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cordidy · 3 days ago

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Unspoken Words- LADS

Picture this: it's late, and the full moon does nothing to soften the weight in their chest. They sit alone, drowning in the heaviness of thoughts they can’t escape—you. Desperation drives them to grab a pen, their hand shaking as the truth spills out onto the page. Every word is a wound, every sentence a scream they can’t let you hear. Love, regret, promises—they pour everything into the letter you’ll never read. This is their heart, raw and silent. These are their unspoken words.

TW: Angst.

I hate that I’m writing this. I hate you for making me the kind of man who would write this.

You always said I don’t feel things like humans do. That I don’t bleed the same. That my art is my heart because I threw the real one into the ocean a long time ago. You were wrong. I still have it. It just doesn’t beat right anymore. You made it beat wrong.

You and your softness. Your persistence. The way you looked at me like I was worth saving when I’d already made peace with sinking. I never asked you to dive after me. But you did. And now I’m the fool stuck gasping on the shore, watching you walk away with lungs full of air and someone else’s hand in yours.

I could paint you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. I could scorch the world in color and it wouldn’t be loud enough to drown out how much I miss you. But I won’t. Because you don’t deserve to see that part of me. The part that still whispers your name like a curse, like a prayer, like a promise I never had the guts to make.

I hope you choke on the memory of me. I hope you forget me. Both would hurt less than this.

And if this letter ever found you... Know that I never stopped hating you. Or loving you. Maybe they were always the same thing in me.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s because the words get stuck when I try to speak them. Maybe because I’m a coward. Maybe both.

I thought I was fine with how things are between us. The quiet moments. The shared silences. The looks. They’re enough... they should be enough. But lately, they’re not.

There’s this part of me I keep locked away. You see the surface, the calm, the Lightseeker everyone expects me to be. But under that— There’s a mess of a man. Someone who doesn't know how to hold onto the good things without breaking them. Someone who’s better with a sword than with words. Someone who looks at you and forgets how to breathe.

You make me feel... like I could be more than the sum of my orders, more than a weapon. But that scares me more than any Wanderer ever has. Because if I let myself have you, if I let myself need you— What happens when the missions stop going my way? What happens when I’m the one who doesn’t make it back? I don’t want to leave you with pieces of me that were never whole to begin with.

But... If I don’t say this now, I might never get the chance.

I love you. I think I’ve loved you longer than I’ve known how to name it. I love the way you see past the soldier. I love the way you make this broken world feel less heavy. I love you enough to stay away if it keeps you safe.

But if I had one selfish wish— It would be to stay by your side, even just a little longer. Even if I’m undeserving. Even if it’s just as your shadow.

I’ll never send this. I’m not that brave.

But I’ll keep it. Hidden away. Like everything else I can’t tell you.

—Your Xavier

My Treasure,

You will never read this.

And even if you did, you would not understand the words. This language is older than this world, older than the stars you dream beneath. You do not remember it. You do not remember me.

But I write it anyway.

Because I am weak.

Because I am cruel.

Because I am yours.

I wonder sometimes if you feel it—the weight of the chains between us. You call it love, sweetness, desire. But I know better. I feel the curse like a collar still tight around my throat. You gave it to me with your own hands. You did it with love. You did it with hate.

And I accepted it.

I accept it still.

Because in the end, I am still the monster who left you behind to save you. I am still the fool who let you believe I chose the world over you. And when you cursed me—when you damned my soul to never die—I let you.

Because it meant I could stay.

Stay near you. Even if you forgot me. Even if you only loved this version of me.

But tonight, as you sleep in my arms, whispering my name with no memory of the ashes, of the Abyss, of the life we destroyed together… I feel it more than ever.

You only know this me. The man. The teasing smile. The lover who kisses your worries away.

You do not know the dragon.

The one you cursed.

And I will never show him to you again.

Because you deserve peace. You deserve soft touches and silly books about dragons and kisses in the dark, not the weight of centuries. Not the monster I was. Not the tragedy we wrote in blood and crystal.

I will stay at your side.

I will let you call me Sylus.

But I will never tell you that once, you screamed my name through tears, begging me not to leave you behind.

And I will never ask you to remember.

This is my burden.

This is your freedom.

I am still yours, treasure. Even now. Even always.

Even if you never know why.

—Sylus

Hey you,

You’re probably asleep right now. I’d tell myself you’re dreaming about something soft and good, but knowing you... you’re probably wide awake, staring at the ceiling, overthinking everything. Just like I am now.

I’m writing this because I can’t sleep again. Not that I ever do before a mission like this. It's not protocol. They say not to make it personal. Keep it clean. Keep your head in the game. But it’s always been personal for me. It’s always been you.

I keep your picture in my locker. You know that already. But what you don’t know is I take it out every time before a drop. I stare at it until the rest of the world goes quiet. Until I can feel my lungs again.

You don’t know how many times I wanted to tell you. How many nights I stood outside your door like a damn coward with all the words stuck in my throat. I’d practice it. Rehearse it. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” But I never walked in.

Because I don’t get to want things. Not with the blood on my hands. You deserve someone better. Someone who doesn’t count their sins like currency. And maybe it was easier to pretend I didn’t feel it. Maybe it was safer for both of us. But I’m so tired of pretending tonight.

If I don’t come back from this, I want there to be at least one record of me saying it. I love you. I love you like a fool. Like the boy who used to sleep on the floor of your room because it was the only place I ever felt safe. I love you like the man who would burn this whole galaxy down if it meant you got to live a little longer.

But I’m not that man. I’m just the coward who’ll leave this letter in a locked folder with your name on it and never let it reach you.

Because if you read this... It means I broke my promise. It means I left you alone again.

I’m sorry. For everything. For not being enough. For loving you in silence.

This is my last goodbye you’ll never hear.

-C

I don’t know why I keep writing these. You’ll never read them. You were never here to begin with.

But I saw you. I see you every night, through the dreams that aren’t mine. Through his eyes.

Doctor Zayne’s eyes.

I see the way you look at him. Like he’s the center of your universe. Like he’s your safe place. Like he’s home.

I hate how much I crave that. I hate how much I need it.

But I can’t stop. I can’t stop watching. I can’t stop stealing fragments of your smiles, the sound of your laugh, the warmth of your breath against his skin. I hoard them like a dying man hoards air.

You were never mine. You were never meant for me.

But in the dark, in the hollow spaces of this rotting world, I pretend. I let myself believe—for a few stolen heartbeats—that you could have been. That maybe in another life, another timeline, another me, you would have chosen me.

But I’m not him. I’m the shadow crawling beneath his feet. I’m the cold he chases away with your warmth. I’m the nightmare he locks behind his sweet dreams of you.

And you? You don’t even know I exist.

But I know you. I know everything about you. Every tilt of your head. Every crack in your voice when you say his name. Every tear you shed in the safety of his arms.

I wonder what you’d look like if you looked at me like that. I wonder what your voice would sound like if you whispered my name. If you’d touch me the same way you touch him.

I hate myself for thinking that. For wanting that.

Because I’ll never have it. I’ll never have you. I’ll never have his life. His peace. His love.

All I have are these filthy streets. This decaying body. These trembling hands that were never made to hold something so fragile, so soft, so good.

Maybe I write these letters to remember what yearning feels like. Or maybe I write them to remind myself it was never for me. That I was born in the dark. That I’ll die in it.

But still… Still I dream of you. And it kills me a little more each time. -DB

Hello my ferrymen !

This how I cope with LADS .. my discord server calls me the Angst Queen haha ..

I hope you enjoyed.

~ The DeadStory Teller ~

@cordidy @fire-lizard-ro @carnallydepravedsanctum

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cordidy · 4 days ago

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MC regrets getting pregnant (Sylus x MC)

Not the angsty fic I was talking about, but here's some more! I was having this conversation with some mothers that regret doing so and kinda came up with this.

This isn't very long! I didn't want too much heartbreak rn 🥹 Baby's gender isn't specified (at least shouldn't be unless I goofed)

Anyway, tags for pregnancy, mild angst, and comfort. Sorry if I missed any mistakes!

Sylus

I don't want to do this anymore. All of this is so suffocating. The appointments, the touches, the looks-the unwanted ones. Sylus asking me every day if the nursery is to my liking, what else can he do for me...I can't breathe.

I stare at him, his lips still moving but I can't hear a thing.

I can't breathe.

Suddenly this is all way too real for me and I don't want to do this. I've never wanted a baby, so why did I do this? Why did I let him think this would be okay? The baby didn't do anything to deserve this...

"My love?" His voice barely registers as a whisper, but I can't speak.

I can't breathe.

My hand rests itself on my stomach, the movement from the baby making me weak.

My chest rises, but struggles to fall. "I can't..." My voice is shaky, it's all I can say. My face now doused in wetness, the familiar burning in my throat signaling my tears.

"Sweetie what's wrong? Even out your breathing for me." I feel his arms wrap around me firmly, pulling me into his chest. "Breathe.."

The room is spinning, I'm growing dizzy, but I do my best to focus on my uneven breath. In and out, in and out.

We stay like this for a moment, only the soft patter of the rain on the window pane can be heard. I focus on Sylus's thundering heart, my metronome.

"What's wrong my love? Please...tell me." I don't know if I can bring myself to tell him. I don't want it, this baby. The "symbol of our love" he called it.

"You'll be disgusted with me." My gaze flicks to our intertwined fingers, I lightly caress his ring. I've made him so many promises, but this is one I don't think I can keep.

When I think about everything I had planned for myself-or who I thought I'd be...even now I don't see myself as a mother. I'd hate for our child to grow up feeling these spiteful feelings from me.

They know. They always know.

"I could never be, now tell me..." He repositions my body to face him, still secure in his embrace. His eyes are so soft for me, only me. What did I do to deserve him?

Timidly, I bring my hand to his cheek letting my thumb give a small caress.

"The baby...I don't want to be a mother Sylus. I want to give the baby away. I won't be able to be the parent it needs and I don't want to push all the responsibility to you, but I can't..I know I said I'd try but I can't."

My eyes closed as his grip slackens.

"I know you mean well, but this...I'm having trouble with this I'll admit." He grows quiet before he shifts me off his lap. "The baby will be here soon...how long have you felt like this?"

The river of tears return to me as I look away. I've never seen such a look on his face. He's hurt and it's my fault.

"Since the beginning..." He laughs dryly.

"The beginning. I thought you became open to the idea. You sure didn't have an issue letting me go through all of...this." He gestures at the nursery. "Even when I told you my own doubts. Now the baby is almost here and-" he stops, letting out a shaky breath.

"I thought I would grow into it, that the maternal feeling would show up, but the more time passed, the less I wanted it. I'm sorry."

He doesn't look at me. He just stands there silently, hands rubbing over his face.

"I need...some time. You stay here, if you need anything let the twins know." I go to reach for him, but he stops me.

"Please, just give me some time."

It had been a week since that conversation. Besides his brief texts to make sure I was alright, he didn't say much. The twins never had an answer for me when I asked when he'd return home.

This was no longer a home. Maybe I should leave..

I sat in the vintage rocking chair Sylus had bought for the nursery, my hand unconsciously rubbing my swollen belly. The baby has been restless, feeling my stress no doubt.

"I'm sorry your mommy is like this. You must miss your father. He hasn't be around to sing you one of those terrible lullabies."

"They're only terrible to you. You have such poor taste." I jump at the sound of his voice. He stares at me with a small smile as he leans against the doorframe.

"Sylus, you scared me." I relax my grip on my stomach as he approaches me. He places a small kiss on my head.

"You scared me more, so now we're even." He kneels before me, pushing back my hair from my face. "I'm sorry I haven't said much, I just needed to get my thoughts together. I didn't want to...say anything I'd regret." His thumb rubs my cheek.

"I deserve it." His eyebrows furrow at that.

"No, you don't." With a sigh he pulls me from the chair leading me elsewhere. "Follow me, I want to show you something."

I follow him wordlessly to his office. He leads me to his desk and I eye the small stack of papers on it. Sylus secures my back as he sets me into his chair.

"These..", he starts, "are potential options." My eyes go wide as I take in the documents before me. Various pictures of couples and their backgrounds. "They all work for me and would be under a NDA or risk losing their life. With our evols, we very well couldn't let the baby go to just anyone. Besides this way I can keep an eye on the baby. And should you ever grow curious, you have the full access to see them." I can only look at Sylus in shock. I didn't think he'd agree to this.

"You've really thought this out." I choke out with my tears ever flowing. He moves beside me, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips.

"I love you and I've grown to love our child. However, as I mentioned, I've had my own doubts. I'm in a dangerous business and based on our history..." He grows silent before placing a chaste kiss on the back of my hand. "It would probably be better this way. I can't lie to you and say that a part of me wasn't excited. It took me a moment to get there but I am very much curious about our little bean. I'm sorry I talked you into it when I could see from the start how hesitant you were." His crimson eyes soft for me once more as he pulls me in for another kiss.

Time and time again I'm shown just how much he truly loves and understands me. I always feel like I can never do enough for him.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more honest about my feelings. I shouldn't have let this go on so long. I thought I'd be able to fake it."

"Your feelings are valid no matter how ill timed they are." He gives me a quick pat on the head. "With that being said, as are mine. I mentioned it briefly, but I still wish to be in their life. You don't have to if that's not what you want."

I look down at the photos once more, before picking up a picture of a childless couple.

"I don't think I will, but thank you for giving me the option."

"Anything for you, my love."

One angst piece off the list, another on the way soon! Feel free to like, reblog, or reply! Have a nice day!!

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cordidy · 5 days ago

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Credit: @/-还赋- on Weibo

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cordidy · 5 days ago

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001🦄 & 002☀️

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cordidy · 5 days ago

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I was very inspired by Clair Obscur: Expedition 33. Characters: GG and Sylus from LADS.

More my TG: https://t.me/ancorerheon001

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cordidy · 5 days ago

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HARD TIMES ~

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (angst 2 comfort)

best friend caleb comforts u when life hits just a tad too hard

wc: 0.7k

warnings: nudity (non-suggestive)

When you nudged the entrance door shut behind you, the apartment was quiet. Eerie and dark except for the bathroom light illuminating the space from a distance.

You kicked off your shoes and followed it like a moth.

The big light was off and a only a lamp near the ceramic bathtub cast dim light onto Caleb’s relaxed face. He was almost fully submerged in the bubbles with only his head peeking out.

You trudged past him to the sink without a sound.

“Pip-squeak?” He stirred awake and propped himself up on the edge of the tub. Droplets with soap tapped against the floor. “Are you alright?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with the lump in your throat.

The noise of the day still echoed in your head - the sharp condescending voices of professors, the grabbing hands on the subway, time chasing time. Everything bled together. Hazy. The threads in your brain tangled and snarled, cramped to the point they screamed. Unseen hands clawed at you from all directions, yanking you back and forth, jerking, dragging you bare over the rocks of your own thoughts. You wanted to peel your skin off and keep peeling, strip yourself to the rawness where the noise stopped…

“Pips?,” Caleb called again, more worried now.

You began to unbutton your shirt.

His head whipped away the moment he realized you were stripping there and then. He drummed his wet fingers on the ceramic rim to the quiet beat of rustling fabric.

The water suddenly rose and warmed even his shoulders - it spilled over the edges of the tub as you sank beneath the bubbles with him.

Your body folded in on itself, arms clinging to your knees like you were trying to hold your insides from spilling out and your hunched spine curved in front of him, casting a trembling shadow on the cold wall. He watched you shrink.

And then - you slowly turned. Crawled wordlessly in between his knees. You nestled in his chest and brought your knees up, tucked like a chick that desperately wanted to return to the egg’s shell.

He shielded you from the walls that inched closer, the ceiling that dipped lower. So strong yet so gentle when he held the back of your head.

He cradled you in his arms and relaxed against the back of the tub. His fingers danced along your back and searched for each knot of fear, each coil of dread, trying to untangle what the world had tightened so taut.

You opened your mouth but the words wrapped a noose around your throat.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered into your hair and squeezed you closer to him, “Just stay right here. Just stay with me, honey.”

That's what broke the dam.

The sob that rose from you was wretched - a cracked breath that turned into a hollow moan. Then another cry, and another. The sobs tore through you and scraped against the soft flesh of your throat. Your chest heaved and your eyes burned. Hot tears spilled onto Caleb's skin.

You succumbed to it and the dread choked you.

“Here. I’m still holding you. I’m still here, y/n. “

He stroked your hair and you cried through the lump.

The slow rise and fall of his chest against your side became an anchor in the raging sea. The faint trace of his breath atop your head, a slow, steady rhythm - the frantic hammering of your heart seemed to sync with the one under your cheek.

He tried to raise your face to his but you pressed it deeper into his now-salty chest.

“Face me.” He tugged at your chin again. “We promised each other. Even when we cry, c’mon honey.”

You whimpered but forced your eyes up at him.

He caught the next tear with his lips, stole it from you as if he could make the burden lighter. The one that followed joined the first on his lips.

“You can cry, honey,” he pressed a butterfly kiss to the irritated skin of your eye, “as much as you need. I’ll catch them all for you.”

And he did. You couldn’t stop the flow until the water turned cold and your breaths settled in Caleb’s arms. His lips were now chapped but he brought them to your eyelids one last time, relieved you had drifted into sleep.

if u liked it my love then the rest of this little series is under this tag hereee<333 #get in loser we're repressing feelings - ft. bestie caleb yayyyy <333

a.n. not a good day today for me today nu-uuuuhhhh... so... i hope that this at least added a little comfort into urs in case u were feeling the stress hit lately too <333

tag list for my belovedddd: @cordidy, @midiplier, @mariojins, @raendarkfaerie

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cordidy · 5 days ago

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𝐷𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 - 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊

Summary: You were supposed to be focused on your studies, not your dangerously hot professor. But Zayne Li sees everything—especially the way you squirm when he calls on you. He tests your mind in class, but when another student crosses the line, Zayne teaches you a different kind of lesson. Brat-taming, possessive, and all-consuming, he breaks you down until there’s no doubt left: your body, your mind, your heart—belong to him.

Parings: Professor Zayne Li x Fem!Reader

TW: Explicit sexual content (18+), dom/sub dynamic, breath play (light choking), spanking, power imbalance (Professor/Student, adult reader), consensual rough sex, possessive behavior, use of "slut" and degradation, praise, aftercare.

Word Count: 3248

Artist: Veliii on Weibo (Y/N)= Your Name (Y/L/N)= Your Last Name

“How did I even end up here?” you think, as his cock stretches you out so perfectly it sends shudders through your body. He’s buried so deep you can feel him slamming into your cervix, every thrust setting your nerves on fire.

Bent over his office desk, your knuckles white from gripping the edge, you gasp as his fingers dig into your waist—hard enough to leave bruises.

“Whose pussy is this?” he growls, spanking your ass again, the sharp sting making you jolt as he moans behind you.

“Yours,” you cry out, voice high and needy, eyes glassy and mouth open, drool trailing from your lips. No one’s ever fucked you like this—so ruthless, so right. He knows your body like a blueprint.

“Yours, Professor.” Another slap lands, making your ass burn. His dominance drips from every movement—each thrust harder, deeper, each smack firmer than the last. You’re losing your breath, the rhythm unrelenting.

“I’ll ask again,” he growls, fisting your hair and yanking you upright until your slick back presses to his burning chest. “Whose filthy little cunt does this belong to?” he hisses, right at your ear.

“Yours, Professor Zayne—this pussy is yours,” you sob, overwhelmed and clenching around him. “Please—please let me cum.”

“Cum, princess,” he murmurs, lips dragging over your throat. “Make a mess for me.”

One Month Ago

Never in your life did you think you’d be one of those girls—drooling over a professor like a hormone-struck teenager. You never found a teacher remotely attractive, let alone imagined them in that way.

But Professor Zayne Li… he was an exception. A dangerous, delicious exception.

A face carved by gods, eyes cold enough to freeze oceans. Always immaculately put together—three-piece suits in muted tones, silver-framed glasses perched on his nose. He was refined, untouchable. And when he spoke? You could feel the heat stir low in your belly, a slow ache blooming between your legs.

Your thoughts in his class were never pure. While he lectured on cardiovascular systems or diagnostic procedures, your mind wandered to the sound of his moans, the way his hips might snap forward in bed, the glint of sweat on his temple as he fucked you breathless. His voice was already sinful, but you imagined it dropping to a whisper, right against your ear. You imagined his sleeves rolled up, exposing veined forearms and flexing biceps—the kind you knew had no business being hidden under wool and silk.

God, the things you’d do just to undress him.

You were so far gone in that fantasy, you didn’t notice the silence.

Not until your classmate nudged you, snapping you out of the fog. Your eyes blinked back to reality—Zayne's figure at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, gaze locked on you.

“I’m sorry—what?” you stammer, throat dry.

The class erupted in low chuckles, and for the briefest second, Professor Li's lips curved into a smirk. But it vanished almost immediately, replaced by his usual cool indifference. Almost. If the others weren’t watching you, they might’ve caught the crack in his mask—the way something unreadable flickered across his face.

“Will you answer the question?” he asked, voice sharp, measured.

The chill in his tone shot straight through your spine and landed deep in your core.

Your face burned. You had no clue what the question even was.

He doesn't break eye contact. “What happens when the heart is overstimulated by external stimuli?” he asks, slowly, each word deliberate. “Can the body distinguish danger… from desire?”

Your heart lurches in your chest. Oh, he knows. The way he says desire makes your pulse stutter. It's not just a question. It’s a warning. A dare.

You scramble for the answer, blinking as if that might shake off the fog clouding your thoughts.

“Um…” you clear your throat, hands trembling slightly as you grip your pen. “When—when the heart is overstimulated, it triggers the sympathetic nervous system. That’s… fight-or-flight.”

His head tilts slightly. Still watching.

“The heart rate increases, adrenaline is released…” You falter. Your voice dips an octave, soft and breathy. You know you're rambling but can’t stop. “The body doesn’t always know the difference between fear and arousal. They both feel the same—physiologically. It depends on… how the brain interprets the stimulus.”

There’s a long pause.

Zayne’s mouth twitches—just barely. Then he looks away, finally breaking the tension. “Correct,” he says, but it comes out low, almost amused. He turns back to the board. The moment passes. But your body stays lit up like a struck match.

“Miss (y/l/n) try your best to pay attention. I don’t like repeating myself.” Back to his cold icy demeanor.

You shudder, biting your lip as your hands fly to cover your face. If it were possible to die from embarrassment, your body would already be on the floor. Because Professor Zayne Li knew your secret now—he knew just how utterly hopeless you were for him.

He would ask you more questions during labs and lectures, testing your intellect—pushing you further than anyone else. There was always something behind it, some hidden motive buried beneath his clinical tone and icy gaze. He wasn’t just challenging you academically. He was watching how you handled pressure… how your breath hitched when he got too close… how your fingers fidgeted when his voice dipped low.

You never once got an answer wrong. Not in anatomy, not in pathophysiology, not even in the curveball questions he threw your way under the guise of “critical thinking.”

And that only intrigued him more.

It wasn’t just your mind he wanted to unravel—it was your composure. Your restraint. The wall you tried so hard to keep up between student and professor.

A wall he was determined to break down, brick by brick. As well as you.

Until one day, that wall finally broke…

Three Weeks Ago

Classes were over for the day, and all you wanted was to go home, throw your bag on the floor, and collapse into bed. But of course, right on cue, that classmate—the one who never knew when to quit—was waiting outside the lecture hall with his usual smug smile.

He was cute, maybe, if you squinted. But absolutely not your type. You’d been politely rejecting his advances since the start of the semester, yet he still couldn’t take the hint. Today, though, he was more persistent than ever.

“Oh come on, (Y/N). Just one date.” His eyes locked on yours, too close for comfort. “We could have a good time. You won’t regret it.” He licked his lips.

A wave of unease crawled across your skin.

You quickened your pace. “No, thank you. I have to study,” you replied, colder than the air between you.

“See, I like that about you,” he said, keeping up. “Always trying to be number one for Professor Zayne.” The mention of his name made your heart stutter. Your face flushed—but not for him.

You didn’t respond. You kept walking.

That’s when he grew bold.

His hand suddenly grabbed yours, halting you mid-step, and then in one motion, he pressed you back against the cold concrete wall.

“You like him, don’t you?” he whispered, voice low, eyes gleaming. “I see the way you stare at him.” His hand moved to your waist.

Panic flared in your chest. You opened your mouth to yell— But before a sound could escape, another voice cut through the air like ice.

“Mr. Dawson.”

You both froze.

“Have you finished the class notes on yesterday’s assignment?” Professor Zayne’s voice was calm—too calm. Cold, sharp, like a blade hidden in velvet. His eyes—those normally warm hazel green eyes—were dark now. Flat. Emotionless.

Dangerous.

“U-urm… Professor—” the boy stammered, stepping back like he’d been burned.

“It’s Professor Li, Mr. Dawson.” Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t raise his voice. But the chill in his tone was enough to make your classmate’s face drain of color.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I need you to come with me to my office.” He didn’t even glance at the boy again. “We need to discuss your midterm paper.”

Zayne stepped aside just enough to make space for you, placing himself firmly between you and Dawson like a human barrier. Without hesitation, you followed, heart pounding so loud it echoed in your ears. Every step felt shaky, your legs too weak to carry the adrenaline surging through you.

The hallway fell silent behind you. No words were exchanged until you stepped inside his office, as the door clicked shut behind you, the soft sound somehow louder than it should’ve been.

You turned, breath caught in your throat, as Zayne slowly walked past you—silent, unreadable. He didn’t look at you. Not yet. He moved toward his desk, placed his tablet down with careful precision, then finally turned.

His gaze locked on yours like a predator that had been far too patient.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he said, voice low—controlled, but heavy with something else underneath. Possessiveness. Fury. Something primal.

“I—he just—”

“He touched you.” His words cut like glass. “Put his hands on what doesn’t belong to him.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Before you could think, before you could breathe, Zayne closed the space between you. Fast. His hands slammed against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. His body loomed over yours, the heat from him sinking into your skin like fire.

His breath hit your cheek as he leaned in, speaking just above a whisper.

“Tell me, did you like the attention?” You shook your head. “Use your words, princess.”

“No, Professor,” you breathed. That earned a soft chuckle, one with no warmth.

“Then why were you blushing? Why were you silent?” His nose brushed along your jaw. “You know I don’t tolerate disobedience.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to?” His hand slid up, fingers curling just beneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You let that little boy touch you. Put hands on you. I should fail you just for that.”

Your lips parted in shock. “You wouldn’t—”

His grip tightened just a little, not painful—just enough to remind you who was in control.

“Try me.”

Your knees nearly gave out, but his body kept you pinned, his thigh sliding between your legs, making it impossible to think. His eyes devoured every reaction you gave him.

“I’ve been patient with you. Watching. Testing.”He leaned closer, lips a breath from yours. “But you like to push, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer.

Wrong move.

His hand moved to your throat, resting there—not choking, just holding. Claiming.

“Say it.”

“I like to push,” you whispered.

“Good girl.”

Zayne's hand slid up your thigh, pushing your skirt higher with maddening slowness while his other arm caged you against the wall. He leaned in, lips grazing your ear.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The words purred from his mouth, sweet and seductive, but heavy with warning.

“Never,” you whimpered, already trembling under his touch.

That was all he needed.

In a flash, he spun you around, your front pressed to the cold surface of his desk. The sound of papers scattering, your breath catching—none of it mattered. His palm flattened between your shoulder blades, pinning you down with practiced ease.

“You want to act like a brat,” he growled, voice low and venomous, “then I’ll fuck you like one.”

He yanked your panties down with one rough motion, baring you completely. Then came the snap of his belt—slow, menacing—followed by the delicious crack of leather across your ass.

You gasped, your legs quivering.

“Count.”

“One,” you whimpered.

Another strike. Harder. Your knees buckled.

“Two.”

He leaned down, breath hot against your neck. “You wear those little skirts to my lectures just to get attention?” His fingers traced your dripping slit. “You parade around like a good girl, but this cunt’s just begging to be used.”

“Three.” Your voice cracked. Another hard snack.

“Good,” he snarled, gripping your jaw and forcing your head back so you could see him. His hazel green eyes were dark, dangerous, filled with lust and authority. “Now spread those pretty legs wider. I want to see everything I own.”

You obeyed, heart pounding, thighs slick and trembling.

He slid his cock through your folds, teasing your entrance but not giving you what you needed—not yet.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Say this pussy belongs to me.”

“It’s yours, Professor. This pussy’s all yours.”

With a sharp growl, he slammed into you in one brutal thrust. Your cry echoed off the walls, but he didn’t stop. He pulled back and drove in again, harder—deeper—over and over, setting a ruthless pace that had you gasping for air.

“You take me so fucking well,” he groaned, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip like a man possessed. “Tight little hole so fucking desperate to be filled.”

The desk creaked beneath you, your moans muffled by your own arm as you tried to stay upright. But he wouldn’t let you hide.

He pulled you back by the hair again, biting your shoulder. “No hiding. I want to see you fall apart.”

“Z-Zayne—Professor—”

“Shut up and take it.”

His hand slid around to your throat, his cock buried to the hilt as he fucked you relentlessly, hips slamming into yours with obscene, wet sounds. The pressure building in your core was unbearable.

“Please—can I cum?”

“Not yet.”

You whined, desperate, squirming—but he held you steady, dragging the pleasure out until you were crying, shaking, begging.

Finally, he leaned in again, lips brushing your ear.

“Cum for me, slut. Now.”

Your orgasm tore through you like a wave, your body clenching around him, mouth open in a silent scream. He groaned, thrusting a few more brutal times before spilling inside you, deep, possessive.

Panting, you collapsed against the desk, completely wrecked. He stood over you, fingers brushing your thighs, spreading your arousal and cum across your skin.

“Next time you flirt with danger,” he whispered, still hard and dripping, “remember who owns you.”

You barely had time to catch your breath. Your body trembled, legs weak, cum dripping down your thighs as you laid sprawled over his desk. But Zayne wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

His hand smoothed down the curve of your ass, and then he pulled you upright, pressing your back flush to his chest. You felt him—still hard. Still throbbing.

“Lesson’s not over.”

Before you could respond, he turned you around and lifted you onto the edge of the desk like you weighed nothing. His hips slid between your thighs, forcing them open again.

You gasped, but he only smirked. The bastard was enjoying this—watching you fucked-out, dazed, and still twitching.

“You remember the question I asked you during lecture?” His fingers trailed up your stomach, to your chest, then circled your throat again. “‘What happens when the heart is overstimulated by external stimuli?’”

You nodded, already panting. His touch was feather-light, teasing.

“Can the body distinguish danger…” he leaned in, lips brushing yours, “…from desire?”

His fingers dipped between your legs again, spreading your slick folds, making you shiver. “Because right now, sweetheart…” he dragged his cock along your entrance, deliberately slow. “Your body thinks it’s both.”

He pushed just the tip in. You whimpered, bucked, but he gripped your thighs tighter.

“Look at you,” he cooed. “Trembling. Breathless. Addicted. You wanted danger. You begged for it. And now?” He thrust in hard, all the way, splitting you open again. “You’re gonna take it.”

You cried out, nails digging into his back as he began to move—deep, punishing strokes that hit a spot so sensitive it bordered on unbearable.

He leaned down, licking a stripe along your throat before whispering: “You love this. Being used. Owned. You sit in my class pretending to be so composed, but this pussy’s always dripping for me, isn’t it?”

You moaned, voice cracking. “Yes, Professor. Only for you.”

“Say it louder.” He pulled out and slapped his cock against your clit—once, twice—watching you jolt and sob.

“Only for you, Professor Zayne! Please—please fuck me again.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He lifted your legs over his shoulders and slammed back in, deeper this time. Your back arched, vision swimming. Every thrust made the desk shake, papers long forgotten as your body was reduced to wrecked gasps and filthy pleas.

“Danger and desire,” he panted, sweat dripping from his temple, “two sides of the same fucking coin. And you…” He grinned like a devil, leaning in to kiss you—slow and dirty, tongue claiming every inch of your mouth. “You want to be devoured by both.”

He didn’t stop until you came again—harder than before, screaming into his shoulder. His name. His title. Everything. You were nothing but sensation, overwhelmed and ruined.

Zayne groaned as he came with you, thrusting deep and slow, grinding through it as he filled you to the brim.

When he finally stilled, you were left trembling in his arms, body soaked, marked, and trembling.

His lips ghosted over your ear again, breath warm, voice barely above a whisper:

“Let’s see if you can still answer my questions next class, princess.”

Your body felt weightless, floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion.

Zayne pulled out slowly, gently, watching your body shudder at the loss. His hands were steady as he lowered your legs from his shoulders, trailing kisses along your thighs—tenderly and sweetly.

He gathered you in his arms like you were something fragile. His shirt was half undone, both of you breathless and wrecked. And yet… he still looked composed. In control. Just the way you craved him.

He lifted you effortlessly from the desk, cradling you against his chest as he moved toward the worn leather couch in the corner of his office. You curled into him instinctively, cheek resting over his heart—still pounding.

His fingers combed through your hair, his breath soft against the crown of your head.

“Did he ever touch you like that before?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you whispered. “No one ever has.”

Zayne’s jaw flexed. You could feel it where your head rested.

“Good.”

There was silence for a moment. Then:

“No one ever will.”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy but steady. His expression had softened—but that fire still simmered behind his gaze. This was the man who commanded surgical teams. Who dominated lecture halls. Who just destroyed every ounce of pride you had left… and still held you like you were something worth protecting.

“You're mine,” he said simply. Not a question. A fact.

You swallowed. “And you're mine?”

That made something in him break. Not his control—but the mask.

He leaned in slowly, brushing his lips against yours—soft, unhurried. Not to seduce. To claim.

“I’ve been yours,” he murmured. “Since the first time you spoke back in class. You challenge me. Push me. Tempt me. No one gets under my skin the way you do.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, watching you fall apart even in the quiet.

“You’ll still be a brat,” he said with a smirk. “Only for you,” you whispered.

He chuckled softly, his forehead pressing to yours.

“And I’ll keep taming you. Again. And again.”

You buried yourself deeper into his chest, your limbs tangled with his, completely undone—completely his.

And in that moment, in the silence of his office, with the scent of sex and sweat still clinging to your skin… you knew you'd never want anyone else.

Ferrymen!

Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there. I hope you enjoy some professor Zayne .. he is just ughh .. and can we talk about the cover pic for a sec ? OFMG .. SHIVER ME TIMBERS !!!

If you have anything you would like me to write shoot me a dm ! They are open. Or even if you just want to chat lol. Thank you to everyone who is liked my work, and reposted. Means a lot to me. Anyways .. coming soon a Sleepy Xavier NSFW. Have a wonderful day and thank you for stopping by.

And a special thank you to my discord loves. Who encourage me to keep writing and share my work. You all are my true inspiration to keep writing. @cordidy @fire-lizard-ro and my wonderful Isla who is my biggest supporter and always re-reads my pics to ensure you all get the best quality. If you want to join a LADS discord server click here. -> ♡

LADS NSFW Masterlist

~ The DeadStory Teller ~

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cordidy · 8 days ago

Text

needy.

they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.

mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3

sylus.

You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.

He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.

"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."

You paused.

Needy?

"Oh."

Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.

"I didn't mean — "

"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"

"No — "

"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"

That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.

No hand holding.

No hugs.

No kisses.

No sex.

Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.

But he can't lose your game so easily.

He'll toughen up if he must.

He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.

His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.

He'll be fine.

That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.

You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.

He'll wait until you give in.

It's more fun that way.

Okay, so this is harder than he thought.

It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.

Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.

"Sylus?"

He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"

"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."

He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

That was a total lie.

It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.

However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.

With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.

"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."

Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.

"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.

Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.

At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Or so he thought.

Day four.

The frustration has gotten to Sylus.

It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.

He can look, but he can't touch.

It's much more difficult than he thought.

Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.

Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.

Sylus quietly growled under his breath.

He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.

You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.

"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."

Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."

He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"

"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"

You almost agreed in a heartbeat.

But you have to stay strong.

"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."

Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.

Day seven.

You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.

It was the worst idea of all.

As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.

Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.

Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.

He was sweating throughout the entire ride.

And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.

From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.

As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.

Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.

"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."

"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"

"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."

"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."

That was all he needed to hear.

Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.

zayne

You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.

"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."

You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.

"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."

Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.

It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.

He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.

"Oh, no..."

Day three.

You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.

Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.

You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.

It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.

"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"

"What you said the other day?"

"You know... about your high libido...."

He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.

"Nope! I don't care at all!"

Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.

Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.

The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.

And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.

He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.

Day five.

You and Zayne attended a formal event.

It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.

Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.

Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.

As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.

He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.

Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.

It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.

Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.

"Zayne, are you okay?"

You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You feel warm. Are you sick?"

Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."

He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.

On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.

But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.

And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.

Day six.

On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.

Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.

You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.

After all, he had a special proposal.

"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."

It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.

But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.

He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.

He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.

After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.

"How could this happen?!"

Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.

Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.

Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.

"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."

You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.

"Kiss me."

Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.

"Oh."

He found a way to end your silly little game.

He really is a clever boy.

"Your wish is my command~"

At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.

Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.

His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.

Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.

"...should we end picnic early?"

"We should end picnic early."

caleb

You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.

"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."

Your hands come to a halt.

"What did you say?"

"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "

"No, you just called me needy just now."

Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.

"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.

"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."

"Wha — hey wait!"

It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.

Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.

The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.

But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.

"No."

"Huh?"

"No kisses."

"What?! Why?!"

You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.

"Because. I don't want to seem needy."

"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.

"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.

Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.

Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.

Day two.

The pout hasn't left his face.

You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.

You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.

"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."

"...."

"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"

"..."

No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.

But what if....

"Whew, it's so hot in here."

Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.

He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.

Or at least, that was the plan.

His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.

"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."

You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.

Day four.

You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.

The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.

But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.

Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.

Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.

Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.

Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.

Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.

He can't help but seek for your touch.

It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.

Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.

This scheme of yours has to end now.

Day five.

You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.

Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.

But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.

His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.

"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"

"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."

You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?

"What did I forget?"

Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.

"Ta-da! Here you go~"

Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.

".....Are you being serious right now?"

A hair clip.

"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."

"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."

Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"

He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.

You should've known he came in with a mission.

As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.

He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.

His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.

He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.

Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."

"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."

Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.

He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.

"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "

"Never!"

Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"

"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"

"The pot can wait. I'm busy."

"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.

"Okay I'm coming!"

rafayel

"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"

You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"

Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"

"Right..."

You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).

Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.

But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.

As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.

He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.

At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.

Day two.

You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.

The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.

"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."

"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."

Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.

"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."

"Mhmm."

Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.

He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.

You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.

Without them, his day feels incomplete.

Day three.

You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.

"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."

Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."

Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."

"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."

Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.

Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.

His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."

It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.

Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.

So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.

His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.

His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.

But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.

You held back a grin at his red face.

"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."

"...Hmph..."

He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.

Day four.

"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"

You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.

"...."

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"

"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"

"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."

You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.

You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.

You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.

Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.

"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.

"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."

Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.

"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."

Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."

Your face burned.

As did the rest of your body.

At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.

Stiff and twitching, just for you.

Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.

"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."

Rafayel has never moved so quickly.

xavier

Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.

"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.

"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."

Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "

You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"

"Wait — "

"Goodnight, I said."

Day one.

You had to be joking, right?

You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.

You probably don't even remember what you said.

Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.

So, everything should be fine.

He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.

"Good morning."

He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.

That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.

"Good morning, Xavier."

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.

There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.

Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.

You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.

Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.

Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Hmm? What are you — "

"Shhh. We need to be quiet."

Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.

But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine.

He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.

But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.

For the final check: the Pocky test.

Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.

As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.

"Wait, let me check if yours is good."

He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.

But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.

"Wah — "

You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."

So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.

And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.

Day two.

Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.

You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.

Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.

For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.

Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.

As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.

"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.

Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."

"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.

"I'll be fine~"

Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.

"Are you really that scared?"

He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.

"Ah!"

His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.

"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."

He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.

"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."

You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.

"Xavier!"

"Ssshh, I got you."

After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.

The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.

"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."

You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.

"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."

"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."

Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.

"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"

"Well.... not really...."

They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.

"At least you're honest."

A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."

You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.

"Just focus on me."

From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.

Right now, there's only Xavier.

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cordidy · 8 days ago

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The Good Timeline

Dipper Delusions

Tags: FLUFF. Another lifetime AU.

Sylus: The cigarette that perched on his lips was roughly taken away. He already knew who it was, your scent lodged in his bones. "Dear? I said I'd quit after this case..." It only earned him a peck on the lips- "and... your spouse said now." You showed him the sparkling ring on your finger. The usual banter leaving smile lines on your faces. The promise of showing how great of a life you two had in the future when you're old and gray.

Sylus worked as a detective in the Red light district. Meeting his beautiful spouse on a particularly rough day. He went over files as Luke and Kieran called from University. Sylus made it a point to send the twins to pursue education this time around. "Yeah... I can see the notes you're writing. Luke... didn't I say to work on your penmanship? Kieran isn't absolved from this too. You're assignment was late. I spoke to your professor." He felt a soft tap. Seeing your eyes looking down on him, lips pursed to ask a question. "I have no interest in solicitation." He reaches for his wallet. "Solicitation? I... you're hiring for an assistant position..." His face went red. "Oh... yeah. I am". The rest was history.

Your fingers scooped some gel. Applying it evenly in thin coats to slick his hair back a bit. Small kisses landed to the back of his neck earning you a hoarse laugh. "My dear assistant is being unprofessional." You rolled your eyes, "Your 'assistant' is the reason you crack as many cases as you do, dear...". He could only laugh. "Noted. My beautiful spouse has a tude this morning. How do we fix it?" A kiss. Two kisses. His tongue dragged on your bottom lip, only to hear the loudest CAW known to man. Mephisto reminding you both that he was in the room. "Right... right. Sorry Mephie." Man... he loved this lifetime.

Rafayel: A paintbrush hurled its way towards Rafayel's head. Who else would he call other than his spouse? The only problem is... are you busy with court? "Love? Are you busy?" You spoke quietly. The halls of the court making your voice echo. "Not really. The judge isn't here but I'm ready to go. What's wrong?" He sighed. "My beautiful and hardworking lawyer. AND WHAT'S WRONG?! A DAMN KID THREW A PAINTBRUSH AT ME". You tried... SO hard to not laugh. Your poor husband isn't having a great first day as a elementary school art teacher.

You came home earlier than him. Preparing dinner, stirring the noodles occasionally when the door opened. There he stood- looking like the loser of a paintball competition. Blue streaks on his cheek, pink on his arm, yellow on his leg, a muddy combination of colors on his hair. He refused to shower alone that afternoon. Your hands threading his strands trying to get the dried paint out. "What would I do without you?" You smiled. Kissing his lips gently. "Crash and burn".

You're about to sleep. His arms wrapped around your waist- as his phone lights up. You hear Grayson, the school principal, yelling. "Rafayel... WHERE DID YOU LEAVE THE PAINTBRUSHES?" You looked at Rafayel. "Raf... you did NOT." His face was beet red. "... I threw them in the lake." Thank goodness that his spouse was a lawyer. This seemed to be a pickle only YOU could get him out of. Your price? He had to clean and cook for the entire month. Which he did gladly. Coming home to see him in a little apron to show off he's committed to this bit.

Xavier: Office romance is REALLY hard to hide. Especially when your husband is so damn clingy. You turned in your cubicle, holding to the arms of your chair to crack your back. "That's not good... I'll crack your back for you at home." He said it SO loud. "Xavier... I'll write you up with HR." It was a tease, more of a 'hey! shut up.' He looked at you with a blank expression. "HR? For cracking my spouse’s back?" Great. Now everyone was buzzing with life. The new thing was your marriage to Xavier.

You both ate in his car- your fingers unwrapping the foil of your burrito. "You did that on purpose didn't you?" He smirked. You feel the disturbance to your spousal instincts. Closing your eyes- you put the pointer and middle finger of both hands to your temple. "If I turn... and you're laughing- I'll tickle you." You opened your eyes to see him opening the driver's side door to run. Thats how you both came to the office with mud stained clothing. Spitting out grass and leaves.

Xavier's favorite threat? "I'm going to cook tonight". That made your face go sheet white. But, you got home a bit after Xavier to see the table prepared with so much food that ACTUALLY looked edible. You sent messages to your loved ones saying your 'I love you's' incase you didn't make it out after dinner. You took a cautious bite... it was REALLY good. After you felt like a stuffed turkey- you went to the kitchen to do the dishes. Seeing empty bags of multiple take out places... right. Of course, you should've known. Your eye twitched. Looking back to see Xavier making a run for it.

Zayne: You did medical research. But, want to know you most reoccurring resource? Your husband. So it's always known... 4pm is when you'll waddle into the hospital. You came a little after 4:30 this day, however. Feeling hands twirl you around to make you face him. "You're late, my brain." You could only smile. "Traffic got really hectic, my hands." The nickname came from an interviewer. Saying that Zayne was the hands on spouse while you were the brain. Your research proposing many alternatives to medicine or explaining the true severity to different diagnosis’.

Your feet laid on Zayne's lap as he rubbed your heels. "I feel like I'm going through a loop. There is proof. I triple checked my statistics, the validity to my claims... hell! I even did a trial myself with my money!." He offered you a listening ear. "So, the problem is that the board isn't listening?" The next week you found the board looking... afraid of you. Signing off on documents to let you propose and do actual research on your claim. You knew in your gut who made it happen... Zayne. He believed in you more than anyone in the world.

At home he held you close to his chest in the bath. "I know what you did. Thank you." You looked up at him, laying your chin on his hard chest. He smiled at you. His eyes looking at you like you were a rare jewel. "Not a problem... not for my brain." The chuckle that left your lips made his heart jumpstart all over again. Your wet hand intertwined in his. "In this life... let's do this everyday." He nods. Kissing the top of your head. "Everyday... I can do that."

Caleb: He married his first love. His childhood best friend. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. You sat between his legs as he combed out your hair, making it neat and presentable for work. "After we land let's go to the breakfast place we saw in Paris?" You nodded gently. Eyes closed in bliss as he took his time. Landing occasional kisses behind your ear. "Lovely... beautiful... all the adjectives to say you look like a dream this morning." You scrunched your nose a bit. "You big sap."

You entered the cockpit to ask him if there would be any delays, per the request of a traveler. He looked up when he saw you. Cue the cheesy husband he was. "Mayday! Mayday! A smoking hottie walking in the cockpit. Evacuate immediately!" You rolled your eyes. "Delays? Traveler is insistent on getting to Paris as quickly as the plane allows us." He shook his head gently. "That information is classified. If only my spouse... gives me five minutes. Then I'll tell you." So there you were. Sat on his lap as he pointed to the different areas of the earth to tell you where was were. He placed a kiss on your lips after five minutes. "No delays. Just a husband wanting to land quickly to take his spouse to tourist spots."

When you got to the hotel in Paris he was all over you. Oiling your scalp like always as he gathered everything you needed for a spa day. Which led to you giving him a well deserved massage for being the worlds best husband. You kissed his cheek. "Remember when we were kids and you peed your pants on a big ride?" Oh that does it... he rolled over. Pinning you to the bed as he tickled you. "You said you'd stop teasing me about that!" You laughed hysterically. "Mercy! Mercy! The oil! Baby!!"

Dip speaks: Thanks for reading! But, next might be ANGST. I'm going to get ya. 🚬 🐺

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cordidy · 9 days ago

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mission gone wrong…

LADS x reader SMAU: texting them after you’ve been seriously injured by a wanderer.

* heavy angst, cursing, fem!reader

* will post two more parts to this! 1 in which reader survives and one in which reader did not survive the attack. angst enjoyers, i hope you like this…

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cordidy · 9 days ago

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Good luck to everyone pulling for Lumiere! ♪(^∇^*)

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cordidy · 10 days ago

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wasting your honor

synopsis: at akso hospital’s charity gala, you realize how smart zayne is. how much smarter he is than you.

tags: fluff to angst to fluff/comfort, reader is insecure about their intelligence, reader thinks zayne deserves better, references to socioeconomic differences, potentially inaccurate references to medical terminology and protocore stuff, misunderstanding, reader ghosts zayne for a week, he comes to find her, reader tears up, love confessions, happy ending pairing: zayne x fem!reader (referred to as “she” one time), reader doesn't have to be mc word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m rly rly proud of this it may be my favorite thing i’ve written so far please read it

“Are you sure I should be going to this?” you ask, the hesitation clear in your voice.

“Why shouldn’t you? Plenty of other attendees will be bringing their partners as plus-ones,” Zayne says matter-of-factly. “Of course, if you’re feeling unwell, it’s best to stay behind and rest. I'm sure I'll be able to manage on my own.”

“No, no, I feel fine,” you reply, chewing your bottom lip nervously. “It’s just…I've never been surrounded by so many highly educated people. I’m afraid I'll slip up, or say something wrong, or embarrass you, or…”

Before you can ramble on, he walks up to you and squishes your cheeks between his large scarred hands. “Darling,” he begins, a soft smile on his face, “none of that matters. Just be yourself, and I’m sure you’ll be the most refined person there by a mile.”

Akso Hospital’s annual charity gala was the topic of his impromptu pep talk. Each year, the event made front-page news from drawing in hundreds of world-renowned physicians to support a pressing medical cause. Tonight’s gala would be hosted by a team of legendary neurologists, and the venue—a prestigious museum of anthropology—was equally celebrated.

Zayne, who usually struggled at such events, had invited you as his plus-one with youthful hope in his hazel eyes, and there was no way you could have rejected his offer. At first, you’d been thrilled at the prospect of making an official outing together—you rarely got the chance due to his busy schedule—but as the days passed by, the anxiety of being average in a room of geniuses had caught up to you.

So as you pace back and forth before the full-length mirror, fidgeting with your dress at every turn, you can only hope that he’s right.

As Zayne puts the car in park, your stomach lurches with dread.

In the few seconds you have to panic to yourself while he walks around to open your door, the way your mind formulates last-minute escape plans would put a supercomputer to shame. Maybe you could fake sick—no, you’d told him you felt fine—or maybe with enough pressure you could lightly sprain your ankle in your hee—

The door swings open.

Fuck.

He takes your hand and guides you out of the car, and as you walk toward the museum entrance, you’re too focused on trying not to trip over your flowing gown to take in the scenery. The lights twinkling in the foggy night, the verdant plants lining the entryway in carefully arranged rows, the opulent fountain flowing over small hills of bronze coins. It’s a lovely setup, really. If only your brain would allow you to enjoy it.

After passing through the lavish front hall, decorated with colorful displays of ancient artifacts, you’re greeted by a grand ballroom layout. Round banquet tables with crystal centerpieces are scattered throughout the space, and the upscale alcohol behind the bar could probably bankrupt you with one sip.

All around you, people clad in gold watches and diamond necklaces mingle with thinly veiled scrutiny, and you silently bless Zayne for personally sponsoring your event attire.

As you head further into the room, a striking brunette woman in her 40s saunters up to you. “Zayne!” she gushes, “It’s so nice to see you could make it! With how antisocial you are, I was afraid you’d find a reason not to come. Oh, and who’s this?” she asks, eyes passing over you dismissively. “I’ve never seen you working with Zayne before—perhaps you’re in nephrology or gastroenterology?”

You have no idea what either of those words mean.

Luckily, like always, Zayne saves the day. “Actually, this is my partner. She’s accompanying me tonight.”

“Partner,” the woman repeats, her voice raising an octave in disbelief. “…What a surprise! I didn’t realize the aloof Dr. Zayne was seeing someone. How lucky you are to have him,” she finishes with a stiff smile. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then. Enjoy your evening!” she calls as she flags down a waiter and scoops up two glasses of wine.

“That was our chief of staff,” Zayne says flatly. “Surely you can understand how she scored the position with such a charming personality.”

You chat with—or Zayne chats with, while you stand off awkwardly to the side—a few more guests before the main portion of the event begins.

Dr. Greyson had roped him into a conversation about a thrilling surgery from the day before, and an intern who’d somehow managed to get on the invite list had bombarded him with questions while you watched with a blank smile.

When the lights gradually dim and you’re directed to your seats, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment to breathe, you think.

The hours pass. Speech after speech travels in and out of your ear, the jargon too advanced for you to process before the next utterly alien word comes along.

Flipping open your program in restlessness, you realize you’ve reached the final segment of the gala just as the next speaker takes the stage.

“Again, thank you all so much for your attendance tonight,” he starts. “I’m proud to announce that we’ve raised a record-breaking amount for medical research involving Protocores—what a historic feat. Each of you should be immensely proud of your contributions.”

Your claps seem too loud in the polite applause. Shifting your gaze to the guests around you, you match their enthusiasm—or lack thereof—with an inward grimace.

“Now, before the night ends, we do have one more achievement to celebrate. Dr. Zayne Li, who I believe is here with us tonight, has recently passed an extraordinary milestone—in his time with Akso, our chief cardiac surgeon has successfully completed over 800 surgeries. To show our gratitude, we’d like to present him with the Medical Impact Award. Dr. Li, if you’re in the audience, won’t you come up and celebrate this accomplishment?”

This time, you don’t hold back your applause. As Zayne rises from his seat, an endearing look of bewilderment on his face, your heart swells with admiration. Lucky, was what that woman had called you earlier. You suppose she’d been right.

As Zayne climbs up the steps, the presenter hands him a polished wooden plaque. Saying a brief thanks, he struts to the mic, a practiced look of confidence on his face now that the surprise has worn off.

“Thank you for this honor,” he begins steadily. “It’s with immense privilege that I can stand here before you today, but I’d like to take this time to commend our fundraising efforts tonight. The millions of dollars we’ve raised will be dedicated to investigating the nature of pathological conditions that originate in Protocore exposure. This will allow hundreds of medical personnel in and outside of Linkon to treat previously unsolvable cases. In regards to my own work, I’m particularly grateful—with the generosity you’ve all shown tonight, you’ve made me incredibly optimistic for the future of treating Cardiac Protocore Syndrome. I’ll keep that in mind every day—so the next 800 surgeries can go smoothly and with quick recoveries.”

As his speech ends, your look of admiration melts into a resigned, defeated smile.

For the first time that night, the room breaks out into thunderous applause. And for the hundredth time that night, you feel like you don’t deserve to stand by his side.

You’d hope that he’d chalked up your silence on the ride home to sleepiness. When he’d walked you to your apartment door and leaned in to kiss you goodnight, you’d merely stood there in indecision, afraid to taint his brilliance with your mediocrity. And then, with a strained smile, you’d shut the door in his face.

That was the last time you’d seen him for the rest of the week. And for half of the next.

For six days, you’d been completely ghosting him, too wrapped up in your insecurities to respond to his numerous messages.

Thank you for accompanying me last night. I had a wonderful time, he’d texted on the first day.

One of the nurses came up to me and gushed over your dress. She asked where you bought it from, but I told her we got it custom-ordered, he’d said on the second.

The fourth day. Would you like to join me for a meal later? We’ve had to reschedule a surgery. I’ll be getting home earlier than usual tonight.

Last night. Please respond to me when you get a chance.

And no matter how badly you wanted to, each time your fingers hovered over the keyboard, they froze in paralyzing shame.

You’d passed the time like you had before you met him—hiding from the sun, rewatching comfort movies, and wallowing in bed with gloomy ballads in the background.

But on the seventh day, your doorbell rings.

Thinking it’s the package of pastries you’d ordered from the bakery near Zayne’s house—you always got a box when you were sad—you hastily swing open the door.

And then fight the urge to shut it right back.

Because standing on your doorstep is a tired-looking Zayne, frowning in hurt and confusion.

“Hello. Is your phone broken?” he asks worriedly, checking your body for signs of illness.

“Um…no,” you mutter, suddenly fixated on your navy blue slippers. “Why don’t you come in? If you want to.”

With an infinitesimal squint, he crosses the threshold of your apartment. All things considered, it’s a good thing he’s here, given the way your heart is beating out of your chest.

“You haven’t been responding to my calls or messages since the gala,” he begins carefully. “I was afraid something was wrong. There were so many people present—maybe you’d caught a virus. But,” he continues, taking in your disheveled yet healthy appearance, “it seems I was incorrect.”

The guilt that’s been eating at you for days suddenly devours your insides whole, and your emotional dam bursts open.

“I-I’m glad you got to go, and that you got your award—your speech was great, by the way,” you sniffle. “But while we were there, the whole time I was thinking how much more successful you are than me. How much more intelligent. I mean, that lady asked me if I was an entomologist, or whatever, and I didn’t even know what she meant! At the end of it I just…thought you’d be better off without me. That you deserve better. Smarter. That’s why I’ve been quiet the last few days,” you finish, eyes downcast.

His puzzled frown deepens at your revelation.

“Why would I expect you to possess medical knowledge when that’s not your field of study?”

Oh.

You really were stupid, weren’t you.

“You…don’t think I’m too…average for you?”

“No, have I ever indicated that I do? If so, I apologize for making you feel that way. It’s the complete opposite of how I view you,” he reveals, stepping closer. “I’m also terribly sorry I didn’t notice you were so uncomfortab—”

“No,” you interrupt him shakily. “I tried to hide it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Zayne gives you a sympathetic grin before starting over. “Regardless, I regret not being able to take care of you like I should have. And as much as I wish you hadn’t, I understand why you took the time to process your feelings. But to make one thing clear,” he asserts, voice deepening in emphasis. “I’m the one who’s lucky to have you.”

As you look up at him through glassy eyes, your breath hitches. “What?” you croak, voice hoarse from built-up tears.

“Darling,” he begins gently. “Did you ever consider whether I like socializing with those types of people?”

Mouth parting in a small ‘o,’ you shake your head meekly.

He smiles wryly. “After every previous one of those events, I’ve gone home with an ear-splitting headache. Last week was the first time I’ve ever enjoyed going,” he chuckles. “Not because of that award—which was flattering but unnecessary considering I was only doing my job,” he quips, “but because you were there beside me.”

“No amount of medical knowledge can compare to the peace you make me feel. The comfort. I asked you to be my plus-one for one reason only: the person I love makes me happy.”

At the confession, your battered heart soars and your cheeks burn so hot you think they’ll melt off. Timidly, you inch closer to him, instinctually unsure if he’ll welcome you back into his arms.

He answers your unvoiced question almost immediately, pulling you to him by the waist before he speaks again. “Although,” he pauses, giving you a concerned once-over, “if you were truly in so much distress over attending, you could have just refused. At the expense of my own happiness, I would’ve preferred you had.”

“But you seemed so excited to go,” you groan, laying your head against his chest. You shiver at the contact—you must’ve missed him more than you realized. “I guess I was wrong.”

“Not entirely. I was excited to go with you.”

At his response, you bury yourself impossibly further into him, and he strokes your back tenderly. “Well, that was one reason I agreed—you looked so cute when you asked, I just couldn’t say no,” you grumble, lightly pinching his waist. “But the other part was…with all the hours you spend at the hospital—800 surgeries and all—we never really get to go to big events as a couple. I just wanted to take the opportunity, I guess. I thought it would feel nice.”

Zayne sighs deeply and presses a light kiss to your hair. “And it felt bad instead,” he surmises. “How can I make it up to you? I’ll ask Greyson to trade shifts with me if I need to, just say the word.”

“Well,” you start, peering up at him shyly. “There is an office party next week that I’ve been dreading going to. All alone,” you pout. “If he comes with me, the illustrious Dr. Zayne will get to see how we regular people socialize.”

Chuckling softly, he kisses your forehead. “He wouldn’t dare miss out on that. He’ll be there,” he promises, squeezing your hip in confirmation. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, I believe the bakery van just dropped something off at your door. Shall we open it?”

In an instant, you peel yourself off of him and sprint for the door before freezing in your tracks. You were forgetting something.

“Wait!” you exclaim, turning back around to face him. With a nervous gulp, you say the words you think you’ve known for a long time.

“I asked you to come with me, Zayne,” you breathe, “because the person I love makes me happy, too.”

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