#I do hope they can come to some reconciliation

[aurorasdaybreak]

close to you | zayne li (m)

summary: it’s been a while since you’ve been back in linkon city - staying in one place is hard when you’re one of the most celebrated pediatricians of your time, after all. your constant movement is disrupted when an unexpected invitation to be an honorary professor at linkon university has you packing your bags and settling into a new apartment, excited to create new memories in the city you once called home.  there’s just one problem with your carefully laid-out plans, though: a well-known cardiac surgeon who’s going to be co-teaching some classes with you - the same cardiac surgeon who just so happens to be your ex-fiancé. info: cardiac surgeon!zayne x afab!pediatric surgeon!reader | exes to coworkers to lovers | angst, fluff, smut | 24k words warnings: angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, smut, mc has insecurities abt work abilities and worthiness, zayne says hurtful things he doesn’t mean, reader has an evol linked to body energy - specifically soothing/calming emotions, they go back and forth bc they don’t know how to talk and that’s a big plot point, mentions of yvonne and greyson (yvonne is mc’s best friend!), zayne is a yearner but doesn’t know how to properly show it, reader drinks alcohol, reconciliation before it’s broken, another warning for angst, vague description of surgery and car accident, a description of a panic attack including: [heavy breathing, lightness of head, near blacking out], the comfort part of hurt with comfort, reconciliation but it’s real this time, smut, the slightest whisper of dom!zayne x sub!afab!reader, office sex, desk sex, clothed sex, f!receiving!fingering, m!receiving!handjob, zayne’s a tease, unprotected sex, g-spot stimulation, biting but it’s literally once, shared orgasms, zayne cums inside, fluff, happy ending :D author's note: good lord it's done LOL (;-;) i cannot ever shut the fuck up when it comes to dr. zayne li so i hope you enjoy this :D if you liked it, leave smth in my ask box!! i rlly appreciate it <3 disclaimer: will edit soon for any mistakes!! if you are a minor and you're seeing this, i ask that you turn away and do not read. this is an 18+ story and minors are not welcome. if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics listed in the warning, please do not read this story! banner by my beloved miss l, @snowvee <3 playlist linked here! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited over west-facing windows before in your entire life.

All throughout your life, you never had the chance to see golden hour and sunsets as much as you would like. Your life prior to this new apartment had been spent huddled over a lab counter and running back and forth in hospital corridors, ensuring your work was done with efficiency and care. Sunrises are your constant companion and you think they’re nice, but there’s just something about sunset.

The warmth it leaves on your skin as it dips below the horizon and the sun-kissed haze it leaves in your apartment…it fills you with a sense of accomplishment and peace.

You’ve done it, ____. You’ve successfully created a new space for yourself - free of some of the memories that plague you at night.

Your eyes trace the lines of marble on your kitchen countertops, giddy with thoughts about all of the meals you can cook and wines you can have on the counter during dinners with friends. The idea of reviving your social life after moving for so long and connecting with certain people has your heart fluttering, although your concentration is broken when your phone buzzes on the counter.

You slide your finger along your phone’s screen without another thought, your smile immediately growing when you see who it is.

“Hi, Yvonne!”

You watch as her signature bangs pop up on screen, followed by her sparkling eyes and sweet, dimpled smile. Yvonne is one of your closest friends from college: one of two people who were able to drag you away from your textbooks and into a mall or a karaoke room during the weekends. She was there with flowers and snacks after you defended your thesis perfectly to become a fully fledged pediatrician, and you were present with her favorite chocolates and a reservation to her favorite restaurant when she passed her nursing exams with flying colors.

Simply put, she’s your rock and you don’t think you’d be able to exist without her.

“My favorite pediatrician’s back!” She cheers, and you laugh when you see her spin in her office chair. “How do you like your new apartment?”

“The west facing windows are incredible.” You pick up your phone and flip the screen so that she can see the sunset through your wall-length windows, and she gasps at the magnificent view.

“It’s gorgeous!” She rolls her chair closer to her phone, and you giggle when she presses her nose up against the screen so she can really squint at the painting-like sky you’re currently showing her. “Wine and dine nights are about to be so good at your apartment.”

“I’m just excited about the kitchen island and the second bedroom,” you sigh in response, picking up your phone and walking around with it. You walk towards the front of your half built shoe rack, sliding on some shoes as you continue your chat with your friend. “How’s work been so far?”

“Same old,” she responds. You watch as she unties her hair from its slicked back bun, shaking her head vigorously and massaging her scalp so that she can release the tension. “I was the charge nurse today, but we thankfully didn’t have any new admits.”

“That’s good!” You grab your leather tote bag and sling it over your shoulder, making sure your keys are on your wrist before you shut the door to your new home behind you. “When are you off, by the way? I have to go to the university to pick up my materials and meet with Dr. Chung, but we need to meet up in person.”

“I’m free a week from now if that’s okay? It gives you time to set up your apartment and get the first couple of classes out of the way.”

You hum at her words, nodding and giving her a thumbs up. “That sounds good! Now go and don’t let the doctors get you down.”

Yvonne laughs at this, waving as she hangs up the call.

There’s a pep in your step as you walk to Linkon U - your new apartment in the university district of Linkon City. There’s a pleasant vibe as you listen to your favorite song, strides unhurried as you take in your new workplace.

When you’ve been far away from everything you used to know, you don’t realize just how small things were until you step back into your previous environment and really take it all in. That’s the case for you as you walk into the health department - smiling fondly at the trophy display case by the entrance of the grand hall. You let your eyes wander as your feet take you into the vague direction of the administration offices, until-

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

You shake your head and smile sheepishly, breathing in deeply to calm your nerves at bumping into your new colleague. You find that it’s a big mistake, however, because it’s the smell you find yourself craving.

The crisp smell of pine body wash and jasmine detergent, mixed with something that makes you know that it’s him.

You feel yourself heat slightly as you dare to look up, embarrassment and something more heady roiling in your stomach as you stare directly into the golden flecked green of Zayne Li’s eyes. They’re carefully blank, his mouth pressed into a straight line and posture so rigid you would think he’s had a ruler permanently tucked into the waistband of his pants so he’s always straight-backed.

But you know that’s not the case.

No…you know that it’s because of how things ended between the two of you.

You wipe your mind of a kneeling man and salty tears streaking your cheeks as you carefully school your features into a pleasant, albeit lackluster smile. Your hands gently grasp at the shoulders you’ve dreamed of and you step to the side as you move past him, focusing on the small plaque with Dr. Alistair Chung: Head Director of the Linde School of Medicine engraved on it so you don’t lose your composure being in such close proximity to the man who’s never left your mind.

“It’s nice seeing you again, Dr. Li.”

And you mean it. He may not act like he cares, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to.

With that, you nod your head once before walking towards Dr. Chung’s office.

To your surprise, however, Zayne begins to follow you.

To Dr. Chung’s office.

You barely have time to process what’s happening before walking into the office, Zayne closing the door behind the two of you softly. You watch as your old mentor lifts his eyes from the file he’s poring over before sitting up sharply, a warm smile gracing his face as he registers who stands in front of him.

“Ah, Zayne! You’ve found Dr. ____!”

“Hi, Dr. Chung.” You barely hesitate to walk over when he lifts his arms out to you, and he envelops you in a hug that has your heart softening and anxiety calming when you step away from him and back by Zayne’s side.

“Look at the two of you!” He laughs joyously, clapping his hands. “Why, it feels like just yesterday that the two of you were undergrads entering the graduate program!”

You force a laugh from your throat, though it dies awkwardly when you realize Zayne is stone-faced next to you. You clear your throat once again, grasping at something to try and make the atmosphere of the room feel somewhat normal.

“I sometimes look back on those days. Some days with fondness, other times with pain” you say. Zayne’s breath stutters next to you but you ignore him, giving Dr. Chung a real smile. “I get the same amount of sleep from back then but I still look back on those days fondly.”

“Likewise, my dear.” He winks at you quickly before clearing his throat and picking up the document he was previously reading. “We’re thankful and honored to have you serving as an honorary co-professor here at Linkon University - your intellectual prowess and care for knowledge will surely be beneficial to the classes you’ll be overseeing this spring semester.”

You pause at his words, heart stuttering slightly when you hear the prefix “co-” in front of “professor.” What does that mean, exactly? Aren’t you supposed to be leading this semester’s medical intro class by yourself?

“Dr. Chung, I don’t mean to intrude,” you begin softly, but with enough assertiveness that you efficiently cut off his ramblings. “What did you mean by co-professor?”

Beside you, Zayne’s breath sharpens and his previously frosty demeanor goes even more rigid if possible - making your anxiety come back with a vengeance.

No…no-

“Well, Dr. ____, it means you’ll be hosting this semester’s course with another doctor.” Your jaw clenches tightly when Dr. Chung’s tone takes on a teasing sort of lilt, his eyebrows wiggling jokingly at you. You force a fake laugh, trying to quell your rapidly beating heart before asking the question you know the answer to, even if your heart sinks straight to your ass.

“Who am I co-teaching with?”

Zayne exhales sharply, as if he’d been waiting for you to finally prod at the snoring bear in the corner of the room. Dr. Chung looks at you with mild surprise, eyes flickering between the two of your bodies before laughing once more.

“Why, ____, did Zayne not tell you? You two are going to be co-professors!”

Fuck…you’re going to be teaching with Zayne?!

You whip your head sharply over to the root of your surprise and growing issues, and you note with little satisfaction at the sheepish tilt of his eyes.

“Is this really necessary, Dr. Chung?” Your voice is tight and you clench your fists so that you can still your emotions, taking a deep breath and schooling your face into its usual pleasant one. “Does Zay- Dr. Li not have his own courses to teach here at Linkon University?”

“On the contrary, Dr. ____.” You can see the bewilderment on Dr. Chung’s face as he regards the tension between the two of you, and he has the grace to look slightly embarrassed as he continues on. “You’re the leading expert on pediatrics in this region - particularly the study of how Evols can affect a child’s many systems. The seminar this semester will be cardiac and pediatrics focused, and Dr. Li requested yo-”

“If it’s a big deal, we can split the lectures so that you teach the pediatrics part and I teach the cardiac unit.” Zayne’s quick to cut off Dr. Chung’s reasoning, and you don’t miss the wicked gleam in Dr. Chung’s eye and Zayne’s rapidly reddening cheeks as he regards you once again. There’s a depth to his eyes that draws you in - eyes that have been your constant companion in your dreams, eyes that you’ve wanted to look at you with soft tenderness.

You know you can’t have those eyes in your life, though.

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding before smiling up at Zayne, a bland sort of grin with no teeth and emotion. “It’s all right, Dr. Li. We want to be efficient with this, and it’s easier to explain Evol’s effects on the heart within the realm of pediatrics if we’re both in the room.”

If you were a different person not fully accustomed with Zayne and his emotions, you wouldn’t have seen the invisible war he wages between the facts and his heart flickering on his face. But having known him and his emotions for years at this point, you can see it happening in real time: the way his eyes move back and forth as he scans your face before lifting to the ceiling slightly in thought, the way his hands twitch ever so slightly, and the way his tongue quickly darts out to wet his lower lip. It’s little things you’ve tried to rid yourself of in your time apart from him, but you’re forever cursed with the knowledge in your head.

After what seems like a millenia, Zayne sighs softly and shakes his head. “All right, if you’re okay with it we can do the joint lectures.”

His tone holds a gravelly undertone, and a small part of your stomach erupts in a frenzy of butterflies. You open your mouth to speak but you’re prematurely cut off with a loud ringing coming from his pocket.

Zayne breaks his eye contact with you to reach into his pockets, and he slides his thumb across the screen without even looking. You watch as he answers his phone, face going from curious to severe before settling into a calm that you recognize; the sort of calm you feel when something urgent happens at the hospital.

Zayne hangs up his phone, and he looks at Dr. Chung apologetically. “Called in for emergency  heart surgery, something related to a Metaflux fluctuation that triggered an underlying condition.”

Dr. Chung’s eyes sparkle and he nods his assent at Zayne. “Go on, Dr. Li.”

Zayne turns on his heel and begins to walk out. You force yourself to keep your head on Dr. Chung’s nameplate as you hear the door open, but before the door closes shut you hear him pause.

“It was nice seeing you, ____.”

A soft click signals his departure, and you shake yourself off internally.

What a meeting, and it isn’t even your first day lecturing yet.

How the fuck are you going to survive this?

“I think I need to take my leave as well, Dr. Chung.” Your eyes dart back to the man’s bemused smile, and you sigh internally to yourself. What does he know that you don’t?

You nod to him once more before turning on your heel to leave, but-

“You know, Dr. ____…we still have that permanent head of pediatrics position open.”

Dr. Chung’s voice stops you in your tracks, hand hovering above the door knob to his office. You turn your head back to look at him with a bewildered expression. “Sir?”

“It’s been empty for years,” he continues. He peers at you through his glasses, and you suddenly feel like you’re back in grad school - standing in front of him and a panel of your professors skillfully answering questions regarding your thesis. “I can’t think of anyone better than you to lead our pediatrics department.”

You shake your head at this, a bashful expression overtaking your face. “Respectfully, no thank you, Dr. Chung. I don’t think I’m fit for hospital politics - I’d rather be hands on with my care.”

“You, not fit for it?” The laugh that escapes his chest isn’t in a derogatory manner - in fact, it’s full of disbelief that you even think of yourself in that way. “Ms. ____, you fearlessly defended your thesis some years ago before going on to win heaps of awards and researching new scientific breakthroughs for diseases that plague young children. You’ve accomplished feats most of my colleagues barely even get to touch by the end of their career, and you’re still at the first couple of years in your glowing career. Why, you and Dr. Li are of the same caliber! Why are you so afraid of giving yourself time to rest?”

You flinch at the mention of his name as a comparison to your own, but you try to hide your sudden shock as you shake your head harshly. “No, I don’t think I’m quite right for it yet.”

Dr. Chung’s eyes soften at your sudden walls, and he sighs. “Seems I hit a nerve.”

You avert your eyes as he gets up from his chair, approaching you with gentle steps. He stands in front of you and holds out his hand, and after a bit of hesitation, you give him your own. He holds it gently as he regards you with a familial kindness - one that makes your heart ache ever so slightly.

“____, there’s no shame in stopping and resting.” He squeezes your hand and you fight back tears as you squeeze back. “Let me tell you, you’ll never be right for anything - but you can always let yourself grow in your new home and learn. That’s the beauty of our field.”

You bite your lip, willing yourself to get your emotions together before you look up at him and smile as brightly as you can manage. “The semester hasn’t even started yet! Let me get through the courses first - and let me navigate working with Dr. Li while also doing my dailies at Akso and balancing observations. If anything changes I’ll give my response by the end of the semester.”

Dr. Chung sighs, shaking his head. “All right. But just know that by the end of the semester, I will be sending you a couple of insistent emails.”

With that, he lets you go and you wander back down the hallway you came from. As you walk aimlessly, you catch sight of the office door the two of you were by. A shiny nameplate sparkles with the name Dr. Zayne Li, Head of Cardiology engraved on it, and you sigh at your past self’s lack of awareness.

You should have known.

You know it’s foolish of you to think, but is he thinking of you as he’s washing up and preparing for the sudden emergency surgery sprung up on it? Did you consume his thoughts as much as he did in your time apart?

Or have his feelings for you eroded into nothingness?

You shake your head once more, squashing down the disappointment that settles in your stomach before making your way out of the academic office wing.

You don’t have time to think about him. You have lectures to write.

You can’t fight the nervous butterflies that erupt in your stomach when you walk into your assigned lecture hall the following week.

You’ve done a lot of hard things through your career; you can practically do high risk surgeries and retake the Doctor’s Exam in your sleep if you needed to. Public speaking was never really your forte, though - which is hilarious considering you’ve had to speak at international conventions and teach lectures before this.

The more you analyze your feelings, though, you realize that they’re good butterflies.

You don’t know why it feels so different this time. You’re still the same you - maybe with more degrees and an even bigger lack of sleep when you were in undergrad but still, it’s you. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re in a familiar environment that feels so new. 

Maybe it’s the person you’re going to be teaching with.

You can’t allow yourself to falter, so you swallow your nerves and open the lecture hall’s computer - waiting for it to boot up so you can access the slides you’ve carefully put together.

You hear the tell-tale sign of the door creaking open, and you hum as you log into your work account. “Hi! Class isn’t in session yet-”

“I would hope not, I don’t want to be late.”

Your stomach drops slightly when you note the soft, slightly frosty tone of your co-lecturer. You clear your throat and steel yourself, looking up to see Zayne holding a stack of neatly stapled papers and his own bag. He sets his bag next to yours on the hook behind the desk before setting the syllabi down onto the desk in front of you.

The air around you suddenly feels too thin, and you reach for a packet so that you can distract yourself from the thin line his mouth is pressed into and how his white shirtsleeves are pushed up to his elbows and hug his biceps in the way you so love- loved. You ignore the way your hands shake as you flip the paper, noting the class schedule and when exams would be before nodding once.

“Glad we both agree on the content schedule.” You cringe internally at how your voice wavers, and you clear your throat once again before scanning the class recommendations once more.

“When would we do observations?” You lift your gaze from the paper and look at him pointedly, tapping at the dates listed. “There aren’t any concrete dates, and with exams and other classes we should let them know in advance so there isn’t any confusion.”

“We should schedule it around our personal timelines.” Zayne’s voice is clipped as he pulls out a pen pouch from his bag and sets it on the desk. “We need to make sure that no major procedures are impeded on when we bring med students around.”

“That’s practically impossible with how fast things change in the hospital and you know that to be true, Zay- Dr. Li.” You catch your near slip and you clear your throat, grabbing a pen and writing down five potential dates. “How do you feel about these?”

Zayne takes the paper from your hands, and you try to fight the shiver that threatens to race down your back when his hands lightly graze against the back of your hand. The tips of his fingers are as callused as you remember and though they barely brush across your knuckles, you fight the gasp that bubbles up against your lips and disguise it as a really shitty cough.

You watch as he purses his lips, scanning through his personal timeline in his head before nodding once in agreement. “All right.”

Your heart sinks at how quickly he agrees - his clipped, almost bored voice letting you know that he intends to spend the least amount of time with you so that he can be rid of you quickly. Did he really disregard you that much - does he really not care for the past couple of years you’ve spent together, even if the ending was horrible?

“I know you don’t want to work with me, especially with how things ended.” You mumble as you avert your eyes so you don’t have to see his expression. “We just have to last the semester and then…well, I’m not sure. But I’m sure you’ll be rid of me by then.”

“What makes you think that?”

His voice is quiet, severe, devoid of any and all emotion that endeared you to him - but he still moves a little closer so that he’s encroaching on your territory. Not enough where he’s all you can feel, but enough that it sends a shiver up your spine when you smell his signature pine and jasmine scent.

“I don’t know.” Your honesty is bare for him to take in, and you swallow thickly when you realize just how vulnerable you’re being with him. This isn’t something that should be happening right now - not with students on their way to the lecture hall right now.

And you definitely shouldn’t be sharing feelings with your fucking ex-fiancé.

“It doesn’t matter.” You swallow thickly before schooling your expression into the bland smile you always seem to have when you’re around him these days. The fire in his eyes gradually dims before frost takes over his expression again because he knows.

He knows that you’re not going to listen to him, not this time.

So you turn back and wave hello to the incoming medical students.

And if they sense the frost between the two of you, they don’t dare to say anything.

“...And that’s how I ended up in this situation.”

“Holy shit, ____.”

“Yeah.” You’re careful as you flop back onto your couch so that you don’t spill the wine you’re holding, rubbing your eyes as you process all that transpired in the past couple of days.

“This is the romance story of the ages.”

Your eyes snap open from shock at Yvonne’s half joke, and you toss a cat shaped couch pillow at her head. “Yvonne! He’s my co-lecturer!”

Yvonne laughs at your reaction as she holds her hands up, half in surrender and half so that she doesn’t spill wine all over your couch. You think she’ll stop the teasing, but…

“You know, most if not all of the health college’s heads set up betting pools on when you and Zayne would start dating.” You groan at her words, throwing another pillow at her laughing head.

“You’re making that shit up!” You slouch on your couch, folding your arms dramatically.

“Am not!” She gasps. “My nursing professors put a lot of gold in the pool for the month of March because of White Day.”

You feel a hot flash of embarrassment when you remember how he had bought you a box of chocolates and a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and you rub a hand at your temple when you recall the classmates and professors that had flocked around you and asked who it was from with a touch of too much intensity. “Oh gods…”

“Now that I think about it, I think Dr. Chung won the whole thing. No wonder he’s so insistent on you working at Akso and becoming the Head of Pediatrics.” Yvonne moves to sit down next to you, placing her wine glass on your coffee table before settling her head on your shoulder. You place your head on top of hers, letting her presence be a safe space for mulling over your thoughts.

“That damn Dr. Chung,” you grumble, much to her amusement.

“It could be worse, ____.” Yvonne’s voice takes on a tone of comfort, and you sigh as you close your eyes. “You’re just lecturing a couple of classes and doing a set of observations with Zay- Dr. Li. Make it through that, you can make it through anything.”

“You can call him Zayne,” you mumble back. “Hearing his name won’t kill me.”

“Well, it sounded like making a little bit of eye contact with him was going to set off cardiac arrest.” Her voice is back to teasing and you make a noise of frustration.

“It was charged and intense!”

“Just say you were eye-fucking him and go, ____!”

The absurdity of Yvonne’s statement makes the both of you burst out laughing, you clutching your stomach as high pitched squeaks escape the both of your lips. There’s something about the two of you absolutely giggling your heads off at something so preposterous that eases your nerves with your current situation at hand. 

Maybe it is that easy. All you need to do is survive this semester and then you can transfer to a different city and work in a different hospital and university. Maybe Dawnlight City or somewhere near the Arctic in a sleepy little town.

Somewhere far away enough where you don’t have to be reminded of all of your memories and history involving Zayne.

“All of this would be a lot easier if things weren’t the way they were.” It’s a quiet statement, tinged with a fraction of the sadness that lurks deep in your soul. You want to blame it on the wine, but you know that it’s something that’s been festering within your body ever since that night.

“It’s not on you, ____.” Yvonne’s voice is firm and she squeezes your hand tightly as she bumps you lightly with her shoulder. “It was a mutual agreement to keep the engagement private and you guys were so happy. Transferring to a different hospital was reasonable and you did it so you could move on - no one faults you for that, ____.”

You freeze slightly when you hear move on - a phrase loaded with implications and uncharted feelings.

Have you moved on? You reflect back on your life and you find that things have gotten easier for you. You have a new step stool that’s only allowed in the kitchen because you picked up his annoying habit of placing your dishes on the highest shelf even though you’re shorter than him. You have a car and are more comfortable driving, no longer as reliant on public transportation or your friends. You’ve grown to like eggplant parmesan, too.

But those are little things in your life that you’ve done to fill his absence. You still see and feel flashes of him when you least expect it: in cloyingly sweet lattes that remind you of late night study sessions, in lavender bouquets that surround you with the smell of your first kiss, and with the chibi snowman sitting on your nightstand - the same one you don’t have the heart to throw away because he made it for you when you were bedridden with the fever and he didn’t want to leave you alone, even though he had his own thesis defense rehearsal to prepare for that night.

As much as you’ve tried to move on, you know that you’re just plugging in the gaps for the spaces he used to live in. Deep down, you know that there’s no moving on from him - from the man who wrapped you with his own coat with laughter even though you were the one who insisted on leaving without a jacket, from the one who wiped your tears away and cried with you after you experienced your first loss as a doctor, from the one who tapped his finger three times against your nose before you went to sleep.

No, you can’t move on. Not when you’re still so deeply and irrevocably in love with Li Zayne.

“I haven’t moved on.”

The whisper hangs in the air above your heads and Yvonne stiffens ever so slightly, taking in your confession.

“You’re not over Zayne?”

Her response is a quiet gasp, and you sigh as you rub your hand over your face before shaking your head once, twice, three times - confirming the truth that’s been bubbling in your chest ever since you moved away all those years ago.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been over him.”

“Shit, ____.”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

You let yourself reflect back on that rainy night - the night where everything fell apart for the two of you. He had just been promoted to head of cardiology at Akso - draining his time and his affections from you. You had started seeing him less and less, dark circles forming under his eyes and his cheeks growing gaunter by the second. The two of you had gone back and forth on the subject until everything just…snapped.

“I never see you anymore, ____.” It was lethally quiet after you had said the unspoken truth, venom injected into your tone. “You’re working yourself to death, you’re going to bed when I’m waking up and it’s not good for you-”

“I’m working for us.” Zayne’s voice was icy and he had balled his hands into a fist so tightly you were afraid of him accidentally breaking his own skin. “Weddings are expensive and this is all for you-”

“I don’t want it to only be for me, Zayne! This is supposed to be for us!”

It had burst out of your chest, and in the heat of your anger you had marched up to him and pointed your finger in his chest. “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You’ve distanced yourself from me. We don’t even sleep in the same fucking bed anymore, Zayne!”

Zayne’s anger had rolled over, clouding his judgement as he pushed you away from his body. Your hands had fallen to your side as he said the words that have since been engraved in the twisted, self-hating part of your brain with a coldness that had your entire body shaking. “Sometimes there are more important things than you, ___.”

The living room had gone eerily still, the words punching your gut before you had even processed what he said. There was a breathlessness that had consumed every fiber of your being, and the only thing you remember saying in response to his wide eyes and kneeling position as he clung to your legs and begged for forgiveness over and over again was a simple “We’re done.”

You had pulled off the diamond ring that was nestled on your finger and thrown it at him before walking out of his apartment into the rain, wandering aimlessly until you somehow made it onto Yvonne’s doorstep. She had answered in a mild panic and she held you as you sobbed.

And now you’re in the same position, holding hands while feeling empty.

“Have you talked to him since that day, ____?”

Yvonne’s soft musings break you out of your stupor, and you shake yourself of the past as you process her words. “What was that?”

“Have you talked to him at all?”

“No.” You pull away and rub your cheeks with your hands, hoping that the sensation pulls you away from the dark haze still threatening to consume you. “How would I even approach that conversation? Leaving was the best thing for the both of us.”

Yvonne hums and watches you as you pick up your wine glass and drains it of its remaining liquid. You sigh and wipe the back of your mouth, your thoughts flying out of your mouth as you pour yourself more wine and force yourself to smile. “It’s just a couple of months doing lectures and observations with my ex who I’m still in love with. All I need to do is keep trucking along and not look at him too long and I’ll be okay!”

“You’re deflecting again, ____.” Yvonne’s voice is deadpan, but you can see the glimmer of concern that flashes in her eyes as she reaches over and takes your wine glass and the bottle away from your hands. “And what makes you think he doesn’t feel the same about you?”

You shake your head rapidly at this, refusing to even entertain the idea with her as you try to reach for the bottle once more. “No, I think he was pretty clear when he said other things were more important than me.”

“That’s a big fat lie and you know it, ____.” You scowl and petulantly cross your arms when Yvonne shakes her head and places the bottle and glass on the side table next to her. “No more wine for you, you’re going to have the worst headache tomorrow if we don’t stop now.”

“It’s a good bottle,” you grumble, although you know she’s right.

She rolls her eyes and settles back down next to you, her tone measured as she starts on her train of thought. “You of all people know Zayne the best. He wouldn’t be teaching classes with you if that were the case - fuck, ___, he probably wouldn’t have even approved your guest professor spot if he wasn’t okay with you.”

“Maybe there was no one else available with the same type of expertise?” Your half-hearted joke dies on your throat at the glare Yvonne throws in your direction, and you shrink back as you prepare for her overprotective best friend mode.

“Of fucking course there’s no one else with your expertise, ____!” She heaves a breath, and you sigh heavily.

“Yvonne, no matter how much I want to be with him again, Zayne’s moved on from it. The best I can do now is bear it and try to move on too.”

“You just…just talk to him, ____.” You look at her in bewilderment and Yvonne throws her hands up, shaking her head in exasperation. “I’m not saying I’m defending him or that you need to get back together with him, just…talk to him. He’s changed to the point where even I can see it, and I was his number one hater.”

“You don’t think he’s moved on?” Your voice is tinged with nerves, and Yvonne shakes her head empathetically.

You sink back into your cushions as you mull over your new knowledge, and you feel dangerous feelings of hopes spark in your chest. If Yvonne, the nurse he’s closest to, thinks he hasn’t moved on, then…

“All right, I’ll talk to him.”

This is it.

This is the day you talk to Zayne and try to make things semi-normal with him again.

It’s also the first date of in-hospital observations, and you’re extra conscious of it in the way you triple check that you have your ID badge and stash multiple pens in your pockets for your students. Sure that you’re ready, you walk into Akso Hospital’s cardiac ward in your scrubs and most comfortable shoes, holding a box full of mini cakes labelled “for the ward with the most heart!”

Is it a little bit cheesy? Yes, but you need cheesy if you’re going to get back into a certain cardiac surgeon’s good graces.

For how long you’ve spent in Akso’s cardiac unit in the past, you still can’t remember the exact way you need to take to end up at the cardiac ward’s offices. You were always with Zayne, and he was the one who picked you up and led you to his office so you never really bothered to learn the directions you needed to take because he was always there with you.

You’re certainly cursing your past yourself out for not paying attention now.

You scan your surroundings, lighting up when you see a receptionist’s desk towards your left. You walk around the family waiting room and approach the desk, scanning for a familiar face. You’re a little disappointed, however, when you see a new receptionist.

A handsome looking new receptionist.

As you approach the desk, his head lifts and his eyes widen before giving you a friendly smile, waving hello to you. You give a cordial smile back, letting your feet stop in front of the table and plopping the box in front of you so that you can give your hands a break.

“Hi, I’m looking for the cardiac ward’s offices. I’m meeting a doctor and some students there for observations today?” You cringe when you hear the tilt of a question on your tone, but the receptionist beams at you and nods.

“Yes, of course! And what was your name again?”

“Dr. ____, pediatrics.” You hold out your hand, and he smiles as he grabs hold and shakes it firmly.

“Michael,” he replies easily, and you feel your stomach clench uncomfortably at the way he holds your hand for longer than necessary. You cough and pull yourself back, schooling yourself into a generally nice attitude as you regard him.

“Do you happen to know if anyone else is in the office right now?” You shift your weight around, trying to think of a reason to get going. “It’s fine if it’s the other doctor I’m following for observations today, but I want to get this to the other doctors of the ward before the day starts.”

“Hmm…” Michael’s voice tapers off as he scans his computer before shaking his head empathetically. “Nope, no one’s in right now. I can certainly take the desserts from you, though!”

His laughter fills the air, and you choke out a laugh just so you can try and feel less awkward. You grab at your box though, just to ensure that he doesn’t grab them from your grasp. “Ah, no, it’s okay. I’ll just get going, then-”

“Are you sure?” You feel yourself die a little bit when Michael stands from his desk, walking around and placing an unwanted hand on the small of your back. “I can walk you over-”

“That won’t be necessary, Matthew.”

The voice breaks the awkwardness, and you find yourself filling with cold relief as you turn around and find Zayne walking into the waiting room. He’s pulling on a white coat over his scrubs, and you try to suppress the dangerous thoughts that flare in your head when you see the slight way his fingers twitch at the sight of Michael’s hand on your back.

“Dr. Li!” Michael smiles, although you can see the tightness in his eyes as he registers Zayne using a wrong name. “I was just going to take Dr. ____ to the ward’s offices-”

“And I’m here now.” Zayne’s standing next to you before you know it, swatting his hand away and replacing it with his own. You relax slightly, unconsciously stepping closer to Zayne’s solid body as you give Michael a fake apologetic look.

“Thanks for your help!” Your tone has a soft sarcastic edge - one that has Zayne loosing a soft breath as he begins to push you away. Your movements are stopped though, when you feel a hand wrap around your wrist and tug you back.

“Wha-”

“I was going to help you!” Michael’s voice is tight as he throws a barely disguised look of annoyance at Zayne, who’s jaw ticks dangerously when he sees how Michael holds your wrist. “Zayne doesn’t need to take you-”

“On the contrary.” Zayne grabs Michael’s wrist and yanks him off of you, your eyes widening at the sudden display of calculated aggression from him. Zayne steps from your side and all but pushes Michael back to his seat, the latter’s cheeks burning bright red as he sits defeatedly back at his desk.

You watch carefully as Zayne steps back by your side, noting the way his jaw ticks dangerously when he regards Michael’s sweating face once more. Scoffing just loud enough for you to hear, he places his hand back on the small of your back and tilts his head back to Michael in a dismissive show of goodbye.

“It’s Dr. Li to you, Matthew. I suggest you remember respect.”

With that, the pressure on your back grows stronger as Zayne gently pushes you in the direction of the offices.

Once you’re out of earshot, you step away and regard him curiously. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“You were uncomfortable and Michael messed up some important appointments, I could have done worse.” Zayne’s tone is bored but you can hear the tightness in his voice as he swipes his keycard. He pushes the door open with his foot, and you’re greeted with the sight of a doctor you vaguely recognize and Yvonne, who looks like she’s about to fall asleep on her feet.

“Dr. ___, everybody.” You look at Zayne curiously, but he doesn’t give anything else away as he ushers you towards the two empty chairs at the head of the table. You shake your head at Yvonne’s small smirk, but the smirk only widens when Zayne pulls the chair out for you and gestures for you to sit.

“I’m Greyson!” The doctor with ruffled brown hair and thick glasses smiles at you sweetly as he shakes your hand, and you widen your eyes at Yvonne who’s face suddenly flushes once she sees you’ve come to your realization:

This is the doctor she has a crush on.

You’re never going to let her live this down.

“____,” your voice is warm as you shake his hand, and you give a small wave to Yvonne who’s suddenly avoiding your gaze sheepishly. Your smile grows even wider and you open your mouth to tease her subtly, but you’re interrupted with a cough.

You turn your head to look at Zayne, who’s looking at the box still in your hands with curiosity and something softer - a look he reserved only for you in the past. You watch as his eyes scan your penmanship on the box, and your heart stutters when you see the small upward tilt on his lips.

“‘For the ward with the most heart?’ There better not be a real heart in there, ____.”

“No, not at all.” You pull the lid of the box open, and you watch as Zayne’s face shifts from relaxed to something unreadable.

In the box are little tea cakes, reminiscent of the ones you and him would pick up for your coworkers. You had randomly picked out a variety when you picked them up this morning, but as you look at the innocent little cake jars you feel yourself freeze.

These were the same flavors you and him always gravitated towards when the two of you were still together.

You hold your breath as Greyson makes his way closer, picking up a small jar of earl grey cake piled high with a light whipped cream. Greyson looks towards Zayne with an inquisitive quirk on his brow. “Isn’t this your favorite flavor?”

“I-” Zayne begins, but you clear your throat and snatch the cake from Greyson’s hands.

“They’re meant to be shared!” Your voice wavers, and you shoot a pointed look at Yvonne who you can tell is trying not to die from embarrassment for you. Yvonne, getting the hint, moves to stand next to you and peers into the cake box.

“Chocolate raspberry!” She picks up the little jar and playfully elbows you, resulting in a little oof escaping from your mouth as she inspects the cake with glee in her eyes. “You’re the best, ____.”

“I like that flavor too!” Greyson moves towards Yvonne in an attempt to steal the little jar, but Yvonne moves away with ease and sticks her tongue out at him childishly.

“Get lost, Greyson! I claim this one!”

Their bickering fades when you feel another presence next to you, though you can tell it’s not as frosty. You turn your head towards Zayne, who’s looking at you with an undecipherable expression on your face.

“You didn’t have to get the cakes.” You feel your stomach drop at the tone of his voice - one that doesn’t give away his emotions. Why is he so hard to read now? Are all of your plans going to shit before you can even move them into motion?

“I wanted to.” You let your eyes dart away to compose yourself, and you find yourself scowling at the sight of the little cake jars. Maybe he didn’t want them at all? Why are you always second guessing yourself with him? “It’s okay, though. You don’t have to eat them if you don’t want to, I can take them-”

“Who said I wouldn’t eat them?”

A soft pressure encircles itself on your wrist, and your body stills as a comforting cold starts at your wrist and grounds yourself in your present. You look up to see Zayne’s softening gaze, clearly reading through your facade.

“I’m grateful you got them for me- us.” Zayne’s lips tilt up once more, and you feel yourself melting slightly at the sight. “The ward appreciates it, ____.”

“I’m glad,” you reply. “I wanted to get us off on the right foot, with observations and whatnot.”

You inject your voice with your hidden implications, and you watch Zayne debunk it in real time. You wait with bated breath to see if he’ll accept your tentative olive branch-

-and you exhale in relief when he nods slightly.

“After today’s observations.”

As if on cue, your first students knock on the office door and Yvonne and Greyson stop their bickering to open the door. You nod at him once before pulling away and putting on your best professor smile.

And this time, it’s not as forced as it used to be.

Observations are going well.

You and Zayne had been efficient with introducing Greyson and Yvonne to your class as the accompanying doctor and charge nurse for this set of rounds. You had been thorough with your students’ expectations: take diligent notes, let the four of you handle the brunt of the work, and respect the patient’s privacy.

The first couple of rooms had been peaceful, full of patients who were doing well and willing to chat with a select number of students. You watch with a soft smile as Zayne leads this demonstration with one of your students, an elderly patient giving your group a smile and a thumbs up as you herd them out of the room.

Soon enough, you reach the last room. You scan the patient’s file, frowning when you see the information written on the page. You take Zayne’s lax position as a chance to approach him, walking up to his height and tapping the paper in your hands.

“I don’t exactly know how this file came up in the approved files for observations, are you sure this is okay?” You ask as he scans the profile. His eyes widen and he looks at you, the concern you feel in your stomach mirrored in his eyes.

“Escalated emotions leading to spiked heart rate…” he muses softly, and he scans over the rest of the information before he nods to himself and looks back at you. “As long as we maintain a calm environment for her and direct our students to do the same, it should be okay. We have to be careful though.”

You can’t shake off your unease, but you nod with him. “It’s important for them to see different situations. I’ll take this one.”

With both of your approval, you and Zayne lay down the rules before opening the door to the patient’s room.

Your eyes soften when you see the patient on her bed - a girl no older than the age of ten. She has an apprehensive look on her face that she disguises with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and your heart aches when you note her slightly shaky hands.

You put on your own smile, one you hope that puts her at ease as you approach the bed. You feel Zayne’s eyes bore holes into the back of your head as you sit at the edge - breaking obvious protocol, but different scenarios call for different solutions.

“Hi, I’m Dr. ____! What’s your name?” You see her shoulders loosen ever so slightly at your soft tone, and you take it as a win as you hold out your hand for her to shake.

“Mine’s Grace,” she responds, and you melt when you feel the slight tremor stop as she shakes your hand.

“Well, Grace,” you begin, pulling out your files and selecting her file. You make a big show of flipping through the pages, and she giggles at your theatrics as you find her case details. “It says here you’re due for a heart transplant because of an Evol-related accident. Can you tell me some details and how you’re feeling right now?”

Grace clears her throat, a sudden seriousness taking over her face and making her older than she appears. “I’m 100th on the waitlist. I’ve been on the waitlist for two years, ever since a Wanderer attack created Metaflux waves so strong it affected the chemistry of my body. I feel…tired. Doctors keep telling me I’ll be okay but I don’t feel it.” She suddenly looks at Zayne, her eyes sharp as she regards him. “Am I going to die, Dr. Li?”

Your students pause their frantic notes, and you can feel the energy of the room go down at the sudden morbidness even though you and Zayne barely blink at her question. Maybe because the two of you are accustomed to situations turning all of a sudden, but you know that this won’t end well if you don’t redirect now.

“You’re not going to die.” Your voice is still soft but much more serious as you reach out and grasp Grace’s hand once more, letting her sink her nails into your hand so that she can grasp at her reality.

“I’m dying, Dr. ____.” You can hear the telltale sounds of tears welling up in the back of her throat, and you’re quick to wrap her in your arms as she begins to cry. You can tell that this is her breaking point and you’re cursing yourself out in your head for even bringing students into this room.

“I’m scared to die,” she sobs into your chest as you stroke her hair. Her heart rate begins to pick up on the monitor, and Zayne’s eyes flash as he hears the sound. You know immediately you need to try and get it under control - her heart spiking could lead to dangerous effects.

You will yourself into a calm place in your mind as your hands move up and down in soothing movements. The room grows quiet when your hands begin to emit a soft glow, and you whisper softly into Grace’s ear as you direct your Evol into her body.

“Dr. Li, what’s Dr. ____ doing to the patient?”

You ignore the student’s question and focus solely on Grace’s breathing, guiding her body’s energy into a tranquil place that allows for her heart rate to settle and for her tears to subside. All the while, you rub circles into her shoulder and whisper, “You’re not going to die, Grace. Dr. Li and I will make sure of it, sweetheart.”

Grace’s breathing evens out, and she pulls away with a soft sigh. Her eyes are slightly swollen, but her face looks serene, even a little bit sleepy as she gives you a small smile.

“Thank you, Dr. ____.” Her brow furrows when she looks at your face and you automatically reach up to make sure your smile isn’t slipping off your cheeks. “You look…different now.”

You know. You can feel it in the throbbing of your skull and how your cheeks probably lost some color but you shake your head, pushing away slightly and ignoring the way your hands shake.

“I’m okay, sweet girl.” You give her hand a soft pat before standing up, wobbling slightly on your feet. You brush off the concerned gasps and murmurs, instead electing to look at the bright EXIT sign above the door so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with the other doctor in the room.

“Dr. Li will finish up this round of observations.” Your voice trembles yet leaves no room for argument, and you ignore everyone’s worried glances at each other as you make your way to the door. “Reflections due midnight this Friday online.”

You’re dashing out of the door before you even hear a confirmation, briskly walking the halls of the ward so that you can try to find a quiet spot to collect yourself.

Your Evol isn’t a secret - in fact, it was quite well known in the medical world and the Hunter’s Association. You had been tested rigorously when you were younger because having the ability to control emotions could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but the results came back stating that you could only calm and soothe.

The results didn’t mention how it affected you, however. If done at too intense of a frequency when your energy’s low, it could cause damage to your own emotional being. Stop while administering the Evol and you risk permanently affecting the receiver’s psyche. Do it too many times with no adequate rest and you’re basically irreparable.

Hilarious that you can’t fix your own troubles with your Evol.

You somehow find your way back to the office you were in earlier and you swipe your key card against the sensor, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes when the sensor beeps red. You try to swipe again and almost kick the door in frustration when it beeps red at you once more, and you’re ready to fall asleep on the wall when a hand on your shoulder stops you.

You let the cool touch guide you away from the door, and you don’t speak as Zayne pushes the door open and gently ushers you inside. Somewhere in your tired mind you can feel the sour mood of the room, but you’re thankful that he doesn’t speak as he pulls out a chair and all but pushes you to sit on the hard plastic.

Your eyes slowly drift shut as you massage your temples, hoping the ache goes away soon so you can run off and take a nap. All the while, he’s a quiet yet agitated flurry of movement, filling a paper cup with water and pulling a chair closer to you so he can sit in front of you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Zayne says as he settles down. There’s a dull clack as he sets the paper cup in front of you a little too harshly, and you barely crack your eyes open to find it before grabbing onto it and taking a small sip. You find that the water helps alleviate the ache, so you take a bigger gulp as you eye him with a bit of annoyance.

“It was a mistake bringing the students into her room so I found a solution to help ease her anxiety.” There’s no warmth in your tone and Zayne sighs in frustration because he knows you’re right - it was an oversight on both of your parts, you just happen to be the one who fixed it.

“We could have found a solution together,” he responds, and you fight back the bitterness that settles on your tongue at the worry that finds its way into his expression and voice.

“Why does it matter?” You don’t mean to sound angry, you really don’t, but being with the man you still hold incredibly complicated feelings for is clouding your judgement and manifesting itself in this way. “Who are you to care?”

The implications of your words hang heavy in the air, and Zayne’s mouth snaps shut as you avert your gaze.

Why is he still so worried about you?

Isn’t he the one who said that there were more important things than you?

Why is your heart aching right now?

“This is stupid,” you grumble, and you push yourself up from the seat even though you wobble slightly. “I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

You sidestep his chair and walk for the door, reaching for the doorknob and pretending not to hear the scrape of his chair against the floor-

-but he stops you, pushing you back down into your chair.

Zayne doesn’t speak, simply opening the box of cakes still on the table and pulling out the earl grey cup with whipped cream - the same cake he was eyeing earlier. With a newfound gentleness, he sets the cake down in front of you alongside a small fork before grabbing your paper cup and going back to the water dispenser to fill it up.

“You’re always drained after using your Evol so you need to get your blood sugar up.” His voice is still concise and clear, but there’s a softer look in his eyes as he hands you back your water cup and lets your hands muddle together. “Eat, ____.”

His fingertips linger on the back of your hand and you watch a war of emotions flash in Zayne’s eyes before he sighs heavily, allowing his hand to reach up and run along the underside of your jaw. The room goes too still and you’re suddenly overaware of him - of his jasmine and pine scent, of the calluses on his fingertips as his thumb barely ghosts over your lips, and the myriad of emotions that flash in his eyes.

Your hand reaches up before you can stop it, and you rest your palm against his own hand. Your breath trembles, but you still find it in yourself to tap your pointer finger three times: a signal only the two of you know.

His eyes widen, but his thumb taps against your bottom lip once…twice…

“-Zayne, there you are!”

He pulls away too soon, and you’re cursing Greyson in your head for walking in on the two of you all of a sudden. Greyson’s eyes widen at the scene but Zayne’s pulling away before you can even blink, quick to stand and move next to Greyson while his hand flexes ever so slightly.

“I want the cake jar empty and a text saying you’re home and asleep by the time I come back.”

And with that, he leaves the room - leaving you flustered and warm all over.

The next few weeks are…infuriatingly pleasant, to say the least.

There’s an unspoken agreement of peace between you and Zayne. While things obviously haven’t gone back to how they were when you were…together, there’s an air of familiarity that you both sink into with an alarming quickness - and to be honest, it has your head spinning.

It’s the lunches sent to each other’s offices without another word alongside neat stacks of assignments, sticky notes of “Do you agree with this grading?” written in penmanship only the two of you understand.

It’s coffee runs early in the morning at the times you always went: 7:00 am, and while you may not talk to each other the silence is comfortable with glances from your end when you think he isn’t looking.

He’s actually staring at you when you actually aren’t looking, with a yearning that would have made your heart stop if you had caught sight of it.

And it’s the subtle touches that catch the attention of students and faculty alike - creating a flurry of rumors that he somehow is oblivious to but you’re completely aware of.

“Did you see the way he moved her away with his hand on her back? That was so romantic!” You’re passing by a group of your students after class, and your head immediately whips to the girl who sighed that statement.

“What was that, Lisa?” You’re not trying to tease or put her on the spot, you just kind of want her perspective on the situation because you were hyper aware of it, too. You watch as both of her companions snicker and she flounders for an answer, cheeks turning pink and games cast to anywhere but your scrutiny.

“N-nothing, Dr. ____!” She bows hastily and all but runs away, her friends bowing at you as a farewell gesture before chasing after her. The laughter that leaves their lips makes you shake your head, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you walk to your temporary office in the academic advisory wing.

Your office is barebones, but there’s a little blind box figurine on your desk that marks it as your own. You smile at the silly little figure checking its watch while carrying a briefcase, placing your own bag down and pulling out a thick stack of reflections and a red pen. You flip your office sign so that it says you’re in before settling into your chair and reaching for the first packet because you know in your heart that the chances of you receiving a visitor are slim to none.

The minutes pass in quick succession and you’ve gotten into a groove as you reach for another reflection. You’re so engrossed in the soft violin of the classical music you have going on in the background that you almost miss the knock on your door, but being alone for close to an hour has you attuned to any abnormal sounds.

“Come in!” Your voice cracks slightly from lack of use and you feel yourself heat from embarrassment, but your posture relaxes only slightly when you see that it’s Zayne walking through the door with a plastic bag in one hand and his work bag in the other.

“Have any of our students come in yet?” He asks as a greeting, and you shake your head while ignoring how your heart annoyingly speeds up when you hear him say “our.”

“I’ve gotten through about half of the reflections, I’ll be continuing with them so I can try to finish before the end of the night.” Zayne slightly grimaces when you say that, and you watch with a quirk in your brow as he pulls a chair so that it’s next to yours behind the desk.

“Come eat first.” His voice is soft as he pulls the plastic bag container towards him, untying the knot before pulling a takeout container and utensils from the bag. With his free hand he lightly sweeps the papers from the desk, ensuring that the space is clear before he sets the container in front of you.

You regard him curiously as you pry open the container, and you feel yourself soften when you see the thick soy garlic noodles with a side of broccoli and orange chicken. It’s been your go-to order for ages now, and your stomach grumbles happily as you turn to look at him.

Zayne’s settling into his chair with his own container, eyeing his classic platter of fried rice and char siu pork with an evident hunger. You pick up your platter and begin to pick up food with your utensil, laughing softly to yourself when you see that he’s even asked for extra garlic with the broccoli - just the way you like it.

“What is it?” He asks, but deflect by shaking your head as you place a piece of chicken in your mouth so that you can ignore how your stomach clenches in an odd way.

“I forgot how good this takeout is,” you reply. His eyes scan your face but you pretend that nothing’s brewing in your mind as you continue to eat through your food.

“It is, isn’t it.” His voice tapers out, and he settles for eating beside you. With the soft music in the background and the academic atmosphere, it almost feels like you’re back in grad school with him - taking a break in between the chaos of your schedules and finding solace in his presence. You swallow thickly around some noodles at the thought, fighting the breath that threatens to leave you by grabbing your water bottle and taking a deep swig.

“Remember when we were presenting the first drafts of our research projects to the academic board?” Zayne’s surprisingly the one to break the silence, and you tilt your head to look at him curiously as he places his now empty container back on your desk.

“And Carter was violently hungover but still tried to pass that presentation off as his work?” You scoff, placing your own container onto the desk. Zayne chuckles at your annoyance - you never liked Carter, and you’re thankful Zayne was able to switch his research project before the studies got too serious.

“Nice to know he still gets on your nerves.” There’s a teasing edge to his voice but you simply roll your eyes as you lift your arms up above your head so you can stretch out your back.

“He ruined your first semesters of grad school, of course I still hate his guts,” you reply, letting a soft moan slip through your lips unknowingly when you feel a crack along your spine. You feel yourself flush a little at the unwarranted sound, and you look over to Zayne to see if he caught it.

Judging by the slight tick of his jaw, he did.

You stand up too quickly, clearing your throat and beginning to reach your hands out so that you can clear your desk, but a hand on the small of your back stops you dead in your tracks.

“Zayne, wha-” you begin, but Zayne’s quick to settle you back into the plush cushion, turning you around in your office chair so that you’re facing the wall. You scowl petulantly, but his hand on the head of your office chair restricts your movement.

“Stay there,” he says, and though he tries to sound nonchalant you can hear a strained undertone that has your heart racing.

“I can clean my own desk,” you try to argue, but your mouth falls shut when you feel a whisper of ice forming on the back of your chair due to his fingers digging into the leather a little too tightly.

“I brought the food, I will clean up.”

You cross your arms, trying to remove the cross crease of your brow as you hear him place the containers into the plastic bag. Your toe taps against the floor as he ties the bag shut, sighing to himself deeply before letting go of your chair and allowing you to spin back around to face the desk.

You both fight to ignore each other’s glances, Zayne throwing the trash away in the garbage can outside of your office while you drink water to keep yourself alert and clear-minded. By the time he walks back into your office you’ve both composed yourselves and you’re reaching out to grab the next stack of reflections to be graded. You expect him to pick up his bag and leave, but to your surprise he’s settling back down in his seat and pushing his sweater sleeves up.

“Are you going to go home?” He asks as he unbuttons the top of the shirt underneath his sweater, and you shake your head in response while putting everything you can in ignoring the appearance of his arms.

“I want to finish these reflections.” You tap your pen against the opening page, eyes widening when you see whose paper you’re about to grade. “Lisa Zhao, huh…”

“What about her?” Zayne’s rolling his chair closer to your’s, hovering his head above your shoulder just enough so that he can also read her proposal.

“It’s nothing, really. She was just muttering something about romance and her friends were laughing at her.” You fight to focus your attention on the words printed on the paper, but Zayne’s presence has your head spinning in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

“Odd,” he replies. You turn to look at him head on, but your heart stutters painfully at the sight that greets you.

His eyes are slightly unfocused behind his thin rimmed glasses, hair pushed up just enough where you can see the concentrated crease of his brow. Against your better judgement your eyes drift lower to his chest, and you gasp softly when you see his bare neck and a little bit of his chest because of the way he’s leaning beside you.

“-!” A soft noise escapes your lips when his nose slightly brushes against your’s, and you push your chair away from him so that you can try and catch your breath. There’s a sudden shift in the air and you need to gather your wits and tell him to leave because if you don’t you might do something you might regret like pull him in for…you don’t know but you don’t want to find out.

“Are you all right, ____?” There’s genuine concern in his voice, you know, but you suddenly feel so angry at him.

“What game are you playing?” You push yourself out of your chair, trying to fight the way your vision swims from the sudden movement as you glare at the way he stands from his chair.

“What do you mean?” He asks, although you can tell by the carefully neutral tone of his voice that he knows - of course he does, when he knows every little thing about you.

“The food,” you begin, lifting a finger for each reason you can come up with. “The soft touches on my back and across my knuckles, taking care of me after the first set of observations, coffee in the morning the way we like…Zayne, what’s happening?”

Your voice breaks off at the last word, and you reach up to rub at your face to quell the frustrated tears that begin to pool in the corners of your eyes.

You’ve admitted it to Yvonne and to a tiny part of yourself: you’re scared. Scared of how easy it is to fall back into this routine, at how you and Zayne are too quick to bury your past and return to almost-normal with a frightening comfort that has you believing you’re still his.

And therein lies the issue: you’re absolutely not Zayne Li’s and it’s going to ruin you and the feelings that have just blossomed tenfold since you first re-met him in Dr. Chung’s office.

“I…I want to take care of you.”

It’s a quiet confession that has your heart racing. You bury your face in your hands even tighter, but a gentle sweep of his thumb across your knuckles has you loosening your grip. When he sees that you won’t peek up to look at him, he sighs and taps his thumb against your knuckle once.

“The lines between us are blurred right now, and that’s my fault.” He admits. You lift your head up slightly, and he exhales in relief when your hands begin to lower. His own hands are there to replace them, and your fingers wrap around his wrists as he gently massages your cheeks with his thumbs.

“All I know is that when I saw your name on the potential list of candidates to co-teach, I wanted it to be you immediately.” He taps your cheek, and your eyes slowly drift shut at his comforting contact. “I knew things couldn’t go back to the way they were immediately but…but I know I want to try.”

“Everything has been so hot and cold with you.” Your voice has dropped to a whisper, and against your own wishes you feel a tear slide down your cheek. “I don’t know what to believe or expect. Will I get cold, avoidant Dr. Li? Or will I get Zayne?”

The room stills as he absorbs your words, music long done from how long it’s been. Even though you know it’s way past your office hours, you know that anyone could walk by and see this compromising position. That alone is enough to begin to untangle yourself from his embrace, but his hold on your face tightens just slightly enough for you to stop.

“I haven’t been the clearest with you, but I want you to know that I want to make amends with you.” His forehead comes to rest against yours, making your grip on his wrists tighten at the contact.

The two of you stand like that for just a moment, and you feel something in your chest ignite when his pointer finger taps your nose gently. You pull away to look at his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips - a look you know is mirrored on your own face.

“Can we even get to that point?” Your voice bares all of your fears and emotions to him, and you can see the exact moment Zayne’s heart cracks slightly in his chest.

“I’ll spend the rest of this semester and whatever time you allow trying and making it up to you if you’ll let me,” he murmurs in response.

You look up at him, noting the sincerity in his face and the myriad of emotions that lie beneath the surface. They reflect and resonate with you because they’re exactly the ones you feel in your own body.

It feels a little different now, though. You feel a little bit lighter and ready to try.

And by the way Zayne’s face breaks out into a breathtaking smile when you nod in his grasp, you know he feels the same way, too.

As it turns out, his trying includes inviting you to a karaoke party with the rest of the cardiac unit.

“Don’t worry,” Yvonne reassures you as she helps you put on your favorite necklace. “Zayne made sure to not include Michael tonight! It's just the cardiac ward’s available doctors, nurses, and you.”

“You’re making that sound like it’s a bad thing,” you reply teasingly, and Yvonne laughs as she slides on her heels.

“It’s definitely not, especially when you look this hot!”

A burst of confidence makes itself known in your chest, a smile spreading across your face as you look at the floor length mirror by your bedroom door. Your navy blue dress is appropriate enough to wear to a work function but the low back and silky fabric makes you feel bold, even with the white cardigan you end up pulling on.

Yvonne pouts as you button the top closed, shaking out her loose hair and messing with her bangs so they look tastefully messy. “C’mon, ____! Let Dr. Zayne see his beautiful lady, take the cardigan off!”

“It’s cold!” You laugh in response. You wiggle your eyebrows teasingly and she groans because she knows what you’re about to say. “You’re all covered up though, no Greyson?”

Yvonne’s face flushes a light pink, and you can’t help but laugh at the way she scans her white off-the-shoulder long sleeved top and black flowy pants. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“So he is coming.” Yvonne groans at your giggles, shaking her head and making her way to the front door of your apartment with an alarming quickness.

“We have a cab to catch, ____!” You follow after her, laughing all the way down the elevator ride and on your way to the karaoke bar.

The good mood continues when you enter the building, arms linked with Yvonne as you scan the rooms the cardiac ward rented out. Soon enough, you find a screen that says Akso Hospital’s Ward with the Most Heart, and your heart flutters as you enter the room because you know Zayne named it after your lame joke.

You say hi to the nurses and doctors that approach you and Yvonne, giving hugs and accepting compliments for your outfits. You put your cardigan and purse next to Yvonne’s on the designated table before being whisked away to the bar in the corner of the room, away from the karaoke screens and crowd of cardiac surgeons belting a ballad with increasing passion.

Yvonne waves the bartender over, ordering two cocktails while you surreptitiously scan the room for a certain raven-haired head of cardiology. Zayne was never one to spend too much time at work events, even if he’s the one helping plan and pay for said events. If you remember correctly, you and him would show up for an hour at most before doing…other activities.

Your skin heats very briefly, and Yvonne eyes you curiously as she hands you a pink cocktail. “What is it, ____?”

“Just remembering something,” you murmur before lifting the glass up to your lips. You wince at the slight alcoholic sting but you find it’s much easier to drink, making you look at Yvonne suspiciously as she rapidly downs her own drink.

“The tab’s on the hospital,” she answers as a reply to your curious stare, holding her hand up again for another drink. You shake your head and laugh, placing your mostly full glass on the counter before waving the bartender over to you as she pouts.

“Can we get two glasses of white?” You ask, and before Yvonne can protest you shake your head. “The goal is to feel good, not get fucked up. Your cocktails will fuck us up.”

“Okay, okay, ____,” she sighs, and you hand her a glass of white wine before making her promise she’ll go easy on herself.

You hear cheers and greetings on the microphone, and you turn around to see Zayne and Greyson entering the room. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Zayne - eyes wandering down his frame before you even realize what you’re doing. Your fingers tighten ever so slightly on the stem of your wine glass when you see the neat lines of his tan slacks and the way the embroidered birds on his sweater ripple across his chest when he turns his body to scan the room. 

His eyes catch yours and you’re rendered breathless as you scan his face. There’s a hint of weariness behind his thin rimmed glasses, hair slightly more mussed than how he usually has it done. But his eyes flash with something dangerous before his lips tilt up ever so slightly, making you squeak as you turn back to the bar.

“What is it?” Yvonne’s eyes widen as you down your wine in one gulp before reaching for the cocktail you had left untouched. She yelps as you try to down it too, but you’re only able to get a little sip before she successfully pries the glass from your palm.

“I need more if I’m going to make it out-” you say hastily, raising your hand but Yvonne stops you and orders two waters.

“Okay, so we’re going to drink water and gather ourselves because we should not be letting men dictate our feelings,” she declares steadily, and you sigh heavily before begrudgingly drinking the cold water. The coolness of the liquid clears your head, although it doesn’t stop the soft buzz that’s still coursing through your veins as you finish the glass. You and Yvonne place the empty glasses on the bar, eyeing the mounting energy in front of the karaoke screens as everyone jumps up and down to a classic party song.

“I think it’s a mistake for me to be here!” By now you’re having to shout for her to understand you through the din, and she shakes her head empathetically as she grabs your hand and begins to drag you to the floor.

“No it isn’t, ____!” She begins to dance, spinning in a circle and making you laugh as you begin to sway your body back and forth to the beat as well. “You’ve worked hard with observations and teaching, it’s time for you to relax!”

You’re quick to let loose, letting yourself open up a little and dance with Yvonne and the other nurses of the cardiac ward to a fun pop song. You go for a little spin during the height of the song, the girls cheering you on as your skirt billows slightly around your ankles and making you feel really, really good.

The dancing continues and you move from crowd to crowd, smiling and dancing with your coworkers. You lose Yvonne in the crowd but you don’t mind it, finding your way to the edge of the crowd and dancing with the first group you had been with. Soon enough, the next karaoke singer chooses a slower song - the crowd groaning but still finding partners to dance with. You take it as a chance to move back to the bar so that you can take a break and try to find your best friend. There’s a wide smile on your face as you order a glass of water, gulping it down greedily before placing it back on the counter and leaning against the solid wood.

“Having fun?”

You tilt your head to the side to find Zayne standing next to you with his elbows propped on the bar behind him, his sleeves pushed up past his forearms and hair even more mussed than when you first saw him. There’s a softness on his face as he regards you, and you feel your knees go slightly weak when you see him scanning your figure with a slow, calculated sweep of his eyes.

“Yes.” You don’t mean for it to sound so breathless, but you find yourself growing bolder when his jaw tightens ever so slightly. You gather your courage and slide yourself closer to him, your fingers reaching up to push his hair back from his face. His hand twitches on the bar, fingers tightening on the wood as the tips of your nails softly graze his forehead before you smile and pull your hand back to copy his stance. “Are you?”

“Somewhat,” he sighs, and you fight your shiver as he moves himself closer so that he can tilt his head towards you. The rational part of your brain is telling you that it’s just so that you can hear him better, but the majority of your brain is melting - especially when he lays his arm flat across the bar so you’re half in his embrace.

“Oh?” You fight to keep your breathing even as you tilt your head up to regard him. “I saw that you and Greyson came in late. Is everything all right in the cardiac ward?”

Zayne’s eyes light up at your words, and you watch with a soft feeling in your heart as he begins to speak once more. “We found a donor so we were organizing who would be doing the surgery and whatnot. It took longer than expected, I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it.”

“I’m glad you’re here now,” you reply. You playfully bump his shoulder, your smile widening when you see the corners of his lips tilt up. “Now you get to relax!”

“It’s hard for me to relax.” His head dips down lower so his lips are right by your ear, and you feel yourself shiver at the way his mouth barely brushes your skin. Eyes threatening to slip shut, you reach up and wrap your fingers around his bicep - earning yourself a low groan and another thrilling sensation racing up your spine.

“And why’s that?” You’re tilting your body so that you can place your palms on his shoulders, smoothing the barely creased fabric so that you can put some semblance of normalcy at this clear flirting going on between the two of you. Zayne gets the hint though, and with a bemused smile forming on his lips he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“Too loud.” His right hand picks up your own absentmindedly, and he begins swaying you around in a circle. Your feet follow along without a second thought as you stare up at him - in tune with him from the times he led impromptu dances during late nights in the kitchen while you two were still together. There’s a pang in your chest when you come to that realization, but it’s quickly soothed away with a gentle squeeze on your waist that has you melting even closer to him.

“It certainly is,” you hum back as you allow him to give you a little spin. The skirt of your dress whooshes around your ankles and you giggle softly when he directs your spin back into his safe embrace. His hands are quick to settle on your hips, long fingertips brushing against the warm skin of your spine and making you gasp softly as he regards you with a sudden heat in his stare.

“There’s another reason why I can’t relax,” he confesses softly. His fingers trace up to the middle of your back, tapping three times slowly as he pulls you closer. The swaying slowly stops until it’s the two of you just…staring at each other, noses brushing and eyes unblinking as one of his hands reaches up to cup your face.

“What’s that?” It’s a breathless, rhetorical question that you both know the answer to. It’s a question that has equal parts desire and anxiety pooling in your stomach at how he may respond, your heart beating so loudly you wonder if he can hear it above the din of his coworkers singing horribly on the mic.

“A beautiful vision before me.” It has you gasping as his nose slides against yours, lips barely brushing. “She’s dressed in navy blue silk and she’s made it hard for me to think rationally since I saw her name on a list of potential candidates to teach with.”

“Zayne-” you begin to whisper, but his lips are quick to bend down and press against yours. Your eyes immediately flutter shut at the contact, arms tightening around his neck as you pull him closer to you. His hands are no better - pulling you as close as you can get as he angles your head up to deepen your kiss. His tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip and you whimper against his mouth, allowing for him to bite against your lip softly.

Your head spins as he slowly comes to a stop, pulling away ever so slightly. Your eyes open lazily, and you find that he has a hazy look in his own eyes, scanning up and down your face in a way that has you smiling up at him.

“Hi,” you begin softly. Your fingers trace soft circles at the base of his skull as you tilt your head up at him so you can watch his expression carefully. “How are you?”

It’s like his body temperature goes down in a millisecond, eyes widening rapidly as he all but pushes himself away from you. You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair, hands shaking and gaze avoidant as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and clears his throat.

“That was a mistake.”

Your heart cracks.

It’s like you’re watching in the third person, powerless to stop what’s about to happen to you. Your hands itch to reach out to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, hold him close, something, anything - but you do nothing and watch as he takes one step back.

And then another, before he’s turning on his heel.

He barely spares you a glance as he briskly strides out of the room, taking the warmth from your body until you’re shivering by yourself, cold to your hollow core.

You don’t know how long you stand there, lips tingling and heart shattering in your chest as your hands flex by your side, trying to process it all. Being kissed by the man you’re in love with and then being brushed away without another explanation…what’s happening? Did you do something wrong?

You barely register Yvonne pulling on your wrist, guiding you out of the room before stuffing the two of you into a cab. Your head spins and yet you feel nothing at all, staring straight ahead blankly because if you open your feelings to her you’ll fall apart and you don’t know if you’ll be able to repair yourself.

You’re back in your apartment with Yvonne sitting you on your sofa when the first tear falls. No sounds escape your mouth but it’s enough for Yvonne to panic, placing the glass of water she filled for you on the table as she hastily sits in front of you to cups your face and brushes your hair back from your temples with her fingers.

“Are you okay, ____?”

That one sentence is enough.

You begin to sob, collapsing into her arms as your cries shake your entire body. She’s silent except for the occasional soothing sound, rubbing her hands against your back as she attempts to help you weather the storm of pain that’s thundering through your chest.

You know there’s no making it out of this one, though.

Not when the hands you crave are the same ones that took your heart and crushed it in between his skilled fists.

You assign your work through an online medium the following week.

Dr. Chung had been confused when you asked for a week to yourself, but he had been quick to put two and two together when he entered the room with a stack of material and you all but ran out of the office.

There had been an email a couple of hours later with a simple message: Talk to him, Dr. ____. Please.

You left it open on your desktop, simply electing to stare out of the windows at the beginnings of sunset.

Was it really a mistake? You don’t think so. You wanted- want him with every fiber of your being, so much that it feels like he’s robbed you of the air you so desperately crave when he walked away last Friday.

Yvonne had been furious once she found out the full story, seething and yelling on your behalf while you sat eerily still on your couch. She had prepared meals for you, sometimes even feeding you spoonfuls when she returned to find your food barely touched. You could sense a shift halfway through the week where she wasn’t as angry, though - more reflective and quiet.

“What is it?” You asked when you find her staring off in the sunset.

“Nothing, ____,” she murmured back, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

You find yourself reflecting back on that change and why Yvonne is suddenly too quiet. Is there something she doesn’t know?

Against your will you find yourself thinking back on that kiss. For a split second it felt like everything was going right - on the path of reconciliation and maybe even love. Just for a singular moment everything felt perfect, like your world was spinning properly and the crack in your chest felt whole.

But now? Now you even feel more broken.

It’s the last day of your leave and you’re desperately trying to pick yourself up. Despite being off from both work and teaching at Linkon you barely got any sleep, staring up at your ceiling at night because being asleep meant dreaming about the man who both haunts and comforts you.

You’re sorting through the last of your graded papers before putting them into a manila folder and packing them in your bag, rubbing your eyes as you do so. You’re trying as hard as you can to focus on your objectives at hand but you find your eyes wandering to your phone and reaching out to grab it. You scowl when you realize what you’re doing, shaking your head and returning to packing your work bags.

There’s a knock on your front door and you walk towards it without another thought, peeking your head out so that you can let Yvonne into your apartment. You freeze, however, when you see a bouquet of lavenders.

Your eyes wander up, and you feel them widening when you see his tired eyes and serious face, though it softens considerably when he sees your face from by the door.

“Can I come in?” Zayne asks quietly.

You let him in without another word, turning and settling your body onto a barstool by the kitchen. You will yourself to take deep, steady breaths as he places the lavenders on the counter and props himself directly across from you, focusing your vision on the tip of his chin so that you don’t completely crumble under his steady gaze.

“How are you?”

Your laugh is humorless at the question, fingers tapping on the counter as you spill the truth from your lips. “Shit.”

There’s a shallow intake of breath from him, but you don’t allow him to speak as you continue on with your thoughts.

“It’s hard feeling okay when you reconcile with your ex-fiancé over the course of a few months, learning how to live and breathe and work with someone who’s somehow still your everything.” Your vision wavers but you swallow your tears, finally pushing yourself up from the counter and walking around. “It felt like things were finally going right when you said you wanted things to work.”

Your eyes finally look up at him and you feel yourself rendered speechless when you see the expression on his face. He looks every bit vulnerable and hollow as you feel in your chest, eyes shining and lips pressed in a thin line.

And you don’t know why, but you feel hot rage consume your body at the sight. How dare he look broken when he’s the one shattering you.

“But then you kissed me and it was the best kiss of my life.” Your voice rises as you step closer to him, poking your finger at his chest as your anger begins to affect your reasoning. “You kissed me like you meant it and everything felt like it was back in place for a split second until you pushed yourself away and said it was a fucking mistake.”

“____-” he tries to begin, but your voice rises to a yell as you finally let everything spill from out of you and into the air, even if it means permanently ruining whatever foundation the two of you still had.

“You said we would try. You said you would make it up to me.” You can’t quite stop your tears now, but your voice is still steady even if your hands shake. “Do you not mean it?”

“I do.”

There’s a brokenness in Zayne’s voice as he reaches out to cup your face, and against your better judgement you press your palms against his. He tilts your face up to look at him and you’re rendered breathless from the vulnerability on his face - open for you to see his deepest feelings.

“It was a mistake because we were only just starting again,” he says, voice thick with pain and unshed tears. “That kiss was something I’ve dreamed about since you left all those years ago - something I’ve craved to do when I’m alone with you. But I know that it’s not right to kiss you - and it’s not fair to kiss you for my own greed.”

Your breath stutters in your throat, chest aching as you absorb his words. Taking your silence as permission, he continues. “I’ve hurt you far too many times and I…I don’t deserve you at all.” His breath is shallow, washing over your face as he leans his forehead against yours. His finger taps your cheek three times in quick succession, a featherlight touch that makes you think you conjured it up. “Please, ____…let me make it up to you. Let me earn your forgiveness.”

You freeze.

You want nothing more to make things right, to patch things over and go back to the way things were. But can you ever truly go back to how things were? With how much has been said and what’s been done in between your bodies, laying at your feet?

Can you even forgive yourself if he shatters the remaining parts of you? Fix what’s been broken for the third time if it happens again?

There’s no way that this is going to end well for the both of you, so you resign yourself to the sad ending that’s been written out for the both of you long ago. The fire of your anger is gone, replaced with your salty tears as you look into his eyes and say, “I’m still in love with you, Zayne.”

His breath hitches.

You step away, keeping eye contact as you curl your hands into fists to keep yourself steady. “I’m still in love with you, but I don’t think you realize the gravity of how much I do. I love you enough to come back to Linkon and teach, even if I was apprehensive at first. I love you to try and fill the gaps you left. I love you enough to try again over and over again, even if it costs me every single time.”

You shake your head, a sob escaping your chest as you hold your hand up so that he can’t step any closer to you.

“I love you enough to know that I’ll shatter myself over again, but I can’t keep breaking.” Your voice shakes as you register him moving to stand in front of you. Your breath hiccups when you see him slowly sink to his knees, wrapping his hands around your thighs while tilting his head up so he catches your eyes.

“Forgive me, ____,” he all but begs, and you’re transported back to that first time he broke your heart. To when he knelt and groveled for forgiveness, only for you to push your diamond ring into his hands and run out of your shared apartment.

There isn’t a ring now, but there’s still the desperation on his face and tears streaming down your cheeks as you reach out and place your hand on his cheek delicately. He pushes his face into your hand, breathing deeply and kissing your palm as if it’ll help - but you know it’s far too late.

You’re not going to let your heart break for a third time.

“Please leave.”

Your hands emit a soft glow, allowing for Zayne’s emotions to calm down enough for him to understand your words. His eyes widen as he registers the soothing emotion wash over his body, gaze flickering as you continue to soothe his emotions - a sort of parting gift.

A way to soothe him in the way you’ll never be able to be comforted.

He’s on his feet to pull your hands away but you take it as an opportunity to push him out of the door, him going with no resistance due to the shock of you using your Evol on him. You’re barely able to open the door and unceremoniously push him out before you collapse against the door, trying to stop your relentless flow of tears.

You cry for what feels like hours, mourning the loss of the person you love with your entire being. You try to tell yourself that it’s for the best - you can’t keep letting yourself get hurt, he can’t keep apologizing and trying to make it up to you.

But when you sink into sleep that night, you can only see gold flecked emerald and warm hands brushing your tears away, tapping three times before leaving you empty.

You feel like you’ve lived lifetimes ever since that night.

You had sent a curt email to him with Dr. Chung CC’ed, dividing the last of your classes and finals schedule evenly so that you wouldn’t have to cross paths with him again. Your students had been confused, but your steady voice and sharp gaze had put a stop to all prying.

You had effectively closed yourself off, simply going through the motions and giving non-committal hums whenever Yvonne asked a question or if you were with a group of friends. You spent most of your time on your desktop, rifling through open positions in Chansia City and refining your resume.

You don’t think you can stand to live here, not when your heart still aches for him. You need to just get out and force yourself to move on, even if it means moving oceans away.

You’re almost there, you tell yourself. You’re sitting in the pediatric ward’s offices, grading some final papers and eyeing your pager warily. You had come in early even though you were technically scheduled for the night shift, but you had shooed away the attending doctor scheduled for the morning and have since been using the empty hours to grade papers and try to distract yourself from the aching in your chest.

Your pager beeps the same time one of your charge nurses bursts through the door, breathless and shaky. You eye the code, feeling a sense of tired calm wash over you at the CODE BLUE flashing on the screen.

“Evol-related car accident,” your nurse gasps, and you’re up out of your seat and walking briskly towards the scrub down room before she even finishes giving the summary.

You enter the surgery with a clear understanding: your patient (female, age 6) has a punctured organ due to being in a car accident caused by a Wanderer attack. Her mother is currently in surgery as well, but her wounds are more severe. Nevertheless, you put all of your focus on your patient as you begin the operation.

The hours pass, your charge nurse noting the time as you extract shrapnel and tie sutures as gently as you can. Your fatigue begins to eat at your concentration, hands shaking as you call for a different pair of scissors but you force it down, honing your laser sharp focus so that you can save this little girl's life.

After twelve hours of work you tie the last stitch, making sure that it’s clean before nodding to the assisting surgeon. He nods at you once more before beginning the removal procedure, instructing the other nurses and anesthesiologist in the room on how to transport the patient to the ICU. All the while you bow to them in thanks, mustering a small yet genuine smile as you express your thanks for their help.

Your scrub down is slow and methodical, taking your time to clean yourself off so that you can look half-decent when you report the results to what family may be waiting in the waiting room. You briefly think of your patient’s mother - is she okay? Did she make it through? You desperately hope so. Losses are never easy to digest and share, so you hope with every bit of your being that she made it out okay, too.

You’re in the waiting room before you can even register you’re there, your tired mind guiding your body on autopilot. You clear your voice before announcing, “Is the family of Lilian Hsu here?”

Immediately, a harried looking man jumps to his feet and rushes to stand in front of you. His eyes are bloodshot as he reaches out to grip one of your hands in between his own shaking one’s, and you allow him to grip at you as he looks at you with primal eyes.

“Is Lili alive? Is my little girl okay?” Mr. Hsu blurts out, frame shaking as he stares at you with all the hope in the world. You nod slightly and his face crumples, tears beginning to race tracks down his cheeks as he begins to sob.

“There were some complications with the Evol-laden shrapnel so we had to make sure her body’s chemistry wasn’t too affected.” His breath hitches but you’re quick to placate him with a soft squeeze on his hand. “Her vitals are stable and nothing seems wrong so we were able to wrap up with no other complications. She’s in the Children’s ICU right now.”

“Oh, thank gods,” he breathes, squeezing your hands once more. “Thank you, Dr. ____, you saved my little girl’s life-”

“Is the family of Amy Hsu here?”

The voice is more somber, and you turn to see Greyson with a tired look on his face. He nods at you in greeting, but you feel something in you sink when you see the grim line of his mouth and the way his eyes shine with unshed tears.

Oh no.

Mr. Hsu senses it too, and his face crumples as he realizes what happened.

“I’m sorry,” Greyson says softly.

That’s all it takes. Mr. Hsu collapses onto the floor, hysterical sobs beginning to wrack his body as he processes the news that was just given to him. The earth-shattering news that his wife is gone but his daughter’s alive…

You bite your lip, tears welling in your own eyes - from sheer exhaustion or empathy for him, you don’t know. Your head spins and you know that you could easily just leave, find an empty hospital room, and go to sleep. It would be so easy to walk away for anyone else, so why can’t you?

Empathy and compassion. Service for others before yourself.

The Hippocratic Oath reverberates through your brain, and before you’re even processing your actions you’re kneeling in front of Mr. Hsu and wrapping him in your arms. Using the last bits of energy you can muster, you begin soothing him while wrapping him in your Evol.

“I’m sorry,” you susurrate quietly, hands stroking up and down his back. He clings onto you and sobs into your neck, and you fight the tears in your eyes and the fuzziness of your vision as you continue to target his energy - soothing the pain and bringing forth a semblance of peace for his turbulent mind. “I’m so, so sorry.”

The hallway is silent, charge nurses and patients watching with equal parts curiosity and horror as your hands begin to emit a stronger glow. You push down the feelings of regret and sadness that spiral in you as a result of expelling the man’s own sadness, although you can tell by the way your hands shake and your breath leaves in exhausted puffs that you might exert yourself past the point of no return.

In the back of your mind you hear frantic steps behind you, and you register an ice cold voice injected with…something, you’re not quite sure. “Stop her, now.”

“Dr. Li, once she starts she can’t stop.” Greyson’s voice is timid and tinged with concern, but you thank him in your brain - he knows better than to deter you from doing your job. “If she does, you know it risks permanently affecting the receiver’s emotions.”

“I don’t care-” the voice above you wavers in and out as you fight to maintain your concentration. You briefly note how the man’s breathing evens out and his sobs subsiding, though you notice your breath is leaving you in unsteady puffs as tears course down your cheeks.

Keep going, keep going. Even through the pain of it all. Endure.

“She’ll risk bleeding her own energy dry and it will affect her psyche permanently and I can’t live with having her go through that-”

The argument above you rages on, but you soldier on. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Your voice leaves in gasps as you continue to give your all. The man slumps onto your shoulder, his breath steady as he dozes off but you continue to inject your Evol onto him so that you can spare him of the pain of a splintering, broken heart. It’s the worst feeling in the world, one you don’t want anyone to live with because you’re living with one right now.

Spare the hurt. Take everyone’s pain and keep it to yourself. Rid the world of its sadness and strife, even if it means you’ll suffer for an eternity.

You barely register the man being lifted off of you through the heaving, shuddering sobs that shake your entire body. With nothing else to support your weight you fall to the floor, curling into a ball and digging your nails into your palms as you scream from the sheer anguish coursing through your veins.

“Everybody move out of my way!”

It’s agonizing, the hollow feeling in your chest spreading through your entire body and the tiny voice in your brain telling you that you’ll never amount to more, be able to do more - that no one will ever be able to help you with what plagues you. Your breathing stutters and your head spins as your vision fades in and out, and you thank the universe that it's finally sparing you of the pain of your broken heart and the knowledge that you'll never get to fully repair yourself - and that you’ve pushed away the one person you want.

No, need. You had the best thing in the palm of your hands, but you pushed him away - thinking it was for the best. He slipped in between your fingers and you’ll forever live with that regret. You vow to run again, if your energy isn’t forever ruined. Spare you and him of the pain that somehow always emerges when the two of you are together.

You find comfort in that fact. Your vision begins to darken and your eyes slowly shut.

Finally, some rest.

Your ears ring and you’re about to slip into the abyss-

-but ice wraps around your hands, pulling you through a pine forest and into the warmth of a hearth with jasmine flowers in a vase.

“-hear me?” A familiar voice swims above you, and against your better judgement you fight your impending black out. “-breath out your mouth, my love.”

The tone is gentle, full of an emotion that you’ve craved during many of your sleepless nights. You begin to follow the voice’s commands, taking an unsteady and short breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“-my chest, ____. The rhythm will help-”

Right. You put everything you can into the rhythm of the hearth’s beat, allowing for the steady presence to guide you back to your senses. The ringing of your ears slowly subsides, although exhaustion settles deeply into your bones as your breath hiccups.

“You’re doing well, ____. Keep breathing, my love.” The feeling of hands rubbing up and down your back has you melting against a solid chest, and you feel deft fingers pull at the clip on top of your head. Your hair falls down and the fingers rub against the back of your skull, making your eyes slowly flutter shut at the soothing contact.

“Zayne…” It leaves you in a breathless gasp, and you half curse your stupidity in your exhausted brain because how do you even know it’s him? But you’re placated with a finger tapping three times against your nose, a sure-fire sign that it’s him.

“Are you with me, ____?” His voice is soft, although it’s colored with something heavy. Still, he rubs his thumbs against your temples as he ponders something. “Can you tell me the major chambers of the heart in clockwise order?”

It’s an easy question, yes, but you know it’s his way of checking if you’re back with him. You scramble through your tired mind, trying to piece the answer together and you finally whisper: “Left atrium, left ventricle, right ventricle, right atrium. Aorta on top.”

“Good.” There’s a tired undertone in his voice that has you leaning against his chest, fingers blindly gripping at his scrubs. All of a sudden, you’re being lifted into the air, and you gasp and wrap your fingers tighter against his coat as you fight the fatigue that addles your brain.

“-in my office,” Zayne begins, and you register that you’re going in and out of consciousness. You continue to fight your brain so that you can listen in, but the strong scent of pine and jasmine coupled with the steady rhythm of his heart engulfs your senses and you feel yourself begin to shut down. “-not disturb, I’ll be the one to make sure Dr. ____ is okay. No pagers, no questions-”

You don’t register anything else, the steady steps carrying you to an unknown location lulling you into a trance-like state. Maybe he’ll dump you on a hospital room bed and leave you there.

“No I won’t.” Zayne’s voice is severe, and you feel hot embarrassment in the fact that you’re mindlessly babbling out your thoughts. “You’re staying with me, ____.”

You don’t say anything else, simply curling up against his chest and holding onto his shirt tightly. His grip on your remains steadfast, and he continues to walk until he comes to a stop. You vaguely hear the beeping of a keycard paired with his foot kicking something, and before you know it you’re in a pleasantly cool room.

You feel yourself being gently laid down on a plush sofa and you sigh as you sink against the soft pillows. You feel him begin to untangle himself from you, but you grip onto his shirt as a feeble whimper escapes your lips.

“Stay.”

It’s a helpless plea, a hopeless request, and your one greatest desire in this entire world. You want Zayne to stay with you, in this moment and for the rest of your lives. You don’t know if this will be fleeting or forever, but you’ll take the fleeting touch if it means you can have it in your brain forever.

The moment feels like a lifetime, but not even a minute later Zayne slides onto the couch with you. He arranges himself so that he’s laying on his back and you’re wrapped in his arms on top of him - the both of your favorite cuddling positions, one that has tears welling in your eyes once again.

One of his hands reaches up to massage the back of your head and you sigh against his neck, your fingers gently stroking the skin of his jaw. His chest rumbles in response to your contact and you nuzzle yourself further into his neck, breathing in the scent that’s brought you back from over the edge time and time again.

Your eyes begin to drift shut when his chest moves up, a soft humming in his chest as he whispers something. You strain your ears and you hear it: “I don’t deserve you, ____.”

“Mmm?” you mumble sleepily.

“I don’t deserve you,” Zayne says again. His fingers never stop in your hair and on your back, but you feel something new. A wetness on your forehead, sliding down to meet the previous tear tracks that still lay on your cheeks.

“Zayne?”

“I’m sorry, ____.” A shuddering gasp lifts your body, and your arms tighten around his neck as he tries to swallow his tears so he can hear you clearly. “I don’t deserve you, but I will make it up to you forever if you’ll let me. Please let me.”

“What if we aren't meant to be?”

It’s a soft whisper, but your fears are laid bare for the both of you to analyze. You want so desperately to make this work, but you don’t know if it’s meant to be after what’s happened.

His arms squeeze you tighter, his voice thick with tears yet steady with conviction. “We are, ____. I will work and beg and apologize and kneel at your feet until you forgive me and we build something new. We don’t have to force it - we'll go at your own pace and I will follow until you’re ready because you’re the most important thing in my life.”

His words sink into your skull, and for the first time you find tranquility instead of turbulence. Your lips brush against his pulsepoint once again before you whisper the single word that dictates your future with him:

“Okay.”

You barely feel his breath of relief and the tender kiss he brushes against your forehead as a peace that you haven’t felt in a while envelopes your bones. You snuggle further into his chest and allow yourself to finally succumb to sleep - lulled into a kind part of your brain by Zayne’s fingers in your hair.

Before you finally surrender, though, you hear it:

“You will always be my heart, my love. I hope I can earn yours again.”

It’s finals week, and your body feels lighter than it’s felt in a while.

There’s a soft smile ever-present on your lips, and it’s something that’s aided your students somewhat. When faced with a gentle smile, they relax and do better on their tests.

You tell yourself it’s to make them feel at ease, but you know it’s for another reason entirely.

Zayne’s back in your life, finding ways to show his fondness and apologies in your everyday life. It’s subtle but for you it makes a world of difference - texts asking about your day, your favorite food delivered at your apartment and the pediatric office, and flowers addressed to you and Yvonne because he knows that earning your forgiveness means earning hers tenfold.

She had scoffed the first time he had sent her a bouquet of peonies, even though her eyes sparkled when she saw her favorite flower. “Why’s he sending me some?”

You had sniffed your own bouquet of jasmines and lavender, pointing to the card that was attached to her bouquet. “Read it and tell me what it says!”

She had grabbed the card and you carefully watched her reaction, her eyes widening before filling with tears. You had been filled with alarm, reaching out to hug her but she had shaken her head and held the card tightly.

“What a jerk, making me cry…” She had mumbled, but the smile on her face let you know that his apologies were working on her, too.

There were also the talks after lectures and in between check ups - any time you could find each other, really. They were serious, filled with tears but also with a comfort that you two were finally talking - not skirting around the issues that made your foundations crack in the first place. While things are still a little soft, you find that the cracks are filled with gold - making the foundation of your relationship stable with new meaning.

Your thoughts stop with a knock on the lecture hall door, and you lift your head to see Dr. Chung waving his hand at you with a friendly smile. You scan your students in the crowd; most of them have their heads down, teeth gnawing at their lips and brows furrowed in concentration at the test you and Zayne had put together. Sure that they won’t need you immediately, you nod at Dr. Chung and make your way out of the lecture hall.

Once outside, you regard him curiously as he produces a manila envelope from his side and presents it to you with a flourish. There’s a gleam in his eyes that has your heart pounding as you open the envelope shakily, pulling out the neat packet of papers and reading “OFFER OF PERMANENT POSITION WITH THE LINDE SCHOOL OF MEDICINE AND AKSO HOSPITAL.”

“I told you I would pester you about it during finals week,” he teases with a smile as you look at him with wide eyes.

“I-” you try to begin, but he’s quick to cut you off with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulders.

“You are leagues above the medical world and it would be an honor to have you with us, Dr. ____.” His voice is full of warm conviction, giving you a wide smile as you flounder for words. “I’d also like to be happily retired when you and Dr. Li have children.”

“Alistair!” You ignore formality for a scandalized whisper of his name, but he only laughs as he pats your arms reassuringly.

“I did put a lot of money on a betting pool back when the two of you were in undergrad and won it back tenfold,” he replies cheekily. Dr. Chung gestures to the packet once more, eyes full of hope as he scans your face. “So? Are you ready to step into the shoes that have always fit you perfectly and send me into an early and reassuringly calm retirement?”

Your hands shake, but your smile is steady as you look at him.

You’ve always known the answer, you think.

There’s a knock on your door as you finish inputting final grades for the semester later on in the week.

You quirk your eyebrow when you eye the door, not expecting any visitors or students. It’s Friday, and by the time the sun sets below the horizon students and faculty alike are off to hot pot restaurants and karaoke bars to celebrate the end of the semester and the beginning of summer break. You know you’re supposed to be alone - you saw each of your coworker’s lamps flicker off one by one, their laughter echoing through the empty hall as they waved goodbye to you or tried to goad you into a night out.

You’re definitely supposed to be alone.

Still, you clear your throat and answer. “Come in!”

Your eyes widen when you see Zayne, an unusual ruffledness to him as he shuts the door and flicks the lock closed behind him. He’s wearing blue scrubs, white coat draped over his arm and hair mussed as he looks at you with an intense stare that has your body beginning to melt from the inside out.

“Alistair said you accepted the offer.”

It spills out of his mouth almost unwittingly, and your lips tilt up at the corners when you see how his cheeks flush. Still, his eyes never waver from yours as you stand up from your desk and smooth the thin blue cotton of the long summer dress you had pulled on earlier in the morning.

“Yes,” you confirm as you walk around your desk to stand in front of him. His posture relaxes at your simple word, jaw releasing its tension as his gaze softens.

“Do you know what that means?” He asks. It’s gentler, full of unanswered questions he wants to know the answers to because you know that he needs to know your thoughts.

You reflect back to your analysis of the document, immediately noting that Zayne was signing on as one of the two directors of the Linde School of Medicine.

The reason why you know that is because your name was slotted next to his as the permanent head of pediatrics and a potential candidate for the position of interim director.

“Yes,” you say again. You’re standing in front of him now, head tilted up as you regard his gaze curiously. “I read all of that in the packet. I even gave it to my personal lawyer to ensure that there was nothing problematic in the agreement-”

“I’m sorry, ____, but you know that’s not what I mean right now.”

Zayne’s voice trembles as he steps forward to meet your body, dropping his white coat onto the floor. He cups your face in his hands and tilts your head up so that he can look directly into your gaze. You melt into his touch, reaching up to hold his hands in place with a gentle pressure.

“I need to know if you’re okay working with…me,” his voice is gravelly and filled with anxiety, something that makes your heart clench at the vulnerability of his words. “I need to know that you’re okay working with me and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable when we just started mending things between us-”

“Zayne.”

It’s your turn to interrupt him and he shuts his mouth immediately, leaning down to press a kiss against the palm of your hand. You smile at the contact, letting him kiss your hand to alleviate his anxiety before clearing your throat and starting.

“I’m more than okay with it.” Your pointer finger taps against his cheek once, making his eyes widen as you step closer so that your chests are barely brushing. “I wouldn’t have accepted the position and scheduled the seemingly endless meetings and interviews for the interim director position if I wasn’t okay with it.”

He breathes a deep sigh of relief at that, sinking his face further into your hand while you tap your thumb against his chin.

“You’re comfortable with me?” He asks, eyes full of yearning as he moves his hands to settle on your hips. He pulls your body flush against his, making you lose your breath as you stare into your favorite shade of emerald. “Are things…”

“I’m more than comfortable.” Your finger drags a line past his Adam’s apple up to his jaw, eliciting a shaky breath from his lips when you run the tips of your fingers up to his hair to play with the inky strands. “In fact, things are going pretty swimmingly from my vantage point.”

Your pointer finger traces a dangerous line from his jaw to the edge of his mouth, and your eyes hood ever so slightly when you tap his bottom lip once.

“My question is,” you whisper as you tiptoe up to meet his face. “Does the doctor who hasn’t left my mind since I moved back feel the same way?”

A beat passes - a singular moment when you feel his heart beating in tandem with yours. His eyes widen at the implication of your words, registering your hidden meaning before a true smile spreads across his lips.

That one smile solidifies everything for the both of you. He leans down and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath and the last bits of all rationality away from your mind.

You’re quick to respond to the movements of his lips, running your hands up the back of his head and gripping the inky strands of his hair in between your fingers. A deep rumble reverberates through his chest when your nails scratch his head slightly, making him step back and press you against your desk.

You gasp when you feel the smooth wood against the small of your back, the pressure making your eyes roll back into your head and grip his hair tighter. He pulls away though, eyes flying open at the little sound. He immediately moves to cradle your face in his hands, tilting your head in his touch as he scans you for any sort of hesitation or sign of hurt. “Are you okay, my love?”

“I am,” you reply, melting at the slip of his pet name. He doesn’t notice, simply peppering your face with soft kisses until you’re giggling in his hold and wrapping your arms around his neck tighter.

“Good,” he says with a soft twinkle in his eye. His hands reach behind your back, and your eyes widen at the sound of papers and your little plastic cup of pens clattering to the floor before you squeal, your arms around his neck tightening when he lifts you by one arm up onto your desk.

“Zayne, what-” you try to begin, but he simply leans back down and kisses you deeply, stealing your breath away and eliciting a soft moan from between your lips. He groans in response, spreading your legs apart on the table and bracing his left hand on the wood behind your back while pulling your leg up with his right hand up around his waist. He steps in between the newly formed space, allowing his hips to roll slightly against yours in a way that has you whining from the contact.

Your hands move, tilting his head to the side so that you can kiss him deeper. A stroke of your tongue against his bottom lip has his mouth falling open, allowing for your tongue to push in slightly to brush against his. Simultaneous gasps escape your mouths at the same time, and he pushes himself deeper into your mouth so that he can get a taste of you directly from the source.

Soon enough though, the need for air has you pulling away, leaning your forehead against his as you both catch your breath. You giggle breathlessly when you see the marks your skin left on his glasses, the cloudiness making it difficult to see the real emotion on his face. Your hands begin to lift to pull at them but he beats you to it, simply grabbing at the thin frame before tossing them somewhere to the side.

“Your glasses!” You try to yelp, but he leans down to nip at your bottom lip, making your mouth fall open once more.

“They were getting in the way,” he grumbles, and you laugh as you allow him to recapture your mouth with his once more.

The kiss this time is slower but just as needy on your end, the brush of his lips soothing the worried part in your mind. He discards any lingering doubt in your head, cementing him as yours - and the giddy feeling swallows you whole.

His lips make a path from the corner of your mouth to your jawline, soft presses of his lips making your skin heat from his touch. The stimulation has you whining, tugging on the collar of his scrubs to try to get them off of his body. Your needy movements make him chuckle darkly and he pulls away just enough so he can pull the top and his undershirt off of his body, giving you access to his glorious body.

“Zayne,” you murmur softly, drinking in the sight of his body once more. It’s a sight you’re intimately familiar with but it still has molten desire pooling in your stomach, and you let your eyes wander past the planes of his chest and the chiseled softness of his abs before biting your lip at the sight of the thin, dark hairs that lead below the waistband of his scrubs.

“What are you thinking about, pretty lady?” His breath catches when your hand presses on the skin above his heart. He shuffles closer to your body which allows you to press a kiss directly on his heart, and you smile to yourself when you hear a soft gasp above your head.

“You,” you say back, grabbing his hand and letting your fingers trace the fading scars on his forearm. His breath hitches in his chest when you bring his arm to your lips, gently ghosting your lips along the skin reverently. 

“Is that so?” He gently pulls his arm away from you, instead placing his palms on your thighs and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Yes,” you breathe, wrapping one arm around his neck to pull him closer. Your other hand trails down his chest and past his abs, fingers toying dangerously with the elastic waistband of his thin scrubs. You smile sweetly up at him as his eyes flash dangerously, playing innocent while your hand slips underneath his scrubs to cup his bulge above his boxer briefs.

“You’re still a little minx,” he groans. You laugh as you begin to massage the tent in his pants, but you gasp when he pulls your thighs up to his waist, making your back fall against your desk.

“Zayne, what-” you try to begin, but your words die in your mouth when he slides your skirt up past your thighs so that it pools at your waist. He gently pulls your hand from his pants so that he can spread your legs even more, folding them so that they’re up in the air and he has a clear view of your dainty white panties clinging against the silken folds of your core.

“Pretty,” he says softly, running a single finger up against your slit. Your mouth is too dry all of the sudden, falling open at the muted stimulation of his finger rubbing your clit above your panties. Your wetness drenches the thin fabric even more, and it has you grinding your hips against his single finger while mewling in a bid to feel even more.

“Still impatient and needy for me, my love?” He places one of your legs on his shoulder, letting you wrap the other one around his waist as you grind against his hand - desperate for his bare skin against the place you need him the most.

“Yes,” you breathe. You pout up at him and he laughs, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss as you continue to grind yourself against his hand. The pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach and continues to rise, but you huff in frustration when you feel it plateau instead of bringing you closer to the edge of your end.

“Zayne,” you gasp, looking up at him imploringly. His eyes flash at your need and without another word he moves his hand, pulling your panties to the side and finally allowing you to grind your bare pussy against the warm skin of his hand. A small cry leaves your mouth, head tilting back as you rock your hips against the palm of his hand.

Zayne looks down at the goddess that is you, writhing on your desk as you chase your high. The ruffled straps of your sundress fall down your shoulders, accentuating the way your breasts heave as your chest rises and falls with the onslaught of pleasure wreaking havoc on your body. If the two of you weren’t in the academic offices and he had more time on his hands, he would have torn your dress off a long time ago, pinching your nipples with his skilled fingers until your eyes went cross-eyed and all that left your mouth were moans and babbles of his name.

Another time, he thinks to himself when he sees the scrunch of your nose. There are plenty of other times to shower your body with love.

Your eyes snap open when he pulls his hand away from your core, a noise of protest beginning on your lips as to why he moved away. It quickly dies, however, when you see him pull his straining cock out of his scrubs. He pushes you down onto your desk once more, jacking himself with your wetness rapidly so that he’s ready too. All the while, he looks down at you with a heady glance, leaning down to kiss you once more.

“Are you still on the pill?” He asks breathlessly. He slides his cockhead against your pussy, and you both moan when he slaps his tip against your clit.

“Yes,” you confirm, eyes going hazy when he drags his cock down to your sopping hole. The tip catches slightly and you whine, tightening the hold your leg has on his waist. “Z-zayne!”

“I got you, my love,” he groans back, and you cry out softly when he begins to push himself into your pussy.

Your head lolls back, eyes rolling back into your skull with each thick inch he gives you. Even with how slick you are, the pleasurable stretch still burns - enough to make you pant when he rolls his hips.

“W-wait-” you gasp, and he’s quick to stop his pace, leaning down to press his nose against your neck. He leaves soft kisses against your pulse point and across your collarbones as you breathe deeply, trying to get used to the feeling of him pulsing inside of you after so long. 

Soon enough, though, the burn gives way to nothing but heady pleasure, and you roll your hips against his to sink him further into your cunt. His hand tightens on the leg he has propped on his shoulder, eyes looking down at you with worry as he checks to make sure that you mean it.

“Are you sure?”

You nod once, and while he knows that you do mean it his eyes darken mischievously. He rolls his hips slowly, leaving you moaning as you attempt to roll your hips back to meet his - even with his sturdy grip on your hips.

“Use your words, Dr. ____.” His authoritative voice and use of your title has you clenching down on him, making you whimper and him grip your calf even tighter so that he doesn’t lose his mind. He groans as he thrusts shallowly once more, drinking in your moans that fill the air. “Use your words to tell me what you need.”

“You!” You all but cry out. “P-please Zayne, I need you fully in m-me-”

“Good,” he huffs. He kisses your ankle before sinking his cock all the way into your soaking pussy, making your back arch as you moan. He pulls out slowly, letting your walls pulse sporadically around his cock until only his cockhead remains in your cunt, making you whine at the emptiness. There’s only a whisper of respite from the fullness, though, before he pushes himself back in and elicits a cry from your swollen lips.

“Shh,” he murmurs, moving down to kiss you deeply. His hips never stop their pace, pistoning in and out of you at a relentless speed that has you seeing stars. “You don’t want anyone to catch us, right?”

“I-it’s late night though-” you try to begin, but your mouth falls open when he presses himself all of the way and nudges against your g-spot.

“There she is,” he says with a grunt, thrusting once again so that he can continue to press against that spot. “I was wondering when I would meet her again.”

“-ah!” You cry out in response. Your head falls back as the pleasure continues to wash over your body, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice of your orgasm. Zayne, seeing you begin to near your end, maintains his pace, reaching down to rub and pinch your clit in tandem with his thrusts.

The added stimulation makes your nose scrunch, moans and whimpers the only thing you can manage as your pussy spasms rhythmically around him. Your stomach tightens, and you’re barely able to gasp out his name before he leans down to kiss you once more, stealing your breath away.

“Cum with me, ____,” he breathes, and he swallows your cries with his lips when you finally fall over the edge.

The pleasure is overwhelming, crashing onto you as you dig your nails into his shoulders and making him groan. It leaves you seeing stars in your eyes, your head spinning as you try to control your breathing. You vaguely register your cries of his name and moans falling from your lips, but you can’t find it in yourself to care at how loud you're being - not when it feels this good.

Zayne, all the while, ruts his hips against yours - the pulsing of your slick walls driving him mad and prolonging your pleasure. A whine of his name has his moaning, cumming into your wet heat as he sinks his teeth in the skin between your shoulder and neck to try and keep a hold of himself. You gasp at the bit of pain, letting it mix with the heady pleasure of your orgasm until everything fades away, leaving just you and him in the afterglow.

“Mmm,” you moan softly as he kisses the bite he left on your neck, shivering slightly when he licks the tender skin.

“We’re going to need to make this our office,” he says softly against your neck. The statement makes you throw your head back to laugh, and he chuckles softly alongside you as he gently lowers your leg from his chest to wrap around his waist.

“You’re right,” you tease in response. “Can’t let anyone else have this office after what we did here.”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, moving his head up to kiss you once more. You let him press the sweet kiss against your mouth, a stark juxtaposition to the way your shaky legs are still wrapped around his waist.

He pulls away softly, and you push his slightly sweaty hair up above his brow so that it isn’t plastered onto his forehead. You tap your finger three times against his nose, and you feel yourself soften at the breathtaking smile that overtakes his entire face.

“Me too, my love,” he murmurs back, tapping your nose three times - like the two of you have always done. He leans over you to kiss you once more, filling you with that pure feeling of love that has you smiling against his mouth.

And by the way he smiles against your mouth, you know he feels that same love for you too.

August means the start of a new academic year at Linkon University.

You hear the nervous chatter of the fresh-faced medical students currently seated in the lecture hall outside of your shared office and you turn to look at your handsome co-lecturer with a half serious expression on your face while you watch him struggle with his tie. You step closer and help him fix it, straightening out the crooked fabric before smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles on his perfectly pressed white button down.

“Don’t grill them too hard, Dr. Li.” You say softly, amusement coloring your voice as Zayne lets out a scoff. “You want them to want to continue med school.”

“No promises, my love.” He swoops down and kisses you - the kind that steals your breath away and makes you weak in the knees. You kiss him back, smiles forming on your mouths as you relish in the quick contact before pulling away.

“Ready?” He asks, and he offers his arm out to you as you gather your stack of syllabi and notes. You beam at him and place your hand in the crook of his arm, nodding once.

“With you? Always.”

And the two of you walk out of your office and into the lecture room - taking your first steps toward your shared future together as the head lecturers and directors of the Linde School of Medicine.

a/n #2: i'm going to take a nap LOL but i hope you enjoy!! <3

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 8th

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1. Hello, I hope you’re having a great day. I need to find this thing that was watching the show type or book or mango or whatever one. A yanil was alive but Wei ying was dead. We find out that Wei ying is looking over lan zhan and his son. So. After they find out, he’s innocent that you find a way to bring him back I think maybe with wen Qing. @chloecov4506

FOUND? Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ) has some elements of what's described but Jiang Yanli isn't alive in this one. Wen Qing's ghost gathers the parts of Wei Ying's shattered soul, some of which are with Lan Zhan and A-Yuan, and Wei Ying eventually comes back as a god.

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2. Heyyy, I'm trying to find a MDZS fanfic I read a while ago on AO3. It's multi-part, and in the first part, it's been five years (I think) since Wei Wuxian’s death. Jiang Cheng is summoned to Jinlintai by Jin Guangyao, and somehow, during the visit, Wei Wuxian is brought back to life. Jin Guangyao wants to kill him again? Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian then try to escape from Jinlintai together, taking Jin Ling with them. Thank you for your work!! @laura-101s

FOUND?🔒Brotherhood by LtLJ (G, 10k, JC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, breaks from canon during the time skip, YLLZ WWX)

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3. The fic was on ao3.

After returning to Lotus pier from cloud recess lectures Wei ying and Lan zhan starts exchanging letters. Wei ying also gives Lan zhan his papermans frequently which Lan zhan keeps safely . Also at the beginning while wei ying is bidding goodbye to everyone in cloud recess lan xichen asks wei ying to write to lan zhan.

Thank you for helping me find this fic.

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4. Hello! Thank you for all the work you do! I’m looking for two fics that I just can’t find for the life of me. Here’s what I remember: A) The first has wangxian walking (on university campus?) in the winter, and they slip and fall, but the way they land lwj breaks his wrist and almost passes out and they go to the university clinic. B) The second is wangxian about to have their (first?) date, but lwj shows up with a broken arm from slipping on ice, so wwx makes him go home because he broke his own arm as a kid and remembers how much it hurt; they go back together and iirc wwx eats out lwj after he promises not to move and hurt himself. Thanks!

4A)

FOUND? Constant Companion by athena_crikey (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, h/c, Recovery, Longing, WWX's canonical inability to put himself first, LWJ's canonical inability to accept that, LXC living his best life, initial hints at LWJ's dom tendencies)

4B)

FOUND? falling (ouch) for you by daltoneering (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern, Fluff, First Date, Kindergarten Teacher WWX, single dad LWJ, Ice Skating, first date shenanigans, Injury, First Kiss, Getting Together, WWX has his usual bisexual disaster energy, it expresses itself on this particular occasion through clumsiness, you can guess the rest)

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5. For FicFinder, I can only remember how the chapter summaries went. They would be something like "A brother worries, one is lonely etc. It was always 3 lines and had something to do with either JC, WW, or LWJ. I read it about three years ago now.

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6. Hi hi! I was looking for a fanfic that is canon divergent, the only scene I remember is wwx giving lwj a hairpin because he likes him and lwj accidentally breaks it and wwx thinks it’s because he hates him and sulks about it and later on lwj fixes the hairpin but I can’t remember the rest. Thank you in advance ❤️ @amaraxoxo98

FOUND? For you by 10thNoNamePerson (T, 17k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Canon Divergence, No War AU, Teen Wangxian, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jealous WWX, Soft WangXian, No Sunshot Campaign)

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7. i’m trying to find a fic — modern au, wwx was lsz’s parent before he was adopted by lwj and wwx met him again by chance year later. there was a scene of wwx telling either a-yuan or lwj about why he had to give lsz up. i think wwx wasn’t the bio parent but maybe wq was? and she had very heavy ppd, and didn’t wanna be pregnant or have a child so after the birth wwx got lsz but he was very poor and i think had to take up multiple jobs to pay for everything and maybe some debts and one day he just collapsed from sickness or exhaustion and realized he couldnt do this to lsz and decided to give him up. he mightve put lsz in one of those baby drop off boxes and he still fit in it bc he was small for his age. hope this rings a bell with someone, thank you!

FOUND? I’ll Take Such Great Care of You by CheekyBrunette (G, 50k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Modern, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Fluff, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Angst, LWJ Adopts LSZ, LSZ-centric, LSZ Needs a Hug, i think it’s a canon-typical tragic backstory, so i will say there will be mentions of dangerous and uncomfortable situations from the past, but probably nothing worse than the source material, Panic Attacks, Claustrophobia, Nightmares, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Organ Harvesting)

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8. hiii i’m looking for a fic where a random (not Lan) sect disciple berates wwx and wwx tells another disciple to go get lwj and tell him a code word (possibly butterfly) and when wwx hears him coming he starts to cry and the gusu disciples follow his lie so lwj kicks he random disciple out of lectures/cloud recesses

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9. Hi. Can you help me find mxtx crossover fic. Where the kids go on a night hunt. Xie lian meets lan jingyi jinlin. Hua cheng met lan sizhui. And Wei wuxian and lanzhan met fengxin and mu xing. Thank you so much in advance.

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10. Hi! I've been looking for the fic where WWX/LWJ (either modern day or younger I can't remember) travel/portal to meet married wangxian who help them realize their feelings for each other. The fic then ends with some papapa between all 4 of them. Thanks!

FOUND? a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 80k, WangXian, Modern AU, Parallel Universes, Modern with Magic, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Established Relationship, Mild Horror, Case Fic, mildly sci-fi, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Married Couple, Love Confessions)

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11. Hi, thank you for your hard work! 🙏 For fic finder, I'm hoping you can help me with a fic where Jiang Yanli was the main. I think it was a time travel fic, and she knew JGS, JGY and Jin Zixun were at fault for what happened and she used Yu daggers with poison, a different one for each of them. Pretty sure she only left JGY alive, though only temporarily, with a slow acting poison. Thank you again! @boxedbutterfly

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12. Once again, thank you for the work you do! Off on another request. I remember a fic where Lan Zhan snaps at Wei Ying to leave him alone and Wei Ying does. He distances himself and doesn't talk to Lan Zhan unless he has to. I believe it happens during the Cloud Recess Study Arc.

Actually any fics where Wei Ying stops trying to get Lan Zhan's attention due to misunderstandings would be great too! @marietsy40-blog

FOUND? might be this threadfic by Cosmicmilktea (unrolled version)

FOUND?🔒Of Bunnies and Sleeves and All Happy Things by moonwaif (G, 3k, WangXian, two dorks, failed attempts at flirting, Lan Zhan is jealous, but he doesn’t know it, unresolved romantic and sexual tension, Mutual Pining)

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13. lost a a fic on ao3. It was of LWJ time traveling to his younger self but it is another dimension where his uncle and mother are dead but father is alive and he is abusive. There is a Yiling Wei Sect which is led by Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren.They have WWX and his younger twin siblings. WWX, JC and the Wen siblings are great friends. This sect cultivates with both resentful and spiritual energy, and LWJ's father hates that sect. He is friends with Wen Ruohan and wants LWJ to marry Wen Chao. LWJ managed to get permission to convince WWX to marry him. QHJ takes him there, and WWX was not happy. He took him from the most ragged paths causing his clothes to get dirty but then finally met up with JC. They went into a cave to look at fireflies. LWJ lifts up his robes to step into the water when JC and WWX said he didn't know how to have fun but they saw bruises on his legs, LWJ said he got hurt when he fell down. Then LWJ plays his guqin and makes the fireflies dance around JC and WWX, who are mesmerised and then accept LWJ as a friend. They play all afternoon and when they return, upon seeing LWJ's dirty clothes, QHJ immediately scolded LWJ and WWX defends him, when it seemed like QHJ will hit LWJ, saying it was his fault he took him on the rough path. QHJ is pleased to see WWX defending LWJ and so lets LWJ go. Years later, at the guest lectures in Yiling Wei Sect, LWJ arrives alone, without even a servant to accompany him. WWX , JC and NH (Nie Huaisang) are watching the guests arrive from the roof of a building. After watching LWJ, WWX loses interest and goes back. During the lectures, LWJ discovers that he actually loves spicy food and that his spice tolerance rivals WWX's spice tolerance. WWX, while going to have lunch with his parents, sees LWJ washing his clothes in the lake. He then asks his parents to assign a servant to LWJ to do his simple chores and they agreed. He also discovers bunnies and plays with them. One day while playing with the bunnies he senses two children and plays with them along with the bunnies. They turn out to be WWX'S younger siblings. The whole sect is searching for them because they did not tell anyone where they were. When WWX discovers them he immediately starts yelling at LWJ and tells him to get lost. LWJ is deeply hurt and walks back to his quarters, also dismissing the servant assigned to him and tells him not to come anymore. While WWX looks at his siblings in concern, his sister kicks him and says that he has scared the bunnies away and hurt LWJ so he has to apologise. Apologizing proves to be difficult because LWJ avoids him at all costs but then one day he lures LWJ out to the field using his siblings and apologises.

I do remember that WWX parents died In an attack and he becomes sect leader. There is an indoctrination and WWX is forced to go. That's all I can remember...

Sorry for it being too long, I have been desperately searching using everything I have but still haven't found it... @idontknowwhatsnottaken

FOUND? 💙🔒Song Unwritten by Kytrin & Mslead (E, 94k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, cql meets mdzs, Transmigration, Parallel Universes, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, References to Depression)

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14. Hi! I'm looking for a fic that I initially skipped over but really want to try. Basically it's a fic about wwx and jc going to family therapy with lwj as their counselor. The summary goes along the lines of "lwj is not in love with his emotionally unavailable patient; he is not." And is defo has a tag like "counselor lwj" in there. That's all I can say. @foyoum

FOUND? Deep Dive by MimiSpearmint (E, 24k, WangXian, Modern AU, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Are Bad at Communicating, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Therapy, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending, Career Ending Injuries, counsellor!lwj, give lwj friends agenda, background NieLan, Melbourne, Eventual Smut, Crack, Baby JL, domestic abuse is discussed but does not happen, Baby LSZ, Baby LJY, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Good Sex Practices, Implied Slight D/s, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Cameos by various minor characters)

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15. Hey, I know the fic is really popular but I simply can't find the story. It has dragon!lan zhan, fox!wei ying and they met as children. Years later there is a war between the Lans (+plus other sects) against the Wens and Jins. Lan Zhan is a war lord and captures Wei Ying, who tried to rescure WN. He wants him as his empress, I think? The end had lots of smut. Thanks for your help!

FOUND!🔒Have him stripped, bathed, and brought to my tent by KizuKatana (E, 30k, WangXian, Dark LWJ, A/B/O, Huli-Jing WWX, powerplay/powerdynamic, dubcon (due to power dynamics), Overstimulation, Edging, Biting, Scenting, Possessiveness, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, warlord, Emperor LWJ, civilian (sort of) captive (also sort of) WWX, dragon sex magic, Not traditional Chinese emperor history fully alternate reality of immortal creatures)

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16. Hi, thanks for the stellar work you do. I'm looking for a fic where, at the Baifeng Mountain Crowd Hunt Jin Zixun throws something at WWX and LWJ jumps in front to protect him. He is sent to Avengers world while WWx tried to figure out what has happened. I don't know if it was ever finished as I lost track of it, but would like to read it again. Again, thanks. @remma3760

FOUND? Hanguang-Jun's Unexpected Interdimensional Vacation by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (G, 16k, WangXian, LWJ & Jarvis, JGY & NHS, JGY & LXC & NMJ, LWJ & Avengers, Pre-Relationship, pre-wangxian, Phoenix Mountain Night Hunt Competition, creative use of inquiry, Dimension Travel, LWJ was raised to be a polite and understanding guest, OOC, LWJ and communicating, Aftermath, Dialogue-Only, LWJ Loves Rabbits)

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17. Hi um, I'm looking for a fanfiction where wei wuxian has back pain and has to sleep outside cloud recess, Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng are really protective of him and care for him a lot, I'm pretty sure it's set during the cloud recess arc. The back pain may or may not be chronic but also because of Madam Yu. I just don't know where it is in my history and don't know the names or tags. Please help, thank you @laelisgay

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18. I just remembered this one I was readying. Should still be in progess but I can't remember it. Anyway! It was one where Wen Zhulio catches everyone else who escapes the Xuanwu cave and crushes their core. LWJ and WWX escape later but they have the sword still and duel cultivate with the sword until it changes into Chenqing? It was soooo good and I wanna reread what is there.

FOUND? Crooked by naqaashi (M, 76k, WangXian, XuSu, SangLi, WIP, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Cultivation Sect Politics, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Xuanwu of Slaughter Cave, Consequences, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Sunshot Campaign, Genius WWX, Genius LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Qishan Wen Indoctrination, Dual Cultivation, YZY Bashing, JFM Bashing, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF JYL, Soft WangXian, Fix-It, Mainly for WWX & LWJ, Not Everyone Dies, BAMF NHS, Murder Husbands, JC Has No Golden Core, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Revenge, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, WangXIan in Love, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, Fluff, WWX Deserves Better, WWX is Loved)

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19. Hey! I've been trying to find a fic where Lan Wangji secretly jerks off around Wei Ying? I think it was written like one of the five times fics in what I want to think was a college au setting? I want to say he did it once in a cafe, once behind Wei Ying on the bleachers at a basketball game and another time at a kareoke bar? And help would be greatly appreciated thank you !!

FOUND? I Won’t Tell If You Won’t by anxiousTypist (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, but not really, no one sees, Coming In Pants, Wet & Messyish, Mildly Dubious Consent, lwj involves wwx in his masturbation without his consent and also enjoys secretly getting cum on him, PWP)

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20. Hi, I am looking for a wangxian fic where wei ying do empathy in Lan zhan ... I don't remember the name and much of it's content... @dim2512

FOUND? 蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for) by yiqie (M, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wedding fic, Psychological Trauma, Empathy)

FOUND? Whatever it takes by Moonlit_dewdrops (T, 115k, JC & WWX, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, JC/WQ, JYL & WQ, WQ & WWX, WWX & JGY, WWX & JZX, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, yunmeng prides, POV JC, POV WWX, WQ & WN live, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX and JC actually communicate, Yunmeng Siblings fluff, But Also Some Angst, Lots of WangXian moments, Protective JC, Protective LWJ, JGS & JZn will die for sure, NMJ Lives, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Feels, Slow burn but not for Wangxian, Brotherhood, justice for the wen remnants, JYL & JZX Live, Wen Remnants Live, Cinnamon Roll WN, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, reference to wwx's suicide, Established Relationship, Torture)

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[vampzwon]

박종성 ✸ — truth hurts !

ⓘ; marrying jay was the best decision of your life— since the very moment you said “yes,” married life with him was an absolute daydream. but of course, with all positives come it’s negatives, and no one ever said married life would be easy, not when two people with two seperate lives and two different personalities merge to one.

﹏ ⌗ 𝓹airing: 𝓅!jongseong x 𝒻!reader ❨4059❩

⏖’ 𝑔enres, angst. fluff. reconciliation. smut.

⊹”mlist.

𝓦arnings: angstangstangst, lack of communication, jays just depressed atp lmao, crying, kissing, proximity 18+ MDNI dry humping

𓏵-, 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒. guys i wrote thus on a road trip wnd i needed to piss SO badly likenit was crazy painful but then i had a nap and then i woke up with this idea so.. yeah. my dreams r in favour of my tumblr career it seems

Jay hated eggs.

Not in a casual “I’d rather not” way—no, it was a bone-deep, soul-level aversion. The smell, the texture, the way the yolk stared up at him like some runny, golden eye. Scrambled, poached, sunny side up—didn’t matter. They all made his skin crawl.

But you, unfortunately, loved them.

Soft-boiled, hard-boiled, over easy—eggs were your go-to comfort food. You’d hum to yourself as you cooked them, barefoot in one of his old shirts, swaying to whatever playlist was humming through the kitchen speaker. You always said there was something hopeful about breakfast, even when the world outside felt unkind. A perfect way to start a perfect day.

He used to tease you for it.

“You’re romanticizing a chicken’s reproductive cycle,” he’d say, scrunching his nose as you giggled, letting him backhug you as you melted into his hold. “Romanticizing or not, it’s all I can make. Now eat.”

He’d grin into your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. “Guess I married you for your looks, then.”

You’d roll your eyes and feed him a bite anyway. He’d grimace like he was in pain, overact dramatically, then chew with a resigned smile—just to make you laugh again.

Perhaps the pain that came with consuming egg left when they were made with your own very hands.

That was the difference, he realized—not the egg, not the seasoning, not even the way you overcooked the yolk just a little because you knew he hated it runny.

It was you.

It was always you.

Something about the way you cracked the shell with that little flick of your wrist, the way your brow furrowed as you tilted the pan with practiced precision—like it mattered. Like he mattered.

He could eat eggs when you made them because they tasted like you’d poured your loving all over him— and that? He could die in it. Live in it. Drown in it.

This morning, the eggs taste of nothing.

Not even disgustingly creamy, or rubbery and stubborn in that way they used to be. They tasted of emptiness, of a space where something should be but painfully wasn’t.

He prodded at it with his fork, staring into the marble of the kitchen counter emptily, the cloth of his work attire suffocatingly tight against his throbbing chest. He looked down at his briefcase, right beside his stool at the counter, and then at the front door, where you hastily tied your shoelaces with nimble fingers.

You used to look at him every morning. Really look at him. With that mischievous grin playing at your lips and that soft, unfiltered way your eyes scanned him up and down like he was the best part of your day.

“You look sexy in a suit, Mr. Park,” you’d say with a mock-whisper, even though no one was around to hear. “If you’re late to work, it’s your fault for looking that good.”

You used to kiss him harder before he left—like goodbye wasn’t just goodbye, it was a promise. A see you later.

You used to always ensure you said bye, refusing to leave until you heard him reply— and now, you left first. Always. Without so much as a glance, without a trace of the warmth that used to cling to your touch.

“Do I still look good in a suit?” He croaked out weakly, under his breath, loud enough for him to hear, but certainly not loud enough for you. You had already left in one fluid motion, the door swinging shut with a soft click that felt louder than any argument you’d ever had.

Jay sat there for a few seconds longer, frozen in the kind of silence that hums in your ears when you’ve just been left behind. He stared at the now-empty entryway, his shoulders slumping with insecurity he didn’t recognise.

He exhaled shakily, one hand tugging at the knot of his tie as if loosening it would somehow help him breathe better.

He sighed into his hands, elbows braced on the edge of his desk as his monitor flickered to life. The screen glowed too bright, the same spreadsheet from yesterday blinking back at him like it had never left.

The same monotony.

Click. Log in. Pretend.

The office buzzed with quiet conversation and the hum of printers. People moving with purpose. Like their lives made sense. Like they’d all kissed their partners goodbye this morning without feeling their heart sink to the floor.

Jay exhaled through his nose, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. He groaned under his breath tiredly, offering his colleague, Minjun, sat beside him a friendly smile. “Morning.” He offered quietly.

Minjun was already halfway through his coffee, chair leaned back just enough to look like he wasn’t trying to work yet. He glanced at Jay and grinned.

“Rough start?” he asked, tapping a few keys before swiveling slightly in his chair. “You look like you barely slept.”

Jay huffed a laugh through his nose, scratching the side of his jaw absently. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Minjun nodded, like he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.

“How’s the missus?” he asked, casually—like it was a question about the weather. Like it wasn’t a dagger to the gut.

Jay hesitated.

His smile faltered just a little.

He looked down at the wedding band on his finger—still there. Still shining under the fluorescents. Still supposed to mean something.

“She’s…” he started, then trailed off. He cleared his throat. “She’s busy. Work’s been crazy.”

Minjun nodded like that explained everything. “Yeah, my girl’s been swamped too. Gotta love being married to a working, bossy woman, huh?”

Jay forced a chuckle. “Yeah.”

Minjun merely nodded and turned back to his monitor, as if he didn’t understand jay really meant we haven’t really looked at each other in days or I think I miss her more when she’s right beside me than when she’s gone.

Jay lied. He doesn’t love being married to a working woman.

He doesn’t mind the bossy bit—never did. In fact, he loved that. The way you talked with your hands when you were passionate about something, the way your voice sharpened when you were standing up for what you believed in, the way no one could ever, ever get the last word when you were in the mood to win. That was you. That was part of what made him fall in love in the first place.

As selfish as it sounded, as wrong as it felt to even think it, there were mornings he wished you’d just stay. That you’d sit across from him again with your silly egg puns and tangled hair and bare feet on the cold kitchen tile. That you’d press a hand to his chest and smooth out his tie, kiss him without looking at the clock.

He was proud of you. God, he was. He saw how alive you were in your field—how you lit up when you talked about projects, ideas, the rush of doing what you loved. You were brilliant. Ambitious. Unstoppable.

And yet… he missed the version of you that used to hold his hand under the table. That used to crawl into his lap when the nights got too quiet. That used to ask him to stay in bed five minutes longer, like the world could wait just a little. He missed being your priority.

Not with flowers or flashy gifts—though he’d do that too, if he thought it would make you smile like you used to. No, Jay wanted to pamper you in quieter ways. Gentler ones.

He wished you didn’t have to wake up to an alarm that sounded like a threat. Wished you didn’t have to pull your hair back so tight, or lace your voice with authority just to be taken seriously in boardrooms that didn’t deserve your brilliance.

He wished your hands weren’t always tired. That your eyes didn’t carry shadows even concealer couldn’t cover.

He wished you didn’t have to work so hard.

Not because he thought less of you—but because he wanted to be the one to give you rest. To be your peace when the world demanded too much. He wanted to run you baths and rub your feet and bring you silly, overpriced coffee just because he passed your favorite spot on the way home. He wanted to see you in soft clothes, curled on the couch, telling him about your dreams instead of your deadlines. He wanted to take care of you the way he used to—the way you used to let him.

With a lump garnering the back of his throat, he forced himself to look at his monitor, but first, he leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering to the corner of his desk where a framed photo of you two smiled up at him. It was from a vacation a year ago. Greece.

The photo was still there. Still smiling.

You, leaning into him, skin sun-warmed and glowing. Him, arm slung around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Wind in your hair, his sunglasses crooked on his nose, both of you laughing at something the camera didn’t catch. A beautiful candid, a raw picture of the love that so quietly, yet easily flourished.

He wondered if you remembered that trip the way he did. The way he still did—every time he looked at that photo, every time he closed his eyes and pictured you in that white dress, laughing as the sea breeze played with the hem.

His thumb brushed the edge of the frame gently. Like touching it would bring you back.

The heating wasn’t working again.

Jay clicked the thermostat again, watching the light blink uselessly. Nothing. He exhaled through his nose, rubbed the back of his neck, and thought to himself to give the gas company a call tomorrow morning.

The apartment felt colder than usual tonight. Not cold enough to see your breath or anything stark like that—just enough of a chill that it crept under your clothes and made everything feel a little too still. A little too quiet.

He crawled into bed with a sigh, the sheets cool against his goosebumped skin. He didn’t bother calling for you. You were still getting ready in the bathroom, your nightly routine running longer these days—more work to catch up on, you insist.

He lay flat on his back, eyes tracing the same crack on the ceiling he always ignored. One hand tucked beneath his head. The other just sat there on his stomach, useless.

The room echoed with nothing. No laughter. No music. Just the dull hum of pipes and the faint clink of you rinsing out your mouth.

And then you came in. No words, no eye contact—just a tired grunt as you slid beneath the covers beside him, the mattress shifting with your weight.

Another long day. Another night of backs turned and unspoken words crowding the dark.

You didn’t mean to be cold.

He didn’t mean to stay quiet.

But somewhere along the way, this had become normal.

Tired silence. Distant bodies.

Jay stared up at the ceiling. That stupid crack again. Suddenly it seemed the most interesting thing in the world.

He didn’t move when you pulled the blanket over yourself, didn’t reach out like he used to.

It was too cold.

And it wasn’t just the lack of heating.

He sighed. Suddenly, the space between the both of you felt raw, more painful then it already was. And before he knew it, a sharp, aching intake of breath left his lips.

You frowned.

At first, you thought maybe he was clearing his throat. Maybe his breath had caught on the dry, cold air. But then another came. A soft, whimpery exhale. So quiet, it sounded like it wasn’t meant to be heard. And then it shattered.

A sob. A small, helpless, heartbreakingly real sob.

You froze.

Your husband doesn’t cry.

Not when he’s frustrated. Not when he’s exhausted. Not even when he’s hurting. Jay holds things in. That’s just how he’s always been—quiet in grief, steady in discomfort, the kind of man who folds his pain neatly and tucks it away where no one can see it.

The last time you saw him cry, really cry, was in Greece. A dead turtle on the shore. He tried to brush it off, made some dumb joke about how its little shell looked, but when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d turned away, eyes shining, lip trembling. He’d cried for five minutes and then kissed your shoulder like nothing happened.

This wasn’t five minutes.

This wasn’t quiet.

This was months of silence catching up to him. A thousand missed kisses. Every time your hand slipped out of his. Every breakfast shared in silence. Every time he forced himself to scarf down an egg. Every “have a good day” muttered instead of kissed into his collar.

Jay was crying like he’d forgotten how to stop.

Your eyes went wide in the dark as your body turned toward him on instinct. “Jay…?”

He didn’t answer. He wept.

The sound was raw, torn straight from his chest—ugly and aching and real. He turned his face away from you, burying it into the pillow like he couldn’t bear to be seen, like letting you witness this would break him even more.

You gasped, helping him sit up against the bed frame as he hiccuped with pain, as his back hit the frame with a quiet thud, head tipping back against it as if even holding it upright was too much.

His eyes—God, his eyes—bloodshot and glassy, swollen from crying, stared ahead blankly. Not at you. Not at anything. Just gone somewhere far.

You knelt between his legs, hands trembling as you reached for his face, brushing hair back from his forehead, smoothing it down like you used to during those spontaneous instead of going to work cuddles.

“Jay…” you whispered, your heart absolutely wrecked. You winced, the pain in your chest bordering physical.

You reached for his face again, holding it between your palms even as he kept his eyes downcast.

“Talk to me. Please.”

You hadn’t realized it had gotten this bad. You’d known things were off—of course you had. The silence. The quick goodbyes. The skipped dinners and missed texts. But you thought it was just a phase. A rough patch. Something that would smooth itself out once the deadlines cleared, once the meetings slowed, once life calmed down.

You didn’t realize he was hurting. Not like this. Not this deeply.

And now, sitting here with him shaking under your hands, unable to look at you, sobbing like a boy lost in the dark, you felt shame crawl up your spine. How did I miss this? How did I let this happen?

He let out a sad little sniffle, the kind that clawed its way out of his throat and didn’t even try to hide how pathetic it sounded.

Then, he shrugged your hands away.

Not hard. Not cruel. Just tired. And it was heartbreaking.

His eyes flicked toward the bedroom door to the left, avoiding yours. Dismissive, like he was over it. Like he didn’t care anymore.

But you knew better.

You’d loved this man long enough to recognize the lie in his body language. The stiffness in his shoulders. The way his fingers twitched against his thigh like they were fighting the urge to reach back for you.

He didn’t want to end the moment.

He didn’t want to shut you out.

He just didn’t know how to say what he needed.

Your voice softened into a whisper, almost unsure. “Jay…”

He didn’t look at you, just let out a shaky exhale through his nose. “Do you love me, still? Y/n?”

The words were quiet. Too quiet. Like they’d been buried inside him for weeks, maybe months, and had finally clawed their way out.

Your breath caught. Like it physically stopped in your throat.

“What?” you breathed, stunned. “Jay, of course I do—“

But he flinched. Not away from you—but inward, like even your answer might hurt too much if it wasn’t the one he needed to hear.

“You don’t look at me like you used to,” he said, voice hoarse. “You don’t even touch me. Not unless I’m crying in bed like a child.”

“Jay—”

“I don’t say this to guilt you,” he whispered, voice cracking again. “I just need to know. Because I feel like I’m loving you alone.”

Your hand flew to his cheek, your thumb sweeping under his eye as your forehead fell to his, desperate to find a connection. A single tear trickled down your cheek.

“You wake up before me,” he said quietly, voice trembling. “You’re out the door before I can kiss you. You come home late. You don’t smile at me the way you used to. You don’t…” His voice cracked again. “You don’t see me.”

He stopped for a second, and then let out a laugh—watery, small, a sound that twisted your stomach because it wasn’t joyful at all. It was hollow. “You don’t even touch me,” he said, voice barely holding together. “Do I… disgust you? Do I not please you enough?” He added, his voice pensive, but so small and insecure it knocked the air out of you. “What—Jay, no. What are you talking about?”

His eyes flashed to yours—finally, fully—and you wished they hadn’t. Because all you saw was pain. Deep, aching, starved-for-love pain.

“I lay beside you every night, inches away, and it feels like I’m in another room,” he said, breath catching. “You don’t reach for me. You don’t even flinch when I don’t kiss you goodbye anymore. You just let it happen.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because he was right. Not because you didn’t love him.

But because somewhere along the line, you started surviving instead of living. And he was the one who paid for it.

“I thought maybe you were tired,” he continued. “Or stressed. But then it kept happening. No kisses. No holding hands. Not even a passing touch in the hallway. And I thought… maybe you don’t want me anymore. Maybe I stopped being someone you see that way.”

Your eyes welled. “Jay, I—God, I never wanted to make you feel like that.”

“Then why did you?” he whispered.

You paused for a second.

And then—you did the only thing your body remembered how to do when words failed you.

You sobbed. A broken, trembling breath ripped through your chest, and you surged forward, cupping his face like it was the last thing tethering you to this earth.

You kissed him.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and tear-stained and soaked in apology. But it was real. Every part of you screamed into that kiss—I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t give up on me.

At first, he just sat there. Stunned. Frozen.

And then, slowly, his hands gripped your wrists, pulling you closer, kissing you back with something just as shattered.

He gasped against your mouth like he’d forgotten how it felt to need you like this. To be needed. To be wanted.

And when you pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, breaths tangled, he whispered, “Please don’t stop loving me.”

You shook your head, tears slipping freely now.

“I never did,” you whispered. “I just forgot how to show you.”

He gasped for air as he cried into your neck, shoulders shaking with each broken sob. You held him tighter, like your arms could sew the pieces of him back together. Your hands moved instinctively—rubbing slow, smooth circles over his chest, right over his heart. The place he loved you from the most.

Each hiccuped breath he took shattered you a little more.

“My poor baby…” you murmured, your voice barely holding steady, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “So touch deprived, huh?”

He nodded, fast and desperate, like a child needing comfort. Like someone who’d been waiting for this—for you—for too long.

Your hand slid up to cradle his jaw as he clung to you, thumb brushing away the fresh wave of tears. “You don’t have to beg for it anymore,” you whispered. “I’m right here. I’m so sorry I left you starving for me.”

His arms squeezed around you like he didn’t believe you’d stay. Like if he loosened his grip, you’d slip away again.

“You can touch me whenever you want,” you murmured against his temple. “Hold me whenever. Kiss me whenever. You don’t have to ask.”

He looked down at you hopefully, eyes blurred with hazy tears. “So can I kiss you now?” He muttered hopefully.

“You never have to ask me that question again, my jongseong.” Your voice cracked on his name—soft and reverent, whilst his eyes searched yours, still teary, still unsure, like he was waiting for the part where you’d vanish again.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And you meant it.

And before he could spiral back into silence, you kissed him.

Fierce. Needy. Deep enough to tell him every word you didn’t know how to say. That he was loved. Wanted. Chosen.

He gasped softly against your lips, but this time it wasn’t from pain—it was from the overwhelming feeling of relief. Like your kiss was oxygen, and he was coming back to life for the first time in months.

Your hands threaded into his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, grounding himself in your warmth.

He kissed you back like he was remembering it all—how to hold you, how to crave you, how to feel safe in your love again.

He hummed lowly as you suckled on his tongue, hands bruising into your waist as his length slowly grew hard. You groaned at the feeling, rutting your clothed clit over his bulge.

He broke the kiss simply to moan— a sound so desperate, but certainly long due, as your manicured hands roamed his chest warmly, pulling his shirt off attentively.

He groaned, throwing his head back as he pistoned his hips upwards, moaning softly at the friction after months of being void of it all. “Fuck, my Y/n. I missed you.” He managed between shaky breaths— from pleasure or crying, you’d no clue.

His moans grew louder, just so slightly, and the pool in your panties grew too. You moved against his bulge faster, with growing ache. You forgot how touch deprived you were too, when this distance grew. How you ached for your husband and him only.

With a resolute, high pitched whine, he slumped against the bed frame, a sign that he came already, and you laughed softly, kissing his cheeks softly as you rutted yourself against him just a little faster, a little harder. He fidgeted with overstimulation, but too tired to protest, he merely buried his head in your neck, hands fussing with your pyjama shirt.

With a moan you pathetically released in the simple cloth of your panties, slumping beside him tiredly.

He threw your shirt to the side carelessly, instantaneously burying himself right in the valley of your breasts. He sighed contently, breathing you in as if there were no better place for him to be.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp in the way you knew always made his shoulders loosen. He melted into it without hesitation, arms still looped tight around your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

You exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

His breath hitched—just once—but it wasn’t from sadness anymore. It was from peace.

You stayed like that, forehead resting against his hair, your thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles into his back.

“I missed this,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your collarbone.

You smiled softly, your hand stilling in his hair to cradle the back of his head. “I missed you. All of this. And I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He nodded into you, his hold relaxing just enough to let you shift, but not enough to let you go.

“Promise?” he whispered.

You simply tilted his head up and kissed him again—light, yet heavy with passion, weighing down with hope.

“Promise.”

oh inlove him how could anyone break his pretty lil heart💔reblogs n likes much appreciated! ty for reading<3

©VAMPZWON

[alchemistc]

favors

Tommy's the kind of asshole who checks his phone at the table in the middle of a first date, now.

In his defence, it hasn't been a great first date. And not in any sort of charming way, either.

In his defence, he's been waiting on this text for what feels like longer than it actually has been (four weeks, three days - he feels stupid admitting he's got a rough estimate of the hours too, but the point is he's been waiting. Hoping. Took this invitation to dinner as an attempt to remind himself he was the one who walked out.)

Tommy is absolutely the kind of asshole who glances up from his lap to find his date staring at him with his jaw clenched and doesn't bother to make more of an excuse than "Sorry, family thing, I gotta go."

Tommy's the kind of asshole who drops three twenties on the table and doesn't bother to say goodbye as he winds his way through tables - this place was pretentious as fuck, anyway - and pushes through the rotating door.

He's not even halfway to his truck when his phone displays an incoming call.

The last time he'd seen that name flash across his screen he'd been - well, he'd been a ball of nerves for all of five seconds before a winded voice had asked him to commit some light treason and Tommy had hopped to.

"Evan. Hey."

He remembers Evan had always thought he was so cool, and he sort of wishes Evan could see him now, with sweaty palms and a nervous hitch to his step as he twists around the wire fencing that will lead him to the truck he'd dropped thirty-five bucks to park, in this stupid downtown lot for this stupid date that hadn't distracted him for a minute at the stupid restaurant that only served tapas and hipster whiskey.

His voice is a little tremulous, a little off. "Hi Tommy."

Tommy doesn't waste time. He's done enough of that, and Evan sounds - Jesus he sounds awful. Sad, deep in his bones. Tired. A little out of it. "Everything okay?"

"I did have feelings for you. When I said that. I - It was such a shitty thing to say and I realized I never apologized for it even though I meant to and...and I did. I do, still, really."

It's the kind of opening Tommy couldn't have dreamt up in a million years. It's solid proof that Evan has worked it over in his mind at least half as many times as Tommy, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, how he'd ruined it so quickly when everything he'd been a sad sack about pretending he didn't want had been right there, ready for the taking. When he'd done that devastating bambi-eyed, through the lashes glance up, even though they were the same fucking height, and Tommy had stuck his foot in his mouth so badly he'd knocked out a couple teeth.

"Okay. I -."

Whatever he'd have come up with in that moment escapes his brain a second later when Evan continues.

"Which is why what I wanted to ask you may be, like, super awkward."

Tommy's a little grateful to find his truck is only two spaces from where he is at the moment. Has to bite back the sharp deprecating laugh when he realizes this is another fucking favor, not a goddamn reconciliation. He left a date for this.

A bad one.

But still.

"Okay." Clipped is a good term for the way the word comes out of his mouth. He's already wincing before he's even finished saying it, because if he can tell Evan's hurting from his voice alone, surely Evan can tell from his own tone that he's...annoyed. In pain. Wishing he could rip the memory of Evan Buckley from the spot it's nestled beneath his ribcage, where he can't shake it loose.

Evan's quiet for a long, long moment. They'd been great at getting immediately horny any time there was even a hint of strife. Not so easy to do when they haven't been together now for longer than they ever were. "I was wondering if I could borrow your truck on Tuesday."

And that's - that's a fairly reasonable request, as far as the 118 standard goes. Still makes him want to cry, a little.

"Can I ask why?"

"It's... Uh...?" The pause lasts long enough that Tommy has to check and make sure Evan's still on the line. His next words are quieter, but he can hear the tremble in them. Has to bite down the urge to make himself a shield against whatever it is that has him so emotional. Not his job, anymore. If it ever even had been.

The farther removed he is from all of this, the more he wonders if he really had imagined the connection between them. How the intimate moments felt charged with more than a desire to rip each other's clothes off, how the silly moments had felt like the prologue of a long and happy story.

"It's fine, Evan. I'll, uh - have to check my schedule but I think I can make it work."

He's free Tuesday. He and his truck both are. But maybe... Maybe this has run its course. Maybe Tommy will have to make more of an effort, his next bad first date.

"Eddie's moving back," Evan says, and there's a weird twist to his voice, a quirk around the name Tommy doesn't recognize. He'd always said "Eddie" with the kind of reverence Tommy couldn't fully grasp, a superhero and a confidante all rolled up in the lazy smirk and cow-brown eyes of a man Tommy had no hope of beating out on the Important To Evan Buckley scale. But if Tommy had to put a description to it, Evan kind of spits the name, now. "And until I can figure out a place to stay I need to get a few things in storage quickly. I just thought - it was stupid. Obviously it's short notice, and you shouldn't feel obligated to -."

"My spare room is empty," Tommy says. Tommy lies, more accurately. It's currently storing all the renovation shit he's been accumulating since the breakup turned him into an insane person pretending he knows a damn thing about fixing up a house.

This pause seems to hold a little more weight to it.

"...okay?" And there's - there's something there, in his voice, sun warm and yellow, bacon cooling on a paper towel and eggs still not plated while Evan swallowed and asked the one question Tommy had been hoping he wouldn't ask.

"I just meant - why spend the money on a storage unit, right?"

"Tommy."

"Let me check my schedule. I can get back to you. If Tuesday works, we can just - we can figure it out from there."

"Tommy."

And that's his "you're spiralling" voice. Tommy hadn't heard it often. Too busy trying to be as cool as his shiny new boyfriend thought he was. Too busy choking down the urge to sink a knife into his ribcage and carve out his heart to hand it over.

"I'll let you know by tomorrow morning," Tommy promises, and before he lets his words get away from him he ends the call.

Jesus fuck.

Hell.

What the fuck?

---

Tommy's so frayed with nerves he spends the entire drive slowly wearing a groove into the side of his cheek. By the time he makes it to the quiet street and sees Evan's Jeep parked on the curb, gate open and already stuffed full of boxes Tetris-style, he feels like he might just fucking explode.

It makes the terse, perfunctory head nod from Eddie on his way up the paved path just that much more confusing. That much more frustrating. He's got a set of keys swinging from his fingers, and doesn't even glance behind him as Evan pops the door open with a hip and stacks a box on top of two others already sitting in the porch.

There's clearly more going on here than Tommy is privy to.

"You aren't helping?" It's an innocent question. He doesn't even mean anything by it. Across the yard, Evan goes tense. Halfway down the drive, Eddie goes still, and swivels his gaze to Tommy.

"No one asked me to." By the stoop, Evan tips his gaze down, suddenly incredibly interested in whatever the label on the box he just set down says. He seems small. Not the man who'd guided him backwards up the lawn with so much tongue Tommy hadn't realized where he was until they were already inside. Not the man who'd confidently held a funeral for a long dead cowboy and roped Tommy into it without a care in the world that Tommy didn't believe in ghosts.

"Well, if anyone else was subletting you'd probably have had to give them more than a weeks notice to pack up their shit and leave, so I figured you'd be helping," Tommy says, because whatever the hell is going on with Eddie's face right now has him ready to raise locked wrists to chin height.

Eddie's tongue rolls along the inside of his cheek. "Buck says he's got it."

Knife, meet tension.

Tommy's always been more of a blunt instrument.

"Right."

"Didn't realize 'got it' meant calling in a favor with his ex, but hey, I haven't been around, in a while."

"Do we have a problem, Diaz?"

Eddie levers himself into the driver's seat of a vehicle that very distinctly isn't his truck. "Lot of that going around, at the moment."

That stone-faced look from the funeral is back on Evan's face.

Tommy's fist are clenched. He doesn't have a clue when that happened, or why it takes quite so much effort to shake his fingers loose.

Eddie clocks it. Stares for a long, long moment. Slams the door closed and backs out of the drive a little quicker than advisable, if the glare from the neighbor watering her hydrangeas is anything to go by.

He doesn't quite peel off down the street, but it seems like it takes him some effort to drive like a responsible adult.

Evan doesn't meet his gaze when he lopes across the lawn to meet him at the door.

He's gotta break the silence somehow. "So. Diaz seems pissed at me."

"It's not you."

"Uhuh."

"It's - I said something he -." Evan frowns. Twists a finger up into the slack of the tape along the top of one box. "Same old story. Buck makes it all about himself."

Tommy's missing something.

Tommy absolutely doesn't have the right to pry.

"What the hell does that mean?" Tommy asks, and watches the marble crumble.

---

It takes a day and a half to get everything out of Eddie's. Another half a day to stuff whatever they can into Tommy's bare spare room.

He'd bought a shed and stuffed the contents of his reno-supplies into it indiscriminately two nights earlier, at the ass end of three 24's from hell, and throws up an ironic thanks that Evan hadn't come by nearly often enough to be surprised by the new shed, or the dozen half-finished projects littering the house.

Tommy learns a lot of things that make him want to scream, over the course of the four-day span they squeeze that moving timeframe into.

It takes everything in him not to shoulder-check Eddie on the way out, once the final box is loaded into the bed of Tommy's truck.

He'd given them some privacy, before they left. Hopeful that Eddie would back down from this escalating argument of theirs, hopeful that he'd remember that his best fucking friend had sacrificed a hell of a lot, to allow him to move to El Paso. That he'd lost more since.

Evan hadn't spoken, the entire drive back to Tommy's.

He asks Evan out to coffee a moment before he offers to let him sleep on the couch until he finds something more permanent.

He should be less surprised than he is when they end up naked and sweaty and panting in his bed an hour later.

"We have to stop doing this."

Evan bites a nipple, and Tommy hisses.

"I'm serious, Evan. I can't do casual with you."

That gives him Evan's full attention. "What does that mean?"

"It means when I sleep with you I'm definitely having feelings for you."

He regrets the comment. Evan blows a raspberry into his sternum, and rolls onto his side to take in Tommy's expression. It's gotta be - well, it's gotta be a fucking mess. Just an absolute shit show of terror at having revealed too much. "I deserved that one."

Tommy smooths a hand over his shoulder. "You didn't, actually." After what he's been hearing about his friends and family, lately, Tommy's suddenly very aware of the words coming out of his mouth. "What I was trying to dance around is telling you I want to try again, and I don't want to fuck it up by falling into bed without actually...talking about it."

Evan snorts. Hitches his leg a little higher across Tommy's thigh. Yeah. Too late for that.

"I baked, to stop thinking about you. I baked cookies, and brownies, and three kinds of bread, and a Baked Alaska, and twelve different banana bread recipes, and - and it didn't change the fact that all I wanted to do was talk to you. See your face when you pull that stupidly bitchy look every time I don't know one of your references. Hold your hand and - and just be somewhere with you. Didn't matter where, I just...wanted. And I couldn't have it. So I baked."

"You made a Baked Alaska?"

"Tommy," Evan chides, but there are tears springing to the corner of Tommy's eyes and -

God he'd fucked this up so royally.

"Move in with me," Tommy says, the hysteria bubbling up in his throat, and he swallows it down, and down, and down again, because as the words settle under his skin, he realizes they feel right. What Evan had wanted, all those months ago, he'd wanted it too. He'd just been so fucking sure it would destroy him, in the end.

He's so goddamn tired of denying that what he really wants is for the rest of his life to be storied by memories of the man at his side, right here in this moment.

It's terrible timing. The worst idea. They're both rung out emotionally, grief and anger and insecurities bubbling just under the surface, ready to rise and make their lives miserable the moment they leave this bubble.

They haven't talked about any of it, not really.

"I'm serious. Why be apart, and all that?"

"Tommy."

The way his name curls out of Evan Buckley's mouth is like a favorite song. He never gets tired of hearing it.

Even when it's exasperated and confused. "I'm in love with you," Tommy murmurs, because his streak of insanity clearly hasn't passed. Evan's breath hitches. The worst part is that it's true. In a way he doesn't know how to quantify. He'd do a hell of a lot more than steal government property, for this man. He'd stay, for this man, at the risk of destroying his entire soul.

"Don't ask me because you feel sorry I'm technically homeless." It's an out. Teed up and ready for Tommy to swing. Tommy goes for the bunt.

"Pretty sure that was more of a demand than a question. You can say no."

Evan peeks through his lashes, chin tipped against Tommy's chest. "What if you change your mind?"

Well. That's a sore subject. Should have expected that.

Tommy slips a hand down his side. Gathers up his hand to slide their fingers together. "I won't. Believe me, at this point I've tried."

There's a quirk to Evans smile he hasn't seen in a long time. He's missed it. God, he's missed it.

This doesn't fix anything. Not a damn thing.

But Tommy doesn't want him to spend a single night going forward wondering whether or not he's worth all the trouble the rest of his family seems to have made him feel he is.

They'd been there, before. Right on the edge of something serious. Something permanent.

They can get it back.

"You're being serious," Evan comments, like he needs the confirmation just to make sure he's not hallucinating. Tommy hooks one of his legs, rolls until Evan is half under him.

"Baked Alaska serious," he intones, just to see Evan laugh.

"Where am I gonna put my bike rack?" he asks, after a serious, weighty pause, and Tommy presses in to suck Evans lower lip between his teeth in retaliation.

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 | feyd-rautha

(gif credits to @pascow)

— summary: an arranged marriage with feyd-rautha in the name of reconciling your houses was something you were not expecting, neither was the soft and light way he seemed to behave towards you and only you. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 3k —warnings: arranged marriage, feyd being gentle and calm because the reader is the love of his life (as it was written), probably ooc!feyd (sorry but i just love to see the most savage and feral men fall on their knees for their s/o)

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

Your arranged marriage to Feyd-Rautha had been the reason for House Atreides and Harkonnen to strengthen their alliance, ensuring that neither would stab each other in the back, which was most expected from the Baron. Your Houses had been wavering on a faint thread that separated you from a war and this marriage arrangement had pacted a reconciliation. It had been your parents' idea and obeying your parents was the most important thing for you, right after protecting your family and indeed that was what you were doing, guarding your family.

Your twin brother did not like the idea, he was not very fond of Feyd-Rautha and his House, moreover, he found him rather... repulsive. For Feyd was a savage, a ruthless and bloodthirsty man.

However, he had to admit that, next to him, you would be basically untouchable, after all, it was like having a guard dog, the most possessive and protective dog, a dog that was ready to kill and ravage for you if necessary.

“He's scary.” Paul's voice echoed inside your head as together you walked along the vast hallways of the Harkonnen palace, at the end of it, Feyd-Rautha stood, engaged in a conversation with your parents, forever as stiff and somber as he had been since you had first met him.

“Just look at him, you'll have to wake up next to him for the rest of your life.” Your brother insisted, throwing you a knowing and concerned look. “We can fix this without you having to marry that man, sister. There must be something—”

“Enough.” you interrupted him, finally dragging your eyes from your betrothed to your anxious brother pacing beside you, you made an effort to offer him a reassuring, soft smile, grateful that he was always so caring and concerned about you and your well-being. “There's nothing else we can do. You know about my visions and what they foresee. Our House will not endure if I do not accept this offer.”

“We will do whatever it takes to survive for now.” You added, holding Paul's gaze, noting the sadness and pity behind his dark eyes, and like the good sister you were, you sighed softly, leaning closer to him to bring him some kind of reassurance. “Our turn will come to make our move and win, brother.”

“Whatever it takes.” He echoed, nodding his head, fingers brushing your clasped hand around his forearm, as you were accustomed to do when you walked side by side.

“The marriage will take place two weeks from now.” The Duke's voice gave out the news once you were all inside the assembly room, with the Baron at the head of the table, of course, looking uncharacteristically approving and pleased to hear the announcement.

The massive man showed his approval with a hint of a phantom, twisted smile, plump fingers taping the edge of the black table in front of him. “We will have the princess as a guest in our home for a week and then the na-Baron will visit her home for the last week, prior to her coming to live here.”

He planned the whole thing and there was absolutely no one in the room who had the idiotic courage to be against his command, so, it was settled.

Once you said goodbye to your family and gave a tight and emotional hug to your brother, you were left alone in the dark and gigantic planet of the Harkonnen family, feeling like an outsider, like a small prey surrounded by bloodthirsty predators. Although, the place possessed an indescribable and incomparable beauty, the sun was black, and the light that irradiated was whitish, giving it a beautiful contrast with all the black buildings rising majestically. But the place was rather... depressing, quiet and somewhat eerie, it was nothing like your home.

You soon felt out of place, and everyone who looked at you could see it too. It was as if you had some kind of golden aura, glowing among all the darkness and gloom of the place.

Feyd-Rautha watched you attentively, analyzing every expression and emotion you let be shown across your face, catching the look your eyes possessed, that special little gleam that flashed in your orbs as you admired Giedi Prime as if it were one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life, his home.

“Do you like it here, my lady?” His husky, raspy voice managed to snap you out of your trance, and your heart skipped a beat once you trailed your gaze from the horizon beneath the balcony to him, meeting his deep, dark gaze. He always seemed to look at you with those eyes, captivated, as if you were some form of strange spectacle.

And indeed you were, you stood in perfect contrast to the planet, your eyes were bright, lively, your aura was vivacious and hopeful. And because of that, he liked to look at you, study your face, your body language, every little reaction you had in response to something. You were fascinating.

Whenever you entered any room, his deep blue eyes were pulled to you like a magnet, drawn to orbit around you like his planet circling the dark sun.

Feyd noticed out of the corner of his eye how your hands clasped lightly around the balcony fence in front of you, skin contrasting against the blackness of the material. 

You nodded your head very slowly, twisting your body just enough to be able to look him directly in the face, big eyes looking up at him, not with fear, but with expectation. “I do.”

Even your voice was the opposite of his, keeping that soft and delicate tone, as elegant as you.

He seemed satisfied with your positive response, and so, he dared to lean against the balcony fence right next to you, but careful not to cause you to feel too uncomfortable or intruded upon. His eyes never left you for a second and he was quite pleased that you were bold enough to hold his powerful and intimidating gaze.

“Good, it will soon become your home too.” Feyd answered you, in a tone that oscillated between amusement and fascination, you didn't quite know how to decipher the expression on his face either, naturally.

He was very complicated to read, even if you tried extra hard, the many tutoring and lessons with Lady Jessica didn't seem to do much use, with him. Perhaps because he made you feel unnerved, he made your soul tremble like no one could, stepping beyond your walls and standing where none of your senses seemed to work. Where the eye could not see.

“Are you mocking me?” Still, you had the courage to ask him that bold question, one eyebrow rising on your forehead and your head twisting slightly, defiant face and all.

Your bravery made him laugh slightly this time, a noise that was heard almost unnaturally, with a small crooked smile on his lips that looked all too unusual and strange on him. For not even his strongest and most powerful enemies had had the courage to stand in front of him and challenge him like you were doing right now. You were a fierce girl. And he liked that.

“I wouldn't be likely to mock you, my lady.” Feyd-Rautha replied calmly, his tone of voice the exact same, as if you were a spectacle. Your eyes lowered to his hand, which snaked slowly to the edge of the balcony fence, fingers stroking the smooth surface. “I'm just stating the obvious. You'll be living here with me soon. It will be our home and you will reign with me when it's my turn.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at his response, not yet quite convinced that he would behave so calm and composed with you, when not more than two days ago you had seen him slicing men to pieces in the arena. “You are not bothered by me invading your space?”

You asked that question because you knew how... eccentric men usually behaved, you could see it in basically every man with any power you had ever met, in the so many meetings with the Duke back home. You could see how they treated their wives, how they looked at them and how they talked to them, as if they were dealing with a servant. You feared this marriage was like that too.

Even your parents' marriage was broken, since Duke Leto kept close to his heart another woman who was not Lady Jessica, he did not love her as he loved that unknown woman. You had grown up seeing an empty and cold marriage, merely to fulfill a duty.

You understood that your marriage would also have that basis, and therefore, you knew that duty was the death of love. But for some silly, innocent reason, you wanted to think there might be love here. As the naive, young girl that you were.

Feyd-Rautha shrugged, not taking much interest in the matter of the question, “You'll be my wife, my space is your space.”

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw that his answer pleased you. You could begin to understand that to him the whole arranged marriage thing wasn't as important as it was to you, or maybe it was, but it didn't seem to bother him or disagree.

“Does this marriage bother you?” It was his turn to ask, staring down at you, noticing how beautifully your skin reflected the pale natural light of the black sun. He could see how frustrated you were now, to be there, with him. “Does it bother you to be my wife?”

You sighed heavily, peeling your eyes from Feyd-Rautha and returning them to the beauty of the landscape below, pondering the questions. His dark eyes followed your every movement as your body turned forward again, hands gripping the balcony fence as if your life depended on it.

“Do you care much for my opinion of you?” You decided to answer him with another question and that seemed to annoy him for his frown deepened and his fingers halted on the fence, devoting himself to glaring at you with his azure eyes, mirroring the pallid light of the gloomy sun.

“Woman, I will marry you and live by your side for the rest of my life, of course your opinion is important.” He took a couple of steps closer to you as he spoke, hand closer and closer to yours, managing to make you even more nervous. “Don't speak nonsense, it doesn't suit you. You're a smart girl.”

Seeing the expression on your face, he leaned even closer and out of the corner of your eye you watched as his hand rose to your face, resting on your chin and turning it ever so gently for you to look at him, but your eyes lowered, fleeing from his.

It seemed astonishing to him that you didn't even flinch away when you sensed the approach of his hand to your face, as if it wasn't the same hand that had slaughtered so many and slit so many necks by the same motion.

“Don't take your eyes off me.” He demanded in a low, raspy tone of voice, you could feel his breath brush against your face. “Look at me.”

When he whispered your name in that delicate, nearly pleading tone, you finally summoned the courage to look at him, allowing him to cradle your chin between his fingers and allowing him to be so close to you that you felt suffocated by the warmth of his body against yours.

“You fear me?”

He asked in that tone of voice, whispering, silently asking you to have mercy on him, not to fear him as everyone usually feared him, not to see him as the monster everyone saw, but as your husband, your protector and your lover.

He saw how your eyes watered slightly as fear peered into your usual stoic, cold face, and Feyd-Rautha was used to beholding that face, was used to fear, because it was always the last look of his enemies.

“I'm afraid. Of leaving home, of living on an unknown planet, of marrying someone I don't know.” Then you shook your head softly, looking up at him through your long eyelashes. “But I am not afraid of you, Feyd-Rautha.”

“You're very bold... and emotional.” He whispered in a disapproving but gentle voice, fingers tracing barely a caress along your lower lip before he reached up and dried the couple of tears that had managed to escape from your pretty eyes. At the closeness, you could begin to see through the mask he always carried, hiding his emotions. “You can't let yourself look like this in front of your enemies, it will make you appear weak.”

“I can't let myself look like this in front of my future husband?” his dark eyes lowered to your lips as you modulated the question, pupils dilating slightly. You swallowed as you saw desire and lust darken his orbs even more when you referred to him as your husband. You sniffed, feeling suddenly embarrassed by your outburst of emotions. “I'm s—sorry. You shouldn't see me like this, my lord.”

“Don't apologize.” He again reprimanded you in that passive-aggressive tone of his, like a hiss of a snake, shaking his head a little. Even after he wiped away your little tears, his hands remained in the same place, cupping your face, each of his thumbs resting on your flushed cheekbones.His fingertips were surprisingly gentle against your skin, sending shivers all over your body beneath their path. “You can be like this only with me, you understand? You can trust me, I want you to trust me.” His fingers took a lock of your hair and pulled it away from your face, running it carefully behind your ear. “But I really don't like to see you cry, my wife-to-be.”

After barely a second of silence with his azure eyes again flicking down to your parted lips, he spoke again, muttering, his raspy voice indicating that perhaps it hurt his throat to talk like that. “Pretty girls like you should cry out of pleasure only.”

He studied your face once more, not missing the way you blushed at his open flirtation and suggestive words, how you bit your lower lip, pupils expanding in thick blackness. You weren't used to so much attention, let alone men saying those kinds of words to you, it was evident. You were so innocent that it provoked a rare feeling of tenderness in Feyd-Rautha.

Perhaps it would be the closest thing to an act of consolation you would get from him and it was likely the only time in his life he had ever done that.

Promptly, you managed to make him smile again. “You Atreides are so strange and delicate... but then again, you will soon be Harkonnen, the prettiest na-Baroness, my pretty little wife.”

From his voice, his careful choice of words and the way he was looking at you, you expected him to kiss you right there —perhaps that was what you wanted, amidst all the tumult of emotions that shook your little heart, beating in rumbling noises inside your chest, pumping fiery blood through your veins.

But after a few seconds, he pulled his hands away from your face and backed away from you, taking a few steps back and offering you a look that you managed to perceive as soft rather than harsh. You knew that he was controlling himself well in maintaining a good demeanor, perhaps because his uncle had ordered him to do so; to do his best to make a good impression and not bring shame to the family. And also because he wanted you to have a good image of him, he was a prideful man, he was used to boast of his virtues and his power, and he was above all, protective of his own person and his glory.

He made a short gesture with his head pointing to the open balcony door, his hands clasping together behind his back pragmatically, as if he were presenting himself in front of a superior. “Now come, pretty girl, I'll show you the palace myself. You're future home.”

You walked towards him, a little smile curving your lips, the first smile on your face during the entire conversation, and he admired it in all it's glory.

“You don't have to be all stiff when you're with me, Feyd.” You eyed his posture with light eyes as you passed him and made your way inside the guest room with graceful steps, him following close behind.

He wasn't very fond of being addressed by name directly, of having his name used so freely, but the way you pronounced his name made him so utterly proud to be called that, he suddenly was wishing you would just call him that, in that tone of voice, tongue savoring his name as if it were the most delightful thing to say.

You turned to look at him for a few seconds, your tone of voice becoming reassuring, something he wasn't quite used to, yet he heard and savored it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world.

“If you can see me cry, then I can see you relaxed. It is only fair, no?”

Feyd-Rautha received your words positively, causing him to deepen his breathing into a snorting chuckle, eyes sparkling with amusement now behind your back.

“I'll try for you.” His response made you smile once more.

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Series [Masterlist]

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?.

Type: Drabble Series

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"  

Alternatively, 

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

Warnings: extreme angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of depression, so much pining, unrequited love au, NSFW!!

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Minors do not interact!!

Masterlist | Patreon (For early access)

A/N: here is the masterlist. the story is gonna to back to the past and then come back to the present. hence, I have classified it. Hope it makes things easy to understand. also, this is gonna be very fragmented. I will not go into detailing much - as in the details of their jobs, family and stuff like that. this story will mainly revolve around Yoongi and reader's feelings towards each other and their bad decisions. That's all. AND please tell me if I have missed anyone's name in the taglist despite being requested. thanks <3

Taglist requests are closed for now

One time for the present ~

1. Slide - The Beginning

You would go back in time and fall in love with Yoongi over and over and over again even after knowing that he would never once be yours in any of the timeline.

2. Slide - The Ultimate Decision

Worst decisions are always driven by anger and alcohol; but sometimes those are also driven by Love.

3. Slide - The Other Side

No matter how much Yoongi had been trying to compile his focus and pour it all on Gyuri, his mind kept reeling back to you.

4. Slide - The Consequence

You are no different than the cigarette between his lips - half-burnt and waiting to be turned into ashes bit by bit with time.

5. Slide - The Dream

You have been so selfish and as a result - you get punished.

6. Slide - The Regret

For the first time in his 31 years of life - Min Yoongi is regretting.  And the reason behind his regret circles around you.

7. Slide - The Trial

You have some questions and Yoongi has no answer.

8. Slide - The Vacation

Yoongi finally finds an answer to all of his questions.

9. Slide - The Realization

Yoongi dreams of you... dreams of a family with you.

10. Slide - The Reconciliation

“There was never a time when I wasn’t yours.”

11. Slide - The Finale

Tonight when he kisses you, it’s not a goodbye, rather it’s a promise of forever.

Two times for the past ~

1. Slide - The Prequel

You would never think twice before picking Yoongi up from streets even if it means losing your own sanity in return.

2. Slide - That Night

You would give yourself up willingly again and again if it means Yoongi will stay close to you. for whatever purpose.

Special Chapters ~

1. Slide - The Christmas Gift [Meant for Patreon only]

The third Christmas with Yoongi turns out to be something unexpected.

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @purpleanchorcrown @armystay89

Requested Tags:

@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga @marihoneywk @yoongisoftface @sugaslittlekookies @joonwater @geminiml95 @ramicherie @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @avawants2havefun @artemisdoe @jimintaemin @cuntessaiii

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars Pt 2 | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: After some reflection (and maybe a scolding from your son), Fernando realises that toy cars, alongside karts, might make his life a lot better.

Warnings: angst, fluff, reconciliation

just a short one 

F1 Masterlist

prev.

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yn_ln just posted

liked by prema_team, formula2 and others 

yn_ln when i’m missing my twins, at least i have bearnelli’s antics to keep me going

7,994 comments 

kimi.antonelli thanks for watching over us, mum

→ yn_ln keeping you out of danger is the more appropriate term

olliebearman appreciation post? finally. only taken almost a year of being your grid son 

→ yn_ln because i tell you how much i appreciate you in person??

→ prema_team they need online validation. they’re teenagers 

user1 not bearnelli calling her mum 🥲

user2 the bear in the airbox is sending me

→ olliebearman y/n found it for me, said her baby bear had to have a bear?

→ user3 baby bear!! 

→ user4 somebody get this woman some more kids please

→ kimi.antonelli she has us and the twins. she doesn’t need any others otherwise we will have less attention

user5 anyone else find it weird not seeing fernando hanging around the prema garage? 

→ user6 he’s always caught watching the f2 races so he can see y/n :( 

→ user7 i’m guessing he was told to stay away now they’re not together anymore? 

user8 fernando was still there for the f2 race but he was in gabi’s garage 

→ user9 pretending to do manager duties but using it as an excuse to stare at y/n like a lovesick puppy 

liked by gabrielbortelo_ 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

replies

user10 is he really their step dad if he’s no longer with their mother?

→ user11 yes! because he’s known them for years and he’s always said that they’re his, regardless of blood or distance

user12 fernando is the physical embodiment of the ‘dad who stepped up’ meme 

user13 the ultimate daddy 

user14 okay but can we shelf this for a second to talk about how we got a fernando and y/n interaction today??

→ user15 WHAT! why isn’t FA14 twitter talking about this instead 

→ user16 yes but they were so awkward together, bless

→ user14 he made sure to keep like 2 feet of space between them the entire time they were talking

→ user16 but she actually smiled at him! we had a smile by the end of it 

→ user17 that smile made fernando look like all of his dreams came true 

→ user18 y/n and fernando reconciliation??

→ user19 we need the twins to parent trap them 

user20 nice to see that we all have daddy issues

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astonmartinf1 just posted

liked by gabrielbortoleto_, lance_stroll and others

astonmartinf1 a tough day for the team with a wet dnf for lance and our #14 coming home in p14. proud of them both on an unusual race day here in sao paulo. here we come sin city 

8,866 comments 

user1 no but did anyone else see that fernando had be lifted out the car by his mechanics?? 

user2 i hope fernando is okay. his radio had me in bits 

→ user3 he sounded so upset and exhausted

user4 i have so much respect to fernando for finishing the race despite his pain so the mechanics didn’t have to deal with a double dnf 

user5 him finishing his race for the mechanics whilst in agony goat

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yn_ln just posted

liked by chloestroll, fa_alonsokart and others 

yn_ln this is much better than spending another weekend in an empty nest 

8,140 comments 

olliebearman i think you should’ve stayed home to look after me instead 

kimi.antonelli can’t believe you left the country without me :(

user6 not bearnelli suffering whilst their mother is living her best life 

user7 the twins and bearnelli got her so stressed, she fled the country 

kellypiquet i am not at all jealous of those cocktails 

→ yn_ln not long and you’ll have cocktails and a gorgeous baby to bring to brunch 

→ kellypiquet baby brunch sounds like a brilliant idea 

→ user8 chat, i don’t think yn was the one who didn’t want more children. she seems to love babies 

user9 excuse me, why do i see two glasses? 

→ user10 maybe she went with a friend

→ user11 a special friend 

user12 fernando fell to his knees at the sight of this post

→ user13 i hope not. he wouldn’t be able to get back up

astonmartin added to their story

astonmartin shh, we have a secret #valkyrie  

user1 replied excuse me, is this a wedding car!! 

user2 replied no because who is commissioning a personalised AM wedding car 

user3 replied wtf is that fernando? am I crazy? tell me that’s not the side of fernando’s head 

user5 replied surely AM would only make a wedding car for someone really important 

fernandoalo_official replied looking good  

fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, gabrielborteleto_ and others 

fernandoalo_official lance taught me what a photo dump was 

14,028 comments 

jensonbutton haha the pic of the twins

→ fernandoalo_official he did immediately drop his brother afterwards. wasn’t too impressed with being beaten

user6 the wedding ring and the baby belly 🥹 they went from being apart to having a whole life together

aussiegrit has y/n been waxing your legs again, mate

→ yn_ln if i have to deal with his baby squeezing my bladder, he can deal with my yanking out his leg hairs 

lance_stroll this is what we call a very nice photo dump 

→ astonmartinf1 all our favourite people in one place

user7 omg the aston martin valkyrie was their wedding car

→ user8 not aston martin hard launching them before they did

→ user9 was it really a hard launch if none of us were smart enough to figure it out

user10 a baby nando? he’s finally going to have his own child 

→ fernandoalo_official i already have 2. we’re just adding a third 

→ olliebearman a fourth

→ kimi.antonelli excuse you, a fifth

→ maxverstappen1 i was here before all of you

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Baby Fever Angst Series

I've had a few requests to do these with some of the other drivers and whilst I appreciate all the love this series has had, I'm running out of ideas to vary these without delving into some sensitive topics

tag list

@caroto-porta-world-blog @anoukformula1 @lightdragonrayne @thatsnotaddy @anayaverse @honethatty12 @number08 @thefinnishfrom1999 @royallybrit @hippopotamusdreamer @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[kay-great]

Invincible Variants!xReader Imagine

This got WAY longer than I expected it to. I wrote it in a way that wasn’t specific to an individual variant. Reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’ a lot and has references to their cunt and pussy. M/f Sex scene, consensual but under false terms (reader is dating mark and doesn’t know the variant has swapped him out). Lots of blood mentioned, and reference to character death! (Main character died in different dimension). Also like, facist ideas? Variant thinks those with power deserve to do whatever they want with it.

Enjoy!

———————————————

-reader and OG Mark have been dating since Highschool, but have known eachother since childhood

-you both dreamed of becoming superheros when you grew up, and bonded over childish fantasies of glory and power and adventure and fun!

-you have the ability to control light! Refracting it, bending it into rainbows and high-intensity beams, and simply creating it from yourself. It’s very beautiful, but eventually you had to reconcile that it was not strong enough to fight crime

-this reconciliation happened right around the time that OG Mark got his powers

-at first he tried hiding it from you, but eventually he confided in you, needing your support.

-knowing that he’s living your childhood dreams while you live a civilian life has been really difficult for the relationship, but you guys make it work. Besides, seeing how bloody and bruised he gets- oftentimes you are thankful to be out of the line of fire

-of course, he always comes to you after a fight if he can. And you’ve gotten into the habit of patching him up. Sometimes you tell him to go seek a real doctor, and that you’re not trained enough to stitch him back together, but he insists that his healing abilities render intricate patch-work obsolete. Besides, he says that your soothing hands heal him in more ways than one.

-if all that’s not hard enough, you’re also a Junior in college, and midterm season has been hitting you HARD

-you still have one last big test tomorrow, but the exhaustion of studying for all your other classes has really caught up to you, so you turn off all your electronic distractions, and crash for 16 solid hours

-suddenly you wake up to the distant sound of sirens. Damn- college dorms always have faulty fire alarms. The fire department has probably visited your campus 4 times since the semester started. Your pillow welcomes you as you nuzzle into it- praying it will drown out the distraction.

And it works! The sound is immeadiately muffled as your dorm window closes with a ‘click’.

-your right cheek bunches up against your face as you smile into your pillow. You know that ‘click’ so well- and you have missed your boyfriend.

-the crust in your eyes breaks as you turn to look at your beloved intruder. Strange, it’s dark. They must have pulled the curtains over the window- maybe because they didn’t want to interrupt your sleep? Wow, Mark is the sweetest :)

-Your fingertips gently glow as a delicate sprinkling of warm light floats above you. Mark loves how your powers shimmer to life.

-did you know that your sense of smell is the last thing to wake up? Yes, scent and taste don’t kick in right away. But suddenly you can taste the blood in the air

-and as your gentle light makes its way to the shadowed window, your stomach drops as your boyfriend stands DRENCHED in red, staring at you

-the glowing lights cast strange shadows across the room, and as you leap towards your boyfriend, the lights scatter- throwing their shadows around at lightning speed, disorienting the room in hectic growings and shrinkings.

-but that doesn’t matter right now, your boy NEEDS you right now. Is it all his own blood? God, you hope not! Whats wrong with him? Why is he staring so intently? What’s wrong? What should you do? What should you do? What should you do?

-your finger leaves a clean indent where you caress his blood-ridden cheek. You uncover some of his mask, and somewhere in your subconscious you intake that his mask is different than usual. But your panicked and sleep-torn state doesn’t allow this information to dwell. He’s not moving! Just staring at you! He’s fucking unresponsive- you’ve got bigger problems.

-“Mark?” He notices the tremble in your throat as you choke out his name- oh his name. He hasn’t heard you say it in so long. And now you’re even touching his cheek! Even though it’s all covered in blood. You must really love him, huh? Even though he’s scaring the shit out of you right now. He can tell. His fingers twitch as he thinks to reassure you. He could mark your body with his bloody handprints as he took you in his arms- never letting you go. You’d look pretty like that.

-“Mark?” You repeat. “Are you alright?”

-pleasure crosses his face- you were just the sweetest weren’t you?

“I’m fine now that you’re with me, y/n.” -he luxuriates your name. Like it was a treat to call your name. Like he hasn’t said it in a while. He hasn’t.

“Mark you’re covered in blood!”

-Awwww, you care so much, “Its not mine.”

-This does stand out to you. This is not the first time Mark has come to you like this, but when it’s not his blood, he usually tries to stop from dripping on your carpet. You yelled at him once about the dorm-cleaning fees at the end of the year- and he’s never forgotten. But he’s forgotten now. And he’s talking weird. And he won’t quit staring at you. And the sirens outside don’t really sound like fire alarms. And your instincts tell you that something is wrong.

-And he notices.

-The slightest twitch in your eye, the smallest back step, the tiniest hitch in your breath- and he knows you’re on to him.

-But he knows exactly how to work you. You are the sweetest girlfriend after all. He takes a breath-

“But I needed to know you were alright- the villain I fought, he…” pause for dramatic effect, “…he threatened you. I don’t know how he knew your name but he did. I could never let anything happen to you, you know? And I.. I couldn’t help it I… I mean I had to I…” you look at him frantically, maybe he’s milking it too much “I killed him. Oh GOD! I killed him. Do you think I’m a monster?”

-You gasp, and tear up a little- bingo!

“Oh Mark of course not. You did what you had to do. Oh you could never be a monster, you’re just put under more stress than any person ever should be. Oh I’m so sorry baby, come on- let’s get you cleaned up.” You croon over him. Sticky stains be damned, your arms wrap around his head; and he does not hesitate to pull you flush into him. His arms rub soothingly over your form as his hands find purchase in many bundles of your flesh. He paints you red, and although it spikes your discomfort, you try to work through it- after all, you need to be a supportive girlfriend right now! He’s obviously so vulnerable right now that he can’t even register small things like covering you in blood.

-He can register it. In fact he’s taking pleasure in it. Also he’s not vulnérable, he’s a conniving lovesick psycho who is willing to sacrifice a bit of ego to get you to coddle him. Besides, he’ll regain all his cocky supremacy when you realize his “sad puppy” performance was an act. But until then, he has determined that taking advantage of your sympathy is the most lucrative option. After all, now that he’s got you all dirty, you’re pulling him towards the shower. Just how far can he take this rouse?

-the moldy college shower reminds you of the infamous PSYCHO scene, as the water start to pull the blood from your boyfriend’s being. You are unashamed to be washing him with your honey-scented bar soap. You ARE dating after all. But you think better than to join in; you want to give your poor boy room to process his recent breakdown.

-but apparently he does NOT want space to process. Your eyes blur with water as he pulls your face right under the shower head. He takes advantage of your temporary blindness to remove his suit.

-damn, that’s too bad. You wanted to take a closer look at his suit. But as you fully step into the shower, you are pressed very close to your boyfriend’s incredibly muscular body. And thoughts of clothes quickly melt away.

“Were you going to keep washing me? Or are you busy with something else?” His smirk boils your cheeks as you realize you’ve been caught staring.

-you set out to get all the blood gone. God it smells terrible, but as you uncover more and more of your boyfriend’s muscular body, the less you are able to focus on the blood. Focus on the blood! He has just been through a traumatic experience he does not need to fuck right now! Just focus on the soap. Didn’t he used to have a scar here? Trailing down towards his.. shit is he hard?

-Fuck, it’s disgusting in this fucking shower, but you can’t help the heat pooling between your thighs.

-his eyes are dark.

“You’re doing perfect, y/n, but I think now it’s your turn.”

-oh fuck. Your slick fingers seem to vibrate against his as he takes the soap from your hand. God he’s acting different, but you can’t find it within you to complain.

-since he so uncerimoniously pulled you into the shower, you’ve been in your wet-ass pajamas this whole time. You’ve been grateful to them actually, as they’ve been very helpful in suppressing your arousal. Now, however, as his strong fingers delicately pull as your clothes- you curse them.

God those fingers- fingers that could stop a fucking train, that could catch bullets, and punch buildings- and they were so gentle on your skin. You didn’t know what it was, but somehow it all felt different than it usually did. Your subconscious screamed at you that he was dangerous. That somehow he was different than your usual Mark. Maybe it was the recent battle, but whatever it was, he seemed volatile.

-and yet, coupled with the delicate confidence with which he pulled apart your clothes and groped at what was left- you were intoxicated.

-why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

-and he took full advantage of your intoxication. he soaped up your tits and watched them bounce as he started humping you mercilessly. He didn’t bother to clean off the blood from your neck before sucking at it- seeming to take pleasure in the perverse taste. And his eyes fucking bore into yours- greedy for every pleasured expression he could bribe out of you. And once he had you moaning good and loud for him, he finally leaned in to your ear and whispered-

“I can smell your cunt”

-And with that he pushed in two fingers. And you were reminded just how powerful those fucking fingers were.

-And after he coaxed an orgasm out of you? With that shit-eating grin? He lines himself up to your cunt with all the credence of a hunter putting a knife through an animal they successfully caught. Like he fucking owns you. Like putting his dick in you was his fucking birthright. And he fucks you like that too. Slow and fast and forward and back. He watches your tits bounce until you orgasm, and when you do he flips you over to watch your ass do the same.

-by the time you’re done there is not a trace of blood.

-he carries you back toyour bed bridal style, as you whine that you can’t walk.

-you invite him into bed with you, but he instead just gives you a small forehead kiss, and caresses you again, before he tells you he has to get the blood stains out of his suit first. He goes back into the bathroom, and the sink squeaks as he turns the water on. He doesn’t close the door, but from your view on the bed you cannot see him.

-you decide it’s time to finally open your phone, and you grab it from off your nightstand and turn it back on.

-as soon as the screen lights up, the phone spasms with the bombardment of seemingly hundreds of urgent texts, notifications, alarms, alerts, and missed calls. They all come in in a matter of seconds:

“URGENT: MULTIPLE HIGH-THREATS: SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY”

“INVINCIBLE LOOK-ALIKES HIGHLY DEADLY, AVOID AT ALL COSTS”

Mark💖: “Are you okay?”

“Campus Update: ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE TO TORNADO SHELTERS”

Mark💖: “babe you gotta wake up, if you see an invincible, that’s NOT ME!!

“INVINCIBLE Doppelgängers ATTACKING POPULATED CITIES, EVACUATE CITIES”

13 Missed Calls

Mark💖: “BABE THATS NOT ME”

“AVOID INVINCIBLE AT ALL COSTS”

—

-and the faucet squeaks off.

-and suddenly all you can hear in the whole apartment is the distant sirens and your wild heartbeat

-and Mark strides out of the bathroom

-and his suit is clean, but it’s still not right

-and nothing about him is right

-and it all makes sense now

-but he looks at you- hungry, wild

“Anything on the news?” His voice is poisoned honey.

“What- what do you want with me?”

-And he looks down at your cum-ridden pussy, and you instinctively clamp your thighs together, but it just makes him chuckle a little- god you feel so helpless

“Good question. Today has been a great start for what I have planned for you.”

-And you can’t help the frightened look in your eyes. You always thought you’d be able to stare death in the fucking face, but looking at the eyes of Mark Grayson was too much. He likes the way your eyes sparkled when pin-pricked with the smallest tears. But he wants your compliance, so he offers,

“Hey now, don’t worry. You’re going to love it. Just like how you loved me all of today. You did. I watched you. You let me bloody you just so you could ‘console’ me. You told me I could never be a monster. You washed me. You served me- and got yourself turned on in the process. You let me fuck you any way I wanted. And you loved it. You let me fill you up with cum, and you invited me to your bed afterwards. You knew I wasn’t what you were used to. You knew I wasn’t the right version of myself- you didn’t care. You loved me. And I know you will continue to do so.”

-Like steel. Your body felt like steel. With every word your stomach plummeted further down. Because it was all true, and there was nothing you could do about it. And now you really felt like crying, and he took this vulnerable moment to snare you.

“I lost my y/n. In my dimension. She had the same powers as you- she was weak. But she wanted to be a superhero so badly. She was killed by a common thief. She was protecting some arbitrary civilians.” He started walking towards you, pain on his face- but pain you weren’t sure you could trust.

“If she had just let me protect her- I told her I would. But she was stubborn. She didn’t want to admit that beneath me was her place- that some of us are stronger than others. That I was the strongest of all. Her death made me realize the importance of power. That people who have it must use it. She made me into what I am today. You made me into this.”

-Bile threatened to rise out of your throat. But as he slowly sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, nothing but adoring eyes, you found you couldn’t move at all. Not even when he reached a hand onto your bare fucking hip, rubbing circles into your flesh with his thumb.

“And now I know how to protect you. How to take care of you. I deserve you.”

-Tears spilled freely now, and to your horror he brought his free hand to your face to wipe them away. God he was too fucking close now.

“So I’ll give you a choice. I’m supposed to go back to my own dimension soon. Either you can come with me calmly, or we can stay in this dimension.”

-At that you quirked an eyebrow, the smallest amount.

“Of course, if we stay here, I’ll have to kill this dimension’s invincible so I can take his place. I’ll have to tie you up and use you as bait. He will probably be here within the hour to check on you. Pitiable really. Notice how I have been here protecting you so much sooner than him? Really it’s an upgrade.” His eyes gleamed.

-Fucking hell. Oh god. How are you supposed to choose ?

-You can’t wish death upon your real boyfriend; your best friend for years now. He’s certainly been fighting all the other invincibles- he will be exhausted. And if this fucking sadist in front of you has the element of surprise? Your Mark stands no chance. You can’t do that. And what happens to the rest of the world when your goofy hero with a heart of gold gets replaced with this psycho? You’d be sentencing the whole world to the whims of this monster

But how can you leave your whole life? Your family, your friends- you’ll never get to say goodbye. And instead you’ll be sentenced to servicing this look-alike in front of you. This liar, murderer, fucker who could kill you in a heartbeat. Torture you for not complying. This man who wears the face of your true fucking love. A constant reminder of what you’d lost.

“What will you choose, y/n? Tick Tock.”

—————————————————

Wow this was way fucking longer than expected whoops I hope you enjoyed!! Please interact cuz it’s my favorite thing ever!! 🙏🙏

[kookooluvr]

Teach Me How To Love - Part 7

jeon jungkook, a fellow professor at yonsei university, is your friend, co-worker, and secret bed buddy. you have rules set in place to make sure there are no misunderstandings in your little arrangement. the #1 rule is as clear as day; no catching feelings. simple, right? wrong. let's see how un-simple it gets when a certain economics professor falls for an emotionally unavailable political science professor.

pairing: professor!jungkook x (fem) professor!reader, fwb to lovers

genre: fluff, angst, smut, fwb au, economicsprofessor!jungkook, politicalscienceprofessor!reader, slow burn, some emotional constipation, some sappy moments, lots of sexy moments.

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: 6.3k

warnings: three month time skip, oc and jk are NOT doing well, she gets some advice from jihyo and her mom, tae drags jungkook to a bar to feel better, hana being pushy, drinking, kissing (not with oc 😤😤) feelings of regret, handwritten love letters, tae is a man with a plan 👀

a/n: i know we all just want this damn reconciliation already LMAO !! don't worry, i don't think they'll suffer for much longer (hopefully). again, thank you all for reading and i hope you share all your thoughts and opinions about these idiots because i always enjoy the yap sessions 🙂‍↕️🫶🏼

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @livinluvl @puppybunnyjkay @mimi1097 @bumblebee-21s-blog @koosluvss @sou-17 @svnbangtansworld @junecat18 @shrek-the-destroyer @tastykookoonut @sturniolowrld @palomanazareth @chimmisbae @daskewl @ramyun-h @heyitsroshni @matryoshka-poetry @almatiarau @gukkie7 @ambiee3 @blueberriesm @milkk1400 @yuriouki @lovelovethebeatles @somehowukook @deedeeps @emily-hung @jkaxl @bhonbhon @bearchermer @annafarrr @in-out-inbetween @123xxx0o @mar-lo-pap @goldenjeonkoo

find tmhtl masterlist here

find tmhtl playlist here

Three months.

It's been three months since Jungkook left your apartment and you haven't heard from him since. Life has gone on, just barely.

The seasons have shifted, autumn slowly melting into winter, but you still feel stuck in the moment he said 'I love you' and you didn't say it back. You barely eat, only when you really have to. All you do is go to work, sleep and occasionally cry, in varying order. At work, you avoid him like the plague. You already know his lecture schedule, so you do everything you can so that you don't cross paths. It's exhausting but it's easier than seeing his face.

You tell yourself it's for the best and sometimes you actually believe that, but some days are harder than others.

Today's one of those days. Your apartment is silent, save for the occasional hum of the refrigerator or the muted noise coming from the tv you left on as background noise, anything to distract you from the ache in your chest. Miso lays curled up in her little bed, staring out the window to watch the snowfall, occasionally getting up to snuggle with you. Maybe she can feel you need it.

When Jihyo knocks on your door, you almost don't answer, but she has a key saved for emergencies and of course she lets herself in. You should have known she'd come over after you ignored her texts and calls.

"___?" she calls out, her voice laced with concern.

You're in bed, curled under a blanket, your hair a mess and your eyes puffy. You hear her footsteps pause, then the shuffle of her shoes being kicked off before she walks into your bedroom, her face twisting with sympathy as she sinks down beside you.

"Oh, honey," she sighs, brushing some of your hair out of your face. "You look like shit."

You scoff, sitting up in bed. "Thanks. Just what I needed to hear."

She leans into you, her arm looping around your shoulders. "Talk to me, please."

"I messed everything up," you whisper shakily, burying your face in your hands as your emotions start to bubble up to the surface. "I miss him so much, and I had him and then I just...threw it all away."

Jihyo's quiet for a moment, gently rubbing your arm to comfort you before she inevitably scolds you for getting yourself into this predicament. "Well...I love you...but you're a dumbass."

You chuckle weakly, wiping the moisture from your cheeks. "Thanks."

"I mean it, ___. That man loves you. Jungkook is not Sunghoon, you know he's not. He wouldn't do what Sunghoon did to you, no matter what your brain keeps telling you."

You nod, sniffling softly. "I know, but...I just couldn't stop the thoughts. It was like I went into panic mode. I thought Sunghoon loved me, and he still cheated. And now he's someone's husband, soon he'll be someone's father. He couldn't be that man for me because I-"

Jihyo pulls away just enough to face you, her lips pressed into a straight line. "Hey, no. No. What happened with that jackass is not your fault, okay? I won't allow you to blame yourself."

"But what if it was my fault?" you mutter, your voice cracking. "What if I really just wasn't enough for him? What if I'll just end up not being enough for Jungkook either?"

"You are more than enough; do you hear me?" she says firmly. "You are so much more than you will ever know, and Sunghoon didn't cheat because of anything you lacked. He cheated because he's a selfish, spineless coward who didn't deserve you. And I get that it's hard for you to let go and let yourself be loved, but you can't keep running away from your feelings because you're hurting yourself and I know Jungkook's hurting just as much as you are."

You wipe your cheeks with the sleeve of your hoodie, looking down like a little kid being lectured. "He told me he loved me," you whisper, feeling the weight of your guilt settle in your chest. She already knows because you've told her about twenty times. It's more so to remind yourself that he loves you.

"I know he did," Jihyo murmurs, gently stroking your hair. "Tae told me he went over to Jungkook's place. He's worried about him too."

You groan, hugging your knees to your chest, your face crumbling. "I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin everything."

"Well, it's been three months, Ji. It's too late," you groan, feeling a fresh wave of tears coming on.

"Don't say that. It's not too late," she sighs, rubbing your back. "But you might have to fight to make this right."

-

It's as if everyone around you secretly planned an intervention to get you out of this funk because a few days after Jihyo's visit, there's another knock at your door. The last person you expected to see at your front door is your mom, mostly because she prefers to call around a hundred times before she visits to let you know how excited she is to see you, yet there she is with a bag of groceries in her hand and a scowl on her face. It's her you're-not-eating-enough face.

She walks in like she owns the place, puts the bag on the kitchen counter and starts unpacking the groceries.

"Mom, you didn't have to-"

"I know," she cuts you off. "But Jihyo texted me saying you've barely gotten out of bed, your fridge is empty, and you're pale as a ghost. So, here I am." She raises a brow. "Now sit and tell me what happened."

You blink. "How do you know something happened?"

She pulls out a cutting board and a knife from one of the kitchen drawers. "I know you, ___. I'm your mother. Now spill, I can dice and listen at the same time."

You're an adult. You shouldn't be crying to your mom about a breakup that you caused with a man who was never even your boyfriend to begin with, but you're vulnerable and you can't deny her when she looks at you like that, so you reluctantly sit down at the kitchen island and let out a deep sigh.

"I met someone."

That causes her eyebrows to raise. "A man?"

You nod, looking down at your hands in your lap. "His name is Jungkook. He's...amazing," you sigh. "Sweet. Funny. Gentle...and things were going great...and then I broke things off with him because I thought it would just turn out like how it did with...Sunghoon."

She remains quiet until the mention of his name, her eyes narrowing. "God, that little shit," she mutters, chopping an onion with slightly more force than necessary. "I never liked him, ___. He was too smug for my taste. Always acted like he was doing you a favour by just existing. And he always wore too much gel in his hair. Bastard."

You let out a genuine laugh.

"He's married now. His wife is pregnant."

She keeps her eyes down, focused on chopping a few carrots and leeks for some soup. "Poor girl. I hope she has a good lawyer."

"Mom!"

"What? Once a cheater, always a cheater. That's my firm belief."

You sigh, replaying everything in your head for the millionth time, the way Sunghoon cheated, the way it felt to be with Jungkook, the look in his eyes when you broke his heart.

"He loves me. Jungkook...he loves me," you murmur, your voice growing softer, more vulnerable.

Your mom sets down the knife and turns her full attention to you, letting out a deep sigh. She hates seeing you like this. It's like when you were eight and cried because someone cut your hair in class, except now she can't kick anyone's ass for you. All she can do is give you advice and pray you take it.

"Well then maybe it's time you put on your big-girl underwear and take a risk. You can't keep punishing yourself for what Sunghoon did to you. Sweetheart, I say this because I love you more than life itself and I know you need to hear it...it's time to move on. If this Jungkook boy is the good guy you think he is, then be with him. If it doesn't turn out the way you would like, then you get up and you move on again. Life doesn't stand still, ___. Stop forcing yourself to stand still."

You nod slowly, taking a moment to process her words.

"Do you love him?" She asks as if she doesn't already know the answer just by the look on your face.

"I do."

She nods and goes back to chopping. "Then fix it. But first eat. Nothing good ever happens on an empty stomach."

For Jungkook, it's been three months of what feels quite close to hell. He thought about calling or texting maybe a hundred times, maybe more. Sometimes he finds his thumb hovering over your name in his contacts, aching to type something, anything just to hear from you. Just to make sure you're okay, because he's not.

He stops himself every time. You made your choice, and he can't force himself into your life when you so clearly pushed him out of it. Now, the only thing he has left is the space you used to take up, your absence woven into every part of his routine.

He sees you at work sometimes, briefly, always at a distance. You never look at him. You used to smile at him from across the hallway with a sparkle in your eye, something unspoken dancing between the two of you. It was exhilarating, getting to have that part of you. Now it's like you've erased him, so he tries to erase you too.

He finds that to be harder than he thought it would.

He misses your laugh and your late-night texts. He misses receiving photos of Miso at random times throughout the day. He misses the way you'd tease him for always picking the worst snacks at the vending machine, and how you'd always steal some of it anyway.

He misses you today more than other days.

When he gets home from work, he heads straight for the shower. He stands under the stream of hot water, head bowed, hands braced against the wall.

He hasn't cried since the day he walked out of your apartment. He's been strong for three months, but he can't be strong today. He doesn't cry right away, but it comes eventually. Quiet at first, then harder. The kind of crying that leaves you breathless.

He presses his forehead to the cold tile, the water masking the sound of his heartbreak. He cries until the water turns cold because he knows that he has to be strong again once he steps out of the shower and faces reality.

"Bam," Jungkook sighs as he collapses onto the couch, his hair still damp from the shower. "Why am I so pathetic?"

Bam looks up from his spot on the rug, his tail wagging.

Jungkook rubs his hands over his face before staring up at the ceiling. "I told her I loved her, you know."

Bam sits up straight, blinking at him like he's listening intently.

"She just stood there. Didn't say it back. Made me look like an idiot for loving her," he scoffs humourlessly.

Bam lets out a soft huff of air before getting up and padding over to rest his chin on Jungkook's knee, staring up at him with gigantic brown eyes.

Jungkook gives a weak chuckle. "You get it. At least you don't run away when I tell you how I feel," he sighs, scratching behind Bam's ears, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I don't know what to do, bud. I don't know how to stop missing her."

-

He wakes up on the couch two hours later after unknowingly dozing off, the sound of his doorbell pulling him from his slumber. He groans and drags himself to the front door, seeing Taehyung's annoying little smile on the other end.

"My beautiful tragic hero!" Taehyung grins, holding up a bag of fast food. "I brought burgers and unsolicited emotional guidance."

Jungkook blinks. "Please go away."

"Nope."

Taehyung walks in through the front door, immediately dropping the bag of food on the coffee table and pulling out greasy takeout containers.

Jungkook sighs, shutting the door. "I'm not hungry."

"Too bad," he shrugs, opening the containers to reveal two sloppy burgers.

"Tae, I-"

"Eat," he mutters firmly, leaving no room for argument. "Or I'll spoon-feed you while making extended eye contact."

Jungkook glares at him. "That's harassment."

"Call HR."

Eventually, he gives in, walking over to sit next to Taehyung, his best friend kicking his feet up with a victorious look on his face.

They eat in silence for a while until Taehyung finally speaks up.

"So..." he starts slowly. "How're you feeling?"

Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh. "I think I broke my own heart. I told her I loved her, Tae."

Taehyung nods. "Yeah. Heard that part."

"She didn't say it back, just stood there."

"Sounds like fear," Taehyung murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs. "Sounds like rejection."

Taehyung glances at him. "You think she doesn't love you?"

He doesn't answer.

"Well, I think she does," Taehyung murmurs, his voice softer now. "I think she's just been carrying so much hurt from her past that she doesn't know how to hold onto anything good without expecting it to slip through her fingers."

Jungkook stares at the ceiling, swallowing hard. "Why didn't she say it back?"

"Because she thought she didn't deserve you."

"She said I don't know her," Jungkook scoffs. "Not the real her...just the parts she lets me see."

Taehyung glances at him, chewing slowly. "Well…do you think that's true?"

Jungkook hesitates, letting out a deep sigh. "I don't know. Maybe? But that doesn't mean I wouldn't have tried."

"Of course it doesn’t," Taehyung murmurs gently. "She's scared. When people are scared, they run or say shitty things they don't mean."

Jungkook leans back, running a hand through his hair. "I just wish I knew how to reach her. How to make her see I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't force someone see that, Kook," Taehyung sighs. "If she's smart and realizes how good you are to her…she'll come back."

Jungkook stares up at the ceiling, his appetite long gone. "What if she doesn't?"

Taehyung pauses.

"Then you cry. I hold your hand. We open a wine bar in Spain and raise sheep."

Jungkook snorts. "You're scared of sheep."

"Exactly," he nods, taking a big bite of his burger. "So let's not get to that point, okay?"

Jungkook rolls his eyes but there's an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Truthfully, he appreciates the company more than he lets on. The ache in his chest hasn't gone away, but it feels a little lighter now. Maybe not healed, just…bandaged.

They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of it all settling between them. Thenー

"You cried in the shower, didn't you?" Taehyung asks, giving him a teasing little grin.

Jungkook glares, setting his half-eaten burger back on the coffee table. "Shut up."

"It's okay. It's romantic. Very K-Drama male lead in episode sixteen."

"Dude, shut up."

"I bet you stared out the window to watch the rain falling."

"Seriously, I will throw you out."

Taehyung grins, unfazed. "Only love can hurt like this, my friend."

Jungkook groans, burying his face in a cushion.

"Alright," Taehyung claps once before setting his empty burger container aside and stretching his arms above his head with a dramatic groan. "We need to get you out of this sad-boy cave."

Jungkook's eyebrows raise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Taehyung stands up and puts his hands on his hips, looking determined. "You need to get out. Let's go somewhere, see people, let your liver suffer a little. It's good for character development."

"I'm not really in the mood for a bar crawl," Jungkook scoffs.

"I didn't say bar crawl. Just…come get a drink with me." Taehyung shrugs. "Talk to someone who isn't your dog or a bag of chips. First drink's on me."

"I'm not-" Jungkook starts but stops himself.

The truth is…he's not okay, and maybe pretending to be okay in public with Taehyung beside him is better than pretending to be okay in here, alone.

He sighs before he can talk himself out of it. "Yeah. Okay. Just give me a sec."

"Perfect!" Taehyung grins, looking pleasantly surprised that he didn't have to resort to drastic measures. He pulls his phone out of his jeans' pocket to check the time, when he sees the battery's low.

"Hey, can I borrow your charger? My phone's on 3% and Jihyo might wonder why I'm not replying to her texts all night."

Jungkook gestures vaguely. "It's in the bedroom, plugged in near the desk."

"Cool," Taehyung calls over his shoulder as he disappears down the hall.

The bedroom is dim, only faint light spilling in through the half-drawn curtains. Taehyung finds the charger easily, plugged into the wall by Jungkook's desk, but as he bends down to grab it, something catches his eye.

A box.

It's not large, not hidden exactly, but shoved just far enough under the desk that it looks like it was placed there deliberately.

Taehyung's curiosity gets the better of him.

"Sorry in advance," he mumbles under his breath, crouching down and sliding the box out with a quiet scrape.

He opens it and his breath almost catches in his throat. Inside, there are letters. Dozens of them, folded neatly, some creased at the edges from being opened and read too many times. All in Jungkook's unmistakable handwriting. Every single one addressed to the same name.

Taehyung picks one up and unfolds it carefully.

'You smiled at me today in the hallway. I forgot how to breathe for a second. I know I'm supposed to pretend we're just friends, but God, it's getting harder by the day. Sometimes I look at you and I think, if I don’t tell you what you mean to me, my chest might actually explode.'

He reads another. This one is from four years ago.

'You made fun of my tie today. Said it looked like something a dad would wear to a third-grade parent-teacher meeting. I pretended to be offended, but I haven't stopped smiling since. I think you're my favourite part of the staff lounge. You bring your own tea bags, and you always share them without me even asking. You smell like vanilla, and you have this way of looking at people like you already know their stories but you're letting them tell you anyway. I don't know why I'm writing this. I think maybe it's because I'm starting to like you, which is…inconvenient. But also kind of wonderful.'

And then another. This one Taehyung assumes he wrote a while after their trip to Jeju.

'I keep thinking about that night on the beach in Jeju when you told me about your ex. I wanted to tell you I loved you right then and there, but I couldn't. I didn't know if I was allowed to. If you'd allow me to, I'd love you in every way he never did. I'd give you everything he couldn't. I don't know all the details about what happened between you two, but I'd like to. I'd like to know everything and anything about you, about your past and what you want your future to be. I hope you see me in your future. I see you in mine.'

He exhales slowly, feeling stunned. He knew Jungkook had feelings for you, obviously. But this? This is something else entirely. This is the kind of love poets write about. Quiet, aching love.

He hears footsteps and quickly sets the letters back inside, tucking the lid over the box just as Jungkook appears in the doorway.

"You good?" Jungkook asks, completely oblivious.

Taehyung straightens up, holding up the charger like nothing happened. "Yeah. Got it. Get changed so we can go get that drink," he claps a hand on Jungkook's shoulder and walks back to the living room.

But inside, he's reeling. Now more than ever, he knows that you still have no idea how much this man loves you, and he's determined to get you to understand the weight of the situation.

The bar is buzzing with the low thrum of old rock songs and the clinking of glasses. It's comfortably crowded, full of people who keep to themselves. Jungkook slouches against the bar counter, nursing his second whiskey.

Taehyung is beside him, elbow propped lazily on the counter, animatedly recounting a ridiculous student essay about Romeo and Juliet being a cautionary tale about teenage hormones.

Jungkook tries to laugh. He really does, but even with the warmth of the alcohol spreading through his limbs, all he can think about is you.

He wonders what you're doing right now.

If you're okay.

If you miss him at all.

The door swings open behind them, and he doesn't look, doesn't care, until Taehyung suddenly shifts, his body language growing stiff.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Taehyung mutters.

Jungkook blinks. "What?"

"Look who's here."

And then—

"Jungkook?!"

Hana. Of course she's here as well.

He turns just in time to see her weaving her way through the crowd, with glossy lips and an overly excited smile, eyes lighting up like Christmas when she reaches him. She walked in with a group of women, but she can't be bothered to stay with them when Jungkook of all people is here.

"Wow," she drawls as she reaches their table, arms crossed over her chest. "Didn't expect to see you out. Where's ___?"

Her tone is syrupy and sarcastic, and it grates against him.

Taehyung scoffs. "Nice to see you too, Hana."

Jungkook keeps his eyes downcast, his chest aching. "___'s not here."

Hana raises a perfectly groomed brow, feigning surprise. "Oh? Don't tell me it's over? Did she dump you?"

He doesn't respond. That's enough of an answer.

Hana's eyes widen dramatically, but there's an unmistakable flash of delight in them. She sits down next to him, her hand strategically brushing against his bicep. "Oh, wow. Didn't see that coming." She scoffs. "Well, actually…maybe I did."

Taehyung clears his throat sharply. "Hana."

"What?" She smiles innocently. "Just being honest."

Jungkook sighs, too weary to argue. Hana pushes a shot toward him with a gentle, insistent nudge. "Come on, Jungkook. Drink with me. You could use it."

He eyes the tiny glass hesitantly, but the ache in his chest feels too big, too loud. He picks it up, clinking it against hers.

"To new beginnings," she grins.

He downs the shot, wincing at the burn in his throat.

One shot turns to two, and then three, and before long, the room is slowly spinning around him. Hana leans close, her voice soft against his ear. "You okay?" she whispers, her fingers lightly brushing against his thigh under the bar counter.

He nods slowly, words slurring slightly. "Just…hot in here."

Hana quickly takes the opportunity, getting up from the stool and gently tugging him along. "Come on, let's get some fresh air. It'll make you feel better."

"Jungkook," Taehyung warns, but he's too late. Jungkook's already halfway out the door, following Hana blindly into the cool night air.

The air outside the bar is cold, but Jungkook barely feels it. He leans back against the brick wall, the alcohol buzzing behind his eyes, thoughts swimming in slow circles. Hana stands beside him, watching his side profile, her gaze unreadable.

"You actually loved her, huh?" she asks. Her voice is gentler now, no teasing, no sarcasm.

Jungkook doesn't look at her. He nods once. "Still do."

Hana hums, like that answer doesn't surprise her. "You always looked at her like she was the only one in the room."

He closes his eyes. "Because she was."

There's a long pause, neither one of them saying anything, the sound of the city echoing around them, slightly muffled behind the building.

Hana steps closer to him. "She didn't deserve you."

He finally turns his head to look at her. "You don't even know her."

"I know she left you," Hana says simply. "I don't have to know what she did to know she broke your heart. I can see it in your eyes."

He hesitates, looking away. "That doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters," she mutters softly, stepping even closer. "You deserve someone who won't leave you feeling like this. Someone who's been here all along.

Jungkook's chest tightens, your absence throbbing like a fresh wound. Hana moves to stand in front of him, fingertips slowly trailing down the front of his shirt.

"I've always been here, Jungkook," she murmurs, her eyes following her fingers. "Waiting. Hoping you'd finally see me."

He shifts slightly, the wall cold against his back. "Hana, don't-"

"I can make you forget her," she breathes, her eyes intense, searching his face. "Let me."

Before he can register what's happening, her lips are on his. It's not soft or tentative. It's desperate. She presses herself against him, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. And for a moment, for a second too long, he lets her.

He kisses her back. Hard. Needing to feel something. Anything.

Her fingers thread into his hair, tugging him down as she presses her mouth to his with bruising intensity. Her chest pushes against his, warm and insistent, and he lets himself drown in the sensation because it's easier than thinking about what he's lost.

Her mouth trails down his jaw, hot breaths painting his skin. "I've always wanted this," she whispers. "Always wanted you."

He grits his teeth, hands clutching her hips as her lips trail down to his collarbone. "We don't have to talk about it," she breathes out. "Just…let go. Let me make you forget her."

As Hana trails her mouth along his neck, breath hot against his pulse point, Jungkook's mind slowly begins to clear just enough to realize how deeply wrong this all is. The warmth he felt a second ago vanishes, replaced by shame, guilt, and the sting of regret.

He firmly grasps her wrists, pulling her hands away from his body, breathing heavily.

"Hana, stop. I...I can't do this."

She pulls back sharply, eyes narrowing. "What's wrong now?"

He shakes his head, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, I thought...I don't know. This isn't fair to you."

Hana scoffs, folding her arms defensively across her chest. "Don't patronize me, Jungkook. This is exactly what you wanted. You kissed me back."

"I know," he sighs, shame weighing on his chest. "And I shouldn't have. It was a mistake."

She steps forward, anger flaring in her eyes. "Why? Is it because of ___? Are you really still stuck on her after she left you?"

"Yes," he says simply. "I love her, Hana."

She laughs bitterly, disbelief clear in her voice. "God, you're pathetic, Jungkook. She literally broke your heart. She doesn't care about you!"

His jaw clenches tightly. "You don't know anything about what happened."

Hana rolls her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, please. Are you going to tell me she's a victim? She wasn't good enough for you, Jungkook."

Anger ignites in his chest, his frustration finally boiling over. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Why not? It's the truth," she snaps. "You deserve someone better, someone who'll treat you right. She'll never be able to love you the way you need-"

"Enough!" Jungkook's voice is sharp, cutting through the night air. He creates space between them, his eyes blazing with anger he's never shown her before. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't even know her. You don't get to decide what she deserves, or what I deserve."

Hana's eyes widen, startled by his intensity. "Jungkook-"

"You think I didn't notice?" he continues, voice trembling with suppressed frustration and anger. "The way you treated her in Jeju, the way you purposely tripped her on the beach. And for what? Because you were jealous? I held my tongue because I didn't want to make a scene but-"

Her cheeks flush in annoyance and embarrassment, cutting him off before he can go any further. "Jealous? Of her? She's nothing special!"

"You're wrong," Jungkook mutters, the anger fading into sadness. "She's everything, and I was an idiot for letting you disrespect her for so long."

Hana's eyes fill with tears, her frustration spilling out. "Why can't you see that I'm right in front of you? I've always been here for you. Always. Yet you'd rather chase after someone who doesn't even want you back?"

He takes a steadying breath, his gaze softening slightly, but the resolve doesn't leave his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hana. I never wanted to hurt you...but you were never going to be her."

She flinches as if he's physically struck her. "Fine," she whispers bitterly, voice breaking slightly. "You'll regret this eventually."

"No," Jungkook mutters firmly, though his voice is softer now. "The only thing I regret is letting things get this far tonight. You deserve someone who can really love you, and that person isn't me."

She stares at him, eyes filled with hurt, shaking her head. "Whatever, Jungkook. I hope she breaks your heart again. Maybe then you'll finally wake up."

He watches as she storms off, disappearing around the corner. Jungkook sinks down against the wall, pressing his head back, heart hammering in his chest. He sits in the silence, shame and guilt heavy on his chest. Despite everything, he still feels you, still misses you.

And even now, more than ever, he knows he'd rather have the ache of loving you than feel nothing at all.

Jungkook steps back into the bar, the loud music and chatter immediately washing over him, dizzying and overwhelming. His heart feels heavier than before, regret still bitter on his tongue.

Taehyung immediately straightens when he sees him approach, concern evident in his expression.

"Hey," he murmurs cautiously, eyes searching Jungkook's face. "You okay? Where's Hana?"

Jungkook slumps down onto the stool next to Taehyung, reaching for his drink and downing what remains without responding. The burn in his throat grounds him a little, but it's not enough to clear his head completely.

Taehyung sighs deeply, leaning in. "Kook, talk to me. What happened out there?"

He shakes his head slowly, staring down at the empty glass. "I fucked up, Tae."

"How bad?"

"Pretty bad." Jungkook rubs his eyes tiredly. "We kissed."

Taehyung's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he waits quietly, giving him time to explain.

"It got…heated," Jungkook admits, shame creeping into his voice. "I let it happen because...fuck, I just wanted to stop hurting for five seconds, but it didn't help. It felt wrong. It felt like I was betraying..."

"___," Taehyung nods.

Jungkook sighs miserably. "Yeah."

Taehyung sits back, looking at him thoughtful. "How'd Hana take it?"

"Badly," he mutters bitterly. "She spoke shit about ___ and I...kinda snapped. I finally told her how I feel. I don't think we'll be seeing much of her from now on."

"How do you think Jisoo will feel when Hana tells her you broke her heart?" Taehyung asks, though he knows that's not really a priority right now.

Jungkook grimaces. "I hope she'll understand. Eventually. She always does."

Taehyung gives him a sympathetic smile. "Yeah, she probably will. She's always been more level-headed than her sister."

Jungkook sighs deeply, running his fingers through his hair. "Tonight was a mistake."

"Then let's end it here," Taehyung suggests, calling the bartender over to pay for their drinks. "Come on, let's get you home."

Jungkook nods reluctantly, feeling exhaustion tugging harshly at his bones. "Yeah, let's go."

-

By the time their Uber pulls up outside Jungkook's place, he's swaying on his feet, eyes heavy with alcohol and sadness. Taehyung keeps a hand firmly on his shoulder, carefully guiding him inside.

"Drink some water," Taehyung instructs firmly as they step inside. "And take an aspirin. Trust me."

Jungkook nods weakly, pointing towards the bathroom. "It's in the cabinet. Medicine. You know where it is."

Taehyung chuckles softly. "Yeah, I know. Go lie down, I'll be right back."

When Taehyung returns, a glass of water and an aspirin in hand, he finds Jungkook already face down on the bed, fully clothed, breathing steady with sleep.

"Of course," Taehyung sighs with amusement, placing the water and aspirin on the nightstand.

He watches his friend for a moment, chest tightening at the sight of him so clearly hurting. The heaviness of Jungkook's pain is tangible, filling the room, almost suffocating him.

"Everything will work out, bud," Taehyung whispers softly, almost too soft to hear.

As he turns to leave, his eyes catch on the box tucked beneath Jungkook's desk.

That damn box. He just can't seem to stop thinking about it.

He knows he shouldn't, knows Jungkook would kill him for snooping, but he has a plan. One he's certain Jungkook's pride and fear would never let him execute himself.

Carefully, Taehyung picks up the box, glancing at Jungkook's sleeping figure one last time with a deep sigh.

"Sorry, buddy," he murmurs, turning towards the door. "You'll thank me later."

You wrap your coat tighter around your body, letting out a cold puff of air. The campus is quiet as you make your way along the paved pathway, a light dusting of the early evening snow sprinkling over you. Your footsteps echo throughout the parking lot, slowing down as you reach into your bag, rummaging around for your car keys as you approach your car.

"Evening, professor."

The baritone voice startles you, your head snapping up to find Taehyung leaning casually against the car parked directly beside yours. He gives you an innocent, slightly amused smile. He looks casual, at ease, but you know him well enough to sense there's something behind that smile.

"Taehyung," you sigh, your hand pressed against your racing heart. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry," he chuckles, pushing himself off the side of the car to stand upright. "Didn't mean to. Who would've guessed we parked right next to each other?"

You manage a faint smile, tilting your head knowingly. "Yeah, what a coincidence."

Taehyung chuckles softly, watching you walk over to the driver's side of your car. "You heading home?"

You nod slowly. "Long day. You?"

He shrugs, giving a playful sigh. "About to head off to dinner with Jihyo. She's forcing me to eat some questionable TikTok pasta recipe. I'm probably risking my life."

You can't help the soft laugh that escapes your lips. "The one with the feta?"

He groans dramatically. "Always the feta."

He smiles warmly, his eyes containing something gentle. A brief silence falls between the two of you before he speaks again, this time his voice is softer, more careful.

"Hey, um..." Taehyung hesitates briefly, something unreadable in his expression. "How…how are you doing? Really?"

Your throat tightens slightly, knowing exactly what he's asking. You shift your weight nervously, avoiding his eyes.

"Honestly?" you whisper, voice barely audible. "Been better."

He nods understandingly, pausing again before adding, "He's not doing so great either."

Your breath catches at the mention of him, his face flashing through your brain like a taunting reminder of what you did. Your heartbeat quickens, your stomach twists, and suddenly it feels hard to breathe.

You finally look up at Taehyung, eyes wide and vulnerable. "He…he's not?"

Taehyung’s gaze softens even further, sympathy clear in his eyes. "He's trying to get through it. But he misses you, ___. A lot."

The thought of Jungkook hurting silently, all alone, it makes your chest ache even more painfully. "Will you tell him…" You hesitate, your voice cracking. "No. Never mind."

Taehyung nods, a soft smile settling on his face. "He knows, ___."

You look away, discreetly wiping at your eyes, embarrassed at how emotional you've gotten. "Thanks, Tae. Really. For looking out for him."

"Always. He's my best friend," he murmurs softly. He shifts on his feet, glancing toward his car. It's now or never.

"Actually…I have something for you."

You blink at him, looking a bit confused. "For me?"

"Yeah." Taehyung opens the passenger door of his car and reaches in, pulling out a worn cardboard box, carefully sealed shut. When he hands it to you, his expression is unreadable, guarded.

"What's this?" you ask softly, heart beating unevenly as you cradle the box in your hands.

"It's from Jungkook," he shrugs. "Sort of."

You stare down at the box, fingers trembling slightly. "I don't understand... What's inside?"

"Just…open it when you get home," he mumbles, looking a little nervous about doing this behind his best friend's back.

You nod, heart pounding, breath shallow. You don't know what to say, or even how to feel, only that whatever this box holds, it feels like it could break you wide open.

Taehyung takes a step back, offering you one last soft smile. "You gonna be okay?"

You nod slowly, blinking away the tears that have started forming. "I think so."

He smiles reassuringly. "Good. Drive safe, okay?"

"You too," you whisper, staring down at the box in your hands. "Tell Jihyo I said hi."

"I will," he calls out, heading over to the driver's side of his car. "Night, ___."

You watch as he climbs into his car and drives off. You remain standing in the parking lot, the box pressed tightly to your chest, heart pounding against the cardboard.

You don't open it, but already, your hands are trembling, and it's not because of the winter air. You take a deep, shaky breath and place the box on the passenger seat of your car, staring at it for what feels like an eternity before reluctantly starting the engine and driving off.

Whatever's in that box, you'll face it head on. No more standing still.

< Part 6.5 || Part 8 >

[turtle-paced]

What do you think is the intended takeaway from Daenaerys' plotline/the Meereen plotline in ADWD? I can see the argument that Jon's plot (and to an extent the Dornish stuff) is about how peace is hard, emotionally unsatisfying, and involves dealing with some people you find abhorrent, but is ultimately the right thing to do compared to the easy path of going to war.

And I can see how it would be strange for Dany's plot to fly completely in the face of that.

But on the other hand the Sons of the Harpy and the Yunkish & allies are just so absolutely lacking in any redeeming features whatsoever that it's very hard to root for peace and reconciliation with them, especially when they kind of take the mick in what they ask for vs what they're willing to give in return. So I kind of hope that we aren't supposed to feel pained at their impending demise.

The important thing here is that the moral of Jon's ADWD story cannot be imported wholesale over to Dany's.

Jon's trying to make a peace between two groups of people who both, basically, want to live. They have radically different ideas about the best way to do it and a mountain of grievances between them, but there's a fundamental commonality, too. They're all people and they're all staring down the winter alike. It's clear to the reader because it's clearest to Jon Snow - it is worth trying to bridge this gap and trying to pull together.

Dany, however, is not dealing with that sort of situation. She's got one group of people who wants to live. And also she has another whose entire goal is the exploitation and subjugation of others. Which cannot be compromised or reconciled in any way, shape, or form. As Dany comes to realise by the end of ADWD, there's no making peace with this, not without compromising the heart of what she set out to do in the first place.

I think the author will still leave us with a few questions about "how far is too far" when it comes to collateral damage, not to mention the inevitable point that there's no magic fix for the generations of violence that the slaving class started, but there's no peace with slavers either. Not a worthwhile one anyway.

This is a point where Jon's plot in ADWD and Dany's plot in ADWD are meant to be contrasted. Both are about the difficulties of making peace, yes... but Jon's is about where peace can and should be made despite the difficulties, and Dany's is where peace can't and shouldn't.

[22ayla21]

Hehehe, thanks for always do my request, but I want to became anon just for this time, because I always send 1 or two request to you (after you done with my request) (I meant, I really like your writing about the trio husband and then I start to have someone Idea coming to my brain and I want to request it to you 😞👉👈)

For your trio crysos heir husband :3

This time I want to request : about their wife avoiding the husband, because they made her walk limping, so the wife sulk and start to avoiding her husband,when the husband talk to her she start to reply with short talk, when the husband is clingy towards her she start to distance herself from them, I hope the husband will try to make her stop avoiding them.

The child know their father is doing something that make their mother feel like that, maybe the child start to interrogate the husband.

An attempt at reconciliation

After that little revenge, his wife was offended by him, and he is trying to make amends.

His wife is not just offended, she has declared an unspoken war on silence. When he speaks to her, she either nods briefly or answers in monosyllables, so that even the cool evening wind seems warm and welcoming in comparison.

Usually she is the first to cling to him, but now, as soon as he touches her, she moves away with an imperturbable look. He would prefer that she get angry, yell, hit, but this icy ignoring is real torture.

The older children, noticing the coldness of their mother, immediately understand that their father has done something. They arrange a real interrogation, surrounding him with sly looks:

- "Have you done something to her?"

- "Have you offended mother?"

Breakfast in bed, gifts, even rare moments when he gives in to her in arguments - all useless. She holds the line, as if it were a fortress, and is not going to capitulate.

He deliberately hints at her ignoring him in front of the children:

- "Children, can anyone explain to me why your mother suddenly forgot how to talk to me?"

But his wife just silently takes her tea and leaves. The children look at him with suspicion again.

In the end, Mydei understands that the only way to regain her favor is to honestly admit his mistake. And he does this, not out of pride, but because he cannot stand her coldness. Of course, she does not give in right away, but after a sincere apology, the ignoring begins to crack. And when in the evening he carefully kisses her hand, she no longer pulls away. Maybe tomorrow morning she will smile at him again.

The wife is in total ignoring mode. She doesn’t get angry openly, doesn’t make scenes, but… her silence is much worse. She answers in monosyllables, avoids eye contact, and if he tries to touch her, she moves away as if he simply doesn’t exist.

Anaxa quickly realizes that he’s in trouble. He’s not one to be afraid of difficulties, but being ignored by the woman he loves? It’s a disaster.

Attempts to make amends. At first, he’s careful: he brings her favorite tea, gives her more rest, does some of her chores for her. When that doesn’t work, he moves on to more obvious signs of attention: he leaves her flowers, notes of apology, is even ready to take on her responsibilities for the whole day… but nothing helps.

The wife remains adamant. If he clings to her, she gently but firmly leaves. If he does something good, she simply accepts it without emotion. Anaxagoras didn’t exist. He was a ghost in their house.

The children notice their parents' strange behavior. They quickly realize that something is wrong with their mother and that their father is being too accommodating. The interrogation begins. They surround their father, arms crossed, and one of them asks:

— Dad, what have you done?

Anaxa, being an adult, smart, and formidable man... feels cornered. He tries to brush it off: "This is between me and your mother..." But the children don't let up: "But this is mom! We love her! If you hurt her, we need to know!" The youngest child hits his weak spot. He tugs his father's sleeve and asks sadly:

— You won't hurt mom again, will you?

Critical damage to Anaxa's pride. Now he's serious about apologizing. Not just with words, but to prove that he realized his mistake.

He does something unexpected. Perhaps he will organize a special evening just for her, openly admit his guilt, and even be ready to humbly wait for her to forgive him. The children watch the process as if it were the most exciting performance. And when, finally, mom starts smiling at dad again, they sigh with relief. But they will not forget this. And the next time, when dad again decides to "take revenge" on mom... he must be prepared for a new interrogation.

The wife literally ignores him, answers briefly, without emotion, pretends that he does not exist. Phainon feels as if he was thrown out of the family. If he tries to hug or even just touch her, she deftly dodges. Even if their hands accidentally touch, she immediately pulls hers away.

The children quickly notice the strange behavior of their parents. Mom is stern and silent, and dad follows her with a guilty face. Of course, they are interested.

- "Dad, what did you do?"

- "Did you offend mom?!"

- "Did you apologize?"

- "Do you even understand how dangerous it is to anger mom?"

Phainon tries to make amends. He starts making breakfast for her, compliments her, brings her favorite sweets... But in response - only a cold look or a light "Thank you" without a hint of emotion.

He gives in... almost. At some point, he will literally fall to his knees in front of her, begging for forgiveness, if only she would talk to him normally again. The wife secretly enjoys his torment. Although she continues to ignore him, deep down she knows perfectly well that he is suffering, and this amuses her slightly.

The children find this incredibly funny.

- "Hahaha, dad, mom punished you!"

- "Now you know what happens when you make mom angry!"

Finally, Phainon uses his last weapon. He does something incredibly romantic - he throws a dinner, dedicates a passionate monologue to her, perhaps even falls to one knee in front of her, admitting his guilt.

Of course, the wife gives in. Although she has been holding the line for a long time, her heart is not made of stone. In the end, she still forgives her husband, but on one condition - he must remember this lesson for a long time!

[txttletale]

[not accusatory, just curious] can you think of any satisfying ways to resolve the hades storyline while maintaining the suspension of disbelief of the roguelite mechanics? i agree that it sucks that now zag is enforcing the system he was trying to escape, but mythology-wise the dead Are supposed to stay in the underworld (the miserable conditions notwithstanding) and there does have to be a reason for zag to keep trying to escape. ig im not sure how it couldve been resolved better, but im interested to hear your thoughts

i can think of a bunch of ways:

keep the current justiufication but just admit that it's a soul-crushing capitulation

commit to a purposefuly bleak or bittersweet ending. zagreus can't escape (bleak) but that doesn't mean he's ever going to stop trying (hopeful). if you want to lean on the hopeful side of it more put emphasis on how the small moments of peace in the garden on the surface are worth everything else.

zagreus escapes for good, but still has bad memories. the post-game runs can all narratively be nightmares or memories, leaning into a theme that healing from trauma can take time, that escaping from a bad situation doesn't instantly solve all your problems

zagreus escapes for good, but he also helps other shades escape. each run is now, narratively speaking, a breakout. add a little ghost that follows you around and gives you some kind of buff

zagreus is able to live long fulfilling lifetimes on the surface, narrated to us in brief by the narrator, which we don't get to see. escaping the underworld is an unpleasant chore he has to do whenever each of those come to an end but also a chance to catch up and hang out and talk to the people he missed. maybe with this narrativer a reconciliation could feel more... earned, or at least moderated, in that zagreus can essentialy learn to get along with hades for short spells when they're not around each other all the time.

[tealvenetianmask]

We need some Barbie Wire Analysis . . .

Because for a character with maybe . . . 2-3 minutes of screen time, she sure has an outsized importance in the show. This is rivaled only by Tilla, who we know even less about.

Barbie gets the major callback in the last scene of Season 2. As other bloggers have pointed out, it could have been Fizz, who's a much bigger character so far. Fizz hated Blitz for 15 years, and they were able to finally reconcile-- even though 15 years is still a long time, that would have been, arguably, a more hopeful, comforting story for Stolas to hear.

But Barb, well, she's on his mind. She always is. "I miss her every day."

Barbie's absense, I think, is made more real by the way in which the show introduces her through photos, and she's never overtly mentioned in all of Season 1.

We're told that Blitz has a twin, that they performed together in the circus (or maybe after), and through her non-mentions, that something bad happened.

Then she's in the photo that makes Blitz finally break down at the end of Ozzie's.

I like how the twins mirror each other here. Similar eyes and face shapes, circus marks on their foreheads, pointy teeth, simple joy and enthusiasm. Whatever their lives were like at that time, they experienced it together, and there were good times.

Barb is central to Blitz's loss and his capacity for love.

We finally meet Barb in Unhappy Campers, and the way she's introduced . . . well. Unfortunately a lot of us were so disappointed that Blitz wasn't going to visit Stolas that we couldn't fully process what he was doing. When he first asked about Barb, my first reaction was "who?"

But that hasn't been Blitz's experience. He's just been keeping a major part of his day to day thoughts and feelings from us.

This nurse knows what's up. He's come back again and again to see Barb, and no taser can deter him.

It's such an obvious and central part of his life- missing Barb, trying to reconnect with her, that he seems honestly unaware that he's never told Moxxie about her at all.

It might feel like we're thrown into an emotional family confrontation out of nowhere, but Blitz has gone through years, potentially, of trying to get Barb to talk to him and being shut down. The hurt in his face, how it wears on him, and how he can't bear to give up hope. Well. It's all there.

So at this point, we still don't know Barb deeply. We only know what Blitz has told us, but more importantly, how he reacts to her absence, how he refuses to give up.

It tells us a lot about his stubbornness, the fine line he walks between resilience, hope, and just a pigheaded refusal to give up.

Maybe Barb is a part of why Blitz is like this. Maybe losing her taught him that some things are so important that it's worth never giving up, even if continuing to try is painful.

Maybe there will be a reconciliation, in part or in full.

But honestly, I also won't mind if a lesson Blitz needs to learn is that sometimes you do need to give up on someone you love. For that person's freedom to reinvent themselves. For your own sanity and contentment in life.

And if Blitz does let her go (at least of the practical fight to reconnect)? He'll think of her every day still.

[snowyquokka]

Hey I saw that you wanted ideas for some angst, thought I would shoot my shot. What if one of or all of them idk you choose the boys calls reader clingy and reader gets insecure about it. It's okay if you don't feel like it tho. Take care of yourself and drink lot's of water❤️❤️ I'm new to your blog but I really love your work hope to see more of it in the future❤️❤️❤️

CLINGY

cw - non idol!minho x gn!reader, angst (😈), swearing, fluffy ending, hurt comfort kinda

wc- 1.1k

a.n - IT’S DONE !! i am exhausted but hey it’s out 😭😭 anyway i’m sorry for being a bit MIA lately, i’ve been having a bit of a rough time but it’s getting better. i’m not sure if i like this piece or not tho :((( I LOVE YOU MUAH <3

AND I JUST REALIZED THIS IS MY FIRST LINO FIC OMG THIS IS A MOMENT IN HISTORY

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

All day, the silence in the house seemed to echo with Minho's absence, each tick of the clock stretching the worry tighter across your mind. The morning had started off on the wrong foot, with Minho oversleeping- a rare occurrence which in turn threw off his whole routine. The rushed breakfast, the hasty goodbye—everything felt off-kilter. It was unlike him to be late, especially for his job at the veterinary clinic, a place he often described as his second home, where he could merge his passion for animals with his skills in care and healing. The hurried departure left a cold space in the wake of his frantic energy.

The argument from the night before added layers to your concern. It was one of those disagreements that seemed trivial in the light of day, yet in the shadow of the night, it had grown into a monumental barrier between you two. It wasn't just the words exchanged or the silence that followed, but the unresolved tension that lingered, making the air heavy with unsaid apologies and unexpressed affections. The fact that Minho had been irritable even before the argument didn't help, it only amplified the discomfort, casting a shadow over his usual bright demeanor.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself glancing at the clock, counting the hours until Minho's return. The thought of him dealing with the stress of work on top of everything else weighed heavily on you as guilt settled in. It wasn't just the worry for his mental state, but also the longing for reconciliation. You knew the importance of mending the rift, of clearing the air with conversations that bridged the gap between hurt and healing. The thought of him walking through the door, the opportunity to start anew, to offer a smile as a peace offering, became a beacon of hope in the slow march of the day. But as you continue to relive the argument you can’t help the pang of sorrow that strikes your heart like lighting, complimenting the storm of emotions whirling about your being. 

The dispute sparked when you casually asked him about his day. To you, it was a simple question, but Minho perceived it as intrusive, deeming you "too clingy" and expressing his exhaustion with what he viewed as your constant nagging.Since then you’ve been running yourself into the ground trying to get as much stuff around the house as you can. If Minho comes home to a clean house, you think, then there’ll be one less reason for him to be irritated with you. 

The sound of keys jingling faintly outside the door interrupts your thoughts. You had just finished cooking dinner and were plating it just in time as Minho to strolls in. 

“Mm,“ he hums in approval as he wraps his long arms around your waist, gently tugging your back to his front. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he speaks, “Smells good, baby. Thank you.” You hum and nod, not sure what to do. He was just complaining about you being clingy but here he is, swaying you side-to-side. Minho clearly sensed your apprehension and pulled back with a sigh. “Why am I getting the silent treatment?” 

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. You weren’t purposefully trying to ignore him, you’re just confused and you don’t know how to voice that. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” you turn around towards him and lean back against the kitchen island, using your hands to brace yourself.

Minho hums and folds his arms over his chest. He raises a brow, wanting you to continue. You huff and tip your head back for a moment before looking directly at him. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to come off too clingy.” Your tone came off a little harsher than you’d planned and you watch as his expression shifts into something more serious, guilty even.

“Shit, baby I- I didn’t mean it, you know that. I shouldn’t have said it and-” You shake your head, effectively cutting him off. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just-” 

His eyes begin to soften as he inches back into your space. “Hey. Hey,” Minho murmurs as his hands find purchase on your shoulders in an attempt to provide at least some semblance of comfort. He’s always been the type to have some sort of contact when talking to you like this. It makes it feel more personal, more sincere, especially when he ends up apologizing. “Don’t do that, you know I hate it. I’m the one who should be sorry, okay? I’m sorry, I was just stressed and I know that isn’t an excuse.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you, I made you upset.” 

Minho shakes his head. “I want you to ask about my day, I want you to show that you care. It makes me feel important. You make me feel important.” You pull your lip in between your teeth, a nervous habit you picked up as a child. 

"Are you sure? Because I will-" Minho clicks his tongue and leans his forehead against yours, his brown eyes sparkling.

"I never want you to feel insecure about anything I say, regardless of what it is. I understand I can be hot-headed, and I'm working to fix that, but I want you- I need you- to tell me when I’m doing something that’s upsetting you. I love you and I promise you I didn’t mean any of it.” He presses a soft, chaste kiss on the tip of your nose with a smile. The action makes your stomach erupt with butterflies and you know everything will be okay. You’ll always bounce back and find your way back to each other. 

Minho looks down and locks his pinkys around yours before looking back up at you. “You okay now?” You nod and lean against him further with a content sigh. 

“I love you too, Min.” Minho begins to open his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 

“Even if you’re a dick sometimes.” You say with amusement laced in your tone and a grin.

“I guess I’m lucky you put up with me then.” 

“Now you’re getting it,”

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

tags: @godslino @seungseung-minmin @myseungsunglove @azuna-sz @kaiyaba @solisyeah

[marril96]

Safe Haven

Chapter 2: Soft as a Smile

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it’s up to you to help her.

Previous chapter.

It was Agatha's voice that shook you from the fantasy of reconciliation to the strained but steadily improving reality where she was badly injured and taking care of her was more important than daydreaming about a change in your relationship.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

"Of course!"

As if on autopilot, you leapt to your feet. You hated that you had to let go of her hands. Hated that, once again, you were the one to sever contact, however temporary it was.

The three months you'd gone without touching her had felt like an eternity.

You never wanted to part from her again.

Agatha took the glass from you with both hands. It was only then that you noticed lines, an angry red, cutting deep across her wrists. Restraints, you assumed. She must have pushed and pulled until she'd managed to get them off.

Her hands trembled, and, instinctively, you reached to help her hold the glass up to her mouth. She threw you a brief glance, embarrassed, ashamed at needing help at such a basic task as drinking water.

"It's okay," you assured her. She had nothing to be ashamed of. It was the people who did it to her that should be ashamed, though you doubted their kind was familiar with the concept.

As Agatha finished, and you laid the glass on the table beside the supplies you'd gathered for her care, you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. A wordless repetition of your words. It was okay. You were here, and you loved her; temporary weakness didn't change that.

Even if it was permanent, it wouldn't change a thing.

Powerful or not, at full strength or injured, she was your girl. She would always be your girl.

Agatha's arms shot up, a gesture you'd come to know by heart. When she wanted affection, she took it. When you needed it, she gave it to you. No words necessary.

You allowed her to pull you to her and bury her face in your stomach. Instinct prompted you to reach for her, to hold on to her, most likely too tightly considering the condition she was in, but she didn't utter a word of complaint, so you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. To get lost in her, so fragile, so vulnerable, wrapped around you like a child in need of comfort.

You hoped you could provide it.

You hoped you would be good enough.

"I love you so much," you said, your heart brimming with it, ready to burst. "I know you don't trust me right now, and you have every right not to, but, please, trust that."

"Would I be here if I didn't trust you?" Agatha asked.

"I don't deserve it."

"Neither do I, yet here you are."

Quite a pair the two of you made. A match made in hell, some might say. As if that was a bad thing.

She knew this was the safest place for her. Not just because of the protection spell, but because you were here. She knew you wouldn't let anyone lay a hand on her. If hunters were to come knocking, you would kill them without a second thought.

For hunting her. For hurting her.

You'd killed for her before, and you would do it again in a heartbeat.

"You deserve the world," you said, and meant it; every syllable, every word. You kept on holding her, kept on pressing her to you as if to make sure that she was real. To make sure that this wasn't a dream, and you were going to wake up any moment now, cold and alone.

"I know," Agatha said with feigned arrogance, prompting you to chuckle. "Right back at you, honey."

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments, engulfed in each other, lost in the embrace you'd both been craving for all these months. Not having her with you was hell. The words you'd said to her last spinning around your head in an endless loop was an even worse one.

It was her who initiated the parting. "All right, honey, I'm digging the moment, but I need to breathe."

Though unwilling to do so, you instantly released her. "Did I hurt you?"

"Not any more than breathing does," she said in a jovial tone that you assumed she put on for your sake. "That's what happens when you get kicked in the ribs for hours. Jot it down for future reference."

Your teeth grit to the point of pain. Fists balled, nails digging into your skin.

They would die for that.

There would be blood.

"After I clean you up, I'll make you a potion." You sucked at potions, but she could guide you to doing it right.

"Don't bother. Whatever they shot me up with is blocking all magic inside me. It wouldn't do shit."

Fuck! "Then I'll be extra gentle."

"That's a first," she said with a naughty grin.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "I don't recall you complaining."

"Because I'm not."

"Then what are you doing?"

Being a little shit.

"Making small talk."

"Ah. Of course."

You missed this. The casual atmosphere, the playful banter, that pucker of her lips that you found to be the most adorable thing in the world.

It almost made you forget she had just escaped brutal torture.

One look at her face, however, was enough to remind you of the horrifying fact.

"I'll be careful, but if I hurt you, just say so and I'll stop," you said, plopping down onto a seat opposite Agatha on the couch and reaching for the rag you'd prepared.

She gave a small nod. Her eyes were on your hands, tracking your every movement. Trusting, but verifying.

Wetting the rag, you gently dabbed around her mouth. Blood slid off her skin with ease. If only it were that easy to remove the bruises. If only a piece of fabric soaked in warm water would take away her pain.

As soon as her face was clean, you moved to her wrists. She let out a hiss as the rag brushed against the thin cut, still open, still raw.

"Sorry," you said. "There's some dirt in there. I need to clean it out."

"It's fine," Agatha assured you.

She let you finish your work, first on her left wrist, and then her right one, gritting her teeth throughout. Pushing through the pain, through the clear discomfort.

"What did they want from you?" you asked in an attempt to distract her. Hunters usually killed witches on sight. As much as they hated your kind, they didn't keep you. Not even to torture you.

They had to have wanted something from her. Something she either couldn't or didn't want to give them.

"Information," Agatha said.

"About what?"

She instantly averted her eyes, focusing on you wrapping bandages around her wrists.

"We can talk when you're ready," you assured her, giving one of her hands a quick squeeze.

Whatever it was that they wanted to know, she clearly didn't feel like talking to you about it. Not yet, anyway.

The last thing you wanted to do was pressure her.

After what she'd been through, it was a wonder she allowed you to bring it up at all. Especially as the mere act of talking — of breathing, of living — brought her pain.

Agatha took in a big breath, face contorting with pain as she did so, then said, "They knew there were two of us."

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"They wanted me to tell them where my, quote, companion was."

Oh.

Oh.

Blood ran cold in your veins as the realization set in.

The hunters hadn't just wanted Agatha — they had wanted you, as well.

It was a well known fact that the two of you were a package deal. Where there was one, the other was nearby.

Why kill only one witch when they could kill two?

They must have heard rumors, or been filled in by the witch they'd had on payroll, about Agatha's traitorous tendencies. They must have thought she would give up your location; maybe not right away, but with the right incentive, under the right amount of pain, everyone was bound to crack. Especially the most infamous witch of all.

They didn't know Agatha at all.

She was many things, plenty of them bad, but when she loved someone, she was all in. She had a heart, a big one, and it loved as fiercely as everyone else's; even more so. She may not show it to the outside world, but it was there. You felt it in every pet name she uttered, in every touch of her hand. In every gesture, no matter how insignificant it appeared at first. Even during your worst arguments, that heart cherished you.

You'd never felt truly loved until you'd met her.

She'd made sure you would feel it every single day.

When she said she could go for two weeks instead of two days, she meant it. Because she had something — someone — to protect. She'd let them hit her, kick her, torture her; if she hadn't managed to escape, she would've still been there, silent as a mouse, gritting her teeth through each blow.

All so you wouldn't have to.

Agatha raised a finger in warning. "Before you go all, 'Oh, no'—" she put on a mock voice that was supposed to be a rendition of yours — and it was, an almost uncanny one, which you found mildly offensive, "—in that sad little voice of yours, remember that it was my decision not to tell them anything. And I would do it again if I had to."

In other words, don't feel bad about it. She'd chosen to protect you at the cost of her own wellbeing.

She'd put you first once, and she would do so again.

Your eyes burned with welling tears. "I was so awful to you."

Agatha shrugged. "Just because you said some… unsavory things doesn't mean I want you to die."

What you'd said was beyond unsavory. It was cruel. Borderline sadistic.

"You could've died," you pointed out.

"Honey, I was dead as soon as they captured me. Well, I should've been," she said nonchalantly, as if she were talking about the weather. "I didn't see the point of dragging you into it."

Yet you'd called her selfish. Had said she didn't care about you, that she'd loved power more than you. That you'd never felt loved by her.

God, you were a bitch.

Gently, you picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Is there anything I can do?"

"About those shitheads? You can watch me kill them when I get my power back." She smirked. "You love that."

There was something attractive about her draining witches dry. When she would kiss you after, she would be brimming with magic, new and electric. Ecstatic. It gave your heart the zoomies.

"I do," you confirmed, allowing your lips to curl into a smile, "but, I mean, to make things right between us."

Agatha sighed. She reached out, and you instinctively went to her, kneeling down by her seated form. As soon as her hands cupped your cheeks, your eyes fell closed. How you missed her touch, so tender, so sweet. So loving. Yet another proof of the lies your insults spewed.

Every time she touched you like this, she was telling you she loved you. Without a single word uttered, you knew she felt it, and she made sure you felt it just as intensely, just as fiercely.

How could you say she never loved you? How could you say you'd never felt it?

"You want us to be okay?" she asked.

You gave a nod, a tiny, timid one. "Yeah."

"Then we're okay."

You stared. "Just like that?" Surely, there had to be more to it. She couldn't just forgive you.

"Do you want me to be angry at you?" Agatha asked.

Yes, you did. You wanted her to be absolutely pissed. You wanted her to throw things, or blow something up, or scream at the top of her lungs like she usually did when she was mad.

You wanted her to do to you what you'd done to her.

"Agatha, I hurt you." A tear, two, three slid down your face, the memories of the things you'd said stabbing at you like knives. "Hurt me back."

"Why?" she demanded.

Because you'd hurt her first. "Because I deserve it."

"No, you don't." Her fingers rubbed your cheeks. Wiped your tears. "Someone else would, but not you. Never you."

"Why not?"

"Because I love you. Because I know you." Then, reluctantly, she added, "Because I hurt you first."

Right.

The reason the entire argument had erupted in the first place.

Agatha had forgotten your anniversary, having busied herself draining a — honestly, rather unimpressive — witch, while you'd waited for her at the restaurant she'd explicitly told you she would be at the day before.

You'd waited for her for over an hour like a fool. Had even started worrying that something had happened, that someone she'd slighted in the past (or the last twenty minutes; it didn't take her long to piss people off) had harmed her.

To add insult to injury, she had been the one to call you, asking where the hell you were, because she, having just absorbed some magic, was horny, and it frustrated her that you were nowhere to be found.

"I was looking forward to that dinner," you said, remembering how excited you were. How jovial. It was supposed to be one of the best nights of your lives.

It ended up being the worst.

"As was I," Agatha said. "I just thought it was supposed to take place the day after."

Right.

Forgetting things might as well be her middle name.

At least she managed to remember your birthday. She'd never failed to surprise you with a present she'd somehow know you wanted despite you not telling her a thing. She was perceptive like that.

"Of course you did," you snarked.

Agatha pouted in that way you found both adorable and sexy. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

Of course you would. "I expect something fancy."

"I wouldn't go for anything less. Who do you think I am?" she said, feigning offense.

You grinned. "It's a deal."

She blinked innocently. "So, you forgive me?"

How could you not forgive her when she looked at you like that?

How could you not forgive her when she looked like that?

Consciously or not, the injuries worked in her favor. She could punch you in the face, and you would probably find it hard to stay angry at her.

"I forgive you," you said.

There were few things in the world you could never forgive her for. Especially at this point in your relationship.

She smiled. "I really am sorry."

"I know you are."

It was a bitch move, yes, but it had only happened once. As much as it hurt, it wasn't like she had a habit of forgetting important dates.

Forgetting important things that didn't pertain to your relationship, yes. Names, dates, entire events. If she didn't find it personally significant, her brain erased it.

But something personal? Something in relation to you? Never. Those things stayed pinned at the top of her mental list.

You could forgive one blunder.

So long as she didn't make a habit of it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

*****

Next chapter.

[scvrgrl]

part three | part two

cw: smut & mature language

“nope, you’re doing it wrong.”

since your reconciliation, you and Ace have made it clear that you’re no longer at each others throats. a colossal weight had been lifted off the crews shoulders, the days of walking on eggshells around the two of you were in the past. in fact, Whitebeard took notice to this sudden shift in your attitude, smiling to himself as he watched your sparkle come back. he knew that you were slightly miserable around the new recruit, hoping that it was a phase that would pass as time went on. a small part of him worried that this childish feud would send you running back home, realizing that your craving for adventure had been a mistake.

as your captain, Whitebeard realized that losing someone with the potential you carried would’ve been detrimental for his crew. but as your father, Whitebeard wanted nothing more than to protect you from the dangers that awaited on these waters. which is why when you assured him that you were here to stay, Whitebeard decided that it would be best to begin your training as soon as possible. and who would be a better mentor than your fiery counterpart?

...

"i want you to train [y/n]."

Whitebeard pulled Ace aside during one of the crew's casual weekend banquets, overlooking the lower deck as the setting sun faded into a deep ocean blue below. the moment your name left Whitebeard's lips, Ace's eyes landed on you. it was as if you possessed some magnetic force that drew him in, helpless to the way your figure swayed to the sound of the melodic violin. your eyes were closed, enveloped in your own world, completely oblivious to the thrumming of Ace's heart as he traced your features with his chestnut eyes.

"i don't know," Ace said, a soft uncertainty lingering on his tongue. "are you sure? why not have Marco or someone else teach her? i'm sure they're much more qualified for that kinda position than i ever could be—"

a firm hand clasped his bare shoulder gently, ceasing his meaningless rambling. Ace flicked his gaze upwards to meet Whitebeard's eyes, his pupils a fierce yellow contrasting the night sky.

"Ace, i know you've had a rocky start here but so has everyone else. i wouldn't expect that someone who's grown up in the shroud of rejection could come around easy, but you've proven to me that you've got what it takes. over the last few weeks i've admired your potential, saw versions of myself in your mannerisms and your determination. although we are two different men, i understand your frustrations and your pain."

Ace watched Whitebeard as he spoke, his strong voice unwavering as he meant every single word. he never would have imagined that the careless decision he made all those nights ago would lead him here — lead him to a family. an overwhelming emotion began to rise in his throat, tears daring to sting behind his eyes. no one had ever told him these things before — not Dadan, not Garp, not Sabo, not even Luffy. not that the crybaby would understand anyway...

the concrete walls Ace build around his heart so many years ago began to crack, slivers of warmth trickling through. it was a sensation he hadn't felt since the day he met his brothers — the feeling of letting someone in. it was vulnerability, and in allowing himself to indulge in that feeling, just for a moment, Ace felt trust bloom in his chest. the exhale that left his lungs was full of relief, a weight of exhaustion slowly chipping off of his conscience. when Ace didn't speak, Whitebeard continued.

"i trust you, kid. it's why i dragged you up here in the first place, because i know that i could trust you to take care of my girl. yeah she might be a handful or give you a hard time, but i can tell she's warming up to you. [y/n] needs someone who will understand her, someone she can relate to"

to that Ace smiled, the memory of your discussion a few nights prior washing to the front of his mind. he remembered the glint in your eyes when you spoke to him, vulnerability and comfort. it was foreign yet familiar all at once, a sight he was willing to get used to.

"i may be wise when the time is right, but i'm no longer the young man i used to be. i don't know what you teenagers think nowadays and i don't particularly care. all i ask is that you follow my conditions when training her, but other than that she's free to do anything you assign her to. i'm giving you creative liberty here, so don't make me regret it, Ace."

"wow, you're really not letting up on that rule huh?" Ace laughed, crossing his arms as an audacious smirk creeped across his face.

"not a chance," Whitebeard insisted, the traces of amusement that coated his words now gone. "i value you as my son Ace, and i expect that you treat my daughter under the same honor."

and there it was again. that wave of warmth washing over Ace's heart at the reassurance within Whitebeard's words. he sees me as his son.

no matter how much those words meant to Ace, he would never let it show. he had a reputation to uphold — a witty teenager with a heart of stone. although, everyone on the crew knew that Ace had one of the biggest hearts they've ever encountered.

"so you want me to treat [y/n] like my daughter?" Ace mocked, his eye brows quirked in amusement as he waits for the large man's retort.

"get outta here before i kick your ass, smart aleck."

...

the following week Ace began your training, presenting you with a list of beginner exercises to start conditioning your body to become flexible over time.

"its rude to tell a woman that she should work out, you know?" you teased, eyes briefly scanning over the hastily scribbled words. "and did you just write this down? how the fuck am i supposed to read your chicken scratch?"

"do you wanna get stronger or not?" Ace huffed, snatching the list back as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. you caught the way his eyes inspected the page frantically, questioning if his handwriting really was that bad. "are you blind? this is perfectly legible! now stop complaining and drop and give me twenty!"

you rolled your eyes, snatching the list from his hands once again and fleeing to your quarters before he could protest.

and now here you two were, three weeks later under the sweltering summer sun, sweat glistening across your chest and forehead. today's lesson involved perfecting the hook kick from last week, a flashy move Ace was ecstatic to teach you.

“nope, you’re doing it wrong,” Ace instructed, arms crossed over his exposed chest as he leaned against the wooden railing overlooking the water. "you need to position your legs wider or else you're gonna topple over. do it again."

frustration and exhaustion blended into a pang of irritation that bloomed beneath your temples. the heels of your feet burned and ached from the constant friction against the rubber mat under you. you had been training for hours at this point doing the same fucking thing, and all Ace was doing was watching you, occasionally sipping on your lemonade he made you as a reward.

"can you put the drink down and help me, jackass? i thought that was for me anyway!" you shouted, eyes tracing the condensation dripping off the ice cold glass, making your mouth feel drier than it really was.

"okay, okay," Ace relented, taking one final sip before making his way over to you. "just watch me for now, and pay attention to my feet."

you mumbled something about being disgusted by his wiggling appendages, but Ace had already tuned you out. he positioned his legs just as he instructed you: dominant foot in the back, majority of your weight shifted onto it as you prepare to swing, up and out. his movements were swift, and if you had blinked in that moment, you would’ve missed the way his foot flew through the air. a strong whoosh flew past your face, Ace’s large foot inches from your nose. he had a surprisingly good sense of balance, remaining perched on one leg as he grinned at you mischievously.

“how was that?” he asked, bold eyebrows twitching in anticipation. you feigned disgust, concealing your awe for the man’s skill.

“your feet are black,” you replied, shoving his foot away from your line of sight. Ace yelped at the sudden contact, throwing him off balance. “would it kill you to wear some shoes around here? a shower maybe while you’re at it?”

“if you wanna see me in the shower that bad all you gotta do is ask, sweetheart” Ace teased, tossing a wink in your direction.

you rolled your eyes as you shooed him off your place on the mat. you ignored the warm blush that dusted your cheeks, shifting the blame to the blazing sun hanging above you. "don't call me that."

your banter was easy, tossing jabs and snide comments at one another with no real malice behind them. it was, for the first time ever, friendly. you and Ace became comfortable with each other, long nights of cleaning and talking under the gentle moonlight strengthened the bond you shared. the tension Ace held in his muscles whenever you approached him softened, a warm, easy smile replacing it.

getting into your stance, you attempted to mimic Ace's footwork but something still felt off. no matter how you positioned your legs, they felt awkward and out of place. you had come to the realization that training was like learning to walk all over again — a system of movements that must become second nature to improve your chances of survival.

Ace exhaled softly, sensing the bitter frustration that clouded your thoughts. "here, why don't we try this. may i?

before you knew it, Ace's broad figure loomed silently behind you, his large palms hovering over your hips. the warmth of his skin ghosted over the cool sweat that dripped down your back, causing your body to shudder at the proximity. you muttered a soft "mhm" to his request, more-so focused on calming the fluttering of your heart in your chest.

warm, rough palms rested on your hips, gently guiding your body into the preferred position. unsure of what to do with your arms, they remained suspended above your waist, giving you full view of the scene occurring just below your stomach. Ace's firm yet respectful touch was enough to send you reeling, your breath hitching in your throat as his hands wandered lower.

"— and your thighs should be a little more apart, like this."

entirely enveloped in your perverse thoughts, you hadn't realized Ace's change in position: kneeling before you as his hands trailed up to part your legs. the thin line of composure you held onto began to coil, wounding tighter and tighter the longer Ace's fingers poked into your soft skin.

"you could at least buy me dinner first before you start spreading my legs like that," you teased, peering down at him.

Ace chuckled, his hands hovering dangerously close to a button he knows he shouldn't press. "not sure your father would want that."

he remained a polite distance, casually glancing up to meet your gaze with his, weary and unsure. although, there was a strange glint in his eyes. something that told you this particular interaction was far from innocent. it was an experiment — hypothesizing just how far you were willing to go if he played his cards right. you kept that look tucked away in your back pocket, reminding yourself to analyze its subliminal message later.

"okay, now try it!" Ace said, slapping his hands against his thighs before returning to his original spot on the rail.

you shook the feeling of your stomach lurching, snuffing out the small flame of arousal kindling deep inside. the frustration from earlier returned, snowballing into a fierce determination to prove yourself to the man standing before you. it came from a place far from receiving male validation. rather, you wanted to prove yourself worthy to a respectable opponent, or in this case, your current mentor.

doing as you were instructed, you finally succeeded. your foot glided through the air gracefully, a rush of excitement pooling in your temples as you peered over your elevated leg.

"oh my god, i finally did it!" you exclaimed, giggling as you pranced gleefully around the deck.

"hell yeah! i knew you had it in you," Ace encouraged, rushing over to you to give you a high five. you gladly accepted the gesture, throwing both your hands around his neck and pulling him into a tight squeeze.

"thank you, thank you, thank you!" you chanted, voiced muffled as you nuzzled into his bare neck. Ace instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as he spun you around. a melody of affectionate laughter filled the upper deck, your smile radiating in competition with the sun shining above you. pulling away from his embrace, you and Ace remained fixated on each other. lingering touches and glances verbalized something you wouldn't have dared to admit aloud.

tension slowly built into a tangible weight between the two of you, pulling you deeper into a reality where nothing else mattered. a pang of guilt in your stomach grounded you, transporting this moment into the present. you knew these feelings were wrong, that your father would never approve of something that could risk the well-being of the family he fought so hard to keep. and you knew that it wouldn't be fair to Ace either, jeopardizing the only grounding force in his life.

you cleared your throat as you shrugged yourself out of his warm embrace. "we should probably head back inside. it's almost lunch time and i'm starving."

"yeah, you're probably right," Ace conceded, his hand scratching the back of his head bashfully. "do you wanna meet up later? we can drink to your victory"

...

rain drops pattering against the cool glass of Ace’s bedroom window mingled with the sounds of your rambunctious laughter. a half-empty wine bottle rested between the two of you, heads nearly touching as you lay parallel to one another. an unexpected storm interfered with your plans to convene at the original meet up spot, dampening your mood for just a moment. but when Ace offered to host you in his quarters, you jumped at the opportunity, curiosity influencing your judgement. 

to your surprise, his bedroom was much tidier than you expected — only a few stray articles of clothing tossed here and there. but for the most part, he was organized. when you asked him about it, he replied simply, “i didn’t grow up with a lot of things. my brothers and i slept on the hard floor with a blanket and a pillow, all sharing the same clothes until we outgrew them. it didn’t take much to provide for us, really. as long as we had food in our stomachs and a place to sleep, we didn’t really give a shit.” 

you nodded, humming in understanding. “makes sense, i guess. you really are just a simple guy.”

“a simple guy with simple pleasures.” Ace smiled, his gaze lingering on yours as he brought the bottle to his lips, “what about you, princess?”

you huffed a laugh at the nickname, “i thought i told you to stop calling me that.” 

Ace’s eyes wandered up and around the room, mock contemplation in his voice as he tapped his fingers against his chin, “no, no. i believe you told me to stop calling you ‘sweetheart’. ‘princess’ is completely free game.”

your eyes rolled but there was no irritation behind it. “whatever, smart ass. and yes, i grew up with a decent amount of things. nothing in excess though, my mother didn’t believe in spoiled children. she only got me what i needed and that was final.”

it was moments like these where time stood still, just you, Ace, and the fuzzy feeling of alcohol swimming in your system. occasional outbursts of laughter reverberated off the walls as you opened up about your childhood. pure curiosity sang a tune, guiding your steps into a playful dance as you retraced the steps of your youth. it was easy talking to Ace. ghosts of loathing no longer haunted the walls of your father's vessel, each one exorcised to pave way for fondness and understanding. the words you said to Ace that one night still loom over you like a dark cloud, the harsh rain of regret waiting to come down.

but, just for a moment, that cloud would disappear. instead, the warmth of hope filled that void as you both recalled events throughout the day — reminiscing on the things that made you laugh, upset, sad, or happy. and the best part about evenings like these was that you both enjoyed the company. you took pride in hearing about Ace’s day and the kind of things he did when you weren’t around. it was as if he let you in on a big secret, one he kept locked away in the confines of his heart. it was a glimpse into his mind, an opportunity to familiarize yourself with his nuances.

a few short minutes had passed in silence, basking in the dim candlelight that flickered in a near off corner. hues of burning oranges and yellows accentuated the sharp features that made its home on Ace's face. this was the first time you had taken the time to truly admire the man, shamelessly acknowledging his beauty and committing it to memory. you took advantage of the alcohol's effect on your senses, releasing your inhibitions as you allowed your eyes to hungrily trace his sculpted frame. you always admired Ace's freckles, tracing over them numerous times whenever his back and chest were exposed. you nearly memorized their orientation, connecting them in your mind and experimenting with different figures that matched its outline.

"your freckles are pretty," you said casually, eyes fixated on a particular patch that kissed his waist. "who'd you get those from?"

Ace nearly choked on the long gulp of wine that traveled down his throat, a fierce shade of crimson coloring his freckled cheeks. "w-what?"

"your freckles," you repeated, completely oblivious to the effect you have on this man. "who gave them to you?"

"my mother," Ace replied, a soft smile lingering on his face. if there was one thing Ace loved, it was talking about his mom. he loved that woman more than life itself, wishing every day that he could get a moment with her again. there were so many questions left unanswered that he knew she would have the answers to. "the old man told me that she had the same freckles i do."

there was a brief pause, a moment of contemplation before Ace continued. it was an expression you couldn't read but valued nonetheless. "everyone knows what my father looks like. and i've heard so many times that i'm the splitting image of that bastard. but sometimes...i stare at myself in the mirror and try to look for my mother. i want to know what she left behind."

the confession made your heart sink, wishing that you could relieve that burden from Ace's shoulders just for a moment. as if you were a marionette, you crept forward toward the man on your hands and knees, movements automatic and out of your control. there was that force again, that charge that drew you in helplessly. inches from his face, you cupped his cheeks in your hands, tracing over his freckles with your thumbs. the brief flash of shock that colored Ace's expression melted into something soft, something vulnerable. he relaxed into your touch, accepting your gentle gaze upon his face.

"you're beautiful, Ace. if there's anything she gave you, it's your beauty."

and just like that, all hopes of keeping this relationship platonic shattered. a hot tear rolled down Ace's cheek before lurching forward, lips crashing desperately against yours. wandering hands grabbed at mounds of flesh, labored breaths filling the silence. Ace's hot lips against yours felt like finding the missing piece to a big puzzle, a perfect fit as you connected effortlessly. large hands met the nape of your neck as he pulled you in closer, his long fingers becoming tangled in your hair.

you ripped your mouth from his, a string of saliva hanging between the two of you as you moved down to his neck. the pulse of his racing heart beat softly against your lips, kissing the spot tenderly before sinking lower. your teeth met the firm muscle that rested on his neck, biting and suckling it into a bruise, absentmindedly leaving your mark. the man beneath you groaned at the contact, his hands roaming to meet your hips. instinct kicked in as you rolled your hips in his lap, his length hardening with every bump and grind.

the soft whimper that hitched in his throat sent a shock down your spine, volts of arousal buzzing inside your core. you needed to feel him, to memorize every inch of his body. your mind wandered faster than your hands could, images of those precious freckles you spent countless minutes studying must be tattooed everywhere else.

"get up and take your pants off," you ordered breathlessly, hands palming the growing bulge beneath the soft linen of his sleep pants.

Ace's breath stuttered as he nodded, gently peeling you off his aching cock. his hands trembled with adrenaline, fingers fumbling with the strings around his waist before tearing off his pants. the speed in which he moved made you laugh, stifling your giggled behind your hand as he smirked down at you.

"you sure you wanna do this, princess?" he asked, bare chest rising and falling as beads of sweat glistened his peachy skin.

your expression softened at the sentiment, but determination still burned deep in your stomach. all you wanted to do was make him feel good, to have him crumble and beg and moan your name. you nodded, tugging at the waistband of his skin-tight boxers. "i'm sure. now let me see it, pretty boy."

your words were coated in a thick arousal, dripping from your mouth as you prepped yourself for the length about to fill it. pushing him onto the plush mattress behind him, you finally peeled off his bottoms, revealing a cock much bigger than you anticipated. his tip glistened under the candlelight, twitching against your tongue as you licked a stripe across it. you took him into your mouth agonizingly slow, easing his length down your throat to envelop it in your hot saliva.

"fuck [y/n]" Ace cooed, fingers raking through your hair to reveal your face. he wanted to watch every second of you sucking and pumping on his cock.

removing your lips from his length with a loud pop, you stared at him through your thick lashes. lips and chin covered in saliva and precum, you smiled as you began to work and pump rhythmically down his member. with every hitch and stutter of his breath, you swept a thumb over his tip, paying extra attention to the sensitive bulb before you.

"you like that, huh?" you teased, earning a frantic nod from the man above you. you smelled again, flashing your pearly teeth for just a moment, "good. don't come yet baby, i wanna see your pretty face when you do it."

Ace groaned to your instruction, biting his lips to keep himself from unraveling under your touch. before he could plead, you sunk back down, hollowing your cheeks as your hands and mouth bobbed around his cock. the grip on your hair tightened and pulled, Ace's hips bucking into your face as he writhed uncontrollably. lewd moans and gags filled the room as he pushed further and further, tears welling in your eyes.

the quickening of his pace let you know he was close. ripping your hot mouth from his length, you kept your fist at a steady pace, waiting for that pearly substance to make its debut. Ace's eyes were filled with lust, lids drooping over his ominous pupils as he choked out a moan. and just like that, his resolve snapped, the burning coil in his chest tightening as he rides out his orgasm. strings of opaque white coated your fist and lips as you licked your hands clean. you hummed a soft moan as you cleaned up his tip with your tongue, Ace shuddering and twitching at the contact.

"you did so good—"

"shut up and get up here," Ace ordered, his voice raspy and dark with desire. the sudden change in roles threw you for a loop, the throbbing of your leaky cunt you so graciously ignored made it's powerful appearance once more.

practically throwing yourself on the mattress in excitement, you straddled Ace's lap as you smashed your lips against his. the fusion of your saliva with his was intoxicating, your head swimming as you drank him in. your tongues wrestled for dominance, twisting and turning messily to memorize every inch of each other. you were desperate, hungry and so fucking horny you couldn't even think straight. before you could grind down on his cock once more, Ace grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your back, your head reeling at the sudden contact against the plush surface beneath you.

Ace's hands and mouth wandered down your body, suckling and breathing heavily as he peeled your clothes off. he grabbed and squeezed at the gentle skin of your tits, his thumbs tracing circles over your nipples to stimulate you further. your back arched toward him as his mouth met your chest, licking and sucking around your breasts. he knew exactly how to repay you, almost as if he knew your body upon instinct. Ace knew exactly what buttons to press to send you reeling and writhing.

his long, slender fingers peeled off your little sleep shorts, toying with the waistband of your soaked panties beneath them. Ace found your soaked cunt immediately, sliding through your folds with a charged purpose that had your eyes snapping shut. he drew lazy circles over your puffy clit before removing his hand to expose your dripping heat to the rest of the room.

"fuck, you're beautiful," Ace gaped, before making his way to the opposite end of the mattress. you whined at his absence, practically beckoning at him to return to play with your pussy. he propped himself on his fluffy pillows, resting against his headboard before calling you over. "c'mere sweetheart, this isn't over yet."

you turned to meet his gaze from behind you, Ace's legs spread open and inviting. your crawled to meet his touch, settling between the space he made just for you. your bare back met his damp chest as you rested your head in the crook of his neck. Ace pulled your knees to your chest, hooking your thighs around his as you were spread out to the room before you.

"don't you dare make a sound," Ace whispered into your ear, easing his hands down to meet your core once again. before you could nod in compliance, his fingers slid into you with practiced ease. you fought back a loud moan as he glided in and out of your cunt, salacious sounds filling the silence. his rhythm increased ruthlessly, curling upwards to meet your g-spot. throwing your head back, you released a guttural moan, a hand quick to silence you.

"i said be quiet," Ace growled, anxiety slipping through his facade.

"okay yeah sorry," you huffed, catching your breath to ground yourself. "just please keep going."

obeying your command, Ace slipped his fingers in, quickly picking up where he left off. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his palm met your swollen clit, pounding it as his fingers bottomed out inside of you. blinding arousal slowly built deep into your stomach, each drive of his fingers and swirl of his thumbs over your sensitive bud nearly sending you over the edge. feeling you reach your peak, Ace increased his speed, abusing your spongy insides as he drove you to climax. your things trembled under the release, lewd sounds of squelching and squirting filling the silence.

"oh my go— mmm!" you squealed, heaving and groaning into Ace's palm as you came down from your high. you went limp in his arms, twitching as a cool draft blew gently over your sensitive cunt. that moment of intoxicating euphoria spiked once more as you felt Ace harden from behind you. you turned to meet his gaze, smirking something devious. "you're such a dog."

"shut up and bend over, princess," Ace purred, slapping the outside of your thighs to prompt you into position. you giggled at the contact, doing just as you were told.

lining himself up with your slick entrance, Ace eased himself into you. your body shuddered at the sensation, still sensitive from your previous endeavor. Ace gripped your hips as he writhed rhythmically, your gummy walls clenching onto his length. becoming lost and drunk on the sensation, Ace quickened his pace as he chased his second orgasm of the night. the sight of your arched back and ass ramming into his was enough to have his knees buckle beneath him. the sounds of damp skin slapping filled the room once more, labored breaths following shortly after. little whines escaped your lips again, prompting Ace's palm to shield your mouth.

you secretly enjoyed the rough sensation against your lips, adding to the thrill of secrecy and dishonor. you smiled against his palm as a salacious moan spilled from your lips, his length hitting against your g-spot just right. gripping the once-clean sheets beneath you, the two of you rode out your orgasms together, crumbling and shaking as you held each other close.

your final moments of consciousness were spent wrapped in each others arms, naked and kissing tenderly. exhaustion washing over the two of you instantly, still sticky with arousal and sweat.

...

the burning white ray of sunshine that shone through a cracked window ripped you from the comfort of sleep. your head throbbed instantly as you came to, stomach twisting and turning with an anxiety you couldn't pinpoint the cause of. something felt wrong, like there was a disturbance in your normal routine.

the weight of something draped over your waist caused your eyes to snap open, body stiffening under the contact. there's no way

turning your head reluctantly, you are met with the sight of a familiar head of black hair, flushed freckled cheeks and a softened expression that made your chest tighten. before you could awkwardly pull yourself from his arms, Ace flipped onto his other side suddenly, snoring louder as he did so. ignoring the ache of your body and head, you took the opportunity to get up silently and quickly throw your clothes on, making a swift exit from the room.

i am so fucked.

PORTGAS D. ROUGE WE STILL TALK AND THINK ABOUT YOU MAMA 💔