i don't know what to do...

she/her ENFP 20's

[hrezx]

hey, hi, hello! ✨

.☘︎ ݁˖ i’m rez/zoe (my mc name in lnds) .☘︎ ݁˖ 20 years old .☘︎ ݁˖ i’m an ENFP .☘︎ ݁˖ minors DNI, please!

can’t wait to make new friends here! say hi anytime! 💖

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆˙⟡⋆✴︎˚｡⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆˙⟡⋆✴︎˚｡⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆˙⟡⋆✴︎˚｡⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆˙⟡

[byallmeans1]

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

brief drabble inspired by @jinwoosbabyboo's {post} about rafa's tears... saw it at work and had to write about it!

content: cameo from zayne as MC's friend and doctor, rafayel's lemurian traits are showing, brief mention(s) of injury to wrist, clingy rafayel/anxiously attached rafayel, use of the nicknames (for him) rafa, love and bubba & (for you) beloved and cutie, you steal his clothes, brief Talia mention, slight nsfw moment, hurt/comfort to the max, reassuring our fishie, hints at his lore, fairly early dating stage

lavender tears

9:00am fishie: cutie!! fishie: are you free todaayyyy? i wanna show you something. fishie: you're gonna like it, i promise

Curious, you glanced at your phone as it buzzed rapidly on your desk. Rafayel's profile picture popping up made you smile. You began typing a response as you read his messages, your heart squeezing a little: I'm at work today, but I can stop by later. What is it?

You heard your name and glanced up. Captain Jenna was waving you over. "Come quickly, we have an emergency in Bloomshore. You're needed immediately."

You got up in a hurry, your phone left behind on the desk, the text still waiting in the typing bar—unsent.

9:07am fishie: you've been typing for a while, cutie 9:10am fishie: cutieee?? you there?

~❊~

Hours passed in a blur of Wanderers, screaming civilians, and phone cameras pointed in your direction. Eventually, when morning had become late afternoon, the chaos melted into something more manageable: sirens, the lights of emergency vehicles, the questions of EMTs who had come to help the injured.

"Are you alright?" your soft-spoken doctor asked, giving you that stern Zayne look you had learned meant he was worried, not ticked off—even if it looked like he was.

You sat on a park bench, watching the cleanup begin. You looked up at Zayne, who had a kit in his hands and was already eyeing your visible scrapes.

"I'm fine," you promised. He raised a brow. "It's nothing serious, Zayne, I promise."

"I'll be the judge of that," he insisted. You sighed, but nodded, and Zayne began his examination.

After a while, as he wrapped your wrist—bloody and scraped, possibly sprained, you heard him muttering under his breath—you patted your pocket. You felt a brief spike of panic when you realized your phone wasn't there before you remembered you'd left it on your desk in your hurry to get to Bloomshore.

Rafayel!

Shit, he'd had something he wanted to show you, hadn't he? You hadn't even had the time to tell him you were getting sent on a mission across Linkon. You glanced around at the camera crews and emergency vehicles; surely, he'd see the news and understand you'd been sent to help with a Wanderer attack?

But if he was in his studio all day... You could just picture it, your baby sitting on his easel, anxiously glancing at his phone while he waited for you, unable to concentrate on his work...

"You look guilty." Zayne's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You realized you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. "And worried."

"Sorry—I just realized I haven't texted Rafayel since this morning," you said. "He's probably freaking out."

A smile twitched at Zayne's lips. He'd met your artist a handful of times, and on one memorable occasion, Rafayel had thrown himself into your hospital bed and hissed at anyone who came too close.

"He worries about you, but he's quite capable. I'm sure he's fine," Zayne assured you.

A few more minutes, a few more bandages, and you were on your way back to the Hunter's Association. You gave your verbal report to Jenna as quickly as possible, promised to have it all typed up tomorrow, and bolted back to your desk.

You picked up your phone and found, to your horror, more than fifty text notifications—all from Rafayel. Your stomach sank as you saw your earlier text still waiting to be sent. You deleted it, scrolled back through the messages, and began to read.

9:07am fishie: you've been typing for a while, cutie 9:10am fishie: cutieee?? you there? 9:15am fishie: guess not :( fishie: its okay i can show you later fishie: you're still coming over for dinner, right? fishie: i have the ingredients for your favorite fishie: we can cook it together if you want fishie: or i can cook for you, i dun mind 9:30am fishie: your location says you're at work... guess you got busy? fishie: did you get attacked by a wanderer or something fishie: you didn't have a mission today that i forgot about, right? 10:00am fishie: cuuuuuutie fishie: cutie fishie: did i forget an important date 11:03am fishie: i checked every calendar, i didn't forget anything 11:17am fishie: you didnt fall asleep at work, did you? fishie: i know you were having trouble falling asleep fishie: you couldve called me last night if it was bad yknow fishie: ill even sing you to sleep la la la 11:23am fishie: that's when you say "really rafa?!" fishie: and i say "of course cutie, that's what im here for" fishie: "can't have you falling asleep on me" fishie: "ill get lonely" 11:28am fishie: ...im lonely, cutie 12:12pm fishie: where are you :( fishie: youre never this busy at work fishie: did something happen 12:46pm fishie: i finished a painting fishie: small one, not the one thomas wants done fishie: but its something, right? fishie: im looking on the bright side like you tell me fishie: but im covered in paint now fishie: and its hotttttttttttttt fishie: so im gonna go take a bath fishie: if you werent so busy you could join me ;) 1:59pm fishie: no lunch break, huh 2:02pm fishie: you're gonna be hungry later, then fishie: i'll make you dinner so you have food when you get here fishie: itll only be warm if you tell me when youre coming home 2:53pm fishie: did i do something? forget something? fishie: im sorry cutie 3:01pm fishie: if i snapped at you recently, its just because of this painting and these deadlines, its not at you fishie: and its been a bad few days. not an excuse though fishie: and im sorry i didnt notice it earlier fishie: and if im just being too clingy im sorry for that too fishie: i just miss you fishie: and now im worried 3:33pm fishie: are you mad at me fishie: ill make it up to you fishie: whatever it is fishie: i love you fishie: just please answer me beloved, please 3:53pm fishie: you havent read my messages, not any of them fishie: am i on do not disturb fishie: i thought you said i could disturb you anytime 4:46pm fishie: beloved fishie: beloved please fishie: have i done something wrong fishie: are you ignoring me fishie: are you tired of me? fishie: ...please dont leave me

Still staring at your phone screen, momentarily too stunned and upset with yourself to say anything, you fumbled around for your bags and your keys. The last message, from ten minutes ago, had shattered your heart and left it on the floor of the Association. You weren't even out the door yet when you swore to yourself to never, ever let your work come between you and Rafayel again.

To the parking garage, to your level, to your bike. You sat on it, had the keys in the ignition before you remembered to pause. You typed faster than you ever had before.

5:03pm me: rafa, im coming to you, be home soon love

~❊~

Having broken about a hundred traffic laws, you parked your bike outside of Rafayel's studio and ran inside, for once relieved about his terrible habit of leaving the front door unlocked.

Heavenly aromas—belonging to your favorite dish—wafted from the kitchen. You hurried toward it.

With his back to you, standing at the stove, was your lovely, distressed boyfriend. His hair looked a mess, like it always did when he'd decided to take a nap and rolled out of bed last minute.

You must have made some sound as you made your way across the kitchen, because he turned before you even reached him. He smiled, relief crashing over his features before he could hide it. But you still saw his red, red eyes and knew it had been a very hard day indeed.

"Hey, cutie!" he said, clearing his throat, his voice a little thick. "Long time no see— Oomph!"

Your hug knocked the wind—and the spoon he was holding—right out of him. You buried your face in his chest as the spoon clattered to the floor, the only sound in the whole house.

Rafayel was frozen as you clung to him, his arms hovering above you. You squeezed him tighter.

"I love you, Rafa," you said. "I'm so sorry, love, I didn't mean not to respond all day. There was an emergency in Bloomshore, they sent me and a whole squad to take care of it. We were there all day, bubba, and I forgot my phone at the Association." You pulled back enough to see his face, reaching up to cup his cheek. You felt like you might cry at the look in his eyes. "I wasn't ignoring you, love. I didn't know you needed me so much today."

Slowly, Rafayel began to relax. His arms wrapped around you and he pulled you back to his chest. "It's fine," he said, forcing his voice back into an airy octave. "I just missed you is all."

...please don't leave me, he'd said. And the way his eyes were shining, the way he couldn't look at you for too long, like he was afraid he'd cry if he did... There was nothing "just" about the way he'd been feeling all day.

But you sensed that if you pushed him, he'd shut down. He'd been vulnerable all day, and he was not in the mood to continue to be so now. So you let it go.

"I missed you, too," you murmured, pulling him into a kiss. He hummed, lingering against your mouth.

He pulled you flush against his body, taking another, deeper kiss. In moments, he had you cradled in his arms—reminding you that you'd never felt safer anywhere else.

Rafayel let out a long breath, which was shaky instead of steady. You chose to not mention it, or the fact that he squeezed you tightly and a moment later his body was trembling. Still, you let him decide when the hug was over, even as food bubbled on the stove behind you and the air in your lungs thinned and the grip he had on you nearly cracked your ribs.

When he did let go, you smiled at him. You kissed his cheek, then nuzzled into him with your nose. He gave you a slight giggle. "Thank you, Rafa," you murmured. "Needed that after today."

"Mmm, me too," he whispered. He cleared his throat again and stepped back. He picked up the spoon, tossed it into the sink, and checked the food with a new one. "How was the mission? Are you sore?"

"Very," you admitted. "I don't think I've ever been this busy at work before. I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"I would've helped, you know," he said, trying to tease, but there was an edge to his voice, the one that he got every so often at seemingly random moments. "You only needed to call me."

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his back. "I would've, if I'd remembered to grab my phone before Jenna rushed the whole team to Bloomshore."

He only hummed softly in response and you felt a knife twist in your gut. You hated seeing your fishie like this—inanimate, distant, upset but unwilling to talk.

You kissed his shoulder once, twice. "I'm gonna go change into something more comfortable before dinner, m'kay? I'll be right back." You got on your tiptoes, kissed the nape of his neck, and slipped away from his side.

On your way to the bedroom, you glanced into Rafayel's studio. It was messier than it was when you'd left, pages of sketches thrown about, a bucket of brushes that had been sitting on the floor kicked over. Globs of mostly dried paint covered the table and the floor. Remnants of his burst of inspiration earlier or his worried pacing, you couldn't tell.

Once you reached the bedroom, you went straight to Rafayel's clothes instead of your section in his closet, grabbing his warm brown sweatshirt that was way too large for you but comforted you all the same. You toed off your boots, pulled on your comfiest pair of pants, and slipped off your shirt and bra, pulling his sweatshirt over your head.

You went to the edge of the bed, shoving your feet into your slippers. An object beneath your foot as you stepped made you yelp. You paused, kicked off the slipper, and held it upside down.

A pearl fell out and rolled on the floor.

You picked it up. It was small and perfectly round, pale lavender in color, shining in the late evening sun streaming in through the window.

Lavender. Your heart sunk.

In the time you'd known Rafayel, you'd seen him cry pearls only a handful of times. More often than not, you saw the aftermath of the little pearls scattered throughout his house. You had come to understand that each emotion colored his tears differently.

The first time you'd kissed him, he'd let a few tears slip, and they'd turned into champagne colored pearls, soft gold in the light. "Tears of joy," he'd assured you, head resting on your shoulder, voice a little shaky from crying.

Black pearls, you knew, came from frustration. His studio saw most of those, shed when he couldn't find the right color or a painting wasn't working out the way he wanted it to or he was completely out of inspiration.

And on more than one occasion, the bed had been covered in his pearls. When he woke up from the nightmares that plagued him more often than he cared to admit, he'd cried until the sheets were covered in pure white pearls of grief and shock—the kind of tears only haunting memories pulled from him.

The bed—and your shoulder—were also the recipients of pearls with a blue sheen, when Rafayel would bury his head in your neck and cry with relief as he orgasmed. Cheeky thing that he was, he'd saved most of these and given you a few in the form of earrings and a necklace.

But lavender... These were often mixed in with the white pearls he cried after a nightmare. They were what spilled from his eyes when he hugged you tight and begged "Beloved, don't leave me" in a voice so small that it brought tears to your own eyes.

You mussed the sheets of the bed and more lavender pearls dropped to the floor and rolled. Your heart squeezed at the quantity of pearls in amongst the sheets. These were tears of heartbreak. Loss. Despair. Love lost and love unrequited. He hadn't told you himself; you'd had to ask Talia, concerned when he wouldn't explain what had him crying so much in the early months of your relationship.

You saw and heard nothing, but you knew the moment Rafayel was in the doorway, perhaps summoned by your yelp—or the realization of what you'd stumbled upon. You turned, the lavender pearl still in your palm.

One hand on the doorframe, he hesitated where he stood, defeat on his face. His eyes were shining again, more tears building on his waterline. His lower lip trembled and he was trying to avoid your gaze, his head cast downward.

"Rafa," you murmured. His shoulders slumped forward. "Come here."

He trudged toward you and let you coax him into sitting on the bed. You pulled him into your arms, setting down the pearl. You threaded your fingers through his hair and kissed the crown of his head, trying to think of what to say—to apologize, to comfort him. All these tears, all those messages...

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

You frowned. "What are you sorry for, bubba? You didn't do anything wrong." You rubbed his arm soothingly. "I'm the one who should be sorry. And I am, Rafa. I'm so, so sorry that I didn't text you back. I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant to."

Rafayel sniffled and finally met your gaze. "I...I thought you were ignoring me. Thought maybe I was too much and you'd had enough and..." He squeezed his eyes shut. A tear fell and became a pearl the instant it no longer clung to his skin. You caught it in your hand; it was pale pink, one you'd never seen before. "And that you were gonna leave me."

"Oh, Rafa," you breathed. Before you could reassure him, he was talking over you again, his head planted firmly against your shoulder.

"I got worried. That I was being too much, texting you too much. So I tried to leave you alone, tried to be less. But that made the feeling worse, so I just kept digging that hole," he whispered.

"Bubba," you said, slipping a finger under his chin to lift his head. "You weren't digging a hole. I love getting your messages, seeing how you're doing throughout the day. If I had seen them, I would have responded to each and every one." You kissed his forehead. "But the mission—"

His lower lip was trembling again. "Why didn't you tell me about it?" he whispered.

"It was an emergency," you said. "I tried to text you before I left, to tell you I was at work, but then Jenna called me over and I didn't grab my phone so I didn't see that the text didn't send."

His mouth formed a small O. "That's why you were typing and then you disappeared."

You nodded. "I love you, Rafayel. I love you so, so much. You are never too much for me. I promise you, I'm not going to leave you." You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone gently. You offered him a small smile. "I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry you felt alone and ignored all day. I'm sorry that I didn't—couldn't—reassure you and that I have done anything, anything at all, to make you feel like I'm going to leave you. I'm not. Ever. You're stuck with me, Rafa."

Rafayel stared at you for a long moment, then nuzzled into your hand. The action was familiar reconciliation, easing the worry in your heart that maybe he wouldn't forgive you for hurting him so deeply.

"I love you, too," he whispered. He adjusted his head, claiming your lips with the fervor of a man who'd needed it all day. He swallowed your sound of surprise.

Just when you thought he was going to take it further, he pulled away, his breaths uneven. He slumped against you.

"I have a headache," he mumbled.

You hummed, scratching his scalp to soothe him. "I'm not surprised. How long did you cry for?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. An hour? Two?"

"Aw, Rafa," I cooed, squeezing him tight. I coaxed him into laying down and pulled him into my chest. "Rest a minute, okay? I'm not going anywhere, love, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure you know that."

He nestled into you, brow pinched in thought. He closed his eyes. "Will you take the day off tomorrow? And stay with me?"

You kissed the top of his head. "I'll text Jenna as soon as we go back to the kitchen."

"And you'll stay the night?"

You smiled against his hair. "Of course."

"And take a bath with me later?"

"Uh huh. I'll wash your hair for you, too."

He nestled into you. "Thank you."

You rubbed his back. "I'll talk to Jenna about syncing my Hunter's Watch to my phone," you murmured. "See if I can get all my messages to come through, not just work related ones, so I can at least tell you when I'm on a mission."

Rafayel hummed contentedly; you felt it in your ribcage with the way his head rested above your heart. "I'd like that." He flicked his eyes up to you. "Thank you, beloved."

You kissed him softly, in that way that made his eyelashes flutter prettily. You smiled, brushing his hair out of his eyes to see him better.

You held up the pink pearl that you'd wiped away from his face earlier. "I've never seen this color before," you said. "What is it?"

He shrugged. "It's...harder to explain than the others," he said. "It's like...guilt. Shame. But not really." Sensing your question, he added, "I guess this time I felt...guilty about not telling you when you got home that I was still upset."

"It's okay, Rafa, you just needed time," you murmured. You kissed his temple. "I will give you all the time you need, now and always."

Rafayel snuggled into you. "I have one more request," he said, hiding his face. But you could see his ears burning red. "Ebb Day is coming up. Can...can you stay with me through it? I know last time I said I didn't want you to be there so I wouldn't do anything we'd regret, but... I want you there this time. It was too painful by myself."

"Of course I'll stay," you said. "And maybe I'll get you to cry more of those pretty blue tears you like to see me wear so much."

He grinned, finally peeking up at you. "I'll make you an anklet this time, so I can see it when I put your legs over my shoulders."

"Rafayel!"

The two of you giggled, cuddling close in bed, until Rafayel's stomach let out a rather loud growl. Both of you paused and you raised an eyebrow at him.

"Come on, let's go eat that dinner you prepared for us," you said, sitting up and pulling him to his feet, "and I'll text Jenna about tomorrow."

You made your way to the kitchen. Rafayel plated while you typed, and you showed him the sent text as you sat down to eat. A few moments later, your phone dinged.

7:09pm captain j: Take all the time you need. You deserve a break after today's work anyway. We'll see you next week.

"Next week?" Rafayel murmured.

Your watch vibrated as your schedule updated: the rest of your week completely cleared of missions and office work.

You grinned at him. "Well, looks like you don't just have me to yourself tomorrow, but the rest of the week."

His face brightened immediately. "And you'll stay? Here, with me? The whole time?"

You kissed his cheek. "The whole time. I'll have to go home to pack a bag of the essentials for the rest of the week, but—"

"I'll go with you!"

You giggled and nuzzled into him, sliding your chair even closer to his. "I'm all yours, Rafayel. For as long as you'll have me."

"Always," he said without hesitation. "Always and forever."

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

taglist: @yournextdoorhousewitch 

[mayweholdhands]

Sleep so good you wake up disoriented

[icarusignite]

he leaves you out like a penny in the rain (p.2)

Pairing: Zayne Li x Non MC Reader

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: 6.7k

A/N: I did not expect all the overwhelming love and feedback on part 1, so thank you so much to everyone who read and interacted, you made my day.

There will be a part 3 later to explore them getting even closer, and that will be more fluff (I did say slowburn lmao). I know they don't technically kiss and make up in this one, but that would be unrealistic, and this chapter is essentially Zayne having an existential crisis lmao. Gotta make our man suffer a little. I may also make this a whole series with more snippets of their life together (dates, workplace shenanigans, wedding, etc.) cuz I am rather attached to the concept of Zayne x coworker lmao. As always would love ot hear yalls thoughts <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

"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."

Zayne regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. In his head, they'd sounded like a neutral observation spoken in the abstract. But out loud? They were undeniably brutal.

He didn't even realize how harshly it had come across until he saw Miss Hunter's expression change. The easygoing smile slid off her face, and her eyes narrowed. She began gathering the files strewn across his desk in silence.

Zayne frowned. "What are you doing?"

Miss Hunter scowled without looking up. "Sometimes I forget that I'm speaking to someone with the emotional availability of a brick."

"Excuse me?"

She rolled her eyes as she shoved a folder into her bag. "I do sincerely hope, for your sake, no one else heard you say that. Your colleague may be a lot of things, but incompetent is not one of them. I've never seen anyone work as hard as she does. She bends over backward for her patients, stays longer than anyone else, and still finds time to show basic human decency to the people around her. You don't have to like her, Zayne, but don't you dare belittle her like that."

Zayne opened his mouth to reply, but the woman had already thrown her coat over one shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he asked. "Didn't you say you needed my help with the case? That is why you've been coming in, haven't you?"

"I think I have what I need. Someone from the Association will give you a call if we require anything else." Her eyes met his one last time. "Thank you for your time, doctor. Now don't let me waste any more of it."

Then she was gone, and the silence she left behind was deafening. It wasn't like her to walk out like that. Frigid departures were his specialty.

He sat down slowly, but didn't open the file in front of him. Instead, his eyes drifted to the spot on his desk where you used to leave his tea for him.

Miss Hunter was kind. You were, too. He never quite understood why people like that kept finding their way into his life. He seemed terrible at keeping them there. And now, he was starting to understand why.

The words he'd said earlier soured in his stomach, replaying in his mind like a low-grade headache he couldn't medicate away. He didn't even know why he'd said them. It wasn't like him to speak without thinking.

Miss Hunter was one of his oldest friends. She had known him long before he was "Dr. Li." Back when he was just Zayne. She knew his tells better than anyone.

If she had caught him glancing at you every time you entered his office, she would have known immediately. She would have teased him mercilessly, bothered him about something he didn't even fully understand himself.

And she was your friend, too. Which meant she would've told you.

He certainly hadn't wanted that. It would ruin things.

Not that there was anything to ruin, technically. You weren't involved. You weren't his. You weren't anything more than a colleague.

From the early days of med school to the quiet corners of the hospital now, you flitted in and out of his life with a warm drink in one hand and a smile on your face, offering sugar and comfort like it cost you nothing.

Zayne knew better than to believe it was just for him. You were like that with everyone.

You brought donuts for the night shift nurses, slushies for interns melting in the summer heat, and hot cider during the freezing winter. You volunteered to cover holidays and swapped shifts without complaint. You remembered birthdays, favourite snacks, and which residents were allergic to almonds.

You were a kindness machine, and he hated that it still got to him. Sometimes it was hard not to feel like there was something different about the way you smiled at him, and when you slipped out of his office after each delivery, Zayne found it nearly impossible to concentrate afterward.

Your presence left ripples. He had insinuated that you were a distraction, but not because you hindered the hospital. No, you were a distraction to him. When you were gone, he was thinking about you, and when you were near, he couldn't think at all.

So why had he said what he said?

Because he didn't want Miss Hunter to know what he was feeling? Because he didn't want you to know?

Zayne took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. He still didn't have a good answer. The only real explanation was the simplest, and the hardest to admit: He'd been cruel. And now he felt the guilt of it like a stone in his throat.

Zayne wasn't the kind of man who tracked people's comings and goings. He only paid attention to pathology reports, test results, and charts with clear logic. He didn't count footsteps in the hallway or wonder where someone's voice had gone.

At least, not until yours had been missing for three days.

At first, he told himself it was a good thing. You were keeping your distance, finally, after all this time. No more interruptions. No more unsolicited desserts or stickers pressed onto his notes like a child's reward chart.

He had, after all, been pulling away from you, too. Maybe you'd finally taken the hint.

He should've been relieved. This distance was what he wanted, wasn't it? He'd convinced himself that if you were gone—if your presence stopped softening the corners of his day—then he'd finally be able to focus again. Be more efficient. More himself.

But to his growing dismay, the effect was the exact opposite. He could focus even less.

He spent too long rereading documents, missed the timing on his own schedule, and found his attention drifting in the middle of patient reports. Every time he turned a corner and didn't see you, he wondered where you were. When he passed the pediatric ward and didn't catch a glimpse of you hunched over a chart or joking with a young patient, he slowed to search without meaning to.

Maybe you were on vacation. That was rational. Doctors took leave all the time, and you of all people deserved one. But when he asked a pediatric nurse in passing, he got an answer that deflated every illusion he'd been holding onto.

"She's still on duty," the nurse explained. "Very busy. You know how she can be."

That was worse. You were close by, and still not coming around. It became harder to ignore.

Occasionally, he'd get a glimpse of your coat disappearing down a hall, or the top of your head as you ducked into the operating theatre, but never your face. And he certainly never saw you in his office again, even when you should have been there.

His desk was cleaner now. No crumbs from lemon cake, and no more paper cups of oolong. During his breaks, he found himself rifling through his drawers, trying not to look at the stack of stickers he kept there. The ones he peeled off and meant to toss, but never did.

There was the glittering, heart-shaped one you'd slapped onto his clipboard months ago. A cartoon cat, a kidney with googly eyes, and a shiny peach. You'd stuck that last one on his stethoscope once, and he hadn't taken it off for days, claiming it made his youngest patients smile.

But really, it was because it made you smile.

By the fifth day of your absence, he found himself looking up every time his office door opened. He dared not say aloud what he was hoping for, but the disappointment in his expression was telling enough when his guest never turned out to be you. He hadn't realized how often you used to cross his path until you didn't anymore.

On the sixth day, he lingered by the pediatric nurses' station, claiming he was checking up on a shared patient, but he didn't find you.

On the seventh, he stopped by the eastern stairwell just before midnight, the one he knew you liked to take instead of the elevator because you were trying to get your daily steps in. It was empty, but he waited for fifteen whole minutes.

By the end of the week, something in his chest felt too tight. The silences were heavy, and his tea never tasted right because he had to make it himself.

It was nearing midnight when Zayne finally finished logging the last of his post-op notes. The hospital had thinned to its late-shift hush, leaving only the occasional overhead call and the low hum of fluorescent lighting that never truly turned off.

The unexpected sound of knocking almost made him flinch, but when the door opened, his shoulders practically slumped in disappointment.

"No need to look so disheartened by my presence," his colleague, Dr. Greyson, teased. "I'm only here to drop off patient files, as you requested."

Zayne didn't respond.

"I really wish you hadn't scared off our caffeine supplier, though," Dr. Greyson continued, unaware of the subtle shift in the man's demeanour at the mention of you.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. The doctor who used to swing by with desserts. She hasn't come by in a whole week. The whole cardiology department is suffering. Morale's at an all-time low."

Zayne rolled his eyes. "I hardly think anyone's suffering."

Greyson tilted his head, watching him with that infuriating look that said I know more than you think I do."Did you scare her off or something? You used to get visits like clockwork. Can't believe I'm saying this, but I find myself missing that 'you-forgot-to-eat-again' look of pity she used to give all of us."

"She is probably busy. As you should be."

Greyson clicked his tongue. "I'm not trying to pry—well, maybe I am, just a little—but I figure if she stopped showing up, and you started passing by pediatrics like you're casing the joint, something must've happened."

"Nothing happened," Zayne muttered stiffly.

"Sure. Except for the part where she's been sending interns to collect your reports instead of coming herself. And the part where you've looked like someone kicked your cat for three days straight. You're not as subtle as you think."

"It's none of your business."

"Isn't it?" his colleague drawled. "Because it's starting to affect your concentration. You missed a detail on that post-op note yesterday. Not like you."

Zayne's lips pressed into a thin line. "It was corrected immediately."

"Doesn't mean I didn't notice." Then he added, more gently, "You know, if she's avoiding you, there's probably a reason."

Dr. Greyson's words echoed long after he departed.

Zayne scoffed at first, but the question refused to dislodge itself, settling under his skin like a splinter he couldn't quite reach.

What had he done? What could he have done?

He turned the thought over again and again, as if studying it from every clinical angle might make it reveal itself.

Yes, perhaps he'd been colder than usual lately, but that wasn't new. You'd known him long enough to recognize the ebb and flow of his moods. You used to tease him about it. "Dr. Li, did your coffee betray you again today?" or "Should I come back when the glacier thaws?"

You always came back because you weren't the type to hold a grudge. And certainly not the type to vanish without a word. If something bothered you, you would have said it.

So, why disappear?

The only thing he'd done differently, the only deviation from the constant rhythm of your companionship, was—

His stomach turned.

No.

There was no way.

Had you heard what he said to Miss Hunter that night? Or worse, had she told you herself?

Miss Hunter wasn't the sort to do that, especially if she knew it would hurt you. But you hadn't been working that night. He'd checked the rota; you weren't even on call.

His voice sounded vindictive in hindsight. He had only meant it as a deflection. A way to keep Miss Hunter from pressing further into places he hadn't yet dared to look himself. He hadn't thought—

He hadn't thought.

His gut twisted. That would explain your absence. You hadn't simply disappeared, you'd withdrawn. And not just from him, but from his whole department.

He'd done something worse than push you too far. He'd made you feel small and irrelevant.

Zayne exhaled sharply and leaned back in his chair, overcome with guilt. He didn't know what he was going to do. He wasn't good with apologies. He wasn't even sure how to begin, but something had to be done.

If not for himself—he still wouldn't allow himself that admission—then at least for the others. For the people who looked to you. For the space you had filled so effortlessly, that now felt so cold and painfully quiet.

Maybe, if he could fix this, you'd look at him again the way you used to. Maybe it was time for him to stop watching his door and finally go knock on yours.

The next week, Zayne finally mustered the courage to approach you. He stood just by your office, waiting for you to arrive, but when you finally did, you were moving too quickly for him to say anything. Your shoulders were tensed as you ducked past him, and without thinking to ask for permission, he followed you inside.

You didn't even acknowledge his presence. You were hunched over a drawer, rifling through it with your good hand. The other one—your dominant, he noticed—was clenched in a bloodied fist, a crimson thread trickling from between your fingers and down your wrist.

"You're hurt," he murmured.

You ignored him, yanking open another drawer with more force than necessary. Your good hand trembled as you pulled out the first aid kit, and it clattered onto the desk, spilling slightly.

He took a step forward. "You're bleeding. What happened?"

Still no response, and Zayne was forced to watch as you clumsily opened the box, tugging at alcohol wipes and sterile gauze with one hand, fumbling with the bandage roll like it had personally offended you. When the antiseptic hit your wound, you hissed, and that was the last straw.

Zayne reached for your wrist, and you pulled back as if stung, your blood-slicked palm cradled awkwardly against your chest.

"I just want to—"

"Leave me be!" you snapped. "Please. I have work to do."

He didn't raise his voice. "You can't work like this."

"I am working like this."

"You can't take care of your patients if you can't take care of yourself."

You let out an incredulous laugh. "Is this your way of calling me incompetent again? Believe me, Dr. Li, I have no time for you right now."

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed impatiently. "I'm not trying to—look, please, just let me help. You can snap at me all you want afterwards."

Without waiting for your response, he firmly nudged you in the direction of your chair, and you let him because standing suddenly felt too exhausting. Maybe the adrenaline had worn off, or maybe you were just too tired to argue anymore. You kept your mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line as he worked.

Zayne didn't speak either, kneeling beside you tentatively. He did not look at your face as he pried open your fist, his frown deepening as he examined the wound. Then he cleaned it with uncharacteristic tenderness, wiping away the blood and wrapping the gauze, his fingers stalling against your skin a beat too long.

When he finally stood to pack the kit away, you stood too, your anger spilling past your lips in a venomous tumble.

"My apologies for wasting your precious time with personal errands, Dr. Li," you practically sneered. "But you don't have to play nursemaid anymore. You do have a department to run, after all."

His own words thrown back at him. Zayne winced, but met your gaze without faltering. He deserved every bit of your resentment. "That was...certainly warranted."

You scoffed, pressing your wrapped hand into your lap. "Damn right, it was."

He nodded stiffly, absorbing the blow without complaint. He would accept your barbed words because at least you were speaking to him. Anything was better than your silence.

"I..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

When all you could do was glower at him, he adjusted his lab coat just to have something to do with his hands.

"I have no excuse for what I said. Or for what you heard," he continued. "It was... awful. And cruel. And I was wrong. You work harder than anyone else here. You work too hard. And I never should've implied otherwise. I'm sorry."

"I don't accept it," you said simply.

"I—"

"I don't care if that makes me petty. I'm allowed to be angry. You don't get forgiveness just because you decided to feel bad about it now."

Zayne's mouth parted in protest. "I know this is about the conversation you overheard, and I—"

"The one where you called me pathetic? Questioned my competence? You essentially said I've been neglecting my job because I bring my colleagues refreshments every now and then?"

"You must know...I had no intention of hurting you."

"Didn't you?" You stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you. "Because I remember every word. Every. Word. And believe me, it wasn't the first time I've been told I'm not good enough to be here. I just never thought you'd be the one to say it."

He flinched, but you didn't give him the chance to say anything else.

You tipped your head toward the door. "Please leave, Dr. Li. As per your earlier suggestions, I am working on managing my time better, and part of that includes not engaging in pointless conversations."

You followed him to the door, closing it in his face with a click. It was worse than if you had slammed it, because this felt too final.

He was just about to leave when he heard the strangled sound from the other side. A whimper and then a quiet sniffle. Zayne stood frozen in place, hand hovering over the doorknob, wishing he could offer more than the hollow apology he had.

His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "Truly, I am sorry."

For the first time in all the years he had known you, there was nothing else he could say.

Zayne didn't try to speak to you again. You asked him to leave you alone, and he respected your decision enough to resist intruding into your life. But that didn't mean he stopped caring, and he certainly never stopped trying. He just changed the way he did it.

You never ran out of your favourite stationery, a new box appearing on your desk every time you were even close, and it seemed that someone had paid for a lifetime's worth of beverage orders at the cafe across the street where you frequented. Every time you showed up, the barista would grin at you and tell you that your order had been paid for, no matter what hour it was. It was absurd.

The nurses had started noticing, too. How Zayne signed off on consults for your shared patients before you could ask him to. And the fact that the smartboard in your office now auto-updated like clockwork because someone had programmed the algorithm to pull directly from the cardiology logs.

He didn't overstep, of course. He didn't want to do anything that would make you think he was questioning your competence or ability to get things done. He just handled the little things to make your life easier.

For Zayne, it wasn't about being forgiven. He wasn't delusional enough to think that any of this would win you over, but that wasn't the point. He just couldn't stand the thought of you being tired, overworked, or overlooked anymore.

He knew you were angry, and you had every right to be, but this was the only way he could think of to fix things. To anticipate your every need before it arose and solve it before it became a problem.

However, no matter how much he tried to stay out of your way, his eyes were always drawn toward you when he occasionally passed you by, like a reflex he couldn't kill. You never returned the look, and though it killed him, he never stopped refilling the frog stickers when the last sheet disappeared from your drawer, and making sure the lab results for your most critical cases were flagged top priority. He wasn't waiting for your gratitude. He just didn't know what else to do with the ache that sat where your laughter used to echo.

It became unbearable when he began messing with your break room. The one in the pediatric wing was barely even a room, really just a glorified closet with a dying microwave and a fridge that made suspicious humming noises when overfilled. But it had been your domain. A little corner of chaos you liked to keep warm for the interns and residents who rotated through your department, stumbling half-asleep between charts and crying toddlers.

You'd made it a habit to stock the cabinets with snacks. Caffeine bars. Gummy vitamins. Single-serve juice boxes and thermal mugs with weird slogans. It wasn't much, but it made the 2 a.m. shifts bearable. People had started calling it the "Sunshine Station."

But lately, something had shifted.

You didn't notice it at first because you were too busy. But then, one afternoon, you ducked into the room to grab the last apple juice from the mini fridge, only to find that the juice had already been restocked. Not just that, it had been rearranged neatly, the labels facing out. Right next to a new box of cereal bars that no one else even liked, but your most overworked intern swore kept her from fainting.

It was strange. You hadn't placed an order this month because you'd been shamefully distracted by your own indignation. When you checked the other cabinets, they were full too, and not just with generics, either.

The gummy vitamins were the exact kind your other interns liked, the ones shaped like bears instead of those awful chalky tablets. Whoever had placed the order had even remembered to get lactose-free yogurt.

When you asked around later that day, all you received were blank stares. Those who frequented the break room claimed that the items had been simply delivered as they always were, and that they thought you had been the one to handle it like you always did.

It unsettled you. For years, you had been the one to keep things stocked. You took pride in remembering everyone's favourites because you liked showing up for the people who worked under you. It mattered to you. But now it was as if someone had quietly picked up where you left off. Someone had taken the time to learn what your team liked. Someone who was trying very hard to make amends.

You shut the thought down fast. You didn't want to think about him.

But your interns had other ideas, it seemed.

The next evening, you were filling out patient notes at the corner table, half-tuned out, while they squabbled over a nearly empty box of mango pudding cups.

"I swear to god, Nam, that was my last one!"

"First come, first serve, Clara. You've had four already!"

"I'm dessert-loading for morale!"

You didn't intervene. Their bickering was strangely comforting, like white noise after too many days of stifling silence.

Clara finally wrenched the box from Nam's hands, only to gasp dramatically.

"They're gone!" she mourned, rattling the empty cardboard. "My pudding! This is an emergency!"

"Just ask Dr. Li to add them to the supply list," Nam muttered, crouching to inspect the fridge's bottom shelf for apple slices.

You froze. "Ask who?"

Nam's head jerked up, eyes wide. "I—I mean, like. I don't know why I said that. Just—someone else must've added them to the order since you've been so busy lately. That's all I meant."

Clara nodded with a false smile. "We must have a secret supplier in our midst who keeps us stocked. The Snack Phantom. Or maybe... the Nutrition Ninja."

Nam nodded sagely. "The Candy Courier."

"Or the Juicy Justice Man."

"Okay, now you're just being plain ridiculous," you snorted, rubbing your temple. "In case you forgot, I'm the one who places the orders. And I'm sorry I forgot to this month. So what's all this about Dr. Li? He's got nothing to do with us."

Clara's eyes bounced between you and Nam guiltily. "Oh. Uh...it's just that he asked us about our snack preferences."

Nam nodded. Then quickly shook his head. "Well, not all of them. Just like... a few specific ones."

You squinted suspiciously. "Like what?"

Nam hesitated. "Like, which flavour of chips you like. And which brand of protein bars Clara eats when she's on night shifts. And those gummies that Dr. Gao hoards like a dragon."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable.

"Dr. Li doesn't believe in vending machines," Clara deadpanned, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere. "I swear I've heard him call flavoured chips 'an affront to God' once."

"He's not trying to replace you, of course," Nam added hastily. "He's just taking stuff off your plate. We all know how busy you've been lately. You even have that health outreach drive this weekend."

Your jaw clenched, and you looked back down at your chart, trying to keep your expression unreadable. In your periphery, you saw the two interns nudge each other, mumbling something about a chart they forgot to update before scuttling off.

When the room cleared out a few minutes later, you were left alone with your tepid green tea, staring at a worn sticker someone had left on the edge of the table. The same kind you used to put on Zayne's mugs.

Suddenly, every little thing felt far too overwhelming. You didn't know what you were supposed to feel.

Gratitude? Bitterness? Some ugly combination of both?

You were just so tired.

It was past midnight when you finally finished with your tasks of the day, exhaustion making your limbs feel like they belonged to someone else. Your coat was slung over your arm, your bag slumped tiredly against one shoulder, and the charts you'd meant to leave in the admin office tilted in your grip like a collapsing tower.

You cursed under your breath when a few of them slipped loose and tumbled to the floor. When you bent, your back made an uncharacteristic sound, and you winced. You hadn't eaten dinner. Or lunch, or even breakfast, for that matter. Your feet hurt, and you still had a dozen things to do tomorrow, even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Of course, this would happen. Of course—

"Let me help."

You turned sharply, and there stood Dr. Zayne Li, just a few paces away.

His hair was impeccable as always, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, coat draped carelessly over his shoulder. He looked as tired as you felt. More, maybe. The shadows under his eyes had grown darker since the last time you really looked at him.

You hadn't seen him this close in months.

In the time it took for you to scrutinize him, he had already stepped forward to gather your scattered files. When he handed them back to you, his fingers brushed yours tentatively, but you did not thank him.

Nonetheless, he followed you to the nurses' station where you dropped your load off, and then outside toward the exit.

"I didn't think you'd let me help," he remarked.

You shrugged, and that earned the smallest quirk of his lips. Equal parts sad and knowing. He must have sensed some kind of brittle neutrality in your expression. Not forgiveness, but the absence of active malice. The first thaw in a long, punishing winter.

When the two of you stepped out into the cool night air, he held the door open for you. You didn't comment on it, and the silence stretched again.

Zayne cleared his throat. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"How do you know that?"

"I checked the roster. I wasn't trying to pry."

You gave him a sideways glance.

"I just—" He adjusted his cufflinks. "I've been trying to apologize. Properly. I know I hurt you. I said things I didn't mean, and I let you believe things that weren't true. That you weren't—"

You turned to face him then, and he stopped talking.

"You did hurt me."

He swallowed. "I know."

"I still don't think I forgive you."

"I don't expect you to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself. "But holding onto it for this long has been exhausting, so I'm going to let it go. I'm not letting you off the hook. I am just letting myself off it. I simply don't care what you think of me, so you can rest easy, I suppose. I'm not angry anymore."

Strangely enough, you found that you meant it. It had been several months since the incident, and although for a short while it had bruised your ego, you needed to try and move past it. It was a lesson you had learned early in life when everyone around you doubted your abilities. You could not let their opinions of you make you waver. The same applied here. While you admired Zayne's intelligence and abilities, you refused to let his opinion of you affect your work. You had worked too hard for that to happen.

You were letting go more for yourself than for him. You wondered if Zayne knew that too, because he was looking at you with an expression of melancholy resignation, like he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or devastated. 

Was indifference any better than fury?

When you stepped past him to head in the direction of the train station, he called out after you. "You shouldn't take the train this late."

You didn't stop walking. "I've done it before."

"You're exhausted."

"Shocking, considering I just completed a 17-hour shift looking after tiny humans with fevers and sticky fingers."

"I'll drive you."

You glanced at him over your shoulder skeptically. "What, is this some sort of attempt at penance?"

"No," Zayne countered. "It's common sense. You're swaying on your feet."

You opened your mouth for a retort, but he was right, and frankly, you were too tired to protest on principle. So with a small, muttered, "Fine," you followed him to the parking lot.

You said nothing as you slid into the passenger seat and let the warmth of the heater begin to soothe the ache in your muscles.

You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, five minutes later, the streetlights outside looked wrong.

"This isn't my route."

Zayne didn't look at you. "I'm taking you to dinner."

"I didn't consent to that."

"You got in my car, didn't you?"

You turned fully to glare at him. "Where are we going?"

He disclosed the name of your favourite late-night restaurant, the one with the golden stew and free barley tea.

"How did you—?"

"I know you haven't eaten all day."

"Have you been having my interns spy on me?"

"You can't be both sleep and nutrition deprived. I've bagged up bodies that had more vitality than you."

"Oh, so now we've moved on to insulting my appearance? How novel."

"You're not hideous," Zayne remarked absently. "You just look like a Victorian ghost that's been wandering the moors since 1852."

You made a strangled noise of indignation. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Well, you should start acting like it."

But you lacked your usual fire. Then your stomach betrayed you, growling so loudly it echoed through the silence of the car.

Zayne didn't say anything, but the way he glanced over at you with that annoyingly subtle twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth made your scowl deepen.

"...Fine," you grumbled. "But I'm not thanking you."

"Wouldn't dream of asking you to," he said dryly, pulling into the familiar lot.

You rolled your eyes but stepped out when he opened the door for you, letting the smell of garlic, chilli, and warm rice overpower the urge to strangle him.

The restaurant was nearly empty at this hour, only a few lingering patrons tucked into booths, and faint ballads played through the speakers like a lullaby. You sat across from Zayne, not quite looking at him, and the overhead light was dim enough to make everything feel like a dream viewed through steam.

The waitress didn't bother with menus because she knew your order. You'd been coming here ever since your residency days. She simply smiled and said, "The usual?" with a glance at you, then your companion, who gave a silent nod.

You watched her leave, then directed your attention toward him. "You didn't even ask what I wanted."

"You always get the same thing. Unless you've changed your mind in the last several years."

"And if I had?"

"Then I'd offer you mine."

That shut you up for a moment.

"I didn't expect you to say yes," he confessed candidly. "To dinner."

"Then why are you trying so hard?"

"Because I miss you." His response startled even him because he immediately avoided your probing gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"I miss..." He exhaled. "I miss your bad jokes. Your sugar bribes. The energy you bring into a room just by walking into it. I miss being someone who deserved all of that."

"Dr. Li...Zayne...what are you doing?"

Your use of his first name made his heart convulse in his chest, and he wondered with mild curiosity if he was having a heart attack. You tended to have that effect on him. "I'm trying to make things right."

You didn't have an answer for that, so you picked up your spoon and dipped it into your food that had just arrived. You let the warmth hit your tongue, sink into your bones, and settle somewhere deep inside the ache. This was easier than coming up with a response.

Across from you, Zayne stirred his bowl absently. For someone who dragged you here with such conviction, he wasn't eating much. You caught him glancing at you more than once, and each time, he looked away just as quickly.

Then he cleared his throat. "So, one of my interns fainted in the middle of a laparoscopic demonstration yesterday."

You blinked, surprised he was talking at all, let alone telling you stories.

"She nearly took down the anesthesia tray with her."

"Oh...is she okay?"

"She's fine. She may have forgotten to eat. Or breathe. Possibly both." A beat. "I told her if she ever wants to pull a stunt like that again, she has to warn me first so I can bill cardiology for Greyson's near heart attack."

You gave a reluctant huff of amusement, and he seized it like a drowning man to driftwood.

"And then, today, one of my residents presented a case that was very obviously plagiarized from a House episode. He even kept the ludicrous diagnosis."

"That's... dramatic."

"He said, and I quote, 'It's rare, but not impossible, Dr. Li.'" Zayne took a sip of water. "I told him so is being struck by lightning during a Sudoku competition. That doesn't mean it belongs on a discharge summary."

You snorted into your rice. He seemed pleased by that. As pleased as he ever looked, which wasn't much, but you saw the ease in his shoulders, and the faint wrinkle at the corner of his eyes.

It was odd, watching him do what you used to do. Filling the silences and stumbling awkwardly over attempts at connection. Sharing things he wouldn't normally bother to say out loud. You tried not to let it affect you.

Tried.

Zayne glanced at you again, then made a visible effort to keep going. "Someone else spilled an entire tray of empty vials. He dropped them while trying to open his pudding cup. I told him that's what he gets for eating like a five-year-old."

You smirked. "Dr. Greyson told me last year that you eat your sandwiches with a knife and fork."

Zayne didn't miss a beat, going along with your story just for the sake of hearing you talk. "I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"You... what?"

"It's cleaner. You get an even distribution. No hand residue. Structural integrity is maintained throughout."

"That is the most unhinged thing I've heard in months."

"I'm a surgeon," he replied unapologetically. "I value precision."

"You're a monster."

"Possibly."

Another quiet moment passed, but this time it was companionable, warmed by broth and faint humour.

Zayne stirred his stew with mechanical precision, then said, with no real preamble, "Did I ever tell you about the time one of my interns tried to impress me by diagnosing a nosebleed as a sign of brain-eating amoeba?"

"...Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I were."

"And what was your response, Dr. Li?"

"I told her that unless the patient had just returned from a stagnant swamp in the middle of winter, she was catastrophizing. Then I handed her a nasal spray."

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh. "You're such a menace."

"She handed in a ten-page write-up on amoebic encephalitis the next morning."

"I'm torn between horror and pride."

"Greyson said I should start charging tuition."

"As if you don't make enough money already."

"They're all chaos." He shook his head. "One of them showed up in inappropriate footwear during an OR rotation and asked if we were doing anything fun today."

You choked on your rice, and Zayne offered you a napkin without comment.

"Inappropriate footwear? Would that be high heels or Crocs?"

"I cannot recall exactly."

"God. That sounds like something you would've done back in school."

Your dinner companion looked offended at the insinuation. "I would never have disgraced myself that way."

"True. You were insufferably by-the-book."

"I still am."

"You are." You chuckled again, reluctantly. You hadn't laughed this much in months.

Worst of all, you didn't hate the way it felt. But you hated that you missed it. You hated how much you'd missed him. You had to remind yourself that he was just trying extra hard to alleviate his own guilt, not because he actually wanted you to feel better. But it was hard to question his sincerity when he looked at you so earnestly. To you, his eyes had always been his most mesmerizing feature, and now, when he trained them on you, unguarded and sincere, you felt your resolve start to crumble.

Despite the distance and the cruelty that still stung at the edges of your memory, the ache hadn't lessened. There was something so familiar about him, the way his stories came out stiff and slightly disjointed, like they'd been rehearsed. The way he glanced up between anecdotes to check if you were still listening.

"I also miss not being verbally assaulted every morning by my ravenous interns asking where the 'sugar fairy' went." He gave you a gentle smile, something a little more than the usual twitch of his lips, and you chugged your glass of water to drown the sudden influx of butterflies that swarmed in your stomach.

You groaned. "I knew Dr. Greyson started that name."

"He did. But the students run with it like it's gospel. I overheard one say they were going to sacrifice someone to the snack deity if you didn't come back to our floor soon."

"And would that someone have been you?"

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

You laughed before you could stop yourself. You tried to smother it, but it bubbled up anyway. "Indeed, I would."

Zayne looked deeply, irritatingly satisfied, and you bit back another smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself enjoy it.

You were too tired to resist the lull of good conversation and an old friend tonight. Tomorrow, you could try to go back to hating him. Tomorrow, you would take your grudge by the hand, but today, you deserved to let go a little.

Eventually, he stopped talking, and you looked up to find him watching you intently. Almost reverently.

"...What?" you asked, warily. "Do I have rice on my face or something?"

He didn't respond.

"Seriously. What are you looking at?"

Zayne hesitated. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"What?"

"That thing I said. About you looking like a Victorian ghost."

"Oh?" Your lips quirked up wryly. "Do I look worse, then? Let me guess. Forest cryptid instead? Decrepit hag?"

Zayne didn't crack a smile or tease you back, and something fragile fluttered just beneath the surface of his gaze.

No. You look beautiful.

Even like this. Even in exhaustion with dark circles under your eyes and your hair messier than you probably realized. You were beautiful in the way late-night hospital lights made you glow. Beautiful in the way you had always cared, even for people like him, who never knew how to deserve it.

He hated that it had taken him this long to notice. Or rather, that it had taken him even longer to admit it to himself, but he would spend the rest of his days trying to find the right moment to say it aloud, to make you believe it. 

Today, however, was not the right moment, so he just wordlessly refilled your cup of water.

You didn't thank him, but you didn't push him away either.

For tonight, that was enough.

Taglist: @floofycookie @heartandeye @lanxianschoenheit @loverindeepspace @treeteaofversailles @ikesimpleton @mysticcauldronspire @69-gojos-wife-69 @nm4565natty @ciexuvia @jeonjenny @plzdonutpercieveme @sylusgirlie7 @raethewargeneral @staarflowerr @eolivy @straykidslvr @lemurianmaster @preeyas-world @sillyfreakfanparty

Hope I didn't miss anyone ❤️

[xinyuehui]

Little meow meows ฅ^ • ⩊ • ^ฅ

[vellatrelle]

Mentally I’m still in this myth <\3

[meiru-sama]

Yandere!loser x fem!reader

This story contains: Masochistic yandere, submissive yandere, mean/bully reader, masturbation, bullying, psychological abuse, toxic relationship, sexual themes, NSFW

He always noticed how you would always look at him--- though it wasn't filled with admiration and love. It was filled with disgust and judgement. You would lean on your locker, surrounded by your friends while you all stare at him as he pass. His breath hitched, his palms sweaty while you laughed at him.

Any normal person would consider this as an act of psychological abuse but to him it was psychological pleasure. He loves it, everything about you.

The way your lips would lift into a grin everytime you would make fun of him.

The way you would wrap your fingers around his messy hair, pulling it everytime you sit behind him.

The way you would look down at him everytime you would 'accidently' spill  water all over his work.

The way you would constantly push him out of your way while you glare at him.

The way you would force him to kneel infront of you behind the school with your friends. Slapping him, hitting him and sometimes giving him a 'sorry' peck on the cheeks.

It was making him go crazy, he could feel his pants tightening everytime you speak to him with your low and taunting voice.

He loves having your attention, he loves kneeling infront of you, he loves being humiliated by you.

Though he would hide it behind a facade, he would beg for you to stop, he would fight back and act like he doesn't like it. But all he wants is for you to push him on the ground. Break him until he can't take it anymore.

One day, you invited him to a party in your house. Words cannot express how glad he was, he can't stop thinking about the thought of you wearing a tight dress.

"Wear something nice, kay?"

"If i don't see you tonight, i'll go rough with you for the following weeks."

He almost screamed, he was contemplating if he should go or not. He wanted you rough but he also wanted to see you in your party dress in a freaky setting.

He sighed, as he stared up at your house. It was huge and he could hearoud music inside.

Upon entering the door, he was almost blinded by the colorful lights. He was nervous but luckily you greeted him the moment he entered. He was right, you were wearing a tight dress.

You led him to an empty room, far from the heated crowd and oh-- he loved how it  reeked of your expensive perfume.

You forced him to sit in your bed before rummaging through your drawer to grab a three page of crippled paper.

You told him that you had some plans next week so you wouldn't be able to do your essay project. You sat on the ground, laying your head on his lap. Looking up at him, playfully.

He have always thought about how smart you were---effortlessly always top of the class, reciting without struggles, high scores. It shocked him that you were asking him for help, someone who is second to you.

He nodded, painfully and you noticed it. You smiled when you thought of an idea.

"Maybe you should have something in return."

You stood up, towering over him who looked at you, eyes wide in shock.

"Tell me, what do you want? I'll give it to you."

He couldn't belive what he was hearing. YOU giving him the chance to choose? Wow. He paused for a minute before he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Kiss me." Those words slipped out of his mouth like a crime, though it felt good. It held commitment and desire.

You frowned before chuckling. You pushed him in the bed, sliding a knee between his thighs. You could feel his boner.

"You're a freaky one, aren't ya?"

You muttered before kissing him, your hand roaming around his belt thought you had no intention to remove it. You liked teasing him.

The whole makeout session lasted for a good 30 minutes. He was practically moaning between the kiss, panting and grinding on your knee.

"You'll get more when you give me a good essay."

You said before standing up, you then gave him one last smile before leaving him on the bed--- hard and needy.

When you finally left, he quickly stood up and went to the bathroom where he finished your job. He wished it was your hand stroking it right now. He imagined you kneeling infront of him, sucking his soul out like a good girl you are.

[indiewritesxoxo]

the XXX-files

the truth cock is out there!

synopsis: a collection of odd accounts of the strange and unseen and everything in-between - backshots from bigfoot? ghosts giving head? sucking off the abominable snowman? you'll want to believe after this!

pairings: various jjk!men x f!reader

content: mdni, smut and fluff and angst, monsterfucking, unprotected piv sex, creampie, knotting, oral (m! + f! receiving), all around insanity, sci-fi and fantasy elements included, more individual tags can be found in each fic!

mini-series

snowed in...starring yeti!Gojo x scientist!Reader

true love waits...starring nerd!Gojo x ghost!Reader

breaking news!...starring mothman!Geto x journalist!Reader

oneshots + drabbles

take a bite!...starring vampire!Geto x f!Reader

two's trouble...starring clone!Geto x f!Reader

three's company...starring clone!Geto x f!Reader

test subject one...starring clone!Nanami x coworker!Reader

paranoid android...starring scientist!Gojo x robot!Reader

runaway robot...starring scientist!Gojo x robot!Reader x scientist!Geto

crossed wires...starring scientist!Gojo x robot!Reader x scientist!Geto

ergo proxy...starring scientist!Gojo x robot!Reader x scientist!Geto

breaking up...starring alien!Sukuna x heartbreaker!Reader

bite sized...starring lovesick!Gojo x fairy!Reader

sweet tooth...starring vampire!Gojo x f!Reader

second base...starring virgin!Gojo x mermaid!Reader

betrothed...starring fairy prince!Sukuna x f!Reader

full moon...starring werewolf!Nanami x gf!Reader

devoured...starring villain!Sukuna x isekai'd!Reader

lost and found...starring spider!Gojo x hiker!Reader

cryptid!Sukuna x party girl!Reader

bigfoot!Nanami x monsterfucker!Reader

hunter!Toji x nymph!Reader

a/n: take this poll here for undisclosed reasons <3

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[indiewritesxoxo]

what update do you guys want next for this? (true love waits is coming this week btw)

pick your poison

part five of robot!reader

part two of fairy prince!Sukuna

part two of vampire!Gojo

part two of mermaid!reader

something new

Voting ended onJun 16, 2025

[rudamaruda520]

me as a writer

[moth-looking-for-a-lamp]

Me, selecting filters on Ao3

[frogmisc]

LEAVING AFTER AN ARUGMENT. . . you leave for an unrelated reason after an argument and he panics lads & f! reader

( I. ) first time writing for these guys kinda nervous eeeeeek ALSO what nicknames are we calling the boys? like is it baby, honey, or what cuz sometimes i wanna write dialogue for reader when she calls him and it's not his actual name if that makes any sense? lol

( II. ) send any lads reqs if you want ! i can't guarantee i'll get to them, but i'll try :)

. . .

it seemed like all you did was argue lately. tensions were high as both your schedules clashed, leaving no time for any meaningful connection. he was busy with work, irritated beyond belief as his colleagues continued to piss him off; you were drowning in missions, sorely overdue for some time off. everything you did annoyed him, and everything he did annoyed you.

you came out the shower, clad in your pajamas. you applied some lip balm while your eyes drifted to where he sat in the living room. despite your own exhaustion, you could tell he was stressed and wanted to offer some comfort. but after just one question of are you okay—

"for the last time, don't worry about it." he snapped, his jaw clenching as he attempted to retain control on his emotions.

your eyes narrowed at his tone, swallowing the hurt stuck in your throat as you carefully chose your next words. "i only want to help you—"

"well, you're not. in fact, you're making things worse."

your mouth opened... then closed. you stepped back, shaking your head at the audacity, emotionally clocking out of the conversation.

"right." you muttered, grabbing your phone and keys before snatching your coat off the rack impatiently.

he was so consumed in his own problems and how he would fix them that he hadn't noticed the uneasy silence that followed. he looked up, his discerning gaze scanning his surroundings. he caught the slam of the front door, blood draining from his face. he'd done it now.

🍎 CALEB

"...pips?" he asked the empty room, his voice quiet as if hoping to attract wildlife. the couch creaked as he stood slowly, his heart racing erratically in his chest. "hello?"

when he was met with no response, he ran over to the door. his throat constricted when he didn’t see your shoes next to his. shit. he shouldn't have said that. he groaned and ran his hands over his face. he really shouldn't have said that.

"makin' things worse? really, caleb?" he mumbled to himself in disbelief.

though his hand flew to the door handle, he hesitated to turn it. his thumb tapped on the handle anxiously. stupid, stupid, stupid. every fiber of his being ached to run after you, scoop you up into his arms, and take you back home where you belonged.

a part of him was scared—what if he ran after you and you finally told him to go away for good? he wouldn't do that in a million years, of course, but... he didn't want you to hate him, whatever the reason was. especially if it was his own doing. he couldn't live without you, and the empty house he stood in was a painful reminder.

he thought back to all the times he's brushed you off for work recently, leaving you in his flat with a placating kiss to your cheek. he didn't expect the fleet to demand so much of his attention, and now both of you were suffering for it.

caleb cursed under his breath and shoved his feet into his shoes, ripping the door open and sprinting down the street. he called your name, spinning around on the road to cover his bases, searching for any rustle, scent, or noise that would lead him to you.

"caleb, what are you doing?" you sighed from behind him.

he straightened up and turned, his hopes refusing to sink even after seeing the glare on your face. you just looked so cute in your pajamas and puffy jacket. he frowned, a new wave of guilt washing over him.

"get out of the road, please? and put on a shirt if you're outside—" your lecture was cut short as caleb hugged you tight, worming his warm hands under the wings of your coat and clothes "...what is up with you?" you asked softly, returning the embrace.

he squeezed you tight, savoring the feeling of your skin under his fingers. "i thought you left."

"i mean, i did. i just forgot my headphones in my car—"

"you scared me," he whispered into your neck.

an unbelieving laugh bubbled out of you, put off by his strong reaction. "what—did you think i left left?"

"yes." he whined, standing back and tilting your head up to face him. "you don't ever make things worse, princess. i don't know why i said that—"

"caleb."

"no, you're the only good thing i have left and i—" he choked up, his eyelids squeezing shut. "you don't deserve that. i love you, you know that right? i love you."

"i love you, too." you gripped his wrist, bringing him back down. "our lives aren't easy, and i don't expect you to be perfect all the time. we're both going to get to stressed and maybe annoyed with each other, but... i don't want us to grow apart because of it."

"no, never." he gripped your face with both hands, holding you firmly as if he were trying to communicate his pledge into your skull. "i'll never lash out like that again, pips, i promise. i know you were just trying to help—i'm so sorry." he peppered kisses all over your face until you wriggled out of his arms.

you extended your pinky, an expectant look on your face. he smiled gratefully and hooked his pinky with yours, allowing you to string him along back to bed and into your arms, where he belonged.

SYLUS

he checked the cameras surrounding his home, watching you storm down the pathway to your car. his heart thumped when the car door slammed shut, and he turned off the camera feed to save his thoughts from running wild.

he rose calmly from his chair, abandoning his drink and phone as he paced. ...he shouldn't have snapped at you. your look of hurt and betrayal was seared into his mind. the echo of you persisted even as he closed his eyes. i only want to help.

sylus debated enlisting the help of luke and kieran to keep an eye on you. he didn't want to pressure you to return home if you were upset with him, but he also wanted to be the one to comfort you... for a slight of his own doing... hm. what a paradoxical feeling.

his work required much of his time and effort, as did yours. of course the N109 zone had to act up when you finally found the time to spend the night. his stomach twisted with disappointment. what kind of man was he to put work over the most precious treasure of his life?

sylus gritted his teeth, grabbing his robe and tying it on before racing out the door. his motorcycle buzzed to life as he approached. mounting it with ease, he pulled up the map on his phone to check—

"where are you going at this hour?" you cast him a sideways look, judgement written all over your features.

...perhaps he should have checked the garage cameras before rushing outside with the intent of chasing your car down.

for once, his expression did not reflect his usual collected demeanor. "i... i thought you had left."

you held up your headphones. "forgot these in the car."

"i see." sylus cleared his throat, turning off his bike's engine. he swallowed thicky, choosing his words carefully as he had failed to do earlier. "i didn't mean what i said, kitten. making things worse is something you are not capable of."

you waved him off, turning to retire to bed. he frowned, hopping off his motorcycle and catching your hand, halting your withdrawal.

"i'm tired, sylus." you sighed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

of me? he thought in a panic, his throat suddenly bone-dry. sylus always had something to say, but in this moment, nothing he came up with seemed right. "what i said was in error. i never want to hurt you, so for tonight, i deeply apologize."

"sy..." you quirked an amused smile up, and his brows furrowed in confusion. "i am really tired. and i imagine you are, too. we're both high-strung, and you're not going to be perfect all the time."

"you deserve nothing less," he argued with a firm shake of his head. his hands rested on your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"you demonstrate that to me everyday, but i don't expect that of you all the time. you're human." your hand lifted to hold his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin after he leaned into your touch. "but when we fall short, i don't want us to take it out on each other."

his hand covered yours, pressing a kiss to your palm regretfully. "...i know, sweetie. i'm sorry. i love you, and seeing you walk out today reminded me that you mean the world to me. i would sooner abandon my work than push you away."

"i love you, too." you smiled and he brought you closer to his chest, hugging you as though he were afraid you would disappear.

when the night breeze made you shiver, he lifted you in his arms and tumbled into bed with you, his work long forgotten the moment your soft giggles hit his ears.

RAFAYEL

rafayel didn't look up from his blank canvas after realizing you left, but painting was the last thing on his mind. his knee bobbed uncontrollably, his brush wagging between his fingers nervously.

why did he say that? he always had to have the last word, even when he didn't mean anything that left his mouth. he might as well have said get out, i don't need you, when the truth was the polar opposite.

he heard your car engine rumble to life and fear seized his chest. you weren't—you weren't leaving were you?

rafayel knew his attitude was a lot to deal with sometimes. getting snippy when you were both upset was a recipe for disaster, and he often envied your patience in those instances. he always wondered when you would finally get fed up with him though he never believed it would happen.

until it did, today.

you were one of the few that loved him as he was and he was not letting you go because he let his exhaustion screw everything up.

he let his tools clatter to the floor as he sprung to his feet, speeding to the driveway. he spotted your car and practically ran into it, slamming his hands against the driver's window.

huh? rafayel peered inside but the driver's seat was empty. weird, he swore he heard you scream...

the backseat window rolled down, your annoyed head popping out soon after. "what are you doing?! you scared me!"

he scooted over to the back window sheepishly, his confusion apparent on his face. "what, uh... what are you doing?" he coughed to cover up his quivering voice, resting his arms on the door.

you bent over, searching under the seats. "i'm looking for my headphones. i'm pretty sure they rolled under here somewhere..."

his eyes darted to the front, seeing the dashboard lit and ready to go. "you turned the car on, so i thought..."

"i needed the lights. my phone wasn't enough." you explained hurriedly, then paused. you sat up and stared at him. "...you thought what?"

"i thought you left." he mumbled. rafayel's fingers rapped along the roof of your vehicle that it could've passed as rain. after a moment, he gave into his need to be close to you, opening the door and slipping into the backseat.

"you know i didn't mean it, right?" he began.

you glanced at him, shrugging. "i don't know. did you?"

"i didn't." he said indignantly, but his tone softened when he remembered his goal: apologize, not defend. "i would never mean something like that, cutie. i say stupid things when i'm backed into a corner. that's no excuse, though."

"yeah." you concede, sitting beside him. the soft melodies from the radio made the dip in the conversation less uncomfortable. "you really thought i was going to leave?"

he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "i thought you finally got tired of me."

"raf..." you frowned, your hand reaching to his. "we'll get tired of each other from time to time. it comes with being life partners—there's good days and bad days. doesn't mean we love each other any less."

you pulled his head into your shoulder and he didn't waste any time curling into you, clinging to you like his life depended on it. you could feel his racing heartbeat against your skin, but with every deep breath of your scent, it calmed down. little by little. his hair brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled impossibly closer.

"i know. but as your life partner, i should be making you happier. i'm sorry for losing sight of my top priority." he pressed an apologetic kiss to the crook of your neck. "i love you more than anything."

you smiled, stroking his fluffy hair. "i love you, too."

thomas found you two cuddled up in the backseat together the next morning.

ZAYNE

regret flooded him immediately. he let his head drop into his hands in disappointment, but his shame found him even as he closed his eyes. he didn't give himself time to wallow in self-pity—he got up, grabbed his jacket, and flew out the door after you.

he called your name just as he sees a flash of your pajamas turning around the corner into the garage. keys. he vaguely remembered the jingle of keys—did you intend to leave?

he burst into the garage after you, his breath short as he locked eyes with you over the hood of your car.

you raised an eyebrow but didn't stop moving. you were about to open the door when he grasped your arm, turning your body to face him. his grip fell from your biceps to your hands, lacing your fingers together pleadingly. you looked up in confusion—

"forgive me. i did not mean to snap. you were only trying to help, i know that—"

"zayne—"

"please, allow me to finish. i will never force you to do anything you do not wish to, but i promise i will never let my stress cloud my judgement in a way that makes you suffer. please don't go. i will—"

"zayne," your lips curved into a smile and zayne's brain had to buffer. "i'm not leaving."

he blinked, his eyes darting between you and your car. "but..."

you nodded to the center compartment through the window. "i left my headphones inside."

"oh."

your smile only grew as he released your hands, stepping back to allow you to open the door and retrieve your headphones. you pocketed your stuff and hooked arms with him, a gesture that weighed guilty upon his shoulders. he didn't deserve your affection after he lashed out at you, at least not so easily.

"i accept your apology." you hummed, leaning your head against his arm as he walked you back inside. "i wasn't mad, just... annoyed. we're both stressed out, and stuff like this will happen when we're both in bad moods. let's try not to make a habit of it."

"of course." he whispered. then, even quieter, "i don't deserve you."

you pursed your lips. "i don't like it when you talk down on yourself."

"i know," zayne murmured. "though it's hard not to when you... you make things so easy."

you smiled up at him. "loving you is easy."

his eyes communicated his gratitude, but the way he stopped in his tracks to embrace you said much more. i love you.

XAVIER

shit. xavier frowned, leaning back and peering through the window. he caught you walking down the street, dialing someone on your phone. when you spun around, he quickly let the curtains fall back into place. he didn't know what to do.

he was an idiot, that much he knew. xavier often got short when he was sleepy, but even more so when sleepy and stressed. he never meant to lash out at you, and normally he wouldn't, but... you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. with the sorry state he was in, the next person that talked to him was going to be unfairly assailed.

his palms grew clammy as he caught your voice muffled through the glass. you sounded upset. he peeked outside again, watching you vent. he winced and sunk back into the couch, his mind racing—what does he do? what does he say?

next, he heard a car pulling up to the house. his heart dropped in panic—he whipped around, watching someone park right where you stood. you opened the door...

oh, no. xavier scrambled off the couch, running past his coat and shoes out the door. he called your name as he sprinted down the sidewalk.

"what're you doing, xav?" you gave him a look before you entered the car, keeping a foot on the pavement to stabilize yourself as you climbed inside.

"wait—!" xavier came to an abrupt stop behind you, ready to pull you out if he needed to.

"yeah, that's my boyfriend." you laughed softly to tara. your friend ducked her head to catch a glimpse of him through the open door and waved in greeting.

huh?

"he looks like he's seen a ghost." tara mirrored your odd look from earlier.

xavier shifted behind you.

"he's been out of it all week, you know... working pretty hard." you rifled for something in the backseat, exclaiming happily once you recovered your headphones. "thanks for coming all this way, i appreciate it. have fun on your vacation."

"of course, no problem. think about having one yourself, hm?" tara smiled, honking her car in farewell as she disappeared down the street.

"i—i thought—" xavier took deep breaths to calm himself. "i'm so sorry."

"you thought what?" you asked, stuffing your headphones in your pockets.

"that you were going to leave." he admitted, blue eyes filled with panic and worry. "i'm sorry for snapping at you, you didn't deserve it. you never deserve anything like that, it won't happen again."

you flattened your hand against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. "it's okay, xav—"

"it's not." xavier's eyes hardened, guilt welling up inside him. why were you being so forgiving?

"i trust you won't do it again. even you seem surprised by your outburst. this isn't you, and both of us know that." you continued calmly. "sometimes the stress gets to us. i get it."

he bowed his head, covering your hand with his own and squeezing it every so often to soothe his nerves. "you could never make things worse. i love you, so much."

you smiled. "i love you, too. let's sleep in? i'll call in if you will."

"yes, please." he groaned with relief, nodding. he intertwined your fingers, swinging your hands between you as you walked back home.

──── love, honey.

[mayweholdhands]

Good listener

[byallmeans1]

[ballard96]

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

P☆SSY OBSESSED WOLVES.

paring : wolf!zayne, sylus, caleb and xavier x fem!reader.

synopsis : You got lost in the woods, just trying to find a way out. Instead, you found him—half-wolf, all muscle, and painfully in heat. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. One look, one growl, and you knew exactly what he wanted. And god… you wanted it too

tws : nsfw ／ smut, vaginal (creampie), marking, bitting, cervix kissing, nipple play, spanking, knotting (locked), multiple of rounds,, fingering, breeding kink and size kink.

note : I FINALLY FINISHED THIS, IT FELT LIKE YEARS!! Also didn’t do rafayel since I was too tired and didn’t feel like it. also there might be alot of mistakes since it ain’t proofread. ✌🏼

－ZAYNE ．

You were just trying to find your way out.

A wrong turn, a dead GPS, and an eerie quiet. The deeper into the woods you went, the heavier the air got. The moon hung low—full and yellow—watching.

Then you saw him.

Tall. Bare-chested. Black ears pinned back. Broad shoulders rising with ragged breaths. Zayne.

But not the calm Zayne you knew.

This one had hazel green eyes blown wide, tail twitching like a metronome behind him, body radiating heat like he was burning alive from the inside out.

“Y-you okay?” you asked, barely able to speak with how hard your throat clenched.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared.

Then sniffed.

Hard.

And groaned. Low. Deep. The kind that made your knees wobble.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he said, voice hoarse. “I was trying to be alone.”

“Zayne…” You took a small step closer. “Are you—?”

“In heat.” His jaw clenched. “It’s… hard to fight.”

You swallowed. He looked huge. Wild. His muscles twitched, like he was holding himself back with the last bit of sanity he had left.

He took a shaky breath, ears flattening as he forced out, “You need to leave, sweetheart. I can’t trust myself.”

But you didn’t run.

Because fuck, the way he looked at you—like prey he’d die for—had your panties soaked. Your thighs clenched.

He noticed.

His nostrils flared again. “You’re… turned on.”

You nodded.

That’s all it took.

He was on you—hands gentle but firm, pushing you against a tree. He kissed you like he’d waited years for it, like his tongue could taste the want leaking out of you.

“I’m sorry,” he growled into your mouth, grinding into you. “You smell too good. You’re not safe with me—unless you say yes. Say it now, and I’ll stop. Please. Say it.”

Your body arched to his.

“Zayne,” you gasped, “Please. Fuck me. I want it—I want you.”

His restraint shattered.

He growled, spun you around, yanked your panties down and pressed your back against a tree trunk rough with bark. His cock—thick, hot, leaking—rubbed between your soaked folds.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna make sure you’re too full to walk. You sure about this?”

“Breed me,” you begged.

And that was it.

He plunged in slow, dragging a moan from your throat. He was massive. You swore you could feel every inch rearranging you, kissing the back of your pussy.

“That’s it… good girl,” he whispered, holding your hips as you trembled. “You’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well.”

Crack!

You yelped when his hand smacked your ass.

“Stay still,” he growled. “Let me fuck this little pussy like it’s mine.”

He slammed in again, deeper, harder. You gasped, arching against the tree, toes curling in your boots.

You couldn’t even speak. Just drooled and cried out while he used your cunt like it was built for him.

Then—he bit.

Teeth sank into your shoulder, not enough to draw blood, but enough to mark. Your pussy clenched around him, fluttering as you came.

“That’s it,” he groaned, voice feral. “Mark you—so everyone knows. You’re mine. Say it.”

“M’yours,” you slurred.

He laughed softly, wrecked and breathless. “God, you’re so pretty when you go dumb for it…”

He grabbed your hair, gently pulled you back so he could watch your face as he shoved deep—so deep his tip pressed right against your cervix.

“Fuck—you feel that? That’s your limit. And I’m still not all the way in.”

You moaned, wrecked, dripping down your thighs.

He kissed your cheek. “One more. Let me knot you.”

His knot—it was swollen at the base, barely able to push in. He grunted, forcing it past your entrance. You screamed, body locking up as it stretched you wide, plugging you.

“Shh… I got you,” he whispered. “Just let it happen. I’ll take care of you.”

Then he came.

Hot, thick ropes shot into your womb, filling you so fast it spilled out around his knot. Your legs gave out. He caught you with both arms, pressing soft kisses to your neck even as he stayed locked inside.

“You’re so full, sweetheart,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. I can feel your cunt milking me—wanting it.”

You were a mess. Barely conscious. Babbling his name.

He held you like glass.

“I’ll carry you back when my knot goes down,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me hold you. Let me take care of my mate.”

You whimpered into his chest.

You’d never been claimed like this.

And you’d never wanted anyone else again.

－SYLUS ．

You should’ve never wandered into the woods after dark—but you couldn’t help yourself. The moon was full. The air was thick. Something in your chest had been aching, restless, and now your legs carried you deeper and deeper until the world went quiet.

That’s when you felt it—eyes on you.

Then you saw him.

Standing in a clearing like he belonged to it.

Sylus.

His usual composed, unreadable expression was gone—replaced with a glazed hunger, his red eyes glowing with something ancient. His white hair was tousled, his white ears twitching slightly, that thick, soft white tail low and flicking. His skin glistened, shirt discarded, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. His cock—already hard—strained against his pants, the bulge obscenely thick, the knot at the base already swelling.

He was trying to control it.

But the moment your scent hit him—your arousal blooming in your panties just from the sight of him—he snapped.

“Kitten,” he said lowly, voice rough and calm, like he was lecturing you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You’re in heat too, aren’t you?” He stalked closer. You backed into a tree. His hand braced beside your head, body towering over yours. “Look at you. Tits bouncing with every breath. Eyes begging for it. Don’t lie to me.”

He reached between your legs. Two fingers pressed against your soaked underwear and dragged up, slow.

“So wet already…” he murmured. “What were you thinking, wandering this deep, smelling like this?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—” you started, but his fingers pressed harder, right against your clit, drawing a whimper from your lips.

“Yes, you did. You wanted to be found. Wanted someone to take control. Wanted me.”

You couldn’t answer.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Say it. Say you want my cock.”

“I… want it,” you gasped. “Please, Sylus—want all of you.”

He chuckled softly, then kissed you—slow and deep, tongue sliding in with all the patience of a man about to lose it. One hand slid up under your shirt, cupping your tit, thumbing your nipple until you moaned into his mouth.

“Perfect fucking tits,” he murmured, squeezing it in his palm. “Soft little handfuls—gonna leave bruises on these.”

He shoved your shirt up, mouth latching onto one nipple, sucking it between his teeth while his hand rolled the other. You clawed at his back, trembling.

Then he moved—quick and smooth—pushing you to the forest floor, flipping you onto your back and dragging your shorts off with one hard pull.

“Open up, kitten,” he ordered. “Let me see.”

You spread for him.

He hissed between his teeth. “Fucking gorgeous. And this little pussy—fuck—it’s drooling. You really did come out here for cock.”

Two fingers slid in without warning. Your back arched off the mossy ground, eyes rolling back.

“So tight,” he said, watching your hole stretch around his fingers. “So fucking needy. Bet you’ll milk me dry the second I knot you.”

He curled his fingers up, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, pumping until you were shaking—until your thighs clamped around his wrist.

“You gonna cum already?” he whispered. “Just from my fingers?”

You nodded helplessly.

“Then cum. Right now. Do it while I watch.”

Your pussy clamped around his fingers, soaking him. He held you through it, still working you as you sobbed into your arm, overwhelmed.

“That’s one,” he said. “We’re not done.”

He stripped off the rest of his clothes, cock slapping heavy against his stomach—long, flushed, throbbing, and veiny. The tip leaked pre-cum in thick drops. And his knot… gods, it looked impossible.

“You’re going to take all of it,” he promised. “Even this.”

He lined up and shoved in.

You screamed.

His cock was massive, stretching you to the edge of pain—but it was perfect. You could feel everything. Every throb. Every vein. He bottomed out, hitting your cervix, and stayed there.”

“Kitten,” he whispered against your cheek, holding still, letting you feel him twitch inside. “You’re already stuffed. But you can take more.”

He started moving—slow, deep strokes that rocked your whole body.

He grabbed your tits again, squeezing and slapping them lightly. Watching them bounce as he thrust.

“Love these. So fucking soft. I could fuck them too. Make you lick the head while I slide between them. Would you like that?”

You moaned, brain melting from how full you felt.

He leaned down and bit your tit—hard. Not enough to break skin, but enough to leave his teeth behind.

Then he grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, biting your neck next—deeper. Harder. Marking you.

“Mine,” he growled. “You hear me, kitten? I’m going to fuck you until your womb knows it. Until you feel me every time you walk.”

His pace grew brutal. No more patience. Just raw, slapping thrusts as his knot started to catch on your entrance.

“You ready?” he panted. “I’m gonna plug you. Gonna fill you up so deep it won’t leave.”

You begged, moaned, cried for it.

And then with a feral grunt—he forced it in.

Your pussy screamed around it, stretched wide, locked.

Then he came.

Hot, thick spurts flooded your womb, each one timed with his cock twitching, his hips jerking involuntarily. There was so much. Too much. It leaked around the knot, smeared down your ass.

You were sobbing, overstimulated, completely ruined.

And he still held your tits like they were his favorite toys, thumbing your nipples even as he emptied himself inside you.

He leaned down, kissing your throat.

“Shhh, kitten. You’re okay,” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot. Just breathe.”

He stayed knotted, holding you close, petting your hair.

“You’re mine now,” he said softly. “And I’m not letting go. Not tonight. Not ever.”

You’re still shaking when he rolls his hips again.

Still spread open beneath him, pinned to the forest floor, his massive cock locked inside you by that thick, swollen knot. Your pussy stretches around it—wet, swollen, twitching. His cum leaks out in warm, milky drips, making a mess of your thighs and the moss beneath.

You’d lost count of how many times you’d cum. How many times he made you cum.

And Sylus? He’s just smiling.

Not that cocky, boyish smirk. No. This one is slow. Quiet. Predatory. His glowing red eyes never leave your face. Not even for a second.

“You look beautiful like this,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face. “So full. So fucked-out. My perfect little kitten.”

You whimper, barely able to respond. Your arms are limp around his shoulders, your chest heaving as he starts slowly grinding his hips again.

The knot grinds against your inner walls, stretching you just enough to ache—and Sylus watches you fall apart again with quiet satisfaction.

“Sensitive already?” he hums, tilting his head. “But you’re still so tight around me. Squeezing like you want more.”

Your nails scrape his back. “Sylus—nngh—can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He leans in, nuzzling your neck with his nose. “You will. You’re made to take me, kitten. Look at your poor pussy, still clenching, still drooling for me. You want to be ruined again, don’t you?”

He thrusts—just once. Shallow. Cruel.

You scream.

It hits your cervix, hard, and you feel him throb inside you. The pressure of the knot keeps you stretched, stuffed, plugged, and now he’s moving again—just enough to push you over the edge.

“Cum for me,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Do it. Let me feel you.”

You don’t even need to try.

Your whole body jerks, pussy spasming around the knot as your eyes roll back. You’re sobbing. Barely even conscious. All you know is Sylus—his heat, his cock, the growl in his throat as he starts to rut into you again.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “There you go. Just like that. Let it all out. Let me feel this greedy little cunt choke on me.”

He pulls out just enough to tease, dragging his cock along your walls, letting you feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch of his swollen tip before forcing the knot back in. You cry out again.

“Shhh,” he murmurs. “I know, kitten. I know it’s too much. But you’re taking it so well. So perfectly. I’m going to keep going until you’re bred so full, it leaks out for days.”

He leans down and bites your neck again, deeper this time—his canines sinking in just hard enough to sting, marking you all over again. You can feel the heat of his breath, the calm in his voice, even as he uses your body like it’s his.

His hand slides down to your chest, cupping your tit and kneading it slowly. He brushes a thumb over your sensitive nipple, then pinches—just to hear you gasp.

“Still so soft,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I could spend hours just playing with these. My hands were made to hold them.”

You moan, incoherent. Everything’s too much.

And Sylus knows it.

He watches your face closely as you writhe under him, your legs spread wide, his tail swishing lazily behind him. Every time you sob, he kisses your cheek. Every time your pussy clenches, he praises you.

“You’re doing so well, kitten. Letting me fill you like this. Taking my knot like a good little bitch in heat.”

He slows down again. Just grinding now. Letting the knot drag against your g-spot while his tip kisses your cervix with every roll of his hips.

It’s devastating.

You’re mewling, twitching, your fingers tangled in his white hair, clutching him like he’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, lips trembling. “Don’t pull out. Ever.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he says softly. “This pussy’s mine now.”

You’re drooling. Moaning his name like a prayer. His red eyes glow brighter in the moonlight as he watches you unravel, slowly, completely.

Another orgasm rips through you.

And he doesn’t stop.

Not until your body gives out, limp and twitching beneath him, your pussy still fluttering around the knot like it misses him already.

He holds you there, gently, his hand stroking your thigh while his cock pulses with one more slow, deep release—thick cum flooding your insides again, pushed up against your womb, warm and claiming.

You can barely speak.

You’re ruined.

And Sylus?

Still hard. Still in you.

Still whispering into your ear, calm as ever:

“You’re not going anywhere tonight, kitten. I’m going to keep you like this. Plugged. Bred. Mine.”

— CALEB ．

You should’ve turned back when the sun dipped low—but you didn’t. The woods had grown darker, quieter, and every path looked the same. You’d lost service hours ago, your legs ached, your heartbeat pounded behind your ears, and the air was thick—hotter than it should’ve been.

Then you heard it.

A low, ragged pant. Not like a dog. Deeper. More desperate.

Then—your name. Half-growled, wrecked, hungry.

“…You came.”

You froze.

He stepped out from between the trees, his wolf ears twitching, tail hanging low and stiff behind him. His eyes locked onto yours like he was starving—and you were dinner.

Your breath caught. You didn’t speak. You didn’t move.

He did.

Caleb closed the distance fast—hands grabbing your hips, holding you still, panting against your neck like he’d been chasing you for miles. You felt his whole body trembling. His voice, when he spoke, was guttural, cracked with restraint.

“I tried to wait,” he breathed. “I did. But it hurts.”

You shuddered.

His nose skimmed your neck, dragging in your scent. His groan vibrated against your skin. “Fuck. You’re… perfect. Your smell—you’re ready, too.”

You weren’t sure when your back hit a tree, or when his hand slipped between your thighs—but suddenly your shorts were on the forest floor, and his fingers were dragging slow, wet circles over your clit.

“Already soaked?” he murmured. “You came out here wanting this, didn’t you?”

You whimpered.

Two fingers slid inside—deep, slow, curling in just the right place to make your legs shake. His tail thumped the ground once. He licked his lips.

“Your body knows what it wants. Knows who it belongs to, pipsqueak.”

He dropped to his knees. You nearly screamed when his tongue replaced his fingers, licking deep and slow and messy—like he was starving. Your thighs clamped around his head. He groaned into you.

“You taste like heat,” he growled against your cunt, licking faster. “Fuck—I need to be inside you.”

You were shaking when he stood back up, your slick dripping down your thighs, cunt fluttering from just his mouth and fingers. He turned you around before you could speak—hands bracing you against the tree, fingers digging into your hips.

You felt the heat of him. Thick. Heavy. Pressing against your entrance.

He leaned in, mouth against your ear, breath ragged. “I’m going to ruin you.”

And then he pushed in.

You cried out—stretching wide around his cock, gasping when he bottomed out with one deep thrust. He was huge. You felt everything—his tip nudging your cervix, his shaft pulsing inside you, the obscene drag of his length as he started to move.

“So tight,” he groaned. “So good—fuck, you’re squeezing me like you were made for this.”

His rhythm picked up. Every thrust hit deep. His hips slapped against your ass, hands spanking you when you clenched too hard.

“You like it when gege fills you up like this? Gonna take it all, aren’t you?”

Your answer was a sob.

Then—you felt it. That stretch. That pressure. His knot was swelling.

You shook your head. “Caleb, wait—!”

He growled. “Too late. You said yes with your body.”

His knot forced inside with a wet pop. You screamed as it locked deep in your cunt, locking you together, sealing you around him.

Caleb slammed one last time, hard and deep, groaning as thick waves of cum pulsed from him, filling your womb so full you felt it ache. Your stomach fluttered. Your body trembled. You couldn’t move—only feel.

“You feel that?” he whispered, biting your shoulder just enough to leave a mark. “I’m breeding you, pipsqueak.”

And he didn’t stop.

Even as your legs gave out, even as your cunt fluttered from overstimulation, he held you tight, whispering filth into your ear.

“Round two’s coming. You’re not done. Gotta make sure it takes. Gotta feel you swell with me.”

He fucked you through it, again and again, even as you sobbed and begged—his tail twitching, his ears perked, hands stroking your clit, tugging your nipples, spanking your ass until you were gasping.

You lost count of the orgasms. You lost track of time.

But he didn’t stop until the knot finally deflated—only to build again.

Because once wasn’t enough.

— XAVIER ．

You didn’t mean to wander so far. The sun had been up when you started walking—but now the woods were bathed in silver light, shadows crawling across the underbrush, air thick with something humid, heavy, and strange.

You felt it before you heard him.

A pulse in your chest. A flicker of instinct. Something was watching you.

Then—his voice.

Low. Shaky. Familiar. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You turned—and there he was.

Xavier.

His usual sharp composure was gone. His silver hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat. His shoulders rose and fell with each uneven breath. His tail was stiff behind him, twitching. His wolf ears were flattened, trembling. His eyes were glowing.

You didn’t have to ask. You didn’t need to.

Your legs wobbled. Your heart pounded.

He stepped closer, slow, every movement tense—like he was holding himself back.

“I can smell you.”

Your breath hitched.

“Do you know what that does to me?” His voice cracked. “I haven’t touched anyone in years. I’ve avoided this. But now you’re here. You’re wet. You’re ready.”

You should’ve run.

But your body ached. Every part of you wanted him.

You whispered his name—and he snapped.

He was on you in seconds, shoving you back against a tree, his mouth crashing into yours with a hunger that bordered on feral. His hands tore at your clothes, pulling them off in pieces, until you were bared to the cold air—and his burning skin.

His mouth trailed down—neck, shoulder, breast. He latched onto your nipple, sucking, teeth grazing, tongue flicking. Your moans echoed in the trees. One hand groped your ass while the other slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding in deep.

“So tight,” he growled. “You’ll stretch for me.”

His fingers worked you open—slow at first, then harder, rougher. You cried out, clutching his shoulders. Your body trembled.

“I need to be inside you,” Xavier said, voice broken with need. “But I have to warn you—I’m not human when I’m like this.”

You nodded. You didn’t care.

He turned you around, bending you over a mossy rock, his hands gripping your hips. You felt him press against your entrance—huge, hot, throbbing—and when he finally pushed in, you screamed.

He bottomed out in one slow thrust, hips grinding against yours, cock so thick it kissed your cervix. Your body spasmed. He groaned low, fangs bared.

“Fuck—you’re perfect.”

He started moving—deep, hard strokes, hips smacking against your ass, each thrust rougher than the last. You sobbed his name, your walls clenching. He spanked you when you tightened too much.

“You like being filled like this?” he snarled. “You were made to take my knot.”

You didn’t know how long he fucked you like that. Your thoughts were gone. Everything was heat and pressure and him. His cock throbbed deep in your belly. Your slick dripped down your thighs.

Then—you felt it.

His knot.

Thick. Swollen. Pushing at your entrance with every thrust.

“I’m gonna lock inside you,” he growled. “Gonna fill you. Mark you.”

You begged. You cried. You said yes.

With one brutal thrust, his knot popped inside. You screamed—stretched wide, locked full. He growled as he came, hips grinding as his seed spilled inside you in thick, hot waves.

Your belly ached. Your legs gave out. He held you tight.

Still knotted. Still hard.

“You’re not done,” he whispered into your neck. “You can take more.”

He flipped you over without pulling out, your back pressed to the grass, his knot keeping you locked. His hand slid between your thighs, stroking your clit, making you sob. His lips found your other nipple, sucking deep, marking it with his tongue.

“I want you full,” he growled. “Want it dripping out of both holes.”

You blinked up at him, dazed.

He smirked.

“You didn’t think I’d stop at one, did you?”

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[sayangrafayel]

Childhood trio Pt. Apples 🍎

Caleb: Favorite type of apple. Go.

Zayne: The red ones..?

Caleb: I said apples, not colors.

Zayne: The red ones. What are they?

Caleb: All of them. All of them are red.

Zayne: No they're not.

Caleb: Except for the yellow-

Zayne: Except for the green ones and the yellow ones.

Caleb: Okay. There are like 90 types of apples. Pink ladies, gala, macintosh, red delicious-

Zayne: Red delicious?

Caleb: Yes! Those are apples!

Zayne: Did you really think I know the species of apples? Did I grow up on an Orchard?

Caleb: No. You grew up eating apples, Zayne!

Zayne: Well yeah, when someone puts an apple in front of me I just eat it. I don't go "hey, what's this one's name?"

Caleb, complete disbelief: You're an idiot.