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gineirouu · 11 days ago

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#I have to prepare myself before locking in to read this ughhh Im hooked

close to you | zayne li (m)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Yvonne!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

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

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

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

But you know that’s not the case.

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

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

“It’s nice seeing you again, Dr. Li.”

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

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

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

To Dr. Chung’s office.

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

“Ah, Zayne! You’ve found Dr. ____!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No…no-

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

“Who am I co-teaching with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was nice seeing you, ____.”

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

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

How the fuck are you going to survive this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should have known.

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

Or have his feelings for you eroded into nothingness?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What makes you think that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy shit, ____.”

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

“This is the romance story of the ages.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was charged and intense!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I haven’t moved on.”

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

“You’re not over Zayne?”

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

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

“Shit, ____.”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you talked to him at all?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All right, I’ll talk to him.”

This is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A handsome looking new receptionist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That won’t be necessary, Matthew.”

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

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

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

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

“Wha-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the doctor she has a crush on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who said I wouldn’t eat them?”

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

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

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

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

-and you exhale in relief when he nods slightly.

“After today’s observations.”

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

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

Observations are going well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is he still so worried about you?

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

Why is your heart aching right now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“-Zayne, there you are!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…I want to take care of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Having fun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was a mistake.”

Your heart cracks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay, ____?”

That one sentence is enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now? Now you even feel more broken.

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

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

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

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

“Can I come in?” Zayne asks quietly.

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

“How are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

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

His breath hitches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is the family of Amy Hsu here?”

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

Oh no.

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

“I’m sorry,” Greyson says softly.

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

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

Empathy and compassion. Service for others before yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everybody move out of my way!”

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

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

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

Finally, some rest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay.”

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

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

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

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

“Mmm?” you mumble sleepily.

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

“Zayne?”

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

“What if we aren't meant to be?”

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

Before you finally surrender, though, you hear it:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve always known the answer, you think.

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

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

You’re definitely supposed to be alone.

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

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

“Alistair said you accepted the offer.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With you? Always.”

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

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

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gineirouu · 16 days ago

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#OH I AM IN SHAMBLES THIS IS BEAUTIFUL .

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you.

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning.

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable.

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway.

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway.

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.”

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.”

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock.

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock.

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead.

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered.

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond.

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion.

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one.

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket.

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?”

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant.

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all.

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits.

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand.

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.”

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically.

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you.

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam.

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you.

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you.

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her.

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief.

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow.

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option.

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short.

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan.

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style.

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11.

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it.

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again.

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall.

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them.

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire.

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus.

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace.

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate.

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer.

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave.

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground.

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck.

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house.

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home.

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree.

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return.

“A million dollars.”

“Done.”

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more.

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests.

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.”

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request.

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?”

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive.

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.”

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck.

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun.

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation.

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life.

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions.

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will.

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no.

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded.

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake.

“You threatened an old man with a gun…”

“Yes.” Kieran responded.

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief.

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected.

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one.

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find.

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?”

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right?

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed.

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress.

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?”

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.”

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.”

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair.

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone.

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question.

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others.

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued.

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling.

“You are the spitting image of your mother.”

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her.

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod.

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.”

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.”

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.”

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom.

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other.

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing.

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.”

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.”

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb.

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year.

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too.

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.”

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you.

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office.

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting.

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile.

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary.

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ.

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now.

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence.

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity.

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly.

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings.

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour.

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours.

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday.

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive.

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic.

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk.

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?”

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them.

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head.

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go.

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed.

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.”

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life.

_______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb.

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response.

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway.

“Order whatever you’d like.”

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu.

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied.

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny.

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne.

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand.

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with.

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course.

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead.

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night.

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter .

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it.

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around.

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare.

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours.

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman.

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down. “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.”

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask.

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry.

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural.

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free.

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break.

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare.

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment.

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name.

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you.

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war.

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.”

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.”

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.”

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption.

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice.

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw.

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset.

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately.

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne.

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded.

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back.

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material.

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind.

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was.

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left.

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.”

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew.

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.”

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?”

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well.

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces.

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged.

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies.

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.”

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work.

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided.

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house.

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast.

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner.

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before.

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see.

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory.

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November.

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly.

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants.

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet.

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide.

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked.

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused.

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now.

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?”

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand.

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave.

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him.

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game.

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features.

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions.

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.”

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right.

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important.

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?”

All sound came to a stifling halt.

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus.

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned.

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again.

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse.

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return.

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism.

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side.

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth.

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure.

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued.

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.”

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms.

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream.

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time.

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?”

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success.

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves.

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about.

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk.

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands.

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you.

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store.

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead.

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship.

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick.

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it.

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice.

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress.

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.”

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose.

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace.

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?”

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone.

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight.

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response.

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his.

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane.

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy.

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise.

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice.

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date.

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind.

“I don’t care.” In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same.

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away.

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him.

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse.

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them.

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly.

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart.

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next.

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent.

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you.

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!”

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back.

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts.

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.”

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear.

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone.

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful.

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you.

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time.

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation.

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality.

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you.

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible.

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary.

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt.

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.”

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex.

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.”

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again.

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.”

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.”

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this.

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet.

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop.

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that.

Tag list: @blue-sky336 @sei-chuun @astolary @luna-looniesblog @rainkissedberries @syluslittlecrows @escape-your-nightmare @mangooes @bibistarx @kathypellar @stxrrielle @mansonofmadness @babygirl-panda19 @wegottastayfocus @zoezhive @futurecorpse92 @diabolichii @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @cathuggnbear @blue-serendipity @huuvu @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @sh3sa1dwhat @justpassingdontworry @sylustoru @poptrim @mikachux3 @thargelalia @eolivy @vyntheria @dana-nite @miffysoo @babyx91 @fealy @sillyfreakfanparty @cassiesversion @serenity-loves-red @nommingonfood @sylusgirlie7 @browneyedgirl22 @silverbrain

Sorry if you were tagged but didn't get a notif, I think some of you might have your tags off because your blog wasn't coming up for me >:c

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gineirouu · 29 days ago

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Zayne was terrified.

He’s been scared before, petrified even, but never terrified. He was always the biggest person in the room. Opting to be calm and collected even in situations that can cause panic and disaster. And that’s why he’s your safe space. Your peace. The one that keeps your sanity intact when that pretty brain of yours decides to wreck your plans with overthinking. He knew how to keep you levelheaded. He knew how to calm your racing heart. The same heart that gave him a reason to pursue medicine in the first place.

Now it’s him that needs a safe space. It’s him that needs safety and peace. And Zayne knows damn well that only you can provide him that. Even when you aren’t doing anything, just standing, breathing, existing, you can calm any storm brewing inside of him. Any battle he fought, any bruise or wound obtained, you have always been there. You saw past the barricade made by him that everyone couldn’t look past. You found warmth and peace despite of his cold demeanor, despite of the chaos that he kept locked away inside his heart. You thawed any ice that crept up his body that dared to pierce his heart. You filled Zayne’s life that was cold and blue with an array of colors and warmth that he can only describe as paradise.

But the nightmares grew louder. Louder than his heart that beats for you. They scream profanities and chants that Zayne can only describe as hell. They flash visions, visions of you being hurt. Of you battered and bruised, covered in red in his arms. And he won’t be able to do anything about it. He clutches his chest, the same one you used to lay your head against and feels a hollow empty shell. That no amount of running can help escape the curse of Astra. The curse that he will never be able to love you freely. With no consequences. Without killing him. Without killing you.

With his resignation letter submitted and a guarantee that the local bakeshop will deliver baked goods on your doorstep in place of him. He makes his leave. a slow, agonizing, and painful leave. He didn’t say goodbye. nor left anything that lead to him. He left as silently as the winter that was cast upon Linkon. He told himself you’d be fine. That you won’t even notice he’s gone. But even he knows that’s not true. He knows you’d demand answers. That you’d scream and cry and look for him. Climb the highest mountains and swim the deepest seas to be back in his arms again. And that makes his heart ache. Because he’d do the same. He’d go against Astra himself if it meant making his way back to you.

But not right now. Not with the possibility of hurting you. Not with him losing comtrol. and so he glances at Linkon one more time. Sending a silent prayer to keep his patients and you safe.

Zayne spent years mastering his craft. Perfecting the steady of his hands and polishing his memory. Studying the heart of countless people and finding the reason why they have the tendency to stop beating. He’s done many surgeries, and hes succeeded in more than he has failed. He’s renowned, skilled, and a natural. And yet he can’t find the reason why a single person can cause him such complications in his heart. He can’t find the answer and put a medical diagnosis to even begin explaining how you have an effect on him. But Zayne doesn’t dare find an answer. He doesn’t dare looking for the reasons or a medicine strong enough to cure him.

Because he doesn’t need to be cured. He’s willing to be sick forever if it means being with you. And even though he’s gone. Breaking the promise he gave away before. He knows in his heart , cold and blue, that he will always always find his way back to you.

A/N: Rushed and not proofread but I really miss him and I hope this makes Jasmines feel a little bit better. He WILL be back. Trust.🫩🙏

#love and deepspace #lads #lads zayne #lads mc #lads x reader #lnds zayne #zayne x mc #dr zayne #doctor zayne #zayne li #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne #zayne x you

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gineirouu · 30 days ago

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My take on the “gooner game” label for games like lads:

This shouldn’t even be a topic of discussion considering that its a literal otome game…what do they expect. But this surge of sudden hesitancy in the internet stems from purist culture. Most people these days are so scared of words like sex or seeing people show even a silver of skin. Intimacy, romance, sex, and skinship are all taboo topics often dialed down to something “sus” or labeled as inappropriate. This reminds me a lot of how old people shield children away from “The talk” in exchange of protecting their innocence which then leads them to be uneducated in the long run. Except its not the older generation or something like the female and male anatomy, its every day things that people say are inappropriate when they arent.

Which leads us to lads and the controversy surrounding its seemingly “sexual” gameplay. Lets get it clear that lads is an otome game, a dating sim designed to simulate the real life experiences of romance and intimacy for women. centered around a female audience, the gameplay is designed with the interests of women. Which makes me assume that people just cant handle women being happy about anythinh. For years, game developers have gotten away with portraying women as objects of pleasure, with each release, the clothes of the female protagonists and characters slowly becoming less like clothes and more like an excuse to cater to male audiences. Which are the primary players of. Men have their games that gain success worldwide with the only female characters have their ass and tits out for the male gaze, jamming the sounds of guns and bombs accompanied by a dramatic screen play to excuse the absolute mockery it is that they portray the womens in the game. AND NO ONE CARES. No one discusses it no one calls them out for it. No one calls it a gooner game because its an rpg or a p2p game that has cool combat or shit. But the momeny sylus grunts in an audio everyone is suddenly clutching their pearls. Which leads me to believe that the entertainment of women is the problem to people. “gooning” or whatever this generation calls it is just another term to ostracize people and their explorations romance, sex, and intimacy.

Its not the 1940’s, we have no reason to have such conservative beliefs and opinions that make it seem like human bodies overlapping is the greatest sin committed by humanity. Man or woman, if you have the desire to explore things about yourself through media (as long as you aren’t partaking in media that is harmful or detrimental) then be free to do so. “Gooning” under the right context is a good thing and sex and intimacy shouldnt be viewed in a negative light. Let that poor woman enjoy silent poem with zayne and STOP beating her up abt it.🙏

#love and deepspace #lads #lads xavier #lads sylus #lads rafayel #lads caleb #lads zayne

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gineirouu · 30 days ago

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#damn right.

Share with you my precious collection of his smirks🫰🏻♥️✨

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gineirouu · 1 month ago

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#People rlly be out here writing shit that rivals shakespear and no ONE CARES #This…this made me sad…I love it

The Heart Cracks Before it Shatters (Pt6) ⋆｡°✩ Bakugou Katsuki

Masterlist ୨ৎ pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5 pt5.5

The finale : Nothing is ever easy.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : guys dont shout at me i know im one day late. BUT SHES DONE! I cant believe it honestly. this has been such a whirlwind and im lowkey said its over. but I hope you will all stay with me for future projects! yay!

Warnings : SUGGESTIVNESS AT A POINT (nothing explict but still) Angsty, Female!Reader, Reader is a wife, Reader has children, bakugou is very sad, agruments, swearing, sadness, aged up characters, childern, babies.

W/C : 6.9k

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

While the rush of determination felt good in the moment, now, standing outside Katsuki’s office, it’s settled into something closer to pure nerves.

You had a plan. A simple one, really. Step one: show your husband you miss him. Step two: admit you’ve both made mistakes. Step three: figure out how the hell to move forward without wrecking each other in the process. It sounded solid enough when you wrote it out in your notes app—three times, actually—but putting it into action? Yeah. Not as easy as it looked on screen.

The first time you tried was when you were dropping the kids off. For the past two weeks, it had been a no-talking, no-eye-contact type of handoff. You stayed in the house, watched Riko do all the work, carrying her sister’s bags and lugging Koharu to the door while you kept your distance. So, you figured attempt number one was simple enough—step in, carry your own kid out to the car, like you probably should’ve been doing this whole time.

So, you took some deep breaths, took Korahu from her sister's hand (paired with a weird look from the older sister) and ushered the girls to the door.

Katsuki was there, like always. Leaning against his car, looking tired. Sad, too. But still stupidly handsome, which pissed you off more than you’d admit. The second the door opened and he saw you standing there, his whole body snapped to attention. His eyes widened a little, his shoulders squared up, like he wasn’t sure what to do but he was sure as hell going to do something.

It was almost funny. Almost.

He didn’t say anything, but he met you halfway. Took Riko’s bag without asking. Looking at Koharu in your arms like it hurt him to see her there and not with him.

“Um…” Riko’s small voice cut through the moment. She hovered a little to the side, fidgeting. “Mama, are you… coming with us?” she asked, her brows pinching in quiet confusion as she glanced between you both.

And, for some reason, this question is a surprise to you. And it very quickly occurs to you also, that maybe your children shouldn't see the maybe difficult and definitely emotional conversation you are planning to have with their father. Yup. Why was that not included in the notes app plan?

You don’t say anything at first. But now Riko’s staring at you like she’s waiting for an answer, and Katsuki’s standing there, still as anything, his hand flexing around the strap of her bag like he’s holding himself back from saying something.

You clear your throat, shifting Koharu’s weight on your hip. “ um… no not today sweetheart, just saying hi is all”.

Riko doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway, glancing up at Katsuki. He’s already watching you, gaze steady, a crease between his brows like he’s thinking something he’s not sure he should say out loud.

“You could, y’know,” he mutters after a beat, his voice low but rough at the edges. “Come with us. If you wanted.”

“W-were just getting dinner at that place downtown, with the udon you like. And a movie, probably.”

And if every single member of your little family wasn’t looking at you right now, waiting, hoping, you might’ve groaned out loud. How did you not account for this? How did you not see it coming? And you are not about to screw this up by winging it.

“Oh,” you say, a nervous laugh catching on your tongue. It falls flat. No one joins in. “I think I’ll take a raincheck for tonight. Got some leftover work I need to finish up, unfortunately.”

You reach out to ruffle Riko’s hair. She leans into it, even smiles a little, a nice distraction from the weird tension in the air.

Katsuki doesn’t push. He never does these days. You’re not sure if that makes it easier or harder.

He just watches you for a long moment, like he’s turning something over in his head. His jaw ticks, sharp and familiar, but when he nods, it’s slow. Careful. Like he’s not trusting himself to move too fast. “Yeah,” he says after a beat. His voice is quieter now. “Okay. Another time, then.”

You offer a faint smile, one you hope looks steadier than it feels, and murmur your goodbyes. Riko gives you one last look over her shoulder before climbing into the car. Katsuki opens the door for her without breaking eye contact, and something about that sticks with you longer than it should.

And later that night, you’re still thinking about it. About the way Katsuki’s eyes followed you. About how you turned down his offer because you weren’t ready—not yet—and wondering if it sounded too much like rejection.

You hope not. God, you hope not.

Kirishima’s warnings about time are still hanging in the back of your mind, like a nagging little voice. The more you think about it, the more it feels like putting this conversation off any longer is just another excuse. So, better now than later, right? What’s the worst that could happen? Well, besides everything falling apart, obviously.

Father’s Day.

It’s not intentional, not really. It just sort of happens that way. And, okay, maybe deciding to have this conversation today of all days feels a little… questionable. You could start with a positive. “Wow, you’re actually a good father these days!” Sure, the conversation could end terribly, but at least you’d have that one bit of sincerity before everything goes to shit.

A quick text to Izuku confirms what you already suspected—Katsuki’s working during the day. Of course he is. But he has the kids tonight, which means you get the rest of the evening to yourself. Perfect. Time to spiral in peace.

You spend the morning mentally preparing yourself, like you always do before any interaction with your husband these days. It's become a routine at this point—dress nice, check your reflection one more time, make sure your hair’s in place, like somehow that’ll make everything easier. You even check the gift you got him for the millionth time, just to make sure it hasn’t mysteriously disappeared or been swapped out for something less meaningful. You really don’t need any more stress right now.

You want your arrival to be a complete surprise, which means you can't just drive. That would be too easy—and also, the parking sensors at his place would give you away in a second. Katsuki would know you were there before you even stepped out of the car, and you definitely don’t want him overthinking anything. So, you opt for the bus instead. It feels a little ridiculous, but it’s the only way to guarantee you catch him completely off guard. No time for him to prepare or second-guess. You want this moment to be real, unfiltered.

As the bus rumbles along, you look out the window at the sunny day, feeling something a little unexpected—hope. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that. It’s funny, though, but as you sit there, the memories come flooding back. It was actually this time of year, so many years ago, when Katsuki officially asked you to be his girlfriend. It feels like a lifetime ago, but the memories are so vivid. People are always surprised when you tell them he was shy back then, especially since they only see the brash, bold personality he’s built up over the years. Back then, though, he was anything but.

He suggested a walk and lunch, like any normal date. But you hadn’t even made it ten minutes down the path before he pulled you aside, cornering you against a tree. His eyes were wide, a mixture of determination and uncertainty flickering behind them. “I want to be official,” he’d said, so seriously, yet nervously—completely out of character for him. You couldn’t help but laugh, a soft, genuine laugh. Maybe that laugh made it all the more real, solidifying that this was the boy who had stolen your heart so effortlessly, and the man who was now trying to win it all over again.

And now, here you are, so many years later. The shy boy has grown into a man. Changed by time, by life, by everything you’ve both gone through. It’s funny how much time can shift a person, how it can shape someone in ways you don’t always see coming. You wonder how he’d say you’ve changed, too. Would he even recognize the person you’ve become? Would he still see the girl who laughed under that tree all those years ago? You weren’t so sure.

When you find yourself standing outside Katsuki’s agency building, you don’t hesitate. The adrenaline is already pumping, your heart racing as you push open the door, wondering if any paparazzi are lurking nearby. It’s a small but nagging thought, the price of being so connected to someone so publicly known.

You walk up to the front desk, and the receptionists look up, offering you a warm, welcoming smile. "How have you been?" one of them asks, and for a brief moment, you forget how long it’s been since you’ve actually been here. You can’t even remember the last time you stepped foot into this place. Maybe back when it was still new, and Katsuki was so excited about it. Back then, he used to pester you to come visit all the time, his proud smile, guiding you around with that quiet swagger of his.

You glance around, taking in the changes since the last time you were here. There’s a new fishtank behind the reception desk, the soft swish of water a peaceful contrast to the buzz of the street outside. You didn’t even notice it when you first walked in. When did that get put in?

Leaning in slightly, you lower your voice to a near whisper, careful not to draw attention. “Don’t tell Katsuki I’m here. I’ve got a surprise for him.” The words are almost a secret, a lightness to them that doesn’t entirely match the nervous tension growing inside you. The receptionists giggle softly, their glances exchanged behind a knowing smile before one of them gives a playful, almost conspiratorial nod.

One of them leans forward, their voice light with curiosity and a hint of amusement. “A surprise, huh?” they ask, their tone teasing but not intrusive. “Hopefully he’ll love it. Honestly, he’s been a little quiet around here... maybe he’s just been missing you.”

You nod, trying to mask the sudden tension in your chest. Off. Katsuki had been distant in a way that was hard to ignore. The words only make your nerves continue to bubble in your stomach. You hate the idea that you’ve been ruining his work life too.

Once the elevator beeps, you quietly step out and walk down the halfway, the sounds of talking fleeting in the background. Your footsteps echo softly, and for a brief moment, you wonder if this is a mistake, or if you’re doing the right thing. Why does everything feel so uncertain now?

But then you shake your head, forcing the doubts aside. You can’t hesitate now—not when you’ve come this far. You clutch the gift a little tighter, the weight of it solid in your hands, a reminder of why you’re here. Just do it.

When you finally make it to his office, you can’t help but hesitate outside the door. His blinds are down, so he hasn’t seen you coming. You glance down at your phone—no messages, no missed calls. There’s nothing to suggest he’s expecting you. Still, you hesitate. Your hand hovers above the door, but you can’t bring yourself to actually touch it.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, the tension in your body making you feel jittery, like you're on the edge of doing something you can't quite bring yourself to start. You glance around the hall, seeing a few curious looks in your direction, and you realize just how out of place you must seem, standing here in front of his door, waiting. The longer you stand there, the stranger it feels. You can’t put it off any longer.

God, this is hard.

You knock lightly, the sound barely audible. When no response comes after a couple of seconds, you knock again, this time a little more forceful.

“WHAT,” comes Katsuki’s loud voice from the other side, as sharp as ever. You can practically feel the force of it through the door, and it makes you wonder how his staff ever manages to be around him all day without flinching. But you? You're nervous, sure, but you're not scared. You steady yourself, taking a deep breath, before pushing the door open.

To your surprise, Katsuki isn’t alone.

Izuku is there too, leaning over Katsuki’s desk with his face uncomfortably close to him. Katsuki, on the other hand, is leaning away, his body stiff and his brows furrowed as if he’s trying to put as much distance between them as possible. But no matter how much Katsuki shifts, Izuku’s still right there, talking to him like they’re in some weird, casual conversation.

As you step inside, the low murmur of their voices reaches your ears.

“Why are your under eyes so dark? Have you been sleeping?” Izuku asks, genuinely concerned, his eyes scanning Katsuki’s face.

“Get out of my fuckin’ face, Deku,” Katsuki grumbles in response, his hand coming up to swat at Izuku’s face. Izuku, as usual, seems oblivious to how much space he’s crowding, even as he nudges closer to Katsuki’s personal space.

You, on the other hand, stand frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to do. It’s a bit confusing, actually—neither of them has looked over at you even though they both know someone’s coming in. You clear your throat, a soft “hello” slipping out, just enough to break the silence.

And just like that, both of them snap their attention to you. Katsuki’s eyes widen in surprise, his body shifting almost instinctively, pushing his chair back as far from Izuku as possible. He straightens up, his posture suddenly more alert. His eyes track you, silent and intense, but there’s an undercurrent of something—maybe nervousness, maybe relief, and definitely surprise. At least your plan worked?

Izuku, on the other hand, stands up quickly, a wide, easy smile lighting up his face. “Hey!” he says brightly, completely unaware of the sudden tension in the room. “Katsuki didn’t mention you were coming today!” Without missing a beat, he takes a step forward and pulls you into a warm hug, a casual, friendly gesture that feels comforting in the moment but also slightly jarring given everything you’ve been feeling.

Katsuki watches this carefully, his face softening just a fraction when he sees the way Izuku is interacting with you.

Izuku pulls away from the hug with a grin, oblivious to any underlying tension. “It’s good to see you!” his voice light, before turning back to Katsuki.

“You too,” you say shyly, your voice quiet, your gaze catching Katsuki’s. The intensity of his stare unsettles you more than you expect, his eyes still tracking you like he’s trying to make sense of why you’re here, why you showed up today.

But before you can dwell on it too much, Katsuki’s voice cuts through the air with surprising sharpness. “Deku, leave.”

Izuku blinks, clearly taken aback. “What?! But I want to catch up with you guys! I haven’t seen Y/N in forever, and you’ve been dodging my calls—”

“Get the fuck out,” Katsuki growls again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Izuku frowns, giving Katsuki a playful side-eye, not picking up on the tension at all. “But you see her every day! I just want to—”

“Deku.”

There’s a sudden finality in Katsuki’s voice, something that makes Izuku pause for a second before his expression shifts. It’s as though he understands something unspoken, the corners of his mouth lifting in a resigned smile. He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair, clearly about to exit.

“Fine… but I really want to see you guys soon!” Izuku says, turning back to you as he heads toward the door. “And Y/N?” he calls with a teasing grin. “Make sure he’s sleeping okay, alright? I know you two are young and in love but—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT, DEKU!” Katsuki cuts him off, his voice booming, and Izuku laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender as he finally exits, leaving you and Katsuki standing there in the thick silence.

You shift uncomfortably, unsure of what to say or do. The plan had been so simple in your head—so clear—but now, in the face of this strange and quiet moment, it feels anything but.

“I—” You start, your voice faltering before you take a steadying breath. “I wasn’t expecting him to be here.”

Katsuki says nothing, his silence hanging between you both like a heavy fog. He runs a hand through his hair, the motion almost like a reflex, and you watch as his jaw tightens, then relaxes. Still, he doesn’t speak.

You glance at the space between you, then back at him, the knot in your stomach tightening. This wasn’t how you envisioned it.

“I brought you something,” you murmur, your hand instinctively reaching for the small gift bag you’ve been holding onto like a lifeline. “For Father’s Day.”

At the mention of Father’s Day, his eyes flicker for a moment, just a brief flash of something soft and unfamiliar before it’s gone. Katsuki doesn’t take the gift from you immediately, instead watching it with a gaze that’s more distant than you expect. He doesn’t say anything for a few long beats, and you’re starting to think maybe this was a mistake, maybe you should’ve just left it alone.

But then he takes a step forward, reaching for the bag with an almost reluctant gesture. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” you reply, your voice quiet but sincere. "It's... it's just a little something."

Katsuki gives a stiff nod as he pulls the bag from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours briefly, and though the contact is fleeting, it sends a shiver through you. He opens it slowly, and the soft crinkle of tissue paper fills the silence before he pulls out the small, simple gift you picked out for him—a picture frame. It’s of him and the girls, when Koharu had just been born and was still so tiny. You don’t think he’s ever seen this picture. You took it during one of those rare, quiet moments when he was reading to the girls, lost in the story and unaware you were watching from the doorway.

For a long time, Katsuki doesn’t speak. He simply stares at the frame in his hands, his gaze fixed on the picture. You consider that your going to be met with silence again, that this was all one big mistake and your overstepping with someone that can’t be bothered with you anymore.

“Is… is it okay?” you ask hesitantly, your voice breaking the silence.

Finally, Katsuki looks up at you, and for a moment, the distance between you seems to shrink. “Yeah. It’s fine. It’s… nice,” he says with a low soft tone to it.

You shift, unsure of what to do next, your eyes tracing the lines of his face, the hard planes of his jaw, the tension that hasn’t quite faded from his shoulders. It’s like he's lost in the memory, but also wrestling with it at the same time.

After what feels like forever, he finally speaks, and the words are barely a whisper, but they hold more weight than any explosion he could’ve set off. "What are you really doing here?"

His eyes flick up to meet yours, but they linger there for just a moment before quickly darting away, almost like he’s afraid of what he might see if he holds your gaze too long.

For a second, you don’t know how to answer. Your throat tightens, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. It’s not an easy question to answer, not when the answer feels too complicated, tangled up with everything you both are and aren’t anymore.

But you manage to find your voice. “I—” You stop yourself, unsure how to explain it, unsure of how much to say. You try again, quieter this time. “I wanted to see you. To... give you that. To... be here.”

His gaze shifts briefly, something unreadable flashing in his eyes before he looks down at the frame again. His fingers tighten around it, but it’s not in anger—it’s like he’s holding onto it, holding onto the moment in the picture, trying to tether himself to something he can’t quite let go of.

There’s a hesitation in the way he breathes, in the way his gaze keeps flicking between the picture and you. He seems to want to say something, but whatever it is, he’s holding it back, like it’s too fragile to speak aloud.

Then—“Sweetheart…” His voice catches, a quiet hesitation there you haven’t heard before. “What does that mean?” His lips twitch into a dry, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m a little fuckin’ confused over here.”

You huff a breath, nerves fluttering under your skin. Fair enough. You did show up unannounced after weeks of silence, acting like none of it had happened. Of course he’s confused. You would be, too.

“Yeah. Okay. Um—well!” You force a shaky exhale through a tight-lipped smile. God, why is this so hard? “I just… had some things to say and I—well. No. I guess.”

The words tangle in your mouth before they can land anywhere. You’re floundering, and you know it.

Katsuki reaches out, his hand finding your hip with a steadiness you didn’t realize you needed. His thumb draws slow, grounding circles against your side. “Breathe,” he murmurs.

You do. So does he.

And when you give him a small, grateful smile, it’s answered by a faint flush rising on his cheeks. That soft, familiar pink that makes your chest ache. Yeah… this is okay. You can do this.

“I wanted to apologize,” you say, quieter now. “For what happened… last time. When you were at the house.”

His hand falls away from your hip at that, and the loss of it makes your skin prickle cold. But you keep going.

“You were right. It wasn’t fair to you. And then I made it worse by not reaching out after I… after I threw you out.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “I guess I thought you’d message me first. Which was stupid.”

“I didn’t want to overstep,” he says quietly, staring down at his hands like they’re something he’s only just noticed. His knuckles are tight, the same hands that just held you, now clenched like he’s bracing for something.

You step closer, reaching out. Your palms cradle his face, coaxing his gaze back to yours. His eyes widen, startled in a way that makes your heart ache all over again. Like he can’t quite believe you’re here.

“I know you didn’t,” you say softly. “I think I was just feeling… insecure. Hurt. And, yeah, maybe a little petty.” You try for a smile, but it’s faint. “Not my most mature moment.”

Your fingers slip into his hair, nails grazing gently at his hairline. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

Katsuki’s quiet for a beat. Then another. His eyes search yours like he’s looking for something he isn’t sure he’ll find.

And then, barely above a breath—“Does that mean I can come home now?”

The way he says it cracks something open inside you. Soft. Uncertain. Katsuki Bakugou, who has always been brash and sure, suddenly sounds like a kid waiting to be told he’s not in trouble. Like he’s hoping for permission to want this.

Your chest tightens. “Yes,” you whisper. “I… missed you. A lot. So if you want to, yeah. Please.”

You barely have time to breathe before he’s pulling you in, arms wrapping tight around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His face presses to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, his voice thick. “I hate that I made you feel like that. You’re… you’re the most beautiful fuckin’ person in the world to me. I want you to know that.”

He draws back just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your waist. His eyes are a little red around the edges. “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much.”

You smile. And this time, it feels real.

“Me too.”

~~~

Katsuki doesn’t come home that night.

He tells you straight, his hands firm on your hips, holding you steady like he thinks you might drift off if he doesn’t. “I… I want to come back tonight. Fuck, angel, I want to.” His thumbs press in, warm and certain. “But it’s complicated. I got arts and crafts shit with the girls, and—”

He pauses, searching your face, as if there’s something he needs you to understand. And you do. You really do. It’s Father’s Day, after all. He’s planned something fun with them—he deserves that.

So you nod. “It’s fine,” you say, even if it’s not entirely. Even if part of you aches a little at the thought of another night in an empty house.

But then his phone buzzes again. The reminder that he’s still on the clock, still pro-hero Dynamight. He mutters under his breath, answering the call with a scowl. And while he’s distracted, you let yourself slip toward the door. No point hovering.

You don’t get far before he’s slamming the phone down.

“Oi,” he calls, striding toward you. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

You turn, halfway through a smile. “You’re busy.”

“Don’t care,” he shrugs, before wrapping you up in another of his crushing hugs, his chin hooked over your shoulder like he’s grounding himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, breathing him in. “Let me know how you and the girls get on.”

At that, he pulls back just enough to flash a small, crooked smile. “They’ll love it.” And you can tell he means it. He’s already picturing it—Korahu’s chubby fingers smearing paint where it shouldn’t go, Riko trying to keep things under control like she’s got any chance at all.

It all goes surprisingly smooth after that. You part ways. No fight. No lingering weight pressing on your chest. Just… quiet. Simple. You didn’t expect simple.

Still, the house feels a little emptier when you get home. You tell yourself it’s karma. Fair’s fair.

So you fill the quiet with the hum of self-care—cleaning, candles, making the bed like he’s already here. Maybe it’s silly, but it makes you feel better. Like you’re making room for him.

A couple of texts drop in while you work:

[7:34 PM] Kirishima: Katsuki said you guys made up!!! 💪 Happy for u (even tho I’ll miss bro being here 😣)

[8:28 PM] Katsuki: Never letting Korahu touch paint again.

[8:28 PM] Katsuki: [Image Attached]

You can’t help the grin as you open the photo. Korahu’s covered, head to toe, in streaks of neon green paint. The grin gets bigger when you reply, because yeah… things are starting to feel okay.

You catch yourself thinking how simple it was in the end. Just… talk to him. That’s all it took. So simple it’s stupid. But it’s a start. Onwards and upwards, right?

And still… the intimacy part lingers in the back of your mind. Not the physical, not exactly. The closeness. Letting him in again, letting yourself be seen. You’re getting there. You’re proud of that.

You’re just about to call it a night when you hear the knock.

It’s late. Too late for visitors. You tread light toward the door, thinking maybe you imagined it, but then it comes again, sharper this time.

You jump. “Who is it?”

“Me, sweetheart.”

Your heart stumbles. For a second, your mind blanks, chasing every possibility. Are the girls okay? Did something happen? Or did he really take ‘come back tomorrow’ as ‘come back at nearly midnight’?

You crack the door open, and there he is. Katsuki. Standing there like it’s nothing.

“You shouldn’t talk through the door,” he says, voice low, a little gruff. “Use the cameras. Don’t let people know if you’re home.”

You barely register the lecture. “What are you doing here?”

He huffs. “Can I come in first?”

You step back, and he does, toeing his boots off by instinct before looking at you again. He’s flushed a little—maybe from the night air, maybe from something else.

“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He drags a hand through his hair, messy already. “The girls are asleep. Told Kirishima I was heading out.”

You wait. He’s not exactly known for long explanations, but still. You wait.

He shifts, uncomfortable in a way that’s rare for him. “I know I said I’d come tomorrow. I was about to go to bed. Was gonna text you.” His hand rubs at the back of his neck, his voice rougher now. “But I didn’t wanna do that again. I didn’t wanna… not be here. So.”

A beat.

“Probably should’ve asked first,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

You stand there for a second, taking him in. The way his shoulders are tense, like he’s bracing for you to tell him to leave. The way his mouth pulls down at the corners, softened by tired eyes.

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing against his wrist before curling around it. You feel his pulse jump beneath your touch.

“Don’t say sorry,” you tell him, your voice gentler than you expected. “I was just surprised. You know I want you here.”

His breath leaves him in a slow exhale. “Okay,” he says. “Good.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. It’s comfortable in a way it hasn’t been for a while. Quiet. Easy.

Then he shifts, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to pull you closer. “You look nice,” he murmurs.

You huff a laugh. “These are just my pajamas, Katsuki.”

“I know that.” His fingers trace lightly along your jaw, calloused pads dragging slow and careful. “Still means you can look nice, doesn’t it?”

There’s something in the way he looks at you—soft, but hungry. It’s not just that he’s missed you. It’s the kind of heat you haven’t seen from him in a long time, and it catches you off guard. Your skin prickles under the weight of it.

You laugh again, quiet and nervous, and step back just slightly. You regret it the second you do. But he doesn’t push. His mouth quirks into something close to a smirk, easy, like he doesn’t mind waiting.

“I was just heading to bed,” you say, clearing your throat.

“Let’s go then, huh?” His voice is rough, low, but there’s no push behind it—just an offer.

Later, you sit beneath the covers, watching him move around the room. He pulls his shirt off and folds it onto the chair, and your eyes catch on the cut of his shoulders, the sharp lines of muscle along his back. Familiar. Hard-earned. You’ve seen it a thousand times, but it hits you different tonight. Like you’re seeing him again for the first time.

Your face warms, and you look away, embarrassed by how much you feel like a teenager sneaking glances.

The room dims when he turns the lamp down, leaving just a wash of amber light spilling across the sheets. Then the mattress shifts under his weight as he crawls in beside you, his arm slipping easily around your waist, pulling you into the solid heat of his chest.

You let out a slow breath against him, and he answers with one of his own.

“Missed you,” he murmurs. His hand smooths over your hip, dragging slow, then curling back up your spine. “Missed this. Can’t believe I made us go without it for so damn long.”

“I’ve missed it too,” you whisper. “Missed you.”

And then he’s looking at you. Really looking. Like he used to—like he did in those early years when the world was still new between you. His hand comes up to your cheek, thumb stroking along the curve of your jaw. It’s reverent. Careful.

He leans in, brushing his lips to yours, light as a breath. It’s tender, almost hesitant. But you kiss him back. And then it’s not hesitant at all.

His hand slides into your hair as the kiss deepens, his mouth demanding now, hungry and hot. It’s messy, desperate—years of holding back spilling out in the press of his lips, the scrape of his teeth, the low sound he makes when you breathe his name against his skin. His other hand finds your hip, holding on tight like he’s worried you’ll vanish if he lets go.

When you shift, swinging your leg over to straddle his lap, he groans into your mouth, his hands immediately smoothing down over your thighs, then up, fingers splaying wide as if he’s trying to map all of you at once. You’re already flushed and breathless, but the sound of him like this, so openly wrecked for you, drives you to chase more.

The kisses don’t stop—don’t even slow. His mouth is hot, hungry against yours, and the way he groans when you grind down makes heat pool deep in your belly. His hands are everywhere now, rough palms skating over soft skin, kneading at your waist, your ass, like he can’t get enough.

Then he breaks the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his thumb dragging across your lower lip as he does. Both of you are panting, chests rising and falling like you’ve run miles to get here.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark as they flick over your face. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Driving me outta my damn mind.”

You can’t help the breathy laugh that escapes you, your hand still resting over his hammering heart. He’s not the only one losing it here.

“I love this,” he says, his voice rough with heat as he gives your hips a slow, deliberate push down against him. Yeah, you can tell. There’s no mistaking the hard press of him beneath you, or the way his grip tightens as he holds you there for a moment longer. “Love you,” he adds, softer, but no less intense. “But I need you to know I didn’t show up for this. Wasn’t tryin’ to make this a booty call or some shit. I just… really needed to be close to you.”

You lean in, brushing your nose against his, smiling faintly. “I know, Kats. I know that’s not you.”

“Good,” he murmurs. He tips his head back, blowing out a breath, as if he’s trying to cool himself down. “No more for tonight though.”

You blink, momentarily thrown, and then pout, full and obvious. When he cracks an eye open and sees it, his grin spreads slow and wicked. He’s enjoying this, even if his chest is still heaving like he’s run a marathon.

“Ain’t got any protection, sweets,” he says, voice low and deep. “And it’s been a long damn while. I won’t be able to hold myself back with you.”

A beat. His gaze flickers, watching your reaction, something warm and teasing in his expression—but there’s truth there, too. A warning wrapped in affection.

“So unless you want Korahu to have a sibling nine months from now,” he drawls, thumb stroking along your hipbone, “I think it’s best we call it.”

You huff a little laugh and shake your head, leaning forward until your forehead presses to his. “You’re impossible.”

He snorts softly. “Don’t blame me. I ain’t thrilled we have to stop either, princess.”

You both settle, breath slowing. The heat fades into something quieter, something steady. You roll off him and curl into his side, and his arm comes around you without hesitation, pulling you close. He presses slow, sleepy kisses to your temple, to your jaw, to your shoulder—lazy but full of something that makes your chest ache.

“Night, Kat,” you whisper against his skin.

“Night, baby,” he murmurs, and then his voice firms up like he’s gripping the words tight. “I love you.”

It comes out of you before you can think too hard about it. “I love you too.”

There’s a breath, shaky but soft. “Yeah,” he says again, his voice catching just a little. “Yeah.”

~~~

After that night, the waters begin to finally settle.

It isn’t perfect—Katsuki is still busy, still only human. But he’s trying, and when he slips up, you forgive him. And when you start to overthink things, he doesn’t let you spiral—just pulls you close, asks you softly if things are okay, if they can be better.

He leaves notes when he knows he’ll be working late, scribbled in his sharp, messy handwriting. Little things. I love you. Sleep early. Don’t wait up. Or, Miss you already. See you soon, sweetheart. And things do get better.

And it’s not just you who notices.

Riko smiles more, hugs you without hesitation. Her arms don’t feel like they’re trying to hold you together anymore—they’re just hugs, warm and happy and childlike the way they should be.

Going to Katsuki’s parents for the first time after everything isn’t as scary as you thought, either. His mom pulls you in tight, whispering a quiet thank you. But you thank her instead, and when Katsuki catches your gaze, there’s no shame there—no guilt or lingering anger. Just quiet, steady affection.

It makes you wonder how you ever went so long without it.

Because now, you’re addicted to it. Not in a naïve, honeymoon phase way—no, things aren’t perfect. There are still arguments, still sharp words and teary nights. But the love isn’t put into question anymore. That stays constant.

Life moves fast, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t dread it. You embrace it.

And then, one quiet evening, as you sit on the beach with Katsuki, watching the girls play in the sand, you’re reminded just how far you’ve come.

His chin rests on your shoulder, arms draped around your waist as you twirl his fingers absently between yours. The waves roll lazily in front of you, golden light casting long shadows across the shore.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low against your ear, “it was three years ago today.”

You hum, still watching the girls. “What was?”

“When you left.” His voice is quiet, careful. “Up to Tokyo.”

The words land soft but heavy.

It feels so long ago now, that time in your life when everything felt unbearable. But you still remember it—how could you not?

“Wow,” you murmur, letting the thought settle. “So long ago now.”

“Yeah.” He pauses, his grip tightening around you, like he’s bracing himself.

Then, softer, “I’m still sorry about that.”

You turn slightly, glancing back at him. His gaze is distant, the light catching in his eyes, making them burn a little redder than usual.

“I—” he exhales, shaking his head. “It’s one of my biggest mistakes. Letting things get to that point. I don’t think I can ever fully forgive myself—”

“Katsuki.” You shift, turning fully now so you can cup his face in your hands. His eyes flicker to yours, sad and heavy with regret.

“I nearly lost you,” he whispers. “I did lose you. And I still can’t believe myself.”

Your heart aches at the way he says it—like it’s something that still haunts him, something he’ll never quite let go of.

But you smile, small and sure. Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones, grounding him.

“But you didn’t,” you remind him gently. “We’re here. Together.”

He lets out a slow, shuddering breath, like he’s been holding it in for years. Then, finally—he nods.

“Yeah.” His voice wobbles just slightly, thick with something unspoken.

You kiss him, soft and lingering. His hands find your waist, holding you close, and when you pull back, his forehead presses to yours, breath warm against your lips.

You turn again, settling back against his chest to watch the girls for a moment longer, listening to the rush of the tide.

Then you glance back at him, feeling brave. Feeling full.

“Where do you think we’ll be in another three years?” you ask, leaning into his chest.

He huffs a soft laugh, kissing your hair.

“Wherever you are,” he says simply. “That’s where I’ll be.”

And you believe him. It feels so good to have full promises again.

You tilt your head back, catching his lips in a kiss that tastes like salt and sun and a future you’re both ready for.

And when you pull back, he’s smiling. Really smiling.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you gently to your feet. “Let’s go get our girls.”

“Yeah,” you reply, fingers threading through his. “Let’s go home.”

And you do. Together.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

it was so daunting finishing everything off, but i hope its okay!

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