lynncade

[lynncade]

5 Stages of Grief

zayne x reader angst. takes place after the events of the main chapter update. going through the 5 stages of grief after zayne leaves you.

Day 3 - Denial - 4:52 PM

You sit on a bench outside of Akso Hospital feeding breadcrumbs to Clopidogrel as people pass by in the late afternoon. Some cast sideways glances to the lone Deepspace Hunter feeding a squirrel, but after noting the puffiness of her cheeks and the far away expression on her face they quickly lose interest and turn away. 

“Miss Hunter, it’s nice to see you again. How are your wounds healing?”

You don’t startle at the sudden familiar voice. “Hello, Yvonne. I’m fine, and you?”

The woman’s shadow falls across your back as she hesitates before deciding to sit next to you. “I’m alright, thank you for asking.”

You two sit in silence for a while, a silence that is neither comfortable nor intrusive. It’s the type of quiet that feels like it’s building up to something, like a story where the ending is finalized but the middle part hasn’t been written. You both know why you aren’t speaking but whereas she doesn’t know how to start, you don’t want to. You can’t. Speaking of it makes it real and you can’t do real right now.

It’s only been three days, three days isn’t even enough time to make something real. So it can’t be real and since it can’t be real there’s nothing for you to talk about. You would be content to sit in silence for the rest of your life if it meant it wasn’t real.

She takes a breath. “You know, I remember your first appointment with-”

You stand abruptly. “I’m sorry, there’s somewhere I have to be right now.”

She stammers out an apology but you’ve already turned your back and started walking away. 

-

Day 18 - Anger - 1:43 AM

You’re pacing the livingroom, music blaring through your TV speakers to drown out the thoughts that still push you to stomp in circles. You can’t even hear what song is playing, Zayne’s words echoing over and over in your head.

“If I hurt you, that would be the greatest regret of my life.”

You snatch an open bottle of whiskey up from the coffee table and take a swig, at this point immune to the burn of the cheap liquid. Its fire pours down your throat and settles in your stomach, raging alongside your absolute fury at the man whose voice haunts every step you take.

He doesn’t care if he hurts you. If he cared he would be here, telling you that drinking this much on a stomach that’s been empty for two days is inadvisable and reckless. If he cared he’d be holding your hair back as you threw up everything but your stupid fucking memories, wiping your forehead with a damp rag and using his dumb dry humor to try to make you laugh. He’d help you change out of the clothes you’d been wearing since last Thursday and run a hot shower for you, maybe even throwing one of your fizzies in to create a calming atmosphere of eucalyptus scented steam. He’d have water and pain meds already on your nightstand and he’d chide you when you fought him like a child to take them. Then he’d make sure to tuck you into bed and slide in under the covers beside you when you asked him to keep you company.

“...the greatest regret of my life.”

SMASH!

The bottle of whiskey shatters in the kitchen sink, your hands shaking with the force of throwing it. You don’t care what the neighbors think about what they’re hearing, why the fuck should you care about anything when he doesn’t care about you.

You stare at the broken glass in your sink, hating the way the smell of whiskey now burns in your nostrils, the way the too-bright light of the kitchen catches the jagged edges. With a scoff you stalk back into the living room and drop onto the couch, praying that the buzz of the alcohol will finally start numbing the sting of abandonment.

After some amount of time- what's the difference between a second and an hour anymore?- you pick up one of the throw pillows, bring it to your face, and scream.

You scream.

And scream.

And scream.

But if he hears you, he still doesn’t care. He still doesn’t come back.

-

Day 27 - Bargaining - 9:32 PM

“The number you have dialed cannot take your call at this time. Please leave a message at the tone.”

BEEP!

“It’s me. I mean, you know it’s me, you can see my number in your list of missed calls. There should be several of them. Missed calls, not…not numbers. Unless there are multiple people calling you and that’s why you’ve been missing my calls…and not returning them. If or when you do get my message, this one or the 20 other ones, please give me a call back? Or a text? Or a voice memo? Fuck, even a smoke signal at this point. Just…just please send me something.”

Day 29 - Bargaining - 12:14 PM

“The number you have dialed cannot take your call at this time. Please leave a message at the tone.”

BEEP!

“I’m on my lunch break and headed to the hospital to feed Clopidogrel. I know you’re probably worried about him getting fat because I’ve been feeding him more than normal, but honestly I throw him food and he just sits there, like he’s also waiting for something. Or someone. You know, I bet if you came by to see him he’d perk right up! Forget Greyson and Yvonne, we both know the real draw to the hospital is this silly little squirrel. I think he misses you, you should come visit him sometime.”

Day 32 - Bargaining - 10:45 AM

“The number you have dialed cannot take your call at this time. Please leave a message at the tone.”

BEEP!

“This is the first morning I haven’t had a delivery from the pastry shop you love. They told me you had pre-bought a month’s worth of desserts to be sent to me, one each day. I think my favorite was either the chocolate hazelnut torte or the salted caramel macarons. I know you wouldn’t want to eat those because you don’t think salt has a place in sweets, but I think they were perfectly balanced. Maybe you should try them? Get outside your comfort zone a little bit? Tell you what, I’m headed to that bakery myself right now, you could meet me and I’ll buy some for you to try. Or really I’ll buy whatever you want, the whole pastry shop is your oyster, okay? Great, so I’ll see you soon.”

Day 40 - Bargaining - 11:29 PM

“The number you have dialed cannot take your call at this time. The mailbox is full and cannot take anymore messages. Good-bye.”

-

Day ??? - Depression

You wish he broke you.

Days and nights pass by and you wish through every second of it all that he had broken you, that you could say you had a broken heart. Explaining to friends and coworkers why you stopped going out, why tear streaks constantly painted your face, why your clothes no longer fit, explaining it all away by saying you had a broken heart would have been easy. Everyone has seen the movies, heard the songs. Broken hearts happen, hearts break and then they heal again. It may take time, but every wound eventually patches itself back up.

The problem is, he didn’t break you. Breaking you would mean there was something left to break. He didn’t break you when he left, he took you with him.

Mornings melted into afternoons that spilled into evenings and through it all you felt nothing anymore. Not in the numbing way, no you would give anything to be numb. You ache, mind, body, and soul, because you’re empty. There’s nothing left in you to give. To feel. No hope to cling to, no anger to sustain you. Sometimes you wish the world would swallow you up, suck you down into a well, deep and dark and as empty as you are. Sometimes you feel like you are the well, a black hole of nothing moving through life to survive, not to live.

Your phone has been dead for a few days now, the temptation to look at old pictures and text messages kept plaguing you and at some point even the self torture felt pointless. If work needs to reach you, the message can come through your comm watch. If anyone else needs to reach you, or cares to reach you, well…the important people know where you dwell.

The weather has been traitorously perfect, the abnormal snow from all those weeks ago completely forgotten as the sun shines and cool breezes drift through warm days. In the books and movies the weather always reflects the mood, so why does the sun continue to shine? Why do birds sing and children laugh right outside your window? Why does everything else in the world get to experience joy and life while you curl into yourself and freeze in darkness? A few weeks ago you would have screamed at it all until your throat felt raw but now you would be shocked to discover if you could even whisper anymore.

You’re not broken.

You’re not anything.

-

Acceptance

“Tara, I’m still waiting on your reports from last week’s mission,” Jenna’s voice grows closer as she walks over to where you and your friend are chatting about some mission that’s supposed to be underway next week.

“Of course, ma’am, right on it!”

Tara smiles apologetically as she runs back to her desk and starts shuffling through the stack of papers she had left for “Future Tara” to deal with.

Jenna stops in front of your desk and glances over you with an appraising eye.

“You’ve been looking better these past few weeks.” It’s not an unkind thing to say, she’s speaking to you in earnest. She doesn’t know the full extent of everything that happened but she wasn’t blind to the way you spiraled down, down, down.

“I’ve been feeling better.” Not a lie, though not necessarily the truth either.

It’s not that you’ve been feeling better, it’s that, for the first time in a long time you’re finally able to feel at all. It started slowly, crying yourself to sleep turned to slipping into unconsciousness. Nightmares that kept you tossing and turning and sometimes screaming yourself awake gradually became dreamless sleeps that still didn’t feel restful but at least sustained you enough to keep dark circles from under your eyes. Bit by bit, piece by piece, you began rebuilding a semblance of your life. It wasn’t easy, and there were days when the darkness gnawed its way back into your mind and settled there like a feral animal with teeth and claws. But even those days started lessening after time, and though they never really went away, they were easier to handle. You had plans in place to help you navigate them.

Jasmine tea for nights where sleep seems too far out of reach. Chocolate croissants for the mornings when getting out of bed seems like too much effort. Music for when the thoughts get too loud, walks in the park when they get too quiet. You laugh to yourself the day you realize you’ve created a treatment plan for yourself like a doctor treating a patient. The sound of your laughter is foreign, it feels uncomfortable in your throat, but like everything else lately: it gets easier.

“This mission we’re going on next week, it could get pretty intense. No one would bat an eye if you decided you needed to stay back and run support.” 

You hesitate before meeting her eyes, something like determination flickering in your heart. “No, I can do it.”

And you can.

You’re not healed, but you’re something, and that matters. Sometimes you're hurt, sometimes the pain is dulled to a minor ache, and sometimes you even believe yourself when you say you’re okay. A few months ago the idea of you even stepping foot outside your apartment seemed too far beyond the realm of possibility. Now you find yourself moving through the world like the person you used to be, not haunting it like the ghost his absence made you.

You don’t think this is your forever, but it’s your present and for the moment you can accept it.

[lynncade]

currently writing a small fic about going through the 5 stages of grief after finally finishing the main story update because why not add MORE angst for the zayne girlies (it's me. I'm zayne girlies. this was supposed to be helping me cope but god at what cost.)

[lynncade]

All My JJK

★ SMAU ☾ Drabble

★ Meet the Parents - gojo, nanami, and sukuna reach out to ask about meeting your parents but you've been no contact with them for a while.

[lynncade]

All My LADs

★ SMAU ☾ Drabble

☾ You're not her - Zayne x non!MC reader

★ Web of Need - zayne, sylus, rafayel, xavier, and caleb

☾ Midnight Patient - Sylus shows up to Zayne's home in the middle of the night while you're resting. You pretend to sleep while Zayne bandages Sylus's wounds and you realize that they are completely aware of who the other is but you're mind races as you try to piece together how they know each other.

☾ 5 Stages of Grief - Zayne x reader. Taking place after the main story chapters for Death and Rebirth, you go through the 5 stages of grief after Zayne leaves.

[lynncade]

In which Zayne receives a midnight patient while you are resting in his home. Including: zayne and sylus FYI: sfw, cleaning open wounds

Soft sheets, clean and smelling of fresh cotton, tempt you to remain in the space between sleep and consciousness. Dreams of snow glistening in the moonlight and ribbons of red and black smoke call out to you but as you roll over to further bury yourself into the pillows you realize what had awoken you: soft knocking at the front door. Blinking your eyes open, you note a light on in the living room and hear the muffled footsteps of someone making their way to the door and opening it.

“You told me it was just a few scratches.” Zayne’s voice is measured, adopting the tone of a doctor examining his patient.

“It is. Some of them just happen to be in the shape of bullet holes,” answers another voice, deep and rich and definitely not supposed to be in Zayne’s house in the middle of the night.

The front door closes as your mind begins to race.

Sylus? Here? And what is this talk about scratches and bullet holes?

You start to throw the covers off to get out of bed but then Zayne’s voice sounds closer and in a split second you decide to conceal your face behind the blanket and freeze. “This would be easier with all my equipment at the hospital.”

“And here I thought Linkon’s foremost doctor could handle a few…scratches on his own.”

As the door to the bedroom opens further, you close your eyes. Concern and curiosity battle it out in your mind, the latter eventually taking over as you decide to let the scene play out. Something about these two men interacting feels like a colliding of universes: one safe and familiar, the other dangerous and intriguing. Unexpected, yet somehow always on the horizon as an eventual reality. Sure and undeniable.

“She’s still sleeping, please keep your voice down. This way.”

The door to the adjoining bathroom opens and the light flickers on.

“You don’t have anywhere else to do this,” Sylus asks, his voice lazy and bored as always but slightly strained. You recognize this tone, the one he uses to try to cover up how serious the situation is. “Have you ever dealt with her after she’s been woken up?”

Zayne lets out a breath of annoyance and then several sounds happen in succession: from what you can surmise, the medicine cabinet is opened and someone pulls bottles and packages out. With both of them supposedly preoccupied, you shift the blanket slightly to allow you a visual of the scene before you.

From your vantage point you catch glimpses of Zayne shuffling around the bathroom and Sylus watching him from the doorway, leaning against the frame with an arm wrapped around his middle. Blood drips from his shoulder down his arm. At the sight of it, worry inches its way up your spine as you try making sense of it all: Sylus, injured and in Zayne’s home. Zayne, gathering medical supplies and slipping into Doctor Mode. Both of them speak with familiarity. How do they know each other? And for how long? How was Sylus injured?

Questions continue to race through your mind as Zayne speaks again.

“If you wouldn’t mind, please step into the light so that I can better see and so that your blood doesn’t stain my carpet.”

Sylus steps in with a smirk, asking, “do you really not have another bathroom? Some doctor’s salary you must have, only enough for a one bed one bath.”

“She seems plenty happy with what my home offers. Sit.”

After a moment Zayne breaks the silence again, softer. “I’ll need you to remove your shirt.”

“Not even taking me to dinner first? Although from what she’s said of you, I know how fond you are of going straight for the dessert.”

“If you want to go to dinner with me you’ll have to dress nicer, this shirt is in shameful condition.”

“Careful, doc, this shirt costs more than your mortgage.”

“You seem entirely too concerned with where I live, how about we focus on making sure you stay alive long enough to return to whatever gothic mansion you most surely haunt?”

Sylus’s laughter, low and smooth, drifts through the doorway and settles your mounting nerves. He’s laughing, surely the injuries can’t be that terrible if he’s laughing? And with Zayne in charge of his care, that makes the situation feel more safe and stable. You continue listening, their voices falling silent for a few minutes as Zayne starts examining and cleaning the wounds. The slow, methodical way Zayne works, his fingers and movements gentle yet efficient, start lulling you back to sleep. You try fighting the temptation, but the safety of Zayne’s bed and knowing that both of them are okay made for convincing arguments to give in.

Just as you feel yourself slipping, Sylus makes another comment. “I can see why she keeps you around, you could actually make a career out of this.”

To your surprise, you hear Zayne chuckle. “I suppose one of us should have an actual career and you don’t seem to be making any advances in that regard.”

“I see my doctor has impossibly high standards. And here I thought owning several establishments and hosting multiple high-profile auctions would constitute a worthy career. ”

“And to keep my plausible deniability I will not question the legality of any of those ventures,” Zayne quips as he starts stitching one of the wounds.

“If you’re worried about operating within the bounds of the law, doc, you might not want to continue patching up strangers that show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night.”

Strangers?

As if hearing your thought, Zayne responds, “we’re hardly strangers anymore, though I would request a little more forethought before your visits in the future.”

“Ha, next time I’ll alert the people shooting at me that my doctor requests I take less bullets.”

Silence again. You see Zayne finishing up a few stitches and then carefully turning Sylus’s arm towards the light, examining his work and nodding to himself. As he starts cleaning his supplies, Sylus draws out a question.

“You won’t tell her…?”

Zayne pauses then turns to Sylus. “Doctor-patient confidentiality, there’s nothing to tell.” He resumes clearing the sink down, the sound of running water slightly muffling his voice. “Besides…she would say…”

Sylus responds but you can’t be sure what exactly he says, the rushing of the sink completely concealing his words. You try leaning closer to the edge of the bed in hopes of picking up the threads of conversation again but as you move, one of the pillows falls to the floor. You quickly shut your eyes and try to steady your breathing to keep up the pretense of sleep.

Immediately, the sink cuts off and you hear both of them enter the bedroom. You feel their eyes on you, assessing just how asleep you are.

“I’ll see myself out,” Sylus whispers after a moment.

“No, I’ll walk with you. I have some antibiotics in my bag on the couch to send with you.”

Their voices trail off as they make their way into the living room. Silence falls and soon the rattling of a pill bottle fills the room followed by the sound of the front door opening.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting payment for services rendered,” Sylus asks, sounding more like himself.

“What services? You were never here.”

Sylus laughs softly. “Of course, we are strangers after all.” A beat of silence. “Let her sleep in tomorrow, work has been hard for her.”

“I know, I have no plans of waking her.”

A moment later you hear Sylus step outside and then the door closes. After locking up, Zayne spends a few minutes tidying up around the rooms, making sure that no traces of the midnight guest are left. Once he finishes and all the lights are off, you feel him slip into the bed next to you and under the covers.

The last thing you feel before sleep finally takes you is the warmth of Zayne pressing himself against your back and wrapping an arm around your waist. Thoughts run through your mind at a million miles per second, but the sound of Zayne’s easy breathing in your ear and the knowledge that Sylus is okay calm you enough for the night.

You’ll begin investigating your questions in the morning.

[lynncade]

Web of Need

In which you text the LADs men how much you need them...to protect you from a spider. Including: zayne, sylus, rafayel, xavier, and caleb FYI: spiders mentioned but not shown, nsfw language, suggestive content, humor, use of petnames (other than the ones in game)

Zayne

Sylus

Rafayel

Xavier

Caleb

[lynncade]

Meet the Parents

In which the JJK men ask to meet your parents but you've been no contact with them for years. Including: gojo, nanami, and sukuna FYI: use of petnames (princess, babe, brat, woman, ect.), nsfw language, suggestive content, kinda hurt/comfort, implied poor treatment from parents, established relationship, mdni

[lynncade]

zayne x non!mc reader angst. nsfw if you squint.

You’re not her.

As you walk into the door of your apartment, arms laden with groceries and sweet cakes to celebrate Zayne’s birthday, you know he’s on the phone with her. She’s been on some mission for a few days but of course she remembered to send a birthday text. And of course, a text wasn’t enough for him so he called. It’s normal for friends to text and call on birthdays. After hanging up with her, he turned to you with a small smile and thanked you for the cakes but informed you he’d already eaten.

As you show up to the hospital with a lunch box in hand, the nurses give you a wide-eyed look that tells you everything you need to know. You pretend not to see it, passing them with a pleasant greeting and making your way to his office. She’s sitting on the exam table and he’s listening to her heart; you’re sure that if you listened to his and hers at the same time they would be in sync. Your heart, however, stutters just out of rhythm. She smiles brightly at you and you return her kindness. It’s not her fault you’re not her. Zayne sets the lunch you give him next to the box of macarons she brought for him. Two have already been eaten.

As you walk arm-in-arm through the park at sunset, the sky painted with pinks and oranges, he listens to you talk about your day. Every now and then he asks a question or makes an appraising comment, enough to let you know he is actively listening. He wants to hear what you have to say. His hazel eyes are on you, the flecks of green and gold shining under the glow of the streetlamps, and his lips are turned up into that soft smile that makes you feel like everything is okay. For an evening, you are almost convinced that being you is enough.

As you lean in to kiss him goodnight, his phone sounds with her ringtone. Of course she has a special ringtone, they have been friends for a long time and friends have special ringtones. He turns his attention to his phone, offering you an apologetic look as he answers, her bubbly voice asking after his plans for the next day. You had a date planned in the evening, but his morning and lunch hours are hers. He hangs up and places a gentle kiss on your cheek, thanking you for the evening and promising to see you tomorrow.

As you ride in the passenger seat of his car, hands intertwined on the middle console, you both see her walking with a tall man. He has silver hair and everything about him screams luxury. He has her elbow tucked into his and he looks at her the way you dream Zayne looks at you. You can’t tear your eyes away from how happy she seems until you feel a sharp pain in your hand and realize Zayne has tightened his grip. When you startle, he apologizes and lets go. Somehow, that hurts more.

As you lie in bed together, tangled in his white linen sheets, he does not meet your eyes. You go through the motions, pleasure is still pleasure, but tonight feels final. You know in the morning he will wake up, go to work, and continue checking her status updates and answering her special ringtone and eating her macarons. And you will be laying in the bed of the man you love knowing that you are not her.

It’s not that you aren’t enough, you’re just not her. And maybe that’s okay for someone, but you have decided it’s no longer okay for you. You are not her, and as you lay your spare copy of Zayne’s key on his table, you realize you haven’t really been you in a while.

Maybe this is a good thing.

[lynncade]

Character and Story Playlists

Jujutsu Kaisen

Coming Soon...

Love and Deepspace

Zayne Sylus

[lynncade]

To the Moon and Back

Writing for JJK and LADS - SMAUs and Fics - This blog contains mature content so minors and ageless blogs will be blocked - links to the lists below:

Jujutsu Kaisen

Love and Deepspace

Playlists - arguably my best talent

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