#greyson fluff

[beneathashadytree]

AFTER THE FIRST KISS - GREYSON X OC

Warnings : none that I know of!

Genre : tooth-rotting fluff <3

Additional notes : I’ve only just realized that amidst all my COVID issues, I’d forgotten to post this absolutely heartwarming SMAU @dawnbreakersgaze commissioned from me!! Expect another one to be posted within a day, because our resident cute doctor makes me feel things😵‍💫 EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU KAY FOR THEIR SWEET REQUEST THAT GOT MY BRAIN JUICES GOING!!🙏🏽

Commissions are open here!

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Masterlist

Taglist: @dawnbreakersgaze @sassyglasessesbunny @skriblobz @violetsequel @oda-princess @reiluvr @mamalunawolf @inkblotgalaxies @milkandstarlight @littol-rascal @angelxcvxc @mariethesley2 @simply-a-simps2 @aidnleee @rafayelsgf @fullmetalgizzy @raendarkfaerie @hrts4hanniehae @tay-chan101 @sprklyunicrns @ogprettyprincess @iwillstealyouruwus @lupicalbestwolf @aaravosss @zybabb

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[alexrosa13]

Hi! I've read your writing about the supermodel! I'm obsessed with it! Can you do something similar but make the MC/reader an idol?

Idol

Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel; Sylus; Caleb; Jeremiah; Greyson; Thomas; Luke & Kieran x female!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: may come out a little suggestive if you squint (Xavier; Sylus; Greyson), alcohol (Thomas), hinted at bisexual reader in Luke & Kieran's part

Note: OMG HELL YES, I was really confused if the idea was supposed to be about just idol, or a k-pop kind of idol so I went with the idea of the reader being a soloist whether k-pop or not - doesn't matter

for masterlist and request info head to the navigation →

Music is what feelings sound like...

Xavier

How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

~ „Rewrite The Stars” Zac Efron, Zendaya

★ falls asleep listening to your music, makes it his ringtone, all of his chores are done while humming to it, he's obsessed in the cutest way

★ oh if you'd ever write a song inspired by him; expect him to not leave you alone for at least two weeks straight, he will be tailing you like a puppy wherever you go (if you're already on this stage in a relationship then bathroom included, you can lock the door but this dude can teleport sooo...)

★ would get any merch you release and would (will) make you sign it (please add a little heart or a star to your autograph every now and then, he will cherish those pieces the most)

★ after your concerts, late at night in your shared home, you would have a private concert between just the two of you and occasionally you would also invite animals that came to visit you

"Xavier my voice is dead, you have to sing solo." you laughed while taking a sip of water from your bottle.

"But without my other half this song isn't as special as it's supposed to be, it's our song." he complained, while looking too cute with a little frown on his face.

"Then pick another song, and this one we'll sing together tomorrow, deal?" you came closer to him, your arms curling around his neck, hugging him.

You swore that the brightest stars of tonight's sky were hidden in his eyes, looking at you as if reflecting your shine, as if your joy was what made him truly the happiest.

With a quiet sight he complied, agreeing to continue your little concert another day, letting your vocal cords rest after hours of singing.

You felt his hands tightening its hold at your waist before casting you up, making you cling to him even more, while your legs wrapped around his waist. You threw him a questioning look, but he simply smiled while proceeding to carry you towards your shared bathroom.

"Xavier? May I ask what exactly are you doing?" you giggled a bit while he sat you down at the edge of the tub.

"Planning to spoil you and get you ready for bed." he said casually while already starting to prepare a bath.

"So the first point of your little plan is running me a bath?" he nodded, not looking at you, too focused on getting the right temperature of water "Will you join me?" now you got his attention. Seeing your smiley face he wouldn't even dream of refusing, deciding to simply chuckle to himself and nod his head once more.

Zayne

Unconditional, unconditionally

I will love you unconditionally

There is no fear now

Let go and just be free

~ „Unconditionally” Katy Perry

★ makes sure that you don't overwork yourself, which sometimes may be hard while your new album is about to drop or a tour is approaching

★ sometimes, especially in the evening when it's just the two of you in the quietness of your home, you like to sit in his office and write songs while he works, some lyrics would never leave your notes, too personal to share them with the world

★ would attend award ceremonies with you, however he won't walk the red carpet by your side, when asked about it he simply says that it's only your moment to shine, but you know that it's just because he's not fully comfortable with that kind of attention on him

★ if you play instruments in a different room while he's working he would purposely leave the door to his office open, same with singing, once he'll finished with all of the documents he would go to find you and listen to you in person, sometimes hiding behind the wall as 'not to distract you'

He heard another faint note coming from the piano in the living area of your home, soon accompanied by your voice, so quiet and soft that Zayne almost couldn't catch it.

Looking at the clock in the corner of the monitor of his work laptop and noticing the late hour he decided to call it a night. The rest of his work can wait until tomorrow, now he wanted to spend the remaining hours of the day with his love, and nothing could stop him.

He left his office and made his way through the dark corridor, his steps quiet, not wanting to alert you of his presence, planning to stay unnoticed for a while and enjoy your little concert.

And just like any other time: he succeeded.

He leaned against the wall on the other side of the room while watching your back, slightly lit garden making as your background behind the huge window.

If recorded - this moment could fit perfectly in one of your future music videos, but instead it was just his to savor.

A perfectly played melody synchronized with your voice sounded like an angel singing lullaby accompanied by the gentle noises of its wings swaying in the air.

Unnoticed by him the song finally came to an end, last note leaving the instrument before your finger left the key.

Seconds later the sound of a quiet applause from behind your back stirred you, quickly you turned around on your seat, catching eye contact with your lover.

"Will there finally come a time when you'll stop sneaking up on me when I play?" you teased with not even a hint of irritation in your voice.

"I simply do not wish to disturb your focus, once you're fully into the song you tend to lose yourself in it. I wouldn't dream of breaking that state." his smirk made you let out a quiet giggle.

"Come and join me."

Rafayel

Ain't no prayer, ain't no God that could save us from our love

Ain't no rainfall, ain't no flood that could drown all our sorrow

~ „Lovers In The Dark” Sophie Morelli

★ in a pack with a boyfriend you got yourself a free stylist, well not exactly free, but your payment now are kissed and complements

★ poor Thomas would never hear the end of Raf's ramblings about you... "Rafayel I know that your girlfriend is really really important to you BUT I NEED YOUR ASS TO GET BACK TO PAINTING, WE HAVE CUSTOMERS!" while Rafayel stays in his seat, unbothered, ordering thousands of new designer clothes for you - yeah it's hard to be a manager of such a diva

★ would put his artistic soul to use when you need a new album cover, either would paint something inspired by your song or play your photographer for a bit

★ concerts backstage can get really chaotic sometimes, all sets of hands put to work, making sure that everything will go smoothly - and Rafayel making sure that you look your absolute best (girl fire your stylist at this point)

"Babe who hurt you?" he looked at you looking genuinely terrified.

"Rafayel. It's just an outfit, I'll be fine." your gaze returned to a mirror, trying to believe in your own words.

"JUST AN OUTFIT?! Baby there's absolutely no way I'm letting you on stage in this... Horrible, horrible, piece of fabric." his eyes never left your clothes, his brows drew together in a grimace, half an hour was left before you'll need to wrap everything up and walk out to face the cameras and your fans, he needs to fix the mess your 'stylist' made.

"Can you fix it in twenty minutes?" you asked, the confidence disappearing from your expression, looking at him with a plead. Instantly he moved towards your wardrobe, pulling you after him.

"Give me ten." he signaled for you to take off this outfit while busying himself in the countless clothes, working his art.

He'll be damned if he'll let you leave this room in anything less than gorgeous and fabulous.

He had a mission to fulfill, and your image to protect.

Hours later he waited in your changing room for the people to stop running around you, logging onto his social media to see any new posts about you.

WHO'S THAT DIVA???

DOES SHE LIKE WOMEN TOO? Asking for a friend.

I don't think so, she took her bf on the red carpet last time 😔

WHYYYY, WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS TO STEAL HER FROM US

seeing people just now discovering that she dates Rafayel is wild

WAIT. I JUST GOT TO KNOW THAT SHE'S TAKEN AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME SHE DATES THE RAFAYEL??? 😭😭😭

Idk who I am more jealous about...

⬆️⬆️⬆️ literally me

BISEXUAL PANIC 🫡

He chuckled to himself, yeah he won the world the moment you agreed to date him.

Sylus

They say all good boys go to Heaven

But bad boys bring Heaven to you

It's automatic

It's just what they do

~ „Heaven” Julia Michaels

★ mysterious boyfriend pt. 2 - the one and only time when your fans 'saw' him was in one of your mv's, but only his back was visible while you were clinging to his side, at first they thought that it was some random actor but then they saw the same white hair on one of your social media stories and rumors started to fly

★ would give twins the tickets to your concert under the excuse of watching you in case someone came there to hurt you, but in reality it's just because he knows they enjoy your concerts and wants them to have some fun

★ he'll ensure your safety on any kinds of events, not trusting your company to take care of it properly

★ in one interview you mentioned that your partner is absolutely tone-deaf, laughing about it, saying how opposites attract, in another one you said how your partner loves your singing and how they are your biggest supporter and inspiration

You just stepped out of your morning shower, putting on underwear you went to sit down on a stool before the mirror, about to dry your hair and do your morning beauty routine.

With the loud humming of the hair dryer drowning out other noises you began to sing, loudly, thinking that no one will hear it.

Well, you were wrong.

About a minute in you noticed a silhouette standing by the door.

Damn you should really learn to lock it.

"Sylus?" you asked, turning the hair dryer off, watching him through the mirror's reflection.

"Don't mind me sweetheart. I'm just enjoying the show." you turned around to face him with your face expression screaming 'really?', but he remained unbothered, reaching to close the door and right after taking a couple steps your way finding himself right behind you "Allow me."

The hair dryer was gently taken away from your hand, your eyes met his in the mirror, smile threatened to show on your lips, but you still tried to keep up the facade of annoyance.

Yet completely unbothered Sylus began drying your hair, humming a tune in the meantime, a sound that you almost didn't catch.

Seeing his eyes focused on your hair, you closed your own in a relaxed manner, your voice synchronizing with his when you started to hum the well-known melody of the song you wrote for him a long time ago.

A quiet domesticated moment before your long day began was something that you didn't even know you needed today, but were absolutely grateful that it happened. Grateful that you had someone to share this morning with.

Caleb

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?

I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

~ „Airplanes” B.o.B, Hayley Williams

★ imagine being highschool sweethearts with Caleb, every girl being jealous of you, sending you hateful glances every time they saw you leaning on his arm during a break between the classes, and every guy either congratulating him on dating you or plotting to steal you away from him

★ and in the middle of it all: both of you just didn't care - too busy with admiring the other to notice the jealous looks you received at every corner, every gift given to you by someone else than your lover being either rejected or thrown away

★ everyone knew that you'll go far in life, with his plans about becoming a pilot and your dreams of existing in the music industry, supporting each other in your goals

★ and with another concert bringing a huge echo on the news questions started floating around you; did you have a partner? Well that was a secret no one knew the truth about, with you dodging any question regaining your private life like a pro

The screams and cheering felt like home, you standing with a microphone before thousands of people, feeling like you made it.

Another song starting to play, the show going on, you and your dancers flowlessly navigating through the stage, during one of the quiet moments between the verses, your eyes began scanning the front row, eager to meet one pair of eyes watching you.

And sure enough: among the sea of flashes, phones and signs one immediately caught your eye.

[ Your Wish Is Here 🍎⭐]

A giggle slipped out from your mouth, your mic catching the sound before you moved your face away, cheers erupted from everywhere around you, your eyes met his.

The next words before you came back to singing got an even louder reaction from the crowd.

"All of my wishes came true already." and the lyrics of your song began floating out of your mouth, all the while holding the eye contact with those beautiful violet eyes.

You made it.

Jeremiah

Lilacs for all of the lies

Daisies for days that I cried

I love to watch 'em as they die

Orchids when I want a kiss

All that I need is your tulips on mine

~ „Don't Send Me Flowers” Sorana

★ to say that you were an unexpected match would be an understanding. A humble florist with a worldwide music star? Yeah, maybe in a dreams.

★ your fans knew that you had someone, the smile on your face every time you were asked about your partner was telling them enough, even if your mouth didn't.

★ in reality this match was as if made in Heaven: your radiating kindness together with his calm but sweet demeanor, never before have you had a partner that was so understanding and patient with you

★ the truth as to why you never spoke his name was a mystery, you talked about him so much, they saw you with him every now and then, so why was his name such a high guarded secret?

"So... Are you coming with me for the next tour?" you asked in a hopeful tone, it was a week before the whole thing shall begin, and you had yet to hear an answer from his lips.

Today he texted you that he finally decided, you weren't particularly stressed, if he'll agree then you'll be happy, if he'll refuse then you'll be... well, less happy but still understanding and just slightly sadden by the fact.

The look on his face didn't tell you anything, perfectly calm and composed.

"Well I had a lot of thinking to do, and some work with the documents." his identity creates complications every now and then "And I've decided..." he made a dramatic pause, the hopeful look on your face made his heart throb.

"Well? Tell me! You kept me in the dark for too long Mister!" your expression turned into a fake annoyance, unable to help himself he chuckled.

"I'll come with you." instantly you jumped onto him, almost making you both fall in the process but he managed to steady you in time, damn he's actually kinda strong...

The smile didn't leave either of your faces for the rest of the day, your happiness caused by his agreement and his caused by your joy.

Yeah, a perfect harmony.

Greyson

And every time we touch, boy, you make me feel weak

I can tell you're shy, and I think you're so sweet

Spendin' every night under covers and

Still I wonder, could you fall for a woman like me?

~ „Woman Like Me” Little Mix, Nicki Minaj

★ imagine him being your fan previously to your meeting and relationship, nothing too intense, but he knew you and your music well enough to recognize you

★ now imagine his shock when he randomly saw you sitting at the quiet cafe he often visited after leaving his work, enjoying your favorite drink while occupied by a book lying open before you

★ he tried not to stare, you probably came there to relax and wouldn't wish to be bothered by a fan asking for a photo or autograph, so he tried to go about his day, trying to act like he totally didn't recognize his celebrity crush

★ now imagine his shock when you spoke to him when he was passing by your table, saying that his glasses suit him, a nice compliment turned into an hour spent talking to each other, with him leaving the cafe with an autograph in his notebook, a photo with you hugging him, and your number to top that

"Darling do you know where my Saint Laurent heels are?" he heard your voice coming from the bathroom, probably finishing up your make-up.

Turning off the stove he went to the bedroom, knowing where to look for your (expensive) shoes.

And sure enough: they were there, lying carelessly in the corner of your room, the memories of how they ended up there bringing a blush to his face.

He picked them up, much more carefully than you when you dropped them to the floor, and headed back to give them to you.

Just as he left the bedroom he saw you, standing before the body length mirror put right next to the entrance door, fixing your jewelry.

He took a second to admire you, the way your body looked in your carefully picked outfit, the way your hair looked absolutely perfect and your make-up imitating a professional work.

How did he even got to date you?

Oh, right, he didn't, you picked him, grabbed him by a collar like you would a kitten saying 'This one's mine.' and he just accepted it (gladly).

"Darling? My shoes?" your voice brought him back from a daydream, he met your eyes through the mirror's reflection, a knowing smile formed on your lips.

He rushed towards you, showing you the items in his hands.

"Thank you darling." you kissed his cheek, unknowingly to him leaving a lipstick mark.

You bent to put on the shoes, with him moving away to pick up your purse, handing it to you once you stood up straight.

You took your possession from him and moved your palm to caress his cheek for a second, gracing him with one more smile of yours before turning around and leaving the walls of your shared apartment.

Thomas

This night is sparkling, don't you let it go

I'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

I'll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

~ „Enchanted” Taylor Swift

★ you met him during one of the after parties after a gala that he attended with (instead of) Rafayel, he was sipping nonalcoholic drink, rethinking all of his life choices after another one of artist's runaways from the cameras

★ imagine your drunk ass laughing from something that your friends were saying, unnoticed by you coming too close to a tables put on the higher platform and falling in a way that had you landing right on Thomas's lap

★ it was a start to your love story, you spend an evening together, talking about the industries and random life fun-facts, the night ending in him driving you home and exchanging numbers

★ you were one of the rising stars back then, overworked and underappreciated, you felt like you didn't have a say in your career, everyone deciding for you, even your social media were carefully monitored and you needed an approval from the management before posting anything, that was until Thomas put a stop to it

"You don't understand how much your career costs the company! Your music is better as it is, so leave your little notes in the trash and get back to the studio to work with the professionals." your manager, an old guy whose wife left taking the kids with her, screamed at you on the corridor, right after another long, boring meeting regarding your status in the industry.

"If only they would take a peek at my lyrics maybe it would work for the be-" you tried to argue, but the look he sent you made you quiet down instantly.

"I don't care about your little scribbles." harshly he yanked the papers from your hands, crumpling the paper with his grip "This is trash. Everything you do - is trash. So if you want us not to drop you and your little music career then just stay quiet and do what you're told." you felt the numbness creeping up on you, this isn't what you wanted your life to look like. You saw the old man opening up his mouth to probably let out more insults about you and your work, but another voice interrupted your conversation before he got the chance to continue.

"I'm pretty sure that insulting your artists is against the company's policy." you looked at Thomas, he told you that he'll be at a meeting in your work place today, he probably just finished up with that.

Before your manager could mutter out an excuse Thomas clicked something on his phone, a voice recording started playing, a proof of what happened a moment earlier.

You couldn't help the smile that threatened to show, he had lots of recordings like those actually.

You saw how the colors left your manager's face and knew that you caught him.

You shared a knowing look with Thomas, silently thanking him.

It will all be alright.

Luke & Kieran

Yeah, you fell in love

But you fell deeper in this pit

While death rains from above

So count your blessings 'cause this is it

You're not letting it go

So what if I misbehave? It's what everybody craves

~ „Addict” Michael Kovach, Chi-Chi

★ I hope you're ready for the chaos, because girl you're in for a ride. The amount of support you would get from every single man above but make it double.

★ imagine being a loud, confident, outspoken woman in the industry, rising up high just as a teen, everyone knew who you are, either loving or hating you (you were probably a wake up call for young teens gayness)

★ none of the men could ever handle you, so who could blame you when you got yourself two super sweet and silly boyfriends, breaking a standard once again?

★ your partners were a mystery, people knew about them, sure, but they knew them without ever seeing their faces or knowing their names, the most of the info they got was when a video from the backside of your concert got leaked, showing a cute moment between you and two men, dressed in black comfy clothes covering them whole with a hood dropped over their heads and a masks

"You'll drop me!" your high pinched scream could be heard together with your laugh, and a loud chuckle from one of the two men.

One of them had you dropped over his shoulders, attempting to do a squat with you as his additional weight.

"OMG STOP!" you continued screaming while laughing, clearly having fun.

"Aaaaand..." the other guy followed you two down, cheering up on the man holding you "WE GOT IT!" he screamed when the other man came back to stand after his successful squat without dropping you,

"I'LL KILL YOU TWO!" you playfully tugged on their hair to which they both let out a couple of dramatic 'auw!'s.

The video ended with the camera dropping down and the sound of the three of you laughing,

Safe to say that it made a storm in the media.

I AM SORRFY WHSO ARE THEYD?

THATS WHAT ALL OF US WANT TO KNOW SIS

Well that was not on my 2048 bingo card...

my crush got herself 2 boyfriends and I'm fine with it. *sob*

I have a couple of not really appropriate questions.

*hides a notebook* a couple of whaaaaaat

Okay, so the bisexual Queen got a man. Two men. Chat how are we coping?

*cries into a pillow*

It's a hard day for us girlies out here.

We fight, she's held hostage🤺🤺🤺

OMG I JUST WOKE UP???!!! 🥹😭

[smutinlove]

prince dick grayson x knight reader that doesn't like him that much??

u can make it fluffy smutty angsty wtv 🙏

implied fem reader

sort of forbidden love??????

angsty af

i was kinda listening to a sad playlist i made...

Prince Dick was known for his scandalous activities. But those "rumors" were almost always shut down by his majesty, King Bruce.

I mean, Prince Dick was the first in line to the throne, so he had to uphold his reputation. But that didn't stop him from flirting and fucking with every maid in the palace.

You, one of the trusted knights in Gotham, were assigned to guard and shield Prince Dick. But sometimes, it felt as if you didn't really do anything.

Dick was... Dick. Currently, he's fooling around with one of the maids of the palace. You could hear her moaning. The sounds of skin slapping and Dick's voice, telling her how much of a "good girl" she was.

Honestly, it was repulsive. This was the future king of Gotham.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and the maid ran out. Her cheeks were puffy and red. Dick leaned against the doorframe; his bedsheets were wrapped around his hips, but that didn't cover his boner.

"What'd I do?" Dick asked, tilting his head, causing you to snicker. "Well, your Royal Highness, maybe you should be less... Dickish."

"Come on, love, you love Dickish." You rolled your eyes. "Don't call me that, Dick."

He snickered. "Original. Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"I have a perfectly empty bed, you know." You rolled your eyes. Prince Dick was always trying to get into your pants, either with his flirtatious comments or his wandering looks.

"Dick, stop," you muttered. "Why?" he said, looking up at you with the saddest expression. "Goodnight, your royal highness." Dick nodded, taking the hint. He retreated back into his room.

The sun rose, waking up the entire kingdom, including his royal highness, Prince Dick. You stood guard the entire night; it was part of the job, right?

The door creaked open, revealing Dick. There were bags under his eyes, and his cheeks were red and puffy. Your cold demeanor melted before it froze back over. "Are you alright, your royal highness?" you asked.

"What? Yeah, of course," he replied with a smile before quickly walking away.

Strange. Could it have been about last night? But you didn't care, right? You were his knight. And he was going to be king. And you sort of loathed him.

He was bratty, annoying, stupid, and a heartbreaker. You did not need that.

You watched as Prince Dick flirted with the neighboring princess, Princess Barbara. You were five feet behind Prince Dick, occasionally listening to his conversation with the princess whenever she laughed a little too loud.

Prince Dick led her to the fountain and gave her a kiss on the cheek; it wasn't incriminating, of course. But it was living up to his reputation of being an A-grade asshole and a flirt.

You looked away as the two continued flirting. You were not jealous, right? I mean, you were just a knight. You had no business being jealous.

You watched over Prince Dick every day. He was your responsibility. You had to follow him everywhere. You watched him flirt with countless men and women. You'd watched his breakdowns and his moments of triumph.

You had seen it all. But you felt empty every time. You were supposed to feel only one thing about him, and that was the need to protect him. That was it. But how have you changed over the past few years? He was becoming king soon. After that, he could get rid of you as he pleased.

You were a few feet behind him, watching as he entered his room before you took your place. You stood outside his door, guarding and protecting him from any possible harm.

Your eyes fell down to the doorknob. You wanted and needed to do so. An exchange of words wouldn't hurt, right?

Your hand fell to the doorknob, gripping it tightly. Your brain needed it to be locked, but your heart longed for it to be open.

Your cold demeanor melted as you twisted the doorknob, opening the door slowly. "What?" Dick called out, hearing the door creak open. "Hey," he said, turning around at the sound of your voice. "Oh, hey. Do you need something? I... did something happen?" he asked.

You smiled and shut the door, venturing further into his room. He tilted his head. "What's wrong?" he asked. You wrapped your arms around his neck, "This."

You leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss. Surprisingly, he kissed back. You quickly pulled away as you felt his hands slide down to your waist. "You and me... we can't happen, okay?"

"Why?" he asked obliviously. "I'm not a princess. I have no real title. And the kingdom would not approve, okay?" You replied, tears brimming your eyes.

"No, we can make this work, okay?" Dick tried reassuring you, but how? You were just a knight. It would never work.

"I do not wanna be your sidechick, Dick!" You yelled, tears falling down your eyes. "You're breaking my heart, love." His hand cupped your cheek.

You slapped it away. "We—we would be unhappy together! We would fight all the time and we would loathe each other, okay? Why can't you understand that?" Tears fell down your cheeks.

"Please, we can make this work, I promise," he whispered.

"No, Dick, we can't. We are too different." You gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and left.

You had nothing with Prince Dick Grayson. You were simply his protector.

CAN YOU TELL I LOVE ANGST??? OMG ANGST IS ANGSTING RN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG

CAN YOU TELL I WAS LISTENING TO "YOU'RE LOSING ME?" YES? WELL, FUCK ANYWAY

[milkchocolate-e]

In another life i would be a princess and you'd be my brave knight.

Every night we see eachother behind my father's back with the help of my anxious lady in waiting. We head to the secret family rose garden, where you pick a beautiful red rose and hand it to me.

“for you, my princess.”

[soulofapatrick]

Whispers in the Night - Greyson Hawthorne x Reader

Summary: You and Greyson are in a secret relationship and one night leads to you two deciding you want to tell to everyone

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Smut (p in v); fingering

Notes: I hope this is what the anon who requested Greyson spice was looking for! feedback is always welcome

Y/N’s POV

I had been living in the Hawthorne mansion for a few years now, ever since I was taken in by that man - Tobias Hawthorne - and became a part of their peculiar everyday. Adjusting to this new life had been a whirlwind, and I fund myself spending most of my time with Greyson Hawthorne, the enigmatic and brooding second eldest. His charm, mysterious aura and those smouldering grey eyes never failed to captivate me. 

Our relationship had evolved beyond friendship over those years. The intense chemistry between us was undeniable, and there was an unspoken understanding that went beyond words. We would steal secret glances when no one was looking, share playful smiles and engage in conversations that would leave our hearts racing. 

In the dead of night, we would meet in secluded corners of the mansion, hidden away from prying eyes. The library, the conservatory, the labyrinthine hallways – they all became the backdrop of our secret rendezvous. It was in these stolen moments that our connection deepened. We would talk about our hopes, fears, and dreams, laying bare our souls under the moon's gentle gaze. Our relationship flourished in stolen kisses, tender touches, and lingering embraces that spoke of longing and desire. Greyson's lips were a temptation I couldn't resist, and his kisses left me breathless, wanting more. Each stolen moment we shared was a testament to the powerful attraction between us, the magnetic pull that we couldn't ignore. 

Tonight was a sleepless night for me, I tossed and turned in my extravagant bedroom, unable to shake off the unsettling feeling that something was missing. A quiet longing had settled within me, leaving me restless and uneasy. My heart raced as I contemplated what to do, and before I could overthink it, I’m slipping out of bed. 

With determined steps, I navigate the familiar corridors of the mansion, avoiding the creaky floorboards that could betray my late-night escapade. My destination was always clear in my mind, even though I had never shared my intention with anyone. My heart pounds in my chest as I stand before Greyson’s bedroom door, hesitation for a moment.

What if I wake him? What if he’s not alone tonight? These thoughts whirl in my mind, but the pull is too strong to resist. I press my ear to the door, straining to catch any sign of movement or sound within. Only silence greets me. Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn the handle and let myself inside. 

As I enter Greyson’s room, I find hi at his desk, bathed in a gentle, silvery light of the lamp on his desk. He’s engrossed in a book, his attention fixated on the pages, and he doesn’t immediately notice my presence. His incredibly handsome features are illuminated by the gentle glow of the lamp, his tousled light blond hair catching the subtle highlights. His strong jawline and intense gaze remains fixe on the words before him. 

I watch in fascination, my heart pounding, as he flips a page with careful deliberation. His long fingers gracefully turn the parchment, and I can see the slight crease in his brow, evidence of the concentration he pours into his reading. His sharp cheekbones cast captivating shadows in the soft light, and the subtle curve of his lips hold an unspoken story, a secret that only I seem to know. 

The room is filled with the scent of old books and the quiet rustling of pages, a backdrop to Greyson’s solitary world. The way he immerses himself in the story, the way his grey eyes dart across the text, absorbing every word, it’s as if nothing else exists for him in this moment. 

A sense of  vulnerability washes over me as I stand in the doorway, feeling like an intruder in his private sanctuary. Yet, that same vulnerability is what makes me yearn for him more intensely. I long to be a part of his world, to share in his passions, to be the one who captures his attention in a way that no book ever could. 

The room remains silent, save for the soft rustling of pages as I approach Greyson's desk. My footsteps are a mere whisper, barely registering in the dimly lit space. When I reach his desk, I extend a hand and rest it gently on his shoulder, my touch a delicate caress meant to draw him away from the written world and into the reality of our desires. Greyson’s pale gray eyes, bordering on silver, finally lift from the pages, and they lock onto mine. There's a glimmer of surprise, quickly giving way to a slow, sensual smile that sends a thrilling shiver down my spine. The air between us is charged with unspoken longing, and in that moment, the world outside ceases to exist. 

His book is placed aside with deliberate care, his attention now fully on me. Greyson pushes his chair back just enough to allow me to straddle him. As I settle onto his lap, his hands, strong and confident, find my hips, their warmth a contrast to the cool, silvery light that bathes the room. 

The gray of his eyes darkens, deepening with an intensity that mirrors the desire building between us. We’re locked in unspoken understanding, the energy in the room palpable. I lean in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss, our connection deepening as our tongues dance in the silvery glow, and the lines between our desires and the mysterious world we live in blur, fading into the background. 

The moment our lips meet, it’s as if a spark ignites, setting us both ablaze with a feverish, pent-up passion. Greyson’s mouth is warm and inviting, and the taste of his desire is an intoxicating elixir. As our tongues entwine in a fervent, hungry dance, a fiery heart simmers within me, spreading like wildfire through my veins.

His hands on my hips are a potent combination of strengths and gentleness, guiding me and holding me close. The tension between us is palpable, the weight of our shared longing making each touch, each caress, feel charged with electric energy. I feel his desire growing beneath me, a firm, urgent need that matches the favour of my own. 

Our kiss deepens further, becoming a passionate symphony of desire and yearning. The lines between our desires and the enigmatic world of the Hawthorn mansion blur into nothingness. In this stolen moment, we are bound by our love, our insatiable attraction, and the silvery glow of the room, casting shadows that echo the secrets we’ve kept hidden for far too long. 

Finally, Greyson breaks the kiss, his lips parting from men with a sated smile that speaks of longing fulfilled. His hands find their way back to my hips, and with a strength that leaves me breathless, his lifts me from his lap. As he stands, carrying me effortlessly, the silver light dances around us, adding an almost ethereal quality to the moment. 

He gently places me down on the bed, and before I can react, Greyson is hovering over me, his desire and intensity palpable. Our eyes lock, a connection unspoken yet deeply understood, and I see the same longing mirrored in his grey-silver orbs. His hands slip under the fabric of my pyjama shirt, his touch feather-light as his fingers trail softly up my sides. With each delicate caress, he raises the fabric, his intent clear. As my shirt gradually slides upwards, he helps me pull it over my head, leaving me exposed and vulnerable under the silvery glow. 

Once the shirt is discarded, Greyson looks down at me, his gaze intense and filled with desire. His eyes, a mesmerising blend of grey and silver, seem to devour every inch of me, as if I am a forbidden treasure he’s longed to explore. As I lay there, exposed, a shiver of vulnerability washes over me. It’s as if I should hide, cover myself up, but Greysons intense gaze holds me in place. His eyes roam my body with an intensity that makes my heart race. 

I can feel his desire, his longing, and it’s both electrifying and terrifying. But then he’s speaking, his voice a soothing balm to my insecurities, “You’re so beautiful,” He says, his words a declaration that carries more weight than mere compliments, “Every single part of you is perfection.” 

In that sublime moment, bathed in the soft embrace of silvery light, my heart leaps with joy as Greyson and I share a profound and deeply intimate revelation. It's the very first time we've allowed those three powerful words to slip from our lips, unburdened by the secrets we've held for far too long. This utterance isn't merely a declaration of love; it's a testament to the extraordinary bond that transcends the confines of the enigmatic world we inhabit. 

Greyson, overcome with the same emotions that swirl within me, leans down, his lips capturing mine in a passionate and loving kiss. The connection we share is ignited with a heat that mirrors the years of desires we’ve harboured. Our moths meld together in a passionate dance, a promise of unquenchable love and longing. His hands, like explorers of undiscovered territory, glide along my bare skin, leaving a trail of electric sensations in their wake. I gasp into the kiss, each touch a testament to his unwavering affection, every caress a confirmation of the intense desire that binds us. 

As we lose ourselves in our passionate kiss, the air around us becomes heavy with longing, and I can feel the undeniable proof of Greyson’s desire pressing against my thigh. His hips grind down against mine, creating an exquisite friction that leaves no room for doubt about mutual want. My hands slide up his shoulders and into the soft tufts of hair at the nape of his neck while he leans on his elbows, the rough pad of his thumb caressing my cheek and a look of adoration crossing his face. It makes me feel shy and I’m flushing which has him leaning down and capturing me in another sweet and loving kiss that leaves me breathless. The kiss is slow and gentle, filled with tenderness and affection as we try to express what we can’t say. My body relaxes under his, feeling his body against mine and feeling how fast his heart is beating as he nibbles at my bottom lip

“I am so in love with you,” He murmurs, voice low and rich, barely above a whisper and has my breath catching in my throat at those words. His gray eyes are filled with honestly and love and it all feels so cliche as it feels like the rest of the world fades away. I’m having to clear my throat before I choke out those three words back, my heart swelling with happiness and love for this man hovering over me. 

He’s kissing me again, deepening the kiss as his hands move from my face to my hips, fitting perfectly in the dips as if his hands were made to sit there. As if my body was sculptured just for him and his hands, the way his fingers dip into the waistband of my panties with a silent question that has me lifting my hips for him. They’re on the floor with my shirt in seconds and his fingers, long and elegant are ghosting over my already soaked heat, gathering the arousal on them before circling my clit gently. A whimper of his name escapes my lips which he swallows in a searing kiss, fingers moving faster against my clit as his mouth drags hot and open mouthed kisses down my neck. 

“G-Grey…” I’m tugging at his shirt and jeans, needing him more than I ever could imagine. He soothes me, his mouth hot against my skin as he trails them down my neck. His teeth scraping against the skin as he sucks bright purple hickeys into it, as if he no longer cares about the secrecy of our relationship. As if he wants everyone to know I’m his and his alone and oh fuck, my head is falling back to hit the pillows in bliss. 

“Fuck baby,” He’s whining, pressing himself flush against me and capturing me in another breathtaking kiss, this one wanting more and it doesn’t take long for me to tangle my hand in his hair and tug experimentally. The breathy moan he lets out has me tugging harder, wanting to hear more and his hands grip my hips tightly, “You keep doing that…”

Before I can fully process the fervour of our intimate moment, Greyson’s urgency propels him off the bed. In a swift, almost effortless motion, his clothes begin to fall to the floor., revealing the breathtaking sight of his naked form in front of me. 

As he stands there, his pale skin is flush with desire and hear, an exquisite canvas brought to life under the silvery glow of the room. His every contour, every line, and every muscle are an embodiment of passion and yearning. The room seems to pulse with anticipation, mirroring the intensity of our desires. 

Lips are on my thighs, kisses scattering their way up, unshaved stubble burning the sensitive skin a little and as much as I’d love for him to eat me out, having seen the way he eats ice cream I need him. My hands reach for his blond locks, pulling him away from my aching core and back over me, drawing him for a slow and passionate kiss while wrapping my legs around his waist. He gets the hint, chest rising and falling quickly as he murmurs in my ear, “You need prepping baby.” It has me whining, back arching with need when he circles a pad of his finger around my wet heat. 

Any sound I make is swallowed by those addictive lips when he finally pushes a finger in, my walls immediately trying to clench around it and it draws a guttural sound from him. His lips trail down my neck and chest, teeth grazing my nipples before he’s sucking while beginning to move his finger inside me. All of it has my slamming a hand over my mouth as I try to stay quiet, especially when a second finger joins the first and he’s stretching me out. He’s rocking his hips into my leg, trying to be patient to make sure I’m comfortable but if he doesn’t stop soon I’m going to come

I know he can feel me fluttering around his fingers, a cheeky smile on his lips where they’re not biting another hickey into my skin, fingers curling and hitting that bundle of nerves that steals the air from my lungs. It’s as if he already knows my body with the way he has me teetering on the edge of bliss, my walls trying to keep him in and my thighs slamming shut around his arm. His thumb comes up to rub teasing circles into the hard bud and it has my body tensing as I cry our his name, wave after wave of ecstasy shuddering through my body and my mind blanks of everything except Greyson. 

“Grey… Fuck, Grey I need you.” I should feel embarrassed at how much I’m whining but the man is taking me apart like he knows my body and the way his lips curve into a small smile against my collarbone he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. His left hand finds mine as he teases me, his right hand reaching between us and grabbing his dick, his tip tapping against my clit a few times before he lines himself up. 

“Baby, are you sure?” He asks softly, pulling back enough to see my face and I’m nodding so fast I think I might get whiplash. I’ve never been so sure about anything else, needing Greyson here and now or I might die. It’s all the encouragement he needs to slowly begin to slide in, my eyes squeezing shut as he’s thicker than he could have prepared me for but he’s murmuring sweet nothings in my ear, lips ghosting my neck, “Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay baby I’ve got you sweetheart. It’s alright. Deep breaths. Relax baby girl. I’ve got you.” 

The whispers accompanied by his fingers gently working on my clit has me relaxing enough to accept him all the way, the moan he lets out when buried to the hilt makes me almost come again there and then. He holds himself still until the uncomfortableness turns into burning hot want and need and I’m cautiously rolling my hips against him, his gray eyes flying open to meet mine with a hungry look in them. He draws me into a hot and heavy kiss as he pulls out so just the tip is still in before he slides back in, filling me up and drawing whimpers and gasps from me. 

His other hands finds mine, holding both my hands either side of my head as my legs wrap around his hips to pull him in even further as he begins to gently rock his hips against mine. His body is pressed flush against mine as he captures my lips in such a gentle yet hot kiss, both of us gasping and moaning into the others mouth as he sets a slow and sensual pace. The coarse curls of his v-line catching my clit in such a way that has my legs tightening around him and my back arches as my hips roll to meet his slow thrusts. 

I can feel every bump and ridge against my walls with every pull out and his tip presses deliciously into that spongey spot every time he bottoms out. Low and guttural sounds rumble in his chest as our bodies shine with a thin layer of sweat, his tousled hair sticking to his forehead, pale skin flushing as he makes love to me. The sound of our panted breaths and soft whimpers and whines drowns out the sounds of the house staring and settling and all I can smell is Greyson, the earthy musk and woodsmoke clinging to him even after the shower I know he had earlier. It all adds to the slowly building tightness in my stomach and I’m moving my hips down to meet his, my back arching when he hits that sweet spot that has me seeing stars. 

“Grey… G-Grey…” I’m whining and his teeth are grazing my chin, adding to the pleasure as it feels like every fibre in my body is on fire, that coil tightening almost painfully as he drags against my g-spot with every thrust until I’m tensing up and my eyes roll back into my head. His hops begin snapping against mine, face buries in my neck and hands tightening on my hips where they’ve settled back to hold me in place as I ride out my high, thighs trembling, heels pressing into his back, nails digging half-moons into his shoulders and tugging almost painfully at his fluffy hair. 

“W-where-“ He’s gasping out a moan, his beginning to stutter and dick twitching against my walls, “Where can I-“ 

I’m cutting him off by wrapping my legs tighter around his hips, drawing him even deeper than either of us thought possible and that’s all it takes for Greyson to follow my climax. He pants against my neck, hips stuttering as he thrusts a few more times before he’s filling me up, teeth sinking into skin to muffle his moan before he’s collapsing on top of me and I’m untangling one hand from his to bring it to his hair. 

“I’m in love with you too.” I speak it so quietly I’m not sure he hearts it as he presses soft and loving kisses to my neck, his hips still moving in gentle circles of overstimulation against mine but then he’s pulling back enough to lean on his elbows over me, a beautiful smile gracing his face. 

“You’re mine darling.” He murmurs, voice low and rich and it sends a thrill though me as he slips out, standing to grab a bowl and clean us, a loving grin breaks out on his face. He’s grinning the while time he’s wiping away the mess sliding down my legs as I’m too spent and tired to move. He helps me into a pair of his boxers and a shirt of his that is baggy. My cheeks burn with an intense blush as Greyson stands there, his eyes locked on me with unwavering admiration. It's an intensity that sends a thrill down my spine, yet it also makes me feel exposed and vulnerable. The overwhelming attention becomes too much to bear, and I have to turn my body away, my embarrassment causing me to hide my face. 

With a tenderness that speaks of deep affection, Greyson climbs into the bed hind me. He moves with grace and strength that makes me feel safe and cherished. Gently, he rolls me over to face him, his touch as soothing as a whispered promise. His fingers caress my cheek, brushing my hair from my face, and in the soft silvery light, his gaze is a mixture of love and admiration. 

“You are so beautiful.” He reassures me, his voice low and filled with a depth of feeling that matches the emotions reflected in his eyes, “There's no need to hide. You are perfect just the way you are.” 

In his arms, under the embrace of the silvery glow, I feel a warmth that goes beyond physical desire. It’s the warmth of acceptance, of love, and the unbreakable bond we share. In this moment, we are free to be our true selves, shedding the masks we wear in the world outside. Our connection, marked by trust and affection, becomes more profound than ever, and I’m overwhelmed by a sense of belonging that has been a long time coming. 

“Can we tell the others?” I ask quietly, burying my face in his chest, feeling a warm rumble come from him. 

“I think we already did.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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The Inheritance Games Masterlist

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@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Hi just finished the Dawnbreaker story... 😭😭😭 what the fuck that was so sad!!!! 😭😭😭 you weren't kidding Jesus christ 😭

AhhhhhhRIGHT

That shit is so brutal 😭 I HIGHLY recommend you read the second anecdote next to get that other slice of Dawnbreaker lore to add the nail in the coffin when you learn about how Dr. Zayne knows about and sees Dawnbreaker.

It will W R E C K you 🥴 or at least it did me

[space-blue]

Did Caitlyn ever realize Grayson was murdered by Silco? This could be a bonding moment between her and Vi, both lost adult figures in their lives to Silco. Caitlyn sharing more about her relationship with Grayson and her philosophy of "i use this gun to protect people" could change Vi's outlook on enforcers. Vi remembering Grayson's deal with Vander could lead her to think "if Vander could work with enforcers, I can too".

Hopefully season 2 builds more on this.

Did Vi realise that her parents were murdered by the Kiramman on the Council at the time? Did she learn the lab she attacked was a Kiramman lab? Does she know that Cait's mom was there, pushing for a bigger crackdown that resulted in Vander, Claggor, and Mylo's death, and ultimately her imprisonment in Stillwater without trial (which the Council gave no shit about)?

Would sharing a death in that one moment... Matter?

Silco killed Cait's mentor, and Cait's mom killed Cait's entire family, twice over. Yeesh.

This isn't the sort of bonding I'd like to see, because then I'd be yelling at my screen about all the other deaths being addressed too.

Vi says once that Enforcers killed her parents, and that's because she's upset at Enforcer Cait being callous. But the fact she went and laid into the bed of Councilor's Daughter Cait instead of also connecting enforcers to their bosses is one of the reasons I feel like the show did Vi dirty for Caitvi's sake.

I want to see mad dog Vi. I want Vi to align with enforcers because she's alienated all of Zaun. She sees them as Silco lovers, people who forgot her and moved on and allied themselves with Vander's killer. She could see them as weak and needing her protection, and they don't seem to WANT her, then she'll give it against their will if she must, working with the other people who police Zaun against its will.

I want Zaun to hate Vi for being Jinx's sister and having made everything worse with her return. I want Zaun to hate her for running around with a Councillor and nattering to the Council and being a rat and a snitch.

Because there's no other way now that I can see, since we can't change season 1. Vi's done what she's done. I'd rather see the more twisted Vi I wanted for season 1 in season 2 than never.

I'd hate for Vi to become a cop because she bonds over death with her cop girlfriend. It'd be her not engaging critically with anything that happened in her life. Who makes such woeful decisions on emotions alone?

Well, Vi, apparently. So it'd probably be in character. But I hope not. Or I hope it's treated as dark and complex, and not an uwu girlies bonding moment.

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[theoccoven]

Ace smiled softly as he looked up at the older man. His big hand wrapped around Ace’s smaller waist. “You know…” Greyson raised a brow as Ace spoke. Jooheon walked back, settled behind the younger, his hand making a home on his left hip. He handed the younger a champagne flute. He settled his chin on his mole splattered shoulder. “I never thought this would happen.” They giggled while the two older men smiled fondly.

“Neither did we.”

[beneathashadytree]

ACCIDENTAL (AND FIRST) IN-CALL “I LOVE YOU” - GREYSON X OC

Warnings : none that I can think of!

Genre : fluff and puppy love☹️🫶🏽

Additional notes : Aaaand here comes my second Greyson commission made by the lovely @dawnbreakersgaze who has converted us all to Greysonism🙏🏽 I keep thinking what mannerisms and texting quirks I’d like to give him, but since we can’t text him and make sure of that in-game, I settled on just showing his unique personality through the actual content of the SMAU😋💗 Sorry for not responding to my DMs and messages at the moment!! I’m still fresh on the road to full recovery and have lots of delayed paperwork to fill out for my patients😵‍💫

Commissions are open here!

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[cherryredstarz]

Biting the LaDs boys

A/n: writing this in 5 minutes, want to bite them ☺️

Cw: biting, fluff, cuteness agression

Caleb 🍎

Bro has cuteness agression

WILL BITE YOU

Bites boobies, neck, ears—anything he can get his mouth on

He’s just a girl 🥺

He wears your bite marks like badges of honor

“Who bit you?”

“Oh this? My pipsqueak 😚”

Caleb is a F R E A K

Sylus 🐦‍⬛🥀

Sylus bites to show dominance, or possession.

Right on your neck, collar bones and shoulders

Especially thighs

Tara will ask if you’re okay all the time—you claim it’s a cat

Sylus will just grin knowingly

Rafayel 🐠

Rafs the one who gets bit, not you

He acts like it’s a war on him to make him like cats

“WHAT ARE YOU? A DAMN CAT?” he will hiss at you

“i like fishy ☺️”

You’ll just latch onto his cheek and munch away, but not hard.

Thomas has lots of questions later 😮

Zayne ❄️

You bite eachother equally

Zayne avoids your arteries or prominent blood vessels, and does the same for you, gently guiding your head when you get all bitey

The surgeon either ignores or doesn’t question any looks given by his colleges, especially Greyson

He’s a boobie biter, aside from just holding them

Xavier 👽

Xavier also has cuteness aggression

He will plop you down on his lap and nuzzle into your neck before taking a nice bite

He will fall asleep while mid chomp

Will beg for you to stay the night just to give you bedtime nibbles

You thought you knew hickeys until you met your possessive space baby

[ughbrie]

converging threads | zayne

part one | part two

⤜ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ- “And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

(Or… after the events of Chansia City, Zayne had started to avoid you. More than a week later, in the dead of night, he's outside of your door, struggling with his sense of self—blurring between two worlds.)

⤜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ- zayne x female reader

⤜ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ- angst, smut, & fluff

⤜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ- 8k

⤜ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ- nsfw, mdni, softdom!zayne, references to zayne's third anecdote (still in the dark), spoilers to zayne's main story branch (thorns under the moon) and four star memory (fragmented dreams), mentions of childhood trauma and violence, too much angst, oral sex (blowjob), dirty talk, penetration (p in v), clothed sex, riding, breast play, emotional sex, unprotected sex, and creampie.

⤜ ɴᴏᴛᴇ- As a dedicated Zayne main, I've always had a soft spot for Dawnbreaker!Zayne, I just want to give him the biggest hug! While he never explicitly took control of main story Zayne’s body, their connection through dreams and nightmares allowed them to see into each other’s lives. And so, I wanted to explore what it would be like if that connection blurred even further after the events of Chansia City, and how Zayne would react to it. I hope you enjoy reading!

The knock at your door was soft, barely audible over the hum of Linkon City outside. You might have missed it had you not been awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the restlessness clawing at your chest. Something felt wrong.

Hesitating for a moment, you peeled the blankets away and stepped towards the door. When you opened it, Zayne stood there, still as a statue. The warm glow from your apartment barely touched him; he lingered in the shadows of the hallway, his expression unreadable, like he was caught between two worlds—one where he stood before you and another far beyond, too distant to reach.

“Zayne?” Your voice was uncertain, your fingers tightening around the doorframe. He looked normal—his crisp shirt unwrinkled, his coat still shielding him from the cold. But his posture was rigid, like he was torn between memories, caught between the man you knew and something far more elusive, far darker. His breath came slow, controlled, but his fingers twitched at his sides, as if holding onto something unseen, something slipping away from his grasp.

It had been more than a week since you last saw him—more than a week since you clawed your way out of his dreamscape, fighting against the twisted phantoms of his nightmares and the suffocating pull of his uncontrollable evol. More than a week since he began avoiding you, and you couldn’t understand why.

You had searched for him—at Akso Hospital. 

You pushed open the door to Akso Hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose as you made your way down the familiar corridors. The sight of the bustling staff, the low murmur of nurses giving reports—it should have been comforting. But it wasn’t. Every step you took felt heavier, the weight of worry pressing down on your chest.

You were looking for Zayne. It had been a week since you’d seen him, and the silence between you was suffocating. You had tried calling, texting, but there was no sign of him.

You found Greyson near the nurses’ station, chatting with a few other doctors. He noticed you first, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his usual, easy smile appeared.

“Hey,” he greeted, his tone too casual. Too… practiced. “What brings you by?”

“I was hoping to see Dr. Zayne. Is he around?” You tried to keep your voice even, but the question felt like a weight in your chest.

Greyson shifted on his feet, glancing toward the hallway where Dr. Zayne’s office was. “Oh, you know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “He’s been buried in surgeries lately. Really busy.”

You frowned. “Busy? He hasn’t been answering my calls. I’ve tried everything.”

At the sound of your words, Greyson’s gaze flickered uncomfortably, and before he could answer, Yvonne appeared beside him, her bright smile almost too wide.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here today!” Yvonne chirped, her voice all sweetness, but there was a subtle edge to it. “Greyson’s right. Dr. Zayne’s probably just deep in work. You know how he gets, don’t you?”

You nodded, but the unease in your chest grew. “But… I haven’t been able to reach him. And he’s been avoiding me. I’m starting to get worried.”

There was a beat of silence before Yvonne glanced at Greyson, then back at you. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion almost too practiced. “Oh, you know Dr. Zayne,” she said, her voice a little too smooth. “He’s a bit of a workaholic. And, well, he’s been dealing with some… personal things lately. I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he’s ready.”

Greyson cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s just focused on… other things right now.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach. Something wasn’t right. Both of them were too evasive, too careful with their words.

“So he’s just been… avoiding me because he’s busy?” You asked, your voice thick with skepticism.

Yvonne’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes shifted just a little. “Exactly! He’ll reach out when he’s ready. Don’t worry.”

But you weren’t convinced. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t telling you. Before you could press further, Yvonne’s phone rang, and she quickly excused herself with a bright, almost rehearsed smile.

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Zayne’s just… well, Zayne. He’ll be back to his usual self soon enough.”

The words felt hollow, like a lie wrapped in a smile.

You turned to leave, the knot in your stomach tightening. Something wasn’t right, and you were more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

You even went to his home not two days after. You had been patient, given him space, but the silence between you was gnawing at you, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You arrived at his place and paused outside the gate, your heart sinking. The house sat dark and still, as though no one had been home for hours. The front door was locked, the quiet expanse of the yard untouched. No sign of Zayne’s car in the driveway. No movement behind the windows.

Frowning, you reached for your phone, calling him once more. It rang, and rang… and rang. But there was no answer. No familiar voice on the other end. You tried again, and again—each unanswered call tightening the knot of anxiety in your chest. It was unlike him. Even when he was busy at work, he always answered your calls. You thought things had changed between you—gone beyond just childhood friends, past the barriers you once had.

You hadn’t been able to ignore the way things had shifted between the two of you, how you’d shared more, laughed more, and even kissed—moments that felt like stepping into something real, something undeniable. And yet now, in the silence, you felt that connection fraying, slipping out of your grasp.

You reached for the gate, testing it, but it was locked tight. The metal was cold beneath your fingers, the weight of it pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t quite shake. You knocked gently on the gate, your hand hesitant against the metal, but there was no answer. No sound from inside. No footsteps echoing in the distance. Just more silence.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the door, wondering if you were missing something, if you were just being paranoid. But there was no denying the gnawing sense that you were being shut out.

Yet now, here he stood, unannounced, uninvited. The sight of him should have brought relief, but something was off, like he was a mere shadow of the man you knew.

“You should’ve let me in sooner,” he murmured, a wry attempt at a smile barely forming before fading just as quickly. His voice was softer than usual, almost exhausted, like the fight had been taken out of him. You stepped aside instinctively, letting him in. He didn’t move right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on you—as if memorizing every detail, confirming that you were real, that this wasn’t just another one of his nightmares.

Then, finally, he stepped through. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the two of you in the silence of your small apartment. He exhaled, but this time it was unsteady—as if releasing a breath he’d been holding for far too long. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his coat pockets, a feeble attempt to mask the unease rolling off him in waves.

“Zayne, where have you been?” The question came out before you could stop it. His avoidance had gnawed at you, making every second of silence between you feel like it stretched on forever.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor for a brief moment, like he was trying to find the right words. Then, finally, his voice broke through, hoarse and fragile, as if he’d been swallowing down too many words for too long. “Every time I close my eyes, I see a world where you don’t exist.”

The confession hit like thunder in your chest. Your breath caught, eyes wide with confusion, but something else too—fear, a strange sense of loss, creeping in. You stared at him, unable to comprehend, yet knowing there was so much more buried beneath the surface.

“It’s not just nightmares anymore,” he whispered, voice barely audible. His eyes flickered with something raw and unfamiliar—something you hadn’t seen in him before. “It’s bleeding into the day. I can’t… separate it. Separate me.”

You frowned, confusion tightening around your thoughts, heart pounding. “Separate what? Zayne, what are you talking about?”

He stiffened, jaw tightening as if he’d realized he’d said too much. He shook his head, dismissing the words before they could fully escape. “Ignore what I said.” he muttered, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Zayne…” You stepped closer, cautious but firm. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, but there was no humor in it. His hand drifted to his temple, pressing hard as if trying to force something out of his mind. “I don’t know how to explain it.” His voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in his composure. “I don’t even know if it’s mine to explain.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Zayne was rarely uncertain. But now, he looked lost, like he was trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. The man who had always been in control, who always had an answer, was unraveling in front of you.

“Then let me help,” you said softly, reaching for him.

He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists before loosening just as quickly, as if even that took too much effort. “I don’t think you can,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. The warmth of his body under your touch should have felt familiar, comforting, but there was something cold in the air around him that you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m here,” you reminded him gently, voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders sagged just slightly, his resolve faltering under the weight of something neither of you could name. 

You guided Zayne to the couch with a soft insistence, his steps heavy, like each one was taking him further away from something he couldn’t quite grasp. He didn’t resist, but his hesitation was palpable. You noticed the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he sat down, his back stiff, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

You sat next to him, your fingers brushing the fabric of his coat as you settled yourself. The space between you both felt charged, yet strained, like two magnets unwillingly attracted but refusing to align.

Your hand hovered near his arm, unsure, but you couldn’t ignore the impulse to reach out. The last few days—weeks—had felt like a slow, suffocating crawl through a fog. Seeing him like this, so unguarded, was both a relief and a deepening worry.

“Zayne…” You started, your voice low, soft. You weren’t sure how to approach him anymore. He had been pulling away, emotionally distant, and now, even his presence seemed fractured.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.

At the first touch, his body flinched. Not an outward movement, but a sharp intake of breath, like a quiet shudder that ran through him. His hazel-green eyes were blown wide, pupils dark and dilated, swallowing the soft color until only a thin ring of green remained. For a brief moment, he looked at you—through you—like he was caught between two realities, struggling to tether himself to the one in front of him.

Then, just as quickly, his gaze flickered away, his throat working around a breath that sounded too controlled, too measured. As if he was holding something back. The air between you thickened, the weight of his restraint pressing into the space between your fingers. His jaw tensed, a sharp line of tension beneath his skin, and yet—he didn’t move away.

With a careful breath, you let your hand rest against his arm, your fingers curling gently around the fabric of his coat. You felt him tense beneath your touch, but it wasn’t from discomfort. No, it was something else. Something deeper. His body shuddered again, more pronounced this time, and you could feel his muscles ripple under the strain of holding back.

“Zayne…” You said his name again, this time softer, as though you were speaking to someone who was slipping away. You moved a little closer, hoping that your proximity would ground him somehow, though you weren’t entirely sure how.

His voice cracked when he spoke, low and hoarse, like a man speaking to a ghost. “Every time you touch me… it’s like… I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, your hand still resting on his arm, waiting, watching him closely.

Zayne exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides as if struggling to find an anchor. “I’ve always suffered from nightmares,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “The same ones I’ve always had since I was young. But after what happened at Chansia City…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It didn’t stop when I woke up.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You knew Zayne had always been plagued by restless nights, but this—this was different. You thought back to that moment at Akso Hospital, when you had found him slumped over his desk.

His brow was creased with the weight of exhaustion. His breathing had been uneven, his hands gripping the fabric of his coat as if he were bracing himself against something unseen. You had hesitated before stepping closer, unsure if you should wake him. But the quiet distress on his face made the decision for you.

“Zayne…” you had whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The moment your fingers made contact, he jolted awake with a sharp breath, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t name. For a split second, it was as if he didn’t recognize you, as if he were somewhere else entirely.

But then, his gaze softened, reality bleeding back into him. His breathing was still heavy, his shoulders tense, but when you knelt beside him, concern written all over your face, he didn’t pull away.

Without thinking, you had reached out again, brushing his hair back in a quiet attempt to soothe him. His body sagged under your touch, the tension in his shoulders melting just enough for him to lean forward. And before you could react, he rested his forehead against your chest, his breaths uneven as if the simple act of being close to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You had stilled at first, heat creeping up your neck, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, you let him stay there, your fingers threading through his hair in slow, absentminded strokes. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the sound of his breathing evening out against you, his body losing some of its rigidness.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Just… let me stay like this for a while.”

And you had. Because for the first time, you realized how deeply tired he was.At the time, you thought he was just tired physically, but now you realized he was tired in a way that ran so much deeper as you watched him sitting on your couch, that same exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, only now it was accompanied by something far worse. He wasn’t just tired. He was unraveling.

“I thought I could ignore it,” he continued, pulling you back to the present. “I thought it would fade eventually. But it’s not stopping.” His fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ground himself. “It’s getting worse.”

You swallowed hard. “The nightmares?”

“They’re not just nightmares anymore.” He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching before loosening again. “They’re memories of a life that isn’t mine.” His jaw tightened, his entire body tense with something unreadable. “And the worst part?” His eyes flickered to yours, dark and conflicted. “I feel like I’m walking on air, seeing things that aren’t there, feeling emotions that aren’t mine.”

You frowned. “Zayne, what are you talking about?”

His throat worked around a response, but for a moment, he said nothing, only looking at you with something close to desperation. He shook his head as if trying to shake off the words before they could leave his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, but you weren’t about to let it go.

“It does matter,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for more than a week. You look like you’re about to fall apart, and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’? What’s happening to you?”

He let out a bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t even know if I can explain it. It’s… there’s another version of me. One I can’t escape. And he—” Zayne cut himself off abruptly, dragging a hand over his face. “He’s ruining everything.”

The conflict in his expression made your stomach twist. You had never seen him like this—so lost, so tangled in something that seemed beyond even his understanding. And when you reached for him again, your fingers brushing past his sleeve against his skin, you saw the way he shuddered.

At first, you thought his reactions stemmed from discomfort—that every shudder, every tensed muscle was his way of pulling away. But then you saw it. The way his breath hitched. The way his lashes fluttered shut for the briefest second, as if savoring the warmth of your touch. As if he had been starving for it. 

It wasn’t rejection. It was restraint.

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally spoke, his voice raw. “Every time you touch me…” He exhaled sharply, as if the words themselves were dangerous. “It’s like my world’s losing its sense of direction.”

His confession stole the air from your lungs.

“But it’s not just me that wants this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s what scares me.”

Your fingers curled slightly around his wrist, grounding both of you in the silence between words. Zayne’s breath was uneven, his body strung taut beneath your touch. You could see it—the war waging within him, the push and pull of something he refused to name. His fingers curled at his sides, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was holding himself back.

But from what? From who?

The question burned at the edges of your mind, but you didn’t voice it. Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You moved.

Slowly, you climbed onto the couch, onto him, your knees settling on either side of his thighs as you straddled his lap. His entire body went rigid beneath you, his breath stalling in his throat.

“You—” His voice broke, a warning tangled in desperation. His hands shot up, as if to push you away—but the moment his palms met your waist, he froze.

A violent shudder ran through him, his grip faltering but never leaving you. He barely held together, his fingers twitched against your sides, his body caught in an unbearable tension. 

“You shouldn’t…” he rasped, but even as he said it, his hands pulled.

Pulled you closer.

Pulled you flush against him, until there was no space left to retreat.

You gasped softly at the sudden contact, at the warmth of him, the way his body molded against yours like he had been starving for this. For you.

His head dipped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in a harsh, unsteady exhale. His grip on your waist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel how badly he was struggling.

“Zayne…” You whispered his name, hands lifting to cradle his face, to guide him to look at you. He didn’t resist, but the moment your fingers brushed against his jaw, his eyes fluttered shut—his entire body reacting as if your touch was something he had been craving but forbidden from having.

“Every time you touch me…” He repeated, his voice was raw, nearly fractured. “I feel like I’m slipping deeper.”

Your fingers trembled slightly against his skin. “Slipping into what?”

His jaw clenched. His hands trembled against your waist, caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

“Him.”

The word sent a chill down your spine.

Zayne’s eyes finally opened, and what you saw there made your breath hitch.

Something was breaking inside him.

Something was bleeding through.

Like the fragile moment before dawn—when night still clung to the sky, desperate to remain, yet the light pressed forward, inevitable. A battle between darkness and the coming sun, neither willing to yield.

You didn’t know who he was, or why Zayne was fighting so hard to keep him at bay, but you could feel it—how much hewas longing for you. How much Zayne himself was afraid of that longing.

Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders, steadying him, grounding him. “You’re still you,” you murmured. “No one else.”

His fingers flexed against your waist, his breath ragged. “Then why does it feel like every time you touch me… I’m losing control of myself?”

He was slipping, unraveling, caught between two selves—one who had you, and one who had only ever ached for you.

And for the first time, Zayne wasn’t sure which one he wanted to be.

You sighed, your fingers curled against his shoulders, gripping him just a little tighter. His body was warm beneath your touch, but the tension in him never eased. If anything, it worsened.

“Zayne,” you whispered, searching his face. “Help me ease your mind, tell me everything. Tell me about him.”

His expression darkened instantly. His hands, still gripping your waist, stiffened before pushing you back—just slightly, just enough to put distance between you.

“No.”

The refusal was sharp, final.

But you didn’t let go. “Zayne, please.”

His jaw locked, his breath coming out in harsh exhales as he tried to rein himself in. But you had already seen it—the flicker of something raw in his gaze, the weight pressing down on him like it was crushing him from the inside.

He turned his head away, his grip tightening before he forced himself to let go. “I don’t want to tell you.” His voice was quieter now, but no less strained. “Because if I do…” His throat bobbed, his hands clenching into fists. “What if you look at me differently?”

Your chest ached. “Zayne—”

“He’s not me,” Zayne bit out, his voice lower now, edged with something close to rage. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes as if anchoring himself. “I don’t care what I see, what I feel—he is not me.”

You frowned, your heart pounding. “I didn’t say he was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, his fingers digging into you much harder before he wrenched them away, as if touching you made it worse. “It shouldn’t matter. Because whatever he is—whatever he’s done—I am not him.”

His voice cracked at the end, his composure slipping, and it hurt more than anything. Not because of what he wasn’t telling you, but because he was carrying it alone, letting it eat away at him like he deserved it.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “Zayne, I don’t care what you think this means. I don’t care what’s bleeding through or what memories aren’t yours.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “What hurts me isn’t who you were or weren’t—it’s this.” You gestured between the two of you, the distance he was trying to wedge between you. “It’s you shutting me out, punishing yourself like you have to carry this alone.”

Zayne let out a sharp breath, his fingers curling into fists against the curve of your waist. His grip was tense, hesitant—like he was still fighting himself.

You watched him carefully, the weight of his silence pressing against your chest. He had been resisting, keeping himself locked away behind walls you couldn’t breach. But this time… this time, something shifted.

And then you realized it.

It wasn’t your persistence that made him falter. It wasn’t even the promise that you would accept him, no matter what. It was the fact that you told him it hurt you too. That his silence, his self-inflicted suffering, didn’t just wound him—it wounded you.

Zayne’s throat bobbed, his gaze flickering, as if weighing the consequences of speaking the truth. His fingers flexed against you, his breath uneven.

Finally, he asked, “Do you know why I became a doctor?”

You hesitated. “Because you wanted to save people.”

“Partly,” He let out a bitter laugh. “But mostly because I spent my entire childhood dreaming of a man butchering them.” His hands raked through his hair, gripping at the strands.

“It started when I was twelve.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I didn’t understand it then. I just knew that every night, I saw his hands, covered in blood. I heard the screams, felt the cold metal of a blade I never held.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “And every morning, I woke up terrified that I’d become him.”

You sucked in a quiet breath.

“That’s why I became a doctor,” Zayne muttered, his voice barely audible now. “To erase him. To bury him. Every life I saved was another step away from him.” His gaze snapped back to you, and there was something close to desperation in it.

He paused, and his gaze softened just slightly as it met yours, though there was still that edge of desperation.

“And… I wanted to help you, too. Since the first time I saw you struggling with your heart… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like that.”

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

“But now?” His gaze locked onto yours, and you almost flinched at the intensity in his eyes. “Now it’s not just nightmares. After Chansia City… it’s like something cracked. Like I bled through him.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His fingers flexed against your skin, then curled into a fist, as if the words physically hurt to say. “I used to only see flashes. His world, his sins—they were nothing more than fragments. But now? I see his everyday life.” His voice dropped lower, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “I see him waking up in an empty apartment, walking through streets that no longer have names. I see him looking for something—someone—who was never there.”

Your chest tightened. “Zayne—”

“And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

Your heart pounded.

His pain was something you could see, something you could feel in the way he held you too tightly, in the way he refused to look away, as if afraid you’d vanish if he did.

“Does it change anything?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Zayne’s breath stilled.

“No, it doesn’t,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I want you. I do. I’ve never denied that.” His fingers curled against your skin, holding you closer. “But this… it’s never felt like this before.”

His gaze darkened, his brows drawing together. “Like I can’t go a second without feeling you, without needing you right here. And I don’t know if it’s just me—if it’s always been me—or if it’s him. But it doesn’t matter.” His voice dropped lower, rough with something unspoken. “Because either way… I still want you.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’re here, right now. Whatever he feels, whatever he wants—this moment belongs to you.”

His throat bobbed, the conflict in his gaze raw and unfiltered. His fingers twitched where they held you, as if he wanted to push you away and pull you closer all at once.

And then—finally—he whispered, “I don’t know if I can separate us anymore.”

Zayne’s breath hitched, his hands still gripping your waist like a man on the verge of breaking. His body was rigid beneath yours, every muscle coiled tight with restraint. His stormy eyes flickered between your lips and your gaze, warring with something unseen.

You could feel it—the way he was holding himself back, the way his fingers twitched against your skin like he was fighting the instinct to pull you in.

And then, just when you thought he might push you away—he moved.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss rough, almost desperate. A sharp inhale left him as his fingers tightened at your sides, pressing you flush against him. It wasn’t careful, wasn’t measured like everything else about him. It was hurried, hungry, as if he had been drowning for far too long and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

Yet even in his desperation, there was hesitation—a tremor in his touch, a battle within him. His grip faltered, his breathing unsteady, as if his own emotions were overwhelming him.

For a moment, he slowed, his lips ghosting over yours, softer now—less frantic, more reverent. His fingers traced up your back, like he was memorizing every inch of you, terrified you might disappear.

But then when you surged forward to deepen the kiss, something in him snapped.

His restraint shattered as his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. His other hand dug into your waist, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath against your lips, his body trembling beneath your touch.

It wasn’t just desire—it was longing. A desperate, aching need that had been simmering beneath his skin for far too long.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

He kissed you harder, as if trying to chase away the ghosts of a world where you didn’t exist—where he had spent endless nights reaching for something that was never there.

Zayne’s breathing was ragged as he suddenly tore himself away from you, his forehead pressing against yours, his grip on your waist still firm but trembling. His chest rose and fell in unsteady heaves, as if he had just surfaced from deep waters.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped, his voice thick with something raw and desperate. His fingers flexed against your waist before slowly dragging up your sides, his touch both grounding and possessive. “But I need to feel—” His words cut off, a quiet ‘fuck’ slipping from his lips as he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stop.

You could see it—feel it. The battle raging within him. The desperate need to claim this moment as his own, to separate himself, to make sure that this—this longing, this ache, this hunger—was his, and not something bleeding over from the nightmares that haunted him.

His fingers ghosted over your arms before gripping your wrists, guiding them up to rest against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms, erratic and heavy, proof of his struggle. His eyes searched yours, dark with emotion, pleading for something he couldn’t voice.

“I need to know it’s me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not him. Not the dreams. Just… me. But I don’t trust myself enough not to hurt you.”

His fingers brushed your skin, hesitant, reverent—like he was afraid of his own hands.

“But I trust you.”

The words felt heavier than anything else he had said tonight, laced with the weight of every nightmare, every fear, every ghost of a life that wasn’t his. He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I need you to take control,” he murmured, each syllable careful, deliberate. “I need to know this is real—that you’re real—that I’m real.” His hands curled into fists before he forced them to relax against you. “Because if I let go now… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

There was no mistaking what he meant. No mistaking the conflict in his gaze—the desperation tangled with restraint, the need warring with self-loathing.

Your hands slid up from his chest to cup his face, fingertips brushing against the sharp angles of his jaw. 

“It’s you, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice steady, certain. “You.”

You tilted his face up, brushing your lips against his—a whisper of a touch, just enough to tether him to the present, to this moment with you. He shuddered beneath your touch, his hands tightening at your waist as if anchoring himself.

“I’m here,” you continued, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another along the line of his jaw. “This is real. We’re real.”

A sharp exhale left him, his resolve breaking little by little as you pressed against him. His grip on your waist faltered, then returned, stronger—desperate.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured against his skin.

He shuddered at your words, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he wrestled with the warring emotions inside him. When they opened again, the desperation had intensified, the dark gray irises nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils.

“Show me,” he rasped, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. “Make me believe it.”

You took your time, trailing kisses along his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt as your lips travelled down. You wanted to savor this moment, to make sure he knew it was him, that this was real.

As you sank to your knees before him, you looked up at Zayne through your lashes. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. You wanted to erase every nightmare, every fear, every shadow that haunted him.

“You’re real,” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his cloth-covered arousal. “This is real.”

With a steadying breath, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bulge straining against his zipper. You could feel the heat of him, the throbbing need, and it made your own body ache in response.

You worked slowly, unzipping him with deliberate care, letting your fingers brush against his arousal as you did. He was already hard, the thick length of him stretching the fabric of his boxers. 

You haven’t seen him naked before, and crossing this line made your thighs clench. Glancing up at him, you caught his gaze, holding it as you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect, the swollen head already glistening with need.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around the thick base of Zayne’s cock, giving him a firm squeeze as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful, Zayne.”

Slowly, teasingly, you started to stroke him, your soft palm gliding along his hard length. You could feel every throbbing vein and ridge, committing the shape of him to memory.

Leaning in, you breathed over his swollen cock head, then, with a deliberate slowness that was almost torturous, you dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein that ran from base to tip. You lingered at the sensitive spot just below the head, swirling your tongue around it before giving it a firm press.

Zayne shuddered and groaned, his fingers flexing in your hair as you dragged your tongue back down to the base, your hand following the same path. When you reached the bottom, you dipped your tongue into the neat little slit at the tip, tasting the first salty drops of his arousal.

Savoring his flavor, you wrapped your lips around the swollen head, your soft mouth stretching around his impressive girth. You suckled gently, your cheeks hollowing as you began to take him deeper, inch by hard inch.

“Your mouth… it feels so g-good…” he groaned.

The praise that escaped his lips made the flush on your face more evident. As your lips moved slowly down his shaft, encasing him in the slick heat of your mouth, your tongue undulated along the thick vein on the underside as you took him deeper, until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

You held yourself there for a long moment, relishing the heavy, throbbing weight of him, the musky scent of his arousal flooding your senses. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you began to bob your head, taking him deeper into your throat with each downward motion.

Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, stroking and squeezing as you sucked him. You could feel him growing harder, the thick length of him pulsing against your tongue as you pleasured him.

“Fuck… just like that…”

You couldn’t help but moan around his cock at his groans, your brain committing the sounds to memory. You doubled your efforts when you felt he was close, sucking harder, stroking faster, your tongue never still as it lapped and swirled and caressed every hard, throbbing inch of him.

His grip on your hair tightened, his hips starting to piston forward, fucking your mouth as you sucked him with wild abandon. You could feel his body tensing, his breath coming in harsh pants and groans. 

“I can’t… I can’t hold back much longer…”

And then, with a roar that was nearly feral in its intensity, he came. His cock jerked and throbbed as it erupted, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum down your eager throat.

You swallowed it all, working your throat to milk every last drop from his pulsing length. The taste of him was intense, the salty-sweet flavor of his essence exploding on your tongue.

As the waves of his release began to ebb, you slowly pulled back, letting his still hard cock slip from your lips with a lewd pop. You licked your lips, savoring the lingering taste of him as you gazed up at Zayne with a look of pure, sated desire.

“Zayne,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s you. This is you. You’re real.”

You placed a soft, lingering kiss on the tip of his cock before nuzzling your cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with a smile that was pure tenderness mixed with deep, abiding lust.

As the last tremors of his intense orgasm faded, Zayne reached down and gently but firmly pulled you up by your arms, urging you back into his lap. You went willingly, straddling his hips as you sat facing him.

His hands slid around to your back, one resting high on the curve of your shoulder blades, the other splayed across the small of your back, pulling you flush against his strong chest. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Gazing into your eyes, Zayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, with hunger, with a desperate need to claim you, to make you his.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting himself on your lips and tongue.

As you both lost yourselves in the kiss, you could feel Zayne’s cock, still semi-erect and slick with your saliva, nudging against your core. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you ache with a renewed desire.

Almost unconsciously, your hips began to move, grinding against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. You could feel the heat building between your thighs, the dampness of your arousal soaking through your panties.

Zayne groaned into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your hips rolling against his. His cock twitched and began to harden further, growing thicker and longer with each passing second.

Breaking the kiss, Zayne trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. “Ride me,” he growled against your skin, his voice low and rough with renewed desire. “I need to feel you, all of you, surrounding me, consuming me, making me forget everything but your name.”

You shuddered at his words, at the raw, primal need in his voice. Reaching down, you pushed your panties aside, baring your slick, needy sex to the cool air and his heated gaze. You could feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, a testament to how much you wanted him, needed him.

With a roll of your hips, you positioned yourself over his hardening length, feeling the thick head nudging against your entrance, you slowly sank down. You were so wet, so ready for him, that he slid inside you with a single, smooth thrust.

You both groaned at the sensation, your inner walls fluttering and clenching around his thickness as he stretched and filled you completely. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it brushed against your sensitive flesh, igniting nerve endings you didn’t know you had.

Zayne’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him. You started slowly, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt.

“You feel so good, love.” he murmured, his lips parted open.

With each downward motion, you could feel the pleasure building, the coil of tension in your core winding tighter and tighter. 

You arched your back and Zayne leaned forward, freeing your breasts from the confines of your shirt as he lifted it by the hem. He captured one straining nipple in his mouth, suckling and nipping at the sensitive bud. His free hand slid from your hip to the juncture between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the swollen nub in tight, fast circles.

You cried out, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Your hips moved faster, rising and falling in a frantic rhythm as you chased your pleasure. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, spurring you both on.

His other hand inch upward, holding your head firmly, his fingers tangling in your hair, Zayne tilted your chin up to gently force your gaze to meet his intense, hazel-eyed stare. He let out a strangled moan, “Say my name, love. Come on…”

Zayne’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he guided your increasingly desperate movements. His own hips surged up to meet yours, driving his thick length deeper, harder, faster into your clutching heat.

“Zayne,” you breathed, “You’re the only one I want, the only one I need.”

His breathing grew ragged, each exhale escaping through gritted teeth as he lost himself in the slick slide of your bodies joining again and again. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixing with the staccato cries spilling from your lips.

Zayne’s hand moved from your clit to your breast, squeezing the soft mound roughly as he pinched and rolled the stiff peak between his fingers. He leaned down, his hair falling forward as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, tasting the salt of your skin.

“Fuck, just like that…” he growled against your neck, his voice strained. “S-Say my name again—please…”

His words sent shivers down your spine, making your inner muscles clench around him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched you, filled you, owned you.

“Z-Zayne…!” you moaned.

Zayne’s thrusts became more erratic, more desperate at the cry from your lips. The hand on your hip slid around to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him as he pounded up into you. The couch creaking with each surge of his hips, the sound mingling with your cries and his grunts.

You could feel the tension building in your core, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter as you climbed towards your peak. Your nails raked down Zayne’s nape as you held on for dear life.

With a harsh curse, Zayne slammed up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his release overtook him. His cock jerked and pulsed inside you, painting your insides with his hot release.

The sensation of his release pushed you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, melting into him as your inner muscles clamped down around him while you came apart in his arms.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air as the aftershocks of your release rippled through you. Zayne’s arms tightened around you, drawing you in close, his heartbeat steady beneath his damp shirt, grounding you in the moment.

In the quiet aftermath, as your breath began to steady, Zayne placed a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there as if memorizing the moment. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw and heavy with emotion. “For this. For everything.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding him to look at you. “You have me, Zayne,” you said softly, your words steady and sure. “No matter who you are, no matter who you become—I’ll never walk away.”

He paused as his fingers brushed gently across your damp cheek.

He spoke, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “All I know now is that… the only thing I’m sure of,” he began, his forehead resting against yours once more, “is you.” He swallowed, his grip around you tightening as if trying to ground himself in the present.

You thought that would be the end of it, but he exhaled, a shudder racking through him.

“I never believed in fate,” he added, his voice low, but without any trace of bitterness—only a quiet acceptance. “But now, I do. Because no matter where I am, or who I am… you’re the constant. The one thing that’s always been real.”

He paused, his words heavy with an ache that tightened your chest. “And I think… I think I’m meant to love you in every life, in every timeline. I’m meant to be with you. And no matter how complicated it gets, no matter what happens, I’ll always end up finding you.”

His grip on you tightened further, pulling you closer, as if to make sure you were really there. “Now… I can’t help but feel… bad for him.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, thick with weight and regret. “He doesn’t have you. He doesn’t get to have this—this connection.” His voice wavered, raw with something unspoken. “And I think that’s what hurts the most. No matter how much I try to separate myself from him, I can’t shake the feeling that a version of me is still reaching for you. That somewhere… in every universe, in every life, even if you don’t exist in it—it will always be you.”

part one | part two

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 if you want to check out more of my writings, head on to here — masterlist.

[milkchocolate-e]

Cuddling close and sharing eachother's warmth on a cold morning is my love language.

[risskia]

can you write how each of the lads men would react when you tell them you want children? (or it could be any of them) (your fics are nice btw)

Reply: Yes that is so cute!! ────────────────────

✦ You tell the LADS men that you want children ✦

PAIRINGS: Xavier x reader, Caleb x reader, Sylus x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader TAGS: slight suggestive content, mostly wholesome cute fluff, short blurbs

────────────────────

“Xavier, I want to have kids.” You announce.

You two are currently in Jeremiah’s greenhouse, helping him tend to his flowers. Xavier’s hands still on a potted plant as he looks to you, his eyes wide.

 “Right here?”

“W-what?” Your face turns red. “No! Of course not! I meant, when we get back h–”

But Xavier is already pushing you up against the cool glass of the greenhouse, his chest against your back and fingers dipping below your waistband.

“Too late,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your sensitive neck. “ You’re absolutely right – I want children too. Right now.”

You two are at Sylus’s favourite restaurant when you casually bring up that you want children.

Sylus’s hand stills, as he looks up at you from his steak with an indiscernible expression. You peer at him nervously, trying to gauge his reaction. Does he want children too? Is he okay with the idea of raising them?

“Anyways – that was just a thought – let’s talk about something else.” you quickly say.

The next day ── .✦

“Sylus!” You call out as you push open the door to Sylus’s apartment. You kick something by accident – a gold pacifier? You look down at it, beyond perplexed.

As you step into his apartment, you’re met with the sight of piles upon piles of various baby clothes and toys, stacked neatly across the living room and dining hall. You’re speechless. 

Sylus walks out into the living room in nothing but his red silk pajamas. He mimics your aloof expression when he sees you.

“What? You said you wanted children.”

“Sylus – it was just an idea!”

You notice something : ever since you’ve casually mentioned wanting children (you don’t think Caleb would even notice), Caleb has been seeming really fatigued, sometimes even dozing off in the middle of the day just to wake up with a start.

You don’t question why and just go about your day as usual.

Until one night, you wake up from a bad dream. You sit up groggily, yawning and rubbing your eyes tiredly, just to find Caleb missing from bed.

Instead, a dim glow radiates from the study desk. Caleb sits at it, carefully jotting down notes on a notepad that you’ve never seen before. You sneak over, and tackle him by surprise. Caleb lets out a yelp of surprise as you jump onto his lap.

“Pips! What are you doing, being awake right now?” he asks hoarsely. You huff. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” You turn to look at his notes – and that's when you realise that they’re all about pregnancy and taking care of newborns. You giggle as you flick through his notes, and Caleb just looks at you with resignation.

“This is what you’ve been losing sleep over? You’re adorable.” you tell him, twisting over in his lap to squeeze him affectionately by his cheek. “10 health recipes for pregnancy? How to take care of newborns… side effects of pregnancy and how to manage them…damn, you’re thorough.”

“I need to come prepared, okay?” Caleb nips at your fingers. “I’ll make sure to take care of you when you’re bearing our child. I’ll make sure you have everything and anything you need. All for my wife.”

When you tell him that you want children, Zayne pauses for a second, looking at you carefully.

“Are you sure?” He looks at you with a gentle expression, reaching a hand out to hold yours. “I need you to be completely certain. This is a huge decision, after all.”

“Positive,” you reply eagerly. “Zayne, I’ve been thinking this over for months.”

“Okay. Give me a second.” Zayne pulls out his phone and clicks onto a contact, holding it to his ear.

“Greyson?” He pauses. “I’ll be taking a one week leave.”

Your jaw drops. Zayne? Taking a whole week off his job? That is unheard of. Zayne continues to dish out a couple of instructions to his assistant over call before he quickly hangs up. With his full attention back to you now, he leans forward and kisses you softly on the cheek.

“Zayne,” you say slowly. “What…why…”

“You want children, right?” A playful smile tugs at his lips. “We’ll have to work on that all week. That way, it can be guaranteed that you get what you want.”

Your face heats up at the implications of his words. Zayne leans forward once more, this time pressing his warm lips to yours.

“Let’s start now.”

“...so that’s why I want children.”

Rafayel gets flashbacks to those birth-giving videos he has the misfortune to chance upon.

“But, darling,” Rafayel says, sounding pained. “Giving birth looks excruciating. What a miserable process. I don’t want you to see you in pain, ever.”

You laugh at his words, squeezing his cheek. “Rafayel, it’s going to be OK.”

“Are you sure?” he frets. “I wish there was a way you don’t have to go through the suffering, ever. I wish I could be the one giving birth.”

When he kisses you, he is extra gentle in the way he holds and touches you. His hands snake down to your thighs as he pulls back to look at you with wide, adoring eyes.

──────────────────── .✦

[soulofapatrick]

A Night To Remember - Greyson Hawthorne x reader

Summary: Greyson and you dance at Jameson and Avery's wedding

Words: 2k

Warnings: none

Notes: Requested by @blocked-zombieartist - sorry it took so long to get writing!

Y/N’s POV

I sit in the elegant ballroom of the Hawthorne Mason, the soft strains of music filling the air as Jameson and Avery take the centre of the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife. The room is awash in a warm, golden glow, casting an almost magical aura over the entire scene. It’s a fairytale setting for a love that has endured countless trails. 

Avery’s gown shimmers like moonlight on the water as she moves gracefully in Jameson’s arms. Her laughter fills the room, pure and infectious, and it’s as if all the stars have aligned to make this night perfect. I can’t help but sigh contentedly, overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment. 

Just when I think the moment couldn’t get any more perfect, a familiar presence by my side catches my attention. Greyson Hawthorne, the enigmatic and elusive member of the Hawthorne family, settles into the seat next to mine. His presence has a way of commanding my attention, even in a room full of distinguished guests. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Greyson’s voice is soft, his gaze fixed on the dance floor. 

I turn my head to look at him, and the corners of my lips curl into a small smile, “Absolutely, they look so happy.” 

There’s a sadness to my voice that even I hear and I know Greyson hears it as he shifts in his seat, as if offering me his shoulder to lean on and I do just that. His shoulder is a solid, reassuring pressure as I lay my head against it. The gesture a testament to the bond that has grown between us, one that transcends the complexities of the Hawthorne inheritance. 

His suit, impeccably tailored, emits a faint whiff of cedarwood and leather, a scent that has become oddly comforting to me. His hand, strong and warm, finds its place in mine on my lap as if it belongs there. 

As Jameson and Avery sway to the gentle rhythm of the music, Greyson and I share a moment of quiet companionship. There’s something comforting in the silence between us, an unspoken understanding that we’re both witnesses to a love story that defies the odds. I catch the subside tightening of his jaw, the flicker of emotions in his eyes, though he remains reserved. I steal a longer glance at Greyson’s profile his expression inscrutable as ever. There’s a mystery that surrounds him, one I’ve been drawn to from the moment I stopped into this whirlwind of intrigue and fortune. But in this moment, as we watch two of my dearest friends celebrate this love, I find solace in the simplicity of the present. 

The song begins to wind down, and Jameson and Avery’s first dance comes to a graceful conclusion. There room bursts into applause, and the couple shares a tender kiss. I can’t help but wipe away a tear, moved by the depth of their love and the beauty of their union. 

As if on cue, Jameson and Avery call the guests up to join them on the dance floor. I hesitate, content to watch the festivities unfold from my vantage point next to Greyson. But he has other plans. Greyson gently squeezes my hand, his touch firm and reassuring, and reassuring, and he stands up. 

“Come on Mouse,” He says, his voice carrying a hint of a soft smile, “It’s time to celebrate with them.” 

I try to protest, knowing that I’m not much of a dancer and feeling a bit of self-conscious. But Greyson is persistent, and with a mix of charm and determination, he guides me to my feet. 

Reluctantly, I follow him to the dance floor, my heart racing with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. As the music starts up again, Greyson’s hand finds its place on the small of my back, and together, we sway to the rhythm. His touch is both grounding and electrifying, and I can’t help but feel a growing connection between us. 

The other guests join in, and the dance floor becomes a whirlwind of joy and celebration. The world outside fades away, leaving only the music, the laughter, and the warmth of Greyson's presence. In that moment, the enigmatic Hawthorne heir and I are simply two people celebrating the love of our friends, losing ourselves in the beauty of the present. The dance floor comes alive with the energy of the other guests, and the music pulses through our veins. The world outside fades away, and for now, it’s just the music, the laughter, and the warms of Greyson’s presence. 

Greyson's hand, warm and sure, exerts a gentle pressure on the small of my back, sending an electric thrill coursing through my body. Our movements on the dance floor remain perfectly synchronised, but it's the intensity of his gaze that holds me captive. Those enigmatic eyes, which I've found so elusive in the past, now gleam with a newfound playfulness. His lips curl into a sly smile, revealing a side of him I've rarely seen

“You know, “ He says, his voice low and intimate, “I’ve been waiting for a dance with you all evening.” 

His words, spoken in a low and intimate tone, hang in the air like a tantalising promise. My heart flutters, and I find myself breathless and lost for words. It’s as though the rest of the world has faded into the background, leaving only Greyson and me in our private cocoon of attraction and desire. 

As As Greyson's voice continues to envelop me like a velvety caress, I'm acutely aware of the nearness of his body. The enchantment of the dance floor seems to swirl around us, drawing us into a private world where only the two of us exist. With each word, each sultry intonation, the burning curiosity within me intensifies. I yearn to hear more, to unravel the mystery of Greyson Hawthorne, to understand the depths hidden behind those captivating eyes.

Yet, simultaneously, there's a part of me that longs to hide my face, to shield myself from the overwhelming allure of his charm. The tension between these conflicting desires rages within, creating a thrilling storm of emotions. It's as if Greyson possesses the power to render me utterly vulnerable with his magnetic presence and his artful flirting.

I feel the warmth radiating from his body, like a protective cocoon encasing us both, and every small movement, every subtle brush of his fingers against my back, deepens the sensation of being drawn further into the enchanting dance. It's a dance of desire and anticipation, an unspoken connection that intensifies with each passing second.

Swept up in the mesmerising spell of our shared moment, I feel as though I’m melting from the inside out, like wax beneath the heat of his seduction. I can’t help but surrender to the whirlwind of emotions that courses through me—nervousness mixing with uncontrollable desire, creating a heady cocktail of longing and attraction. 

In the dimly lit room, Greyson's knowing smile seems to deepen the intrigue of the moment. He leads me with a confidence that is both alluring and reassuring, his fingers laced with mine as we escape the bustling ballroom. The door closes behind us, and we find ourselves enveloped in an intimate silence. 

The muted sounds of celebration next door are like distant memories, and in the privacy of this secluded space, the air becomes charged with anticipation. It's as though the world outside has faded away, leaving only Greyson and me, locked in an unspoken dance of attraction. 

As he draws me closer, his body aligns perfectly with mine, and I can feel his heartbeats matching the rhythm of my own. Greyson's hands gently grasp my hips, his touch both firm and gentle, and with a sudden and daring move, he lifts me off the ground. I let out an astonished gasp, my heart racing, and he spins me around in his arms, creating a whirlwind of sensations that leave me breathless. My laughter mingles with the joy of the moment, and I can’t help but feel a blush rising to my cheeks. Greyson’s magnetic charm, combined with his audacious actions, is a heady cocktail that has me completely disarmed. In this exhilarating dance, I’m no longer able to keep the whirlwind of emotions at bay. 

As Greyson sets me down, our eyes lock, and the world seems to stand still. In that moment, the realisation hits me like a tidal wave. It's not just attraction that courses through my veins; it's something far more profound and all-encompassing. Love, deep and enduring, has been quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

The sudden panic that washes over me is palpable. The intensity of my emotions threatens to consume me, and I instinctively push myself away from Greyson, creating distance between us. I need to regain control, to prevent myself from doing something reckless, like kissing him in the heat of the moment.

With a quick, uneasy glance over my shoulder, I turn to flee from the room. But just as I take that first step, Greyson's strong hand grabs my arm, halting my escape. He pulls me back to him with a sense of urgency, his voice a whispered confession that shatters my resolve.

"I feel it too," he murmurs, his words tinged with vulnerability, before his fingers brush against my cheek, tilting my face up toward his. 

In that heart-pounding instant, he claims my lips with a kiss that's both passionate and tender, igniting a fire that leaves me utterly breathless. It's a revelation of mutual longing, a confirmation of emotions that have been hidden for far too long. 

The kiss is a breathtaking fusion of passion and tenderness, igniting a fire deep within me that I never knew existed. Our lips meld together as if they were always meant to, creating a sensation that leaves me utterly breathless. In that heart-pounding moment, all my doubts and uncertainties dissolve into the profound realising that this connection has been silently growing, concealed beneath the surface for far too long. 

With each tender press of our lips, I feel a surge of emotion that sweeps me off my feet. It’s a sweet surrender, as if the barriers I’ve built around my heart have crumbled in an instant. Greyson’s kiss is a revelation, a confirmation of our mutual longing, a powerful and transformative force that binds us together.

As we break apart, gasping for breath, a knowing smile dances on Greyson’s lips. Without a word, he walks me backwards, keeping a firm grip on my hips, guiding me until I’m wedged between him and the wall. His body is a reassuring and protective presence, and I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine, matching the rapid beat of our hearts. 

The room seems to shrink around us, narrowing our world to this intimate space where everyone is redacted to the touch, the sensation, and the yearning in our eyes. It’s a moment that feels both timeless and fleeting, as if the past and the future converge into a single point of connection. 

Greyson’s arms encircle me with a possessive tenderness, drawing me closer until there’s barely any space between us. It’s as if he’s determined to anchor me in this moment, to make me realise the depth of his longing and devotion. His eyes, burning with an intensity that’s impossible to ignore, lock onto mine. In that gaze, I see years of unspoken desire and the weight of countless moments that have led us to this precise. I’m hopelessly captive by the connection that surges between us, unable to look away from the truth that lies within his gaze. 

And then, as if he can no longer contain the words, he confesses, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” 

My heart skips a beat at his admission, and I can’t help but smile in response, feeling a mix of joy, excitement, and relief. With a mischievous glint in my eye, I challenge him, “Well, kiss me them.”

Greyson’s lips curve into a satisfied smile, and he leans in closer, “You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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[pomegranatepip]

"Lazy" Mornings?

synopsis: zayne is a textbook workaholic but if it comes down to choosing between extra work and spending time with you. well. he's a weak man.

pairing: zayne x gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

content tags: fluff, zayne thinks he's funny (he is but noone tell him)

a/n: written for @ollieneedsamilkshake for @unintentionalseductress 's valentine's day event ^-^ sorry for making it banter heavy, i love zayne's sense of humor xD hope i did it justice

ao3 link

The bed is empty when you wake up, Zayne's side long since cold. You groan and shield your eyes against the onslaught of sunlight directly on your face through the bedroom window, before pulling yourself away from your cosy nest of blankets. You stretch, your joints stiff, and look around for any telltale signs of your husband.

He can't have left for work, can he? It was one of the rare days both of your days off from work aligned, though it was entirely possible he had been called in for an emergency given the nature of his job.

Sighing, you trudged into the living room. Noticing the study door was ajar, you made to close it when you noticed the light was on inside. When you peeked in, you saw Zayne still in his pyjamas, his back to the door, typing away on his laptop.

You smile exasperatedly. Of course he was working on his day off. You slipped into the room and tiptoed over to him before slinging your arms around his neck and dropping your head on his shoulder. He stops typing for a second to look back at you.

"Good morning, my love. Why are you up so early?"

You give him a noncommittal hum in response. "I could ask you the same thing. Why are you working on your day off and at-" you squint at the penguin shaped clock on his desk- "8 in the morning too? You should be in bed with me," you whine.

He smiles at that. "I just had some reports to review which I couldn't do yesterday. I thought I'd get them done early so I could enjoy my day off without any worries. Also," he adds, taking one of your hands into his own, "It's 7 a.m., not 8."

"You do realise you're not helping your case, right?" You lift your head to look at him and he uses this chance to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.

A wry smile from him. "I'm merely pointing out that it's unusually early for you to be up so early on a weekend; you know it's routine to me."

You give up. "Fine," you concede, "you can finish your reports. But make it quick. I'll go start breakfast."

"Yes, ma'am."

Pleased with his response, you nip at his earlobe and laugh at how quickly it turns red along with his cheeks, and finally make your way to the kitchen.

Zayne pores over the file he's reviewing and sends it to Greyson after he's ascertained there are no changes for him to make. He takes his glasses off and leans back, his eyes tired from the strain of staring at his laptop screen. Just a few more, and then he'll be done.

From the kitchen, he catches the faint sound of humming alongside the noises of you making breakfast. He thinks he recognises the melody- it's the same song you've been singing for the past couple of weeks and inadvertently got stuck in his head too. He recalls your gleeful laughter and teasing when you caught him humming the tune to himself one day, and smiles in spite of himself.

The scent of pancakes wafts into his study, and he looks back at his laptop. Maybe the reports can wait.

You're flipping pancakes when you feel Zayne drape himself over you from the back. "Smells good," he says.

"Finished with your reports already? Or did you just miss me?" you tease.

"Neither. I got hungry."

"Wow. I'm going to be having this entire stack of pancakes by myself now. You can eat cereal while you think about what you did. And it's the plain kind too," you huff.

"You wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't I."

He watches you plop the last pancake on the plate and turn off the heat, and then spins you around to face him. "My apologies, miss. Allow me to make it up to you for my thoughtless words."

"Oh? And how are you planning to do that?" You make a show of being offended, but the barely concealed smile on your face gives you away.

A smile Zayne matches as he leans down and whispers, "Like this," before pressing his lips to your cheek much like earlier, except this time he didn't stop after just one. He tilts your face slightly to kiss the other cheek, and then trails down to kiss the corner of your mouth. He ghosts over your cupid's bow and a little involuntary shudder passes through you, making him chuckle quietly before he leans in.

He's gentle with the way he kisses you, his hands warm as they cradle your face. His earlier playfulness manifests in the form of a succession of soft pecks to your lips, eliciting giggles from you. He pulls back to spin you away from the stove and presses you back against the kitchen island, his hands splayed on your lower back and hip as he claims your lips with his own again.

After a minute or so, he breaks away. "Did you add nutella to the pancakes?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, I did. How did you know?"

"I could taste it on you." He swipes his thumb on your cheek before one last sweet press of his lips to yours.

You roll your eyes. "Sue me. Besides, didn't you finish a whole jar all by yourself last week? I had to have my smores with chocolate syrup and it just wasn't the same," you mourn.

"I offered to run to the store to get more, but if I recall correctly, someone was too impatient to wait," he deadpans.

"It's not the situation, it's the principle. I was looking forward to that specific jar of nutella on my smores and you took that away from me. You need to apologise for that too," you say, hoping he'll take the bait.

He narrows his eyes. "You're playing tricks on me, aren't you."

"Who, me? Whaaaat. No way."

He sighs. "Alright. We can go to that new dessert place you've been mentioning for a while. How does that sound?"

"…you mean the dessert place you've been mentioning."

"I see it as a win win, no?"

"Of course you do."

"So you don't want to go?"

"No! I mean. That's not what I said."

Zayne smiles inwardly. "There's that new movie they're showing at the theater near the park too," he says as he finally gets to setting the table. "An adaptation of a book you were reading? We can go watch that and drop by the dessert place on our way home."

You sit down and pile pancakes onto your plate and his. "So you're not going to work on those reports today?"

He makes a show of weighing his options, though the hope sparkling in your eyes made his choice laughably easy.

"The reports can wait."