, when you said “You know I am still here, right? It was just a dream”.
He sighed, messing his dark hair with his free hand, the one that was squeezing the pillow.
“I know, I just wanted to be sure.” And as an apology, he murmured an “I love you”.
You chuckled, answering him back “I love you too”.
Dick Grayson
It was seven in the morning when you listened a knock on your door.
You were almost ready to work, and when you opened the door, Dick was standing there, as usual.
But you could see something different on him today.
His eyes tired, as if he didn't sleep well, his hair messed and he was looking away, as if he was avoiding you.
“Dick…?” You called him, reaching his hand. “Did something happen?”
The thing is, yes. He had an horrible nightmare where he tried to save you countless times and he always, always, let you die.
And now he was ashamed.
At his silence, you raised your hand to reach his cheek, making his eyes find yours. “Hey. Tell me.”
He held your hand, caressing the warm skin of yours.
“I had a nightmare… where I lost you.” He says, weak. “I couldn't sleep at all after that, I wanted to call you but… it was midnight, and I knew you would have to work.”
Your eyes widened a bit, surprised by his words. “You could've called me…”
“I didn't want to bother”. You squeezed his hands, pulling just a bit, so he could look at you again. “You never bother me.” A soft smile appeared on your lips. “And I'll always be here for you."
Jason Todd
He didn't want to be alone in that cold bed. Maybe because in the dream was cold too? Maybe. But he needed to walk a bit, to feel the breeze of the morning on his face, even if it was almost two o’clock, in the morning, and he left his apartment to clear his mind a little.
Then why was he in front of your house right now? “She's probably asleep” He murmured, trying to turn around and walk away to his home.
But then the dream came back in his mind, the sound of you crying, the Joker's laugh… he couldn't stand it.
He knocked the front door once, twice, five times.
The sixth you opened the door, wearing an old pajama.
“Jason, do you know what time is it?” You yawned, frowning as you looked at him.
But Jason was just staring at you.
“Sorry” He said, whispering as he took a step next to you. “I just needed to see you.”
His hand reached yours at the same time his eyes found yours. And you knew that he needed that.
Maybe because of the soft gaze he was showing you, or his thumb soothing your skin slowly… or his hands, trembling, in a silent plea.
Your frown wasn't there anymore and you intertwined your fingers, gently pulling him into a hug.
He hugged you back immediately, quiet, but holding you tight.
“I am here, okay? Always.”
He knew that you couldn't do that promise, but for now, for tonight, he wanted to believe it.
“I know.” He answered before you guided him to your bedroom, sleeping again, bit now with his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.
Pairing: Robin (Richard Grayson) x You (Wonder Woman's sidekick)
Warnings: Just some bad words
You and Robin never got along well. He was stubborn and sassy, you tried to do everything perfectly, but when Diana sent you to Gotham to help Batman, you didn't have a choice. But everything got worse when you and Robin had to fight a sorcerer and ended up... switching bodies.
(This is based on that episode where Starfire and Raven switch bodies)
w.c.: 888
Oh, you would kill Robin for real.
"Are you okay?" You heard his voice asking you the not so obvious.
Because when you looked at him, you didn’t see the black haired boy with a colorful hero suit and a dark mask. You saw… yourself. Your appearance wearing your blue skirt and red crop top.
“No fucking way.” His eyes widened in a mix of shock and confusion when he noticed the same thing as you.
“We switched bodies!”
Earlier, that same day
“Then, Diana asked me to help you with this problem.” Batman kept his eyes on you, listening to your words. “He is a known enemy from Wonder Woman, maybe I can help”.
Working with Batman was an honor, and you knew that. Even if you were already Wonder Woman's sidekick, you were so excited to work with another hero of the Justice League, it was a huge opportunity.
Till, of course, the hero says the five cursed words that almost made you want to pull your hair out.
“You will work with Robin.”
You wanted to argue, to say that you could do it alone, but you are in Gotham, and Diana emphasized the “behave and do what he asks you to do”. Not as a threat, of course not, it was a plea.
Because the last time you and Robin were at the same place together, the building almost fell down.
You couldn't complain, though. Batman was giving you another chance.
And that's how you and Robin went to the villain's hideout just to have your bodies switched.
Well… being honest, you two were hiding from the villain, who was hunting you in that maze of walls.
“What are we going to do now?” He asked, looking at the bracelets, your bracelets, and you were trying to get used to that colorful suit he uses.
“Well, first of all, we wouldn't be in this situation if you had listened to me!” You frowned, looking at him.
“You were the one who didn't listen to me and got in the way!” He almost yelled, as annoyed as you.
You two looked away from each other, angry and stressed because of the situation.
You were in his body, and he didn't have powers, or big skills, in your opinion. Just some weapons that you had no idea how to use. While He was in your body and didn't know how to control your powers, how to fly or even how to use those two bracelets that he knew could make lightning.
And the biggest problem is that you both are trapped in that maze till you defeat that crazy mage.
“We'll be here forever if we keep acting like that.” He said, murmuring. He didn't want to work with you, hell no. But he didn't want to live the rest of his life as you, and neither did you want to.
You sigh, something like an agreement, and look at him again.
“What's the plan?” His eyebrows - your's - raised when he listened to that question slip from your lips.
“Are you really asking me?”
“Don't make me regret, Robin.”
He rolled his eyes.
“We need to find a way to capture him.” You had to bite your tongue to avoid a sarcastic reply, and you let him finish. “Do you have super strength?”
You nodded.
“How do you use it?”
“Just think about something that makes you feel angry or stressed.” You answer as if it was too simple.
But he frowned.
“And how do I fly?”
“Imagine that you are as light as a feather.”
“Can you tell me a power you have that doesn't involve imagination?”
“Well, at least I have a power! How the heck do you use these two toothpicks?” You show him his escrima sticks. “What do you do with them? Play drum?”
“You are so funny.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick, and he was trying to plan something.
But you two knew the main problem: Both of you didn't know each other.
And honestly, you didn't want to, but how would you get out of this?
Diana needed you by her side, you admired her so much. You have dreams, ambitions, that you still want to make it.
Things that you can't do living in his body.
“I am from Ithaca.” Your hands squeeze the sticks a bit tighter, as if you were trying to keep your mind clear. Robin looks at you, confused. “A Greek island. Diana found me there when I was younger and since then she has been training me.”
Was it a dumb decision to open yourself like this? Maybe Robin would laugh at you, maybe he would say that he doesn't give a damn about it.
But you couldn't hide your surprised expression when you heard him saying “I was an acrobat.” Some seconds passed before he continued. “Batman adopted me after I lost my parents.”
He touched your bracelets again, feeling the cold metal under his fingertips. “How do you make lightning with them?”
You looked at the weapon for a moment, smiling softly when you answered “You just have to hit each other as hard as you can.”
And for the first time since you two switched bodies, he smiled, making your teeth appear.
You asked him to leave the room so you could change your clothes, but he reminded you that you both were married and had children. (I saw some couples doing this on TikTok).
pairing: Zayne x You, Xavier x You, Rafayel x You, Sylus x You, Caleb x You (Female reader)
warnings: pet names (babe, love...), sex mention, suggestive phrases
w:1576k
Zayne
It was a lovely Sunday evening. After a long week, you finally had a chance to have Zayne with you again, a rare occasion due to his hard work in the hospital.
He was reading a book on bed, waiting for you to get ready so you can go out to eat at your favorite restaurant. The bedroom was very peaceful, the only noises being the cars outside and the My Little Pony opening song coming from the living room, where your daughter is.
You just got out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when you saw him reading and decided to test something you saw on the internet.
“Love, can you get out of the room, please? ” Your voice sounded innocent as you began to open your drawers. “I need to change my clothes”.
You turned to look at him and saw that he was staring at you over his glasses, looking confused. “Pardon?”
“Well, I need to put on some clothes and I am a bit shy to change in front of you.” You said, squeezing your arms around your body to keep the towel covering you. “You know… I am a bit embarrassed.”
A playful smile appeared on your lips as you saw his frowned face.
“I don’t understand why you want me to leave the room.” He answers, closing the book and taking his glasses off. Then he stood up, walking towards you at a slow pace. His shirt has the first two buttons open, and his belt is open as well.
“Because I don’t want you to look.” He almost laughs at your answer, looking at you, dumbfounded.
Suddenly, he called your daughter's name, who appeared at the door after some minutes. She was only four and was wearing a blue dress, matching Zayne’s shirt color, ready to go out with you, so she looked at you a bit confused when she saw your body still wrapped in the towel. “Mommy is not ready?”
“Mommy is being difficult.” Zayne forces a sad expression, walking towards the little girl and patting her head. “Tell her to hurry up.”
“Hurry up mommy!” Your daughter runs again to the living room and Zayne smiles, looking at you.
“Do I have to remind you how babies are made?” You blush slightly when he smiles mischievously, leaning against the door. “But once you asked, I will leave the room and make our little angel company”.
Xavier
It was your time to take a shower, so Xavier was taking care of your son while you were enjoying your bath, massaging yourself with the liquid soap. When you ended your bath, you walked to the bedroom and saw Xavier with the baby in his arms.
“Babe, can you get out of the room?” The blonde man looked at you, confused.
“Why? Did I do something wrong?” You opened a tender smile to him and chuckled, getting some clothes in the drawers.
“No, of course not. I just want to change my clothes.”
Xavier looked at you, then his eyes found the baby in his arms. One moment later, he looked at you again. “You know… that I already saw everything, right?”
You blush, looking away to cover your face. “Shut up… I just need some privacy…”
“If it is something with your body, stop overthinking. You are as gorgeous as ever.” You looked at him, and for a moment you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or to throw a pillow on him.
It was just a joke, a prank that you saw some couples doing on the internet, you didn’t know he would say something like this.
“And don’t you remember what happened fifteen minutes ago that woke him up?” You widen your eyes, feeling your cheeks getting hotter.
“Xavier!”
You two listened to the baby laughing, and you couldn’t help but smile too. “You… silly.” Xavier opened a warm smile at your words.”
He kissed your forehead before he began to walk away from you. “I will get his pacifier. Maybe he can sleep again, and we can…” Xavier glanced at you.
That 's it. You got a pillow and threw it at Xavier, making him run out of the room, laughing out loud.
Rafayel
One morning, Rafayel was helping your son with the art homework, and both of them sat on the carpet of the bedroom.
You saw that cute and pacific scene in front of you and smiled, seeing your husband so excited to teach your little boy. A perfect time…
“That's it, my little bubble, now if you mix yellow and red…”
A perfect time for a prank.
“Babe, let's go to the swimming pool… it's so hot today.” You say, innocent, seeing your son's eyes shining bright with the excellent idea.
The boy closed the notebook and ran to his own bedroom, and Rafayel chuckled.
“Fine, let's relax a bit, maybe after that he can sleep early and I will have you just to myself.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving your neck a peck.
“We will have a lot of fun, but now can you get out of the room? I need to put on my bikini.”
Rafayel frowned, confused. “What? Why do I need to get out?”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling softly. “I am feeling a bit shy today, so I didn't want you to see.”
The artist raised an eyebrow at your comment.
“Love, do I have to remind you how we made that little boy?” He kissed your cheek. “It was raining when I held you and…”
“Shush!” Your face was almost burning up, as red as a tomato. “I remember.”
He chuckled again, caressing your hip slowly.
“Good, then I don't have to remind you about how…”
“Daddy! Where are my swim goggles?”
Rafayel stopped, looking at the door.
“Have you looked in your drawer?” He answered, looking at you. “I will help him.”
Sylus
It was your birthday and Sylus promised a “family day” to you, as you asked for.
While you were drying your hair, he was helping your younger daughter to dress up. A moment later, he walked into your bedroom and saw you choosing an outfit.
“Love, can you get out of the room?” Sylus frowned. “Why would I?”
“I want to change my clothes, so I will need to take off the one I am wearing.”
Sylus looked at your covered body, then at your face. “It’s not a big deal. You can change in front of me.”
“No, I am embarrassed.” You answer, lying. You just wanted to test the prank you saw on the internet.
“Embarrassed of what?” He scoffed.
“Changing my clothes in front of you.” He blinked, totally confused, then called three names, making his deep voice reach all the house.
Two children runned into your bedroom, the twins, who were already dressed up, then your younger daughter walked in slowly, since she was still learning how to walk.
“Trust me, kitten, I saw your body a lot of times already.”
One of the twins frowned, saying “Ew! Mommy and Daddy are flirting!” You looked at the kid, poking his nose. “We are not!”
Sylus was smiling charmingly. “Of course we are…” He walked towards you and held your hand, giving it an affectionate kiss.
“Will we have another sibling?” You almost choked when the child said it out of the blue. “What? Where did you get this idea from?”
“Daddy told us that to make a baby he has to kiss your hand…” One of the twins said. “I want one more sister!” The other said as well.
You looked at Sylus, who was trying to hide his smirk against your hand.
“Everyone… get out of here!” You shouted at them. Sylus laughed, holding both of the twins in his arms when he escaped from the bedroom, letting just you and your daughter. “Can you believe it?” You ask the little girl, who smiled cheerfully. “No, you are not going to have a new sibling.” You said, picking her up.
Caleb
“Captain Marshmallow to Captain Daddy, are you listening to me?” You frowned, amused, as you saw your daughter and your husband playing spies in your bedroom, rolling on the bed and running around the room.
“I am, Captain Marshmallow. Leader Mommy just arrived from work. We need to greet her.” Caleb said as he picked the little girl in his arms. “Let's go.”
You smiled, kissing the girl's head before doing the same with Caleb's lips. “How are my ‘Captains’?” The question was almost a joke, but you saw your husband laughing.
“She watched a lot of movies.”
“Daddy! We can use the bubble guns to play!" The girl ran out of the room, letting you and Caleb all alone.
“How are you, my dear?” He hugged you tightly.
“Tired, but I am good.” You smiled, feeling a bit better. “I need to change my clothes, can you get out of the room, babe?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why? It's not like I never saw you naked before, you know…”
You poke his arm, blushing. “I just need some privacy.”
He laughed, seeing your daughter running back to the bedroom with two bubble guns on hands.
“I will give you ten minutes.” He winks, looking at you. “So hurry up, or I will have to keep you here for more than that.”
I've tried more than 30 pulls and couldn't get his birthday card, and I couldn't get the rerun too, and now the cake doesn't save, and I get this:
The only thing that made me feel better is because the letter saved and Rafayel said this in the story:
I'm disappointed, I really like him, Zayne (my main) and Rafayel are my favorite ones because of the lore (I love all of them, even Caleb but he scares me a little ngl😭), and I really wanted something cute to decorate his desk, at least they could've gave me the letter...
