maeparu

[maeparu]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

Zayne x non-mc

Sypnosis : While co-parenting seems smooth on the surface, everything shifts when a new woman enters their lives—you. Though she masks it well, old wounds reopen as she watches the family she once had begin to take shape with someone else. In one cruel moment, she accuses the new woman of intentional harm—not out of truth, but out of fear that she’s losing everything she once let slip away.

𝗠𝗖'𝘀 𝗣𝗢𝗩

She used to believe that loving Zayne Li was inevitable.

He was brilliant, distant, methodical—so cold that it made you want to chase the heat buried underneath. And she did. She chased it, fought for it, until he finally let her in.

They didn’t mean to last long. Zayne warned her early: “My work will always come first.”

But passion has a way of rewriting boundaries.

And one night turned into months.

One accident turned into a child.

Aurora.

Her daughter.

The one thing in life MC never regretted.

But Zayne never proposed. Never promised. He was kind, responsible, always present for Aurora—but not for her.

When they separated, it was quiet. Clean.

There were no screaming matches. No final betrayals.

Just the slow realization that she was loving a man whose heart was always… somewhere else. In an operating room. In his silence.

Never with her.

They agreed to co-parent. And Zayne never once failed their daughter.

He was patient. Steady. There.

In a way that almost hurt more than if he had been cruel.

She thought she had buried it all.

But then you happened.

The new woman. The young one. The one Zayne introduced without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn’t ask permission. He just said: “Aurora will need time to adjust. Be patient with her.”

MC nodded. She smiled.

But inside, something ugly twisted.

You weren’t malicious. You weren’t arrogant or overstepping.

You were too soft, if anything. Too eager. Too… hopeful.

That made it worse.

Maybe it started with little things.

Maybe she made small comments when Aurora asked about you.

“Oh, her? She’s not your mommy, baby. She doesn’t have to tell you what to do.”

“if you're uncomfortable, you don't have to interact with her."

She never told her daughter to hate you.

But she never told her to love you, either.

And Aurora, like any child caught between two worlds, listened.

Then came Family Day.

She noticed how you lingered at the edges. How you looked at Zayne when he wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t jealousy anymore—it was pity.

MC had lived in that exact space once. The quiet corner of his life. The afterthought.

She went to speak with Aurora’s teacher. Zayne stood by her side. For a moment, they looked like a family again.

Not because they were trying.

Just… because they used to be.

Then Aurora coughed as she dropped the ice cream.

The world exploded.

Panic. Screaming. Her child’s face going pale. Her throat swelling.

She ran.

And you?

You stood there—shaking, stunned, apologizing.

Zayne’s voice cut through:

“Shut up, [Reader].”

MC didn’t expect him to say that. But in that moment, she didn’t care. Aurora was all that mattered. She clung to the backseat of Zayne’s car as he sped toward Akso Hospital.

Aurora lived.

She was stable. Safe.

But MC saw the shift in Zayne the moment he realized you didn’t follow them.

And MC saw it. The regret.

The way his fingers tightened around his phone.

The way his mouth opened—but no words came out.

You left.

And MC should’ve felt relief. Should’ve felt like she won something.

But all she felt was guilt.

Because deep down… she knew Aurora didn’t dislike you on her own.

Not entirely.

She had planted that seed.

And now that seed had bloomed into silence.

Zayne didn’t speak for hours. Didn’t look at her.

His mind was somewhere else entirely.

Chasing after someone he might’ve finally lost for good.

And in that moment, it hit her:

Zayne was always so careful. So composed.

But with you?

He wasn’t just in love.

He was unprepared to lose you.

Mc didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need to.

Because that was the first time she realized—

No matter how much of her past they shared,

Zayne Li had already chosen his future.

And she might’ve played a part in chasing it away.

𝗔𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗿𝗮'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝘃

Aurora didn’t think her family was broken.

She had two parents. They both loved her.

Her friends sometimes said stuff like “My mommy and daddy live together!” and Aurora would blink and say “Oh. Mine don’t.” Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Because it wasn’t.

Her mom had a house with yellow curtains and a big bed they cuddled in during movie nights.

Her dad had a neat apartment that smelled like clean soap and cold coffee. They played board games. He made her toast shaped like stars.

And whenever she got sick or had a performance or cried really hard because the class goldfish died, they both showed up.

Together.

So no. Her family wasn’t broken.

It was just… different.

Then you came along.

You were new. Not scary. Just… new.

You smiled a lot. Talked to her like she was a real person, not a baby. You called her kiddo and sunbeam and you once made pancakes that were shaped like a cat but looked more like a hat.

Aurora giggled anyway.

You tried really hard. She could tell. Even when she ignored you.

Even when she pulled her hand away. Even when she said things like “My mommy says I don’t have to like you.”

You never got mad.

You just blinked, kind of sad, and went, “That’s okay. I’ll like you enough for the both of us.” It made her chest feel weird. Not good. Not bad. Just weird.

Sometimes Aurora wondered if she was being mean.

You didn’t do anything wrong.

You brought her stickers. You always asked before brushing her hair or sitting next to her on the couch. You once cried when her tooth fell out and she told you it didn’t hurt but you still panicked and called her dad.

You cared.

So why didn’t she like you?

Maybe… maybe it was because she was scared.

Because if she liked you too much, would that mean her mom would be sad?

Would that mean she didn’t love her enough?

Her mom never said those things.

But kids hear things. Feel them.

And sometimes her mom’s voice got quiet when she talked about you. Not angry. Just tight. Like swallowing a lemon.

Family Day.

Aurora was so excited. She got to wear her favorite dress with sunflowers. Her mom packed her lunch. Her dad fixed her braid.

You came too. You stood far away at first, which she liked.

Then she saw you watching them. Her and her parents.

You looked… small. Like a balloon no one was holding.

Aurora saw her classmate asking their parents to buy them ice cream.. but both of her parents were away, talking with her teacher, so she went to you, tugging on your sleeve.

She wanted to share it with you. Maybe that would make your face look happy again.

But then her throat hurt. Her chest got tight.

Everything became loud and scary.

She remembered coughing. Dropping the cone. Your voice calling her name.

Then her dad scooped her up. Her mom was shouting.

She turned her head and saw you—

Standing there.

All alone.

People were staring. Some were whispering.

And you weren’t blinking. Like you were frozen. Like someone had unplugged all your color and left you grey.

She wanted to say something.

But the world faded before she could.

The hospital lights are cold and the bed smells weird.

Aurora wakes up and blinks at the ceiling.

Her mom is asleep on the chair. Her dad is standing near the window, holding a coffee he hasn’t sipped.

You’re not there.

You’re always there.

So why aren’t you?

She remembers the last thing she saw. Your eyes. The way you looked like everyone had shouted at you with their eyes.

She remembers hearing her parents talking when they thought she was sleeping.

“She left..."

Her dad looked so strange. Like he wasn’t breathing right. Like he forgot how.

Aurora stares at the IV in her hand. Tries not to cry.

Her chest feels funny again. That weird tight feeling.

Maybe it’s because she was mean.

Maybe it’s because she said she didn’t like you.

Maybe it’s because she let everyone think you didn’t care.

Maybe that’s why you left.

maybe it’s her fault.

and aurora doesn't know how to fix something that can't be fix using drawings or band-aids.

[maeparu]

soe excited for the new chapter….. oh dawnbreaker zayne….. ure killing me….

[maeparu]

“Hmph, this one transfers too.”

You got new lipsticks, meaning you needed to wear test them as soon as possible. Your guinea pigs? Your two, loving, patient, towering boyfriends of course.

Your lips were rather sensitive at this point, so many kisses, so many makeup wipes, so many new formulas smeared across your mouth. “That’s okay, try the next one.”

Zayne and Sylus sat before you, lounging on your shared bed in Linkon with numerous kiss marks on their lips, cheeks, foreheads, noses, necks, collarbones…

They couldn’t complain, no they wouldn’t dare. Getting showered in your never ending kisses? That would be like begging for water after days wandering in the desert and then declining it because it’s room temperature.

“I’m running out of room.” You settle back on your knees, hands rummaging through the shades you haven’t tried yet while also eyeing both men up and down.

“By all means, kitten, I can take off my shirt.” Zayne’s fingers stop their typing, he had been multitasking this entire kissing endeavor. “That’s a great idea, Sy! Take your shirt off.” A dopey grin stretched your kiss-swollen lips, and a second later Zayne’s laptop is snapping shut.

“Zayne, Sylus is more than enough canvas.” You’re teasing him, of course, watching his hazel eyes snap towards you. “That’s complete nonsense, you need more blank canvas for your art work.” Sylus’ hearty chuckle sounds beside him, his silk button up hitting the floor.

“Someone is sounding jealous, Doctor Zayne.” He’s settling back against the headboard, eyeing you slowly as you applied the next lipstick. “More canvas for me, thanks for being so considerate Zaynie.”

And the man could only shrug his tee shirt up and over his head, ears a burning crimson. “I think that shade would look good on Zayne’s chest, don’t you think, kitten?”

Suddenly, Zayne felt as if he walked right into a trap.

[maeparu]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐎-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄.

Zayne x non-mc, angst because that's all i'm good at lol

𝑺𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔 : Dating a renowned cardiac surgeon was never meant to be easy—but falling in love with a man who already has a child and a history he never quite let go of? That’s something else entirely. Caught between hospital corridors and family day events, you tries to find your place in Zayne’s world—until one mistake shatters the fragile balance, and you're forced to ask yourself the question that’s haunted you from the start: did you ever meant to belong?

Being a surgeon’s girlfriend is already difficult—but what if your boyfriend also has a child with his ex?

When you first started dating Zayne, he didn’t hide anything. He told you about her—MC—and their daughter, Aurora. You were stunned for two reasons:

One, that Zayne Li, of all people, was dating you.

And two, that he had a child out of wedlock.

Still, you told yourself you could handle it. That you would try.

But no matter how hard you tried to be close to Aurora, she would quietly slip away. No tantrums, no words—just cold avoidance. At first, you told yourself she was only six. She couldn't possibly be hostile, right?

Zayne often brought you along to see her. Said it would help. You played along. Even MC was polite, if a little…off. You told yourself it was nerves—maybe jealousy. Or maybe it was just you, trying to ignore the invisible thread that still seemed to tie her and Zayne together. The shared child. The memories. The easy familiarity.

One evening, while sitting across from Zayne at his house, you hesitated before speaking.

“Zayne… do you think we could go out next Saturday?” your voice was soft, almost reluctant.

He was just returning from work, undoing his coat and sinking into the couch with a tired sigh. “I’m sorry. I have a scheduled surgery that day.”

You nodded, then asked again, a little more hopeful, “Then… how about Sunday?”

Zayne leaned his head back and rubbed a hand down his face. “Aurora has a family day at school on Sunday. She asked me to be there... You understand, right?”

You did. You always did. But this time, something inside you pushed back.

“…But you’re always busy,” you said quietly. “If not at the hospital, you’re with them. What about me?”

“What about you?” Zayne said sharply, straightening. “That’s nonsense. We live together—you see me every day.”

And just like that, the silence cracked into an argument.

But it never lasted long. Zayne, as always, came back to you hours later—apologetic, calm, promising to make it up to you. And he meant it. He always meant it.

So here you were, at Aurora’s school on a cold winter Sunday—Family Day.

Zayne brought you along again. Said it would help. Said it mattered.

You stood on the sidelines, watching him and MC playing with Aurora.

They looked so natural together. Laughing, moving in sync, fitting into the same frame like a picture that had never been taken apart. Aurora was radiant between them. And Zayne… he looked so happy.

They looked like a perfect family.

And you?

You were the stain on the canvas. The outsider in the photograph.

You flinched slightly when you felt a small tug on your sleeve. Aurora stood beside you, looking up and pointing at a nearby ice cream truck.

You blinked, surprised. She’d never approached you before.

“You want that? Okay, let’s get you one,” you said gently, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest. Maybe… just maybe, this was a start.

But the moment shattered in an instant.

Aurora began coughing violently—ice cream falling from her hand, her little fingers clawing at her throat as she struggled to breathe.

Panic consumed you. “Aurora?”

Zayne and MC rushed over immediately. You fumbled for words, heart racing, explaining what happened—but you barely got a sentence out before MC’s face twisted in alarm.

“She’s allergic to dairy!” MC cried, snatching Aurora from your side. Her eyes were wide with fear—and something else. Accusation.

“I— I didn’t know—” you stammered, heart racing. You were shaking. You didn’t know.

“She’s six! You should’ve asked!” she snapped, voice cracking with panic. “I know Aurora doesn’t like you—but you didn’t have to do this! Was it really that bad? That you had to—” Tears welled up in her eyes as people began to gather, murmuring, whispering. Judging.

You turned to Zayne, desperate. “Zayne, I swear—I didn’t know—”

“Shut up, [Reader].”

The words hit you harder than anything else. His voice was sharp. Cold. And worse, disappointed.

Zayne never yelled. Never lost control. And now, he couldn’t even look at you.

He scooped Aurora into his arms, MC following close behind. And without another glance in your direction, they left—getting into his car and driving away.

You stood there, frozen. Surrounded by strangers with pointed eyes and low murmurs.

They didn’t know you. And yet… they were already judging.

And somehow, you didn’t blame them.

Because in that moment, as the wind bit at your skin and your heartbeat rang in your ears—

You knew the truth.

You didn’t belong here.

You never did.

Author's note : comments is very much appreciated! i like reading your comments and also, should i do a part 2? zayne's pov, maybe.

[maeparu]

ever, ever after

pairing: sylus x non-mc reader

summary: sylus didn't love you. how could he when she was around? but would he come look for you if you willingly step into EVER's boundaries?

word count: 2.6k

a/n: ehhhh just a random idea. not too proud of it. listening to cinnamon girl prompted me to write this. ive never written or read anything angsty. its not great, just my first attempt. lemme know your thoughts! would you wanna read more?

The hallway stretched before you, dim and silent except for the muffled creak of the floorboards beneath your boots. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and something sharper, gun oil, maybe. You exhaled slowly, your breath barely disturbing the stillness.

And then you heard it.

A laugh, bright and effortless, ringing through the house.

You froze.

You didn’t need to follow the sound. You didn’t need to see her draped over Sylus’s arm, her fingers curled around a wine glass, her lips parted in amusement. You knew. You had always known.

Sylus had loved her long before he’d known you. Not in this life, perhaps, but in another, one where they were bound by something deeper than reason. You had sensed it the moment you first saw them together, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke her name.

And you? You had been careful.

You never let your hands tremble when you handed him reports. Never let your voice waver when he stood too close, his presence like a storm pressing against your skin. You were smarter than that. You had to be.

The file in your hand suddenly felt heavy. You set it down on the side table, the sound swallowed by the thick silence of the house. 

A few steps farther, and there he was. Mephisto, perched on his stand like a sentinel, his feathers catching the faint glow of the hallway sconces. Sylus’s ever-watchful spy. 

Your fingers closed around the bird’s body before you could second-guess yourself. Cold metal bit into your palm as you twisted its neck, pressing the hidden switch beneath its wing. A faint click, and the red light in its eyes flickered out.

No more watching. No more recording.

You didn’t walk to your room so much as you drifted there. The corner by the window looking welcoming, the floorboards smooth beneath your knees where you had sat so many nights before. You didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. Just waited, as if some foolish part of you still expected.

But no. Of course he didn’t come.

Why would he? You were just an asset. A tool. And tools don’t warrant concern when they go quiet. They’re replaced.

The realization settled over you like a weight.

You stood. Your bag was already half-packed from some forgotten mission, duffel shoved beneath the bed, dust clinging to its straps. You yanked it free, tossing in the essentials: cash, a knife, the forged papers you’d been smart enough to prepare months ago. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

You didn’t bother with stealth. Didn’t tiptoe past his study, didn’t glance toward the wing where her laughter still curled through the air like smoke.

He wouldn’t notice you were gone.

***

Two years. 

Two years since you'd walked out of that gilded prison with nothing but a half-packed duffel bag and the clothes on your back. Your plan had been absolute in its simplicity: vanish from the N109 Zone completely. Disappear into some forgotten corner of the world, someplace so remote and inaccessible that not even Sylus with his vast resources would think to look.

But you were never naive enough to believe it would be that easy.

In the silent hours before dawn, when the city outside your new apartment windows hummed ever so softly, the truth would wrap around your throat like cold fingers. If Sylus ever truly wanted to find you, he would. No amount of running, carefully constructing false identities, calculating distance would stop him. 

The realization should have terrified you. Instead, it settled into your bones like an old scar, familiar, aching, but no longer sharp. So you did the only thing you could: you became invisible. Not by hiding, but by thriving in the last place anyone would expect to find you.

EVER Group. Those gleaming letters embossed on every lab door, every piece of correspondence, every business card that now bore your name. Eternity Vanquishes Evolution Restraint. A name as pretentious as it was accurate. They didn't recruit through job postings or career fairs. They hunted. For minds like yours. Sharp, adaptable, willing to dance on the edge of ethics if it meant progress. 

And when they'd found you six months after your disappearance, when they'd slid that first offer across the table with promises of resources beyond imagination and challenges worthy of your mind, you'd said yes without hesitation.

Your new title, Human Augmentation Engineer, rolled off the tongue with clinical precision. The work suited you in ways you hadn't anticipated. Your days were spent in sterile white labs where the air smelled faintly of ozone and disinfectant, your fingers dancing across holographic displays as you designed biomechanical enhancements that pushed the boundaries of human limitation. 

Cardiac regeneration systems that could theoretically keep a heart beating forever. Neural interfaces that blurred the line between human thought and machine precision. 

The ethical implications would have kept a lesser person awake at night. For you, it was just another equation to solve.

The irony wasn't lost on you. EVER was, by any reasonable standard, monstrous. Their research ventured into territories that would terrify most people. Resurrection protocols, memory extraction, experiments that could theoretically stop death. And yet, for the first time in longer than you could remember, you were happy.

Mornings began with the quiet ritual of coffee brewed exactly how you liked it, black with a single sugar, sipped while reviewing data from your latest prototypes. Your colleagues greeted you by name, their respect earned through competence rather than fear. Meetings were lively debates rather than tense performances, your ideas were met with genuine interest rather than dismissal. There was a birthday celebration for you, a real one, with terrible store-bought cake and off-key singing.

Your apartment, small but yours, became a sanctuary. The couch was worn in just the right places, the kitchen stocked with foods you actually enjoyed rather than what was expected. Evenings were spent curled up with research journals or trashy novels, the city lights painting shifting patterns across your walls.

No more straining to hear footsteps in the hallway. No more rehearsing conversations in your head, measuring every word before it left your lips. No more choking on the sound of her laughter ringing through the halls like wind chimes.

You thought about him, of course.

It was impossible not to.

Sometimes when you passed a certain shade of crimson in a shop window, his colour, your breath would catch just for a moment. The scent of expensive bourbon would still make you turn your head. And on rare nights, when sleep eluded you, you'd find yourself wondering. Did he still keep that ridiculous collection of antique pistols? Had he replaced you immediately, or had he waited out of pride, if not sentiment? Was she still there?

But the thoughts came less frequently now. When they did surface, you’d forget about them after a moment or two. Did it hurt? You weren't sure. More importantly, you didn't care enough to find out. This life, this messy, complicated, gloriously ordinary life, was yours by choice. Every late night at the lab, every terrible office party, every quiet evening alone was a decision you'd made for yourself.

And you didn't regret a single second of it.

The past was a closed door.

***

Two years.

Two years of silence.

Two years of waking up expecting to see you in the study, bent over reports with that familiar furrow between your brows. Two years of catching himself turning to make some dry remark, only to remember that there was no one there to hear it. 

He had to admit. You'd outsmarted him.

The realization still tasted like broken glass.

Sylus sat in his office, the glow of a dying fire casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. The room smelled of leather and gun oil, of expensive bourbon left untouched in its crystal decanter. His fingers traced the edge of a file, your file. The one he kept locked in the bottom drawer despite having memorized every word.

Page 37 showed your favorite café, the one with the terrible coffee you pretended to enjoy because the owner reminded you of your grandfather. Page 89 mentioned your habit of humming off-key when working late. Page 203 contained the little notes he’d leave for you around the house. He knew you loved his handwriting. He’d known the moment you asked him to write down everything he needed done instead of telling you. 

He snapped the folder shut.

Mephisto had been his masterpiece. Programmed to follow you silently if you ever left unannounced, to watch over you when he couldn't. A safeguard. A gift, in his own twisted way. But you'd known. Of course you'd known. The way you'd manually shut the bird down with the sole purpose of running away from him, haunted him more than any ghost ever could.

He'd searched every corner of the N109 Zone. Burned through favors, called in debts, even risked venturing into rival territories himself. Nothing. No whispers in the underground, no sightings in the usual haunts. Just empty leads and dead ends piling up like corpses.

His fingers tightened around the glass.

He'd been a fool.

All those carefully calculated moves, every strategic play, and he'd still managed to lose the only piece that ever truly mattered. Standing too close under the guise of examining your work. Leaning down just to catch your scent, ink, gunpowder and something faintly floral. Asking you to move in like some lovesick idiot instead of just saying it.

What kind of boss invites a mere employee to live with him?

The answer burned in his chest.

One who couldn't admit he'd rather die than watch you walk out that door.

His fingers found the scar along his collarbone. Four precise lines from when you'd stitched him up after a job gone awry. You'd been furious he'd gotten shot, even after seeing him heal himself, you still insisted on medical care. Your hands steady but your voice trembling as you told him exactly how stupid he'd been. That was the moment, if he was honest with himself. When he'd known.

Then, a knock came at 2:17 AM.

He didn't bother looking up. "If this is another dead end, don’t bother coming in."

The door creaked open, revealing two familiar silhouettes, tall, lean, their features obscured by those masks they never removed. Even in the dim light, he could tell them apart instantly.

Neither spoke.

Sylus set his glass down with deliberate precision. "Well?"

They exchanged glances, Luke's mask tilting just slightly left, Kieran's right hand twitching toward his hip holster. A full three seconds of silence.

The decanter shattered against the wall behind them.

"Where is she?"

Kieran didn't flinch at the spray of glass. "EVER Group's Bioengineering Division. Senior augmentation specialist." His voice was flat, but the way his thumb rubbed against his index finger.

A long silence. The ticking of the grandfather clock.

The name hit like a bullet. The irony was almost poetic. His brilliant, cautious girl hiding in the belly of the beast itself. His laughter cut through the silence, sharp and humorless. "Of course she is."

Luke’s gaze shifted from Sylus to his brother. Then, all of a sudden he blurted out, "She's happy."

Sylus' cufflink caught the light as he reached for his pistol case.

“Get the car.”

***

The alarm screamed at 5:00 AM.

Your hand slapped over it before the third shrill could shatter the fragile peace of your apartment. For three breaths, you lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling where dawn’s first light painted watercolor streaks through the stained-glass window. The sheets smelled of lavender detergent. Real lavender, not the synthetic crap they pumped through EVER’s ventilation systems.

The shower scalded just shy of painful, steam curling around the bullet scar on your left hip. You scrubbed with a lemon-scented soap, the odour sharp enough to cut through the chemical fog that clung to your skin after long days in the lab. 

The mirror fogged over, but not before you caught sight of the woman staring back. Nearly unrecognizable from the ghost who fled N109 Zone. Your hair was now cropped into a sharp bob, your cheekbones pronounced from actually remembering to eat. Only your hands remained the same. Steady, scarred, capable of both delicacy and breaking a man’s wrist in three places.

You dressed methodically. Black tailored slacks with the hidden knife slit in the right seam, a white blouse buttoned to the collarbones, a lab coat starched stiff as a corpse’s shroud. The ridiculous 3-inch Louboutins Luke stole for your birthday pinched near the pinky toe, but you wore them anyway. The coffee brewed strong enough to dissolve spoons, poured into the chipped World’s Okayest Engineer mug Kieran gifted after your first successful mission.

The elevator to Sublevel 7 smelled like antiseptic and ozone. You balanced the coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, scrolling through today’s schedule when Dr. Cho’s voice interrupted.

“Dr. (reader)!”

He clutched a sealed dossier to his chest like it contained nuclear codes, sweat beading along his receding hairline under the fluorescent lights. “You are reassigned,” he blurted. “Effective immediately.”

The coffee turned to acid in your throat.

Conference Room B smelled like, well, cool, clean air.

Twenty-seven faces stared back as Cho announced Project HDS-7213, EVER’s first live-subject augmentation trial. Your promotion to Lead Biomedical Engineer. The way his voice hitched on live sent a tremor down your spine.

“Congratulations,” Mara whispered, nudging a thicker dossier across the table. “You earned this.”

The file weighed more than it should’ve. Page 1: Subject M-7. Male. 28 years old. Page 3: Evol Classification: Energy Manipulation (Class VIII, potentially IX). Page 9: Containment Protocols: Electromagnetic shackles. Sedation drip. Two cranial failsafe implants.

Your thumb left a smudge on the surveillance photo, a blurred figure in black attire. “Why bother with a photo?” Mara commented.

“Mara,” you murmured, tapping the Evol classification. “We never worked with anyone above Class IV.”

Her knee pressed against yours under the table. “Remember those Tesla-looking monstrosities they brought in last week? Turns out they are portable suppression fields.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Nothing to worry about. I guess.”

Frowning, you turned your gaze back to the file. Your mission was clear cut. Suppress the subject’s Evol to null and transfer it to another subject. You gulped. Wouldn’t that kill him? What had you gotten yourself into?

The walk to Lab 7 took exactly 4 minutes and 37 seconds. You counted each step, each sip of now-cold coffee, each erratic heartbeat as clearance doors hissed open before you. The file revealed another horror. Subject resisted standard sedation (they switched to a veterinary elephant tranquilizer).

The final door required retinal scan and voiceprint.

“Dr. (reader), authorization code Rose-9-White.”

The locks disengaged with a sound like bones breaking.

Lab 7 was colder than the morgue.

Your heels clicked against frosted glass flooring as you approached the observation window. The suppression field hummed at a frequency that made your teeth ache. Coffee sloshed over the rim of your mug as your hands betrayed you.

On the other side of the glass was a man. Not just a subject.

Chained in a chair that looked more like a medieval torture device, his bare torso marked with fresh burns where the electrodes bit into flesh. Blood crusted along his split lip. Silver hair matted with sweat and something darker near the temple. His head lolled forward, chin nearly touching chest, but you could see the rise and fall of ragged breathing.

Then, as if sensing your presence he looked up.

Crimson eyes locked onto yours through the glass. Not the dull gaze of a sedated prisoner. Not the wild glare of a feral test subject.

Your mug shattered on the lab floor.

Because the man strapped to that chair, the man whose file now trembled in your hands, was Sylus.

[maeparu]

i need to know what was in that. picture…… but inmy head. kid zayne has a bowl cut

herez little zaynie and da post yayqyy

[maeparu]

Sylus eats.

Like I’m talking he goes to town. The first time you eat a meal with him that’s more hands on, way better eaten with your fingers than your utensils, you kinda just… grow a bit awestruck. Because for some reason, watching Sylus chow down on a fucking greasy burger renders you speechless.

For one, you never imagined him to be someone who’d like such messy, greasy foods. Now? Your jaw is a bit slack, your pupils dilated as you watch him man handle that damn piece of food and go to fucking town.

He notices, of course, and his eyebrow is arching as a peculiar look crosses his face. Then? He’s swallowing, laughing a bit as he places the food back on the plate and wipes his mouth before licking his fingers clean.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, kitten.”

I had the most bizarre thought while half asleep last night and woke up still thinking about it so naturally I had to share it.

[maeparu]

[maeparu]

virgin!caleb who’s never had the experience of receiving a blowjob. only ever imagining it — slouched in his gaming chair, the glow of his pc screen illuminating his dark room. annoyingly, having to wrap his own hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly with tired eyes glued to the porno playing in front of him. but in his mind, it’s you. not whoever’s on the screen. it’s you he pictures, wrapping your warm mouth around him.

and now, he doesn’t need the help of his imagination anymore.

you’re kneeling between his legs, one hand holding onto his thigh for stability as you bob your head up and down, the other hand stroking the parts you can’t reach. it’s messy, wet, spit dripping down to the base, and the sensation has his eyes rolling, breaths shaky, legs trembling under you. hands fidget like he doesn’t know where to put them, until one rests on your head, hesitantly guiding you at your rhythm.

he looks wrecked, brows knitted together, head tilted back against his chair and he barley has enough in him to keep his eyes on you. especially when you look up at him with those eyes, glassy, tears threatening to spill as you try to take him whole, tip kissing the back of your throat.

“fuck, o-oh my god.”

caleb’s quick grab your hair, keeping you in place — it’s assertive. your eyes widen, his bold action coming off as a surprise to you. a full 180 from how awkward he’d been earlier, confessing how inexperienced he was. his body jolts forward, a guttural groan leaving his lips. you grip his thigh harder, unable to move when you feel his warm cum shoot into your mouth. he uses you to milk himself, coating your throat white, completely filling you up.

his breathing begins to slow, husky moans turn into soft whimpers as his orgasm calms down. and he finally pulls out with a shaky sigh, a string of saliva keeping you both connected. you blink up at him while trying to catch your breath and caleb just stares back at you — lips parted, pupils blown, dazed.

“d-did you swallow.. all of it?”

you instinctively open your mouth, tongue lolling out, giving him exactly what he wanted, a view revealing the clean muscle. any trace of his seed was gone. he curses under his breath, the sight so dirty, so shameless — unable to look away, burning the image into his brain. it was enough to undo him all over again. and you weren’t going anywhere for a while.

✉️ masterlist !

[maeparu]

Imagine being Sylus' non-mc significant other. part3

Imagine as Sylus stood outside your door longer than he should have. The air was thick with the weight of everything unsaid. He had rehearsed a hundred apologies, but none of it felt right. None could undo what was already done.

Imagine when you opened the door, you did not look surprised. Just tired. He offered a small greeting as you stepped aside without a word and he walked in like someone returning to a memory. The apartment looked the same, but the air was different.

Imagine the way it smelled of something else, something he wasn't familiar with. Like someone had been trying to scrub away memories but couldn't reach the ones buried too deep. So he watched you as you sat down on the edge of the couch like it was the only place that didn't still echo his presence.

"You're not here to explain." Your voice calm but distant. "No." He said sitting across you. "I think you already know everything." Then there was a pause. The kind that used to mean safety, now it just felt like holding breath before a storm that never came.

"I should have told you." He added. "The mission. MC. Everything." You nod, eyes never meeting his. "But you didn't." "No." He whispered. "Because I didn't want to lose you." "But you did anyway." That silence returned. Heavy, but not angry. Just resigned.

"You know what the worst part is?” You spoke after a moment of silence. "It is that I would've understood." You close your eyes and clasp your hands together. "I've always tried to understand you, Sylus." You sound so soft yet tired. "I know." His voice sounds almost like a whisper. "I didn't need perfect." You said. "I just needed the truth. Even if it hurt. Even if it scared me."

Imagine the way Sylus sat across you. Elbows on his knees, his hands clenched. "I thought I was protecting you." He pause. "That the less you knew, the safer you were. That if I could just hold everything together for a little longer." Silence, a long deep silence. Then his voice soften but not in the way that it send butterflies to your stomach but in a way that breaks your heart. "I'd come back and you'd never have to carry any of it."

Imagine your smile was small and sad. "But I was carrying it. Every day. I was carrying the silence. The confusion. The nights you didn't come home. The days you smelled like someone else. I carried it all without knowing what it meant." He looked at you, eyes red-rimmed but dry. "I didn't love her." "I know." You said. "But that wasn't the point, was it?" "No."

Imagine as the two of you sat in the stillness for a while. Neither knowing how to move forward but there was a strange peace in the honesty between the two of you were now like pulling back the curtain and realizing the storm has passed, even when the damage is still there.

Imagine then you looked at him. Like really looked at him. And he looked older. Or maybe, just wearier. His eyes, once unreadable, now looked hollowed out by guilt.

"I loved you" You finally said. "I still do." There was a moment of silence. "But I think we started building something in the wrong season. You were still surviving, and I was hoping you'd learn how to stay." At your words, his throat tightened. "With you, I wanted to. I tried to."

"But love that hides behind missions and silence?" You said, voice gentler now. "It doesn't get to last. Not unless it's willing to stand in the light." He nod slowly. "I see that now. I see everything I didn't before. Everything I asked you to carry without knowing."

Imagine the way you lean back slightly, staring at the wall, not in anger but in reflection. "You weren't the villain. Not to me. Not ever. But you made me feel like I wasn't enough to be chosen outright. And I can not go back to that."

Imagine, he reach across the coffee table, fingers brushing upon yours. And you didn’t pull away. But you didn’t lean in either. You just met him halfway, hands touching like two people who knew how much it hurt to let go.

"I don’t want to lose you." He said quietly. "You already did." You answered, not cruelly. Just honestly. "But that doesn't mean we're finished. Maybe we're just…" Taking a break. Trying to find a better version of ourselves. "Maybe the version of us wasn't built to last. But that doesn't mean we can't try again someday. When we're different. When we've healed."

Imagine the way he exhaled shakily before nodding. "Then I'll come back." Those red eyes were staring at you intensely. "When I'm someone who deserves the kind of love you gave me so freely."

Imagine just then you stood up slowly in which he followed. This time the door felt heavier than before. "Take care of yourself." You said, reaching for the knob. "You too." He replied. "And thank you. For loving me when I don't know how to be loved."

Imagine you opened the door, letting the cool air of the hallway in. But then you turn to face him one last time. "Promise me one thing." You said. "Promise me that when you do come back. If you come back. You come back as someone who doesn't make me question whether I'm first."

Imagine he did not speak. He just nodded. Once and firm. Like a promise in silence. Then he stepped into the hallway and you closed the door behind him.

Imagine he stood there for a while. Not out of regret, but cherishing it. Because sometimes, the bravest thing two people can do is stop fighting to hold on and start learning how to let go. So they can meet again, not as what they were, but as who they've become.

Imagine, inside you lean your forehead against the door, breathing in deep. Because love wasn't gone. It was just choosing to heal, for once, before trying again.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: i kept dying mid round and barely manages to edit the whole thing after I stopped playing because wtf where did my aim in valo go.

[maeparu]

Imagine being Zayne's non-mc significant other. part2

Imagine growing up, Zayne has never been the loudest in a room. He was more of a constant quiet yet present and warm person other could lean on into. He doesn't speak often but when he does, people listen. Especially you, his lover. The one who loved him before he even knew how to love himself.

Imagine the way he watched you across the room as the two of you where now separated by a small sea of people. His eyes out of habit looked and found you. He knew that look on your face, the kind of face that others would mistake as absentmindedness but he knew that look. But he recognized the way your brows softened when you are lost in your own thoughts. He knew you were thinking. About him, maybe. About what you two have.

Imagine the way he smile softly to himself, even as he turned back to the conversation. As a joke passed around the group, he let out a small laugh, not forced, but not full either. And then something caught his attention. A familiar laugh rang out from somewhere in the room. It was bright and child like, MC. She had always laughed like that, ever since they were kids. Zayne didn't need to turn his head to know where it came from. He already knew.

Imagine she had been under his care for a while now. Her recovery had been long but she was making progress. She was strong, even if she didn't believe it. And he? He was protective of her. Not in a romantic way, but in the way that an older brother might be for a younger sibling. But that didn't stop people from speculating. The familiarity between them, the shared glances of old memories they painted as a picture, people misunderstood too easily.

Imagine, he hated that you, his lover had to see that. Especially when he caught your eyes again. Your friend was sitting next to you speaking softly. He couldn't hear what your guys were saying, but the tension in your posture told him more than words ever could. Then you look at him. No, past him before looking away. That hurt more than he expected.

Imagine Zayne love you with everything he had. From the quiet moments to the loud. From the days were you two barely spoke to the nights were he held you like a lifeline. He love you. He never said it as much as he should have, but it was always there in his actions. The way he picked up your favorite drink on his way home. The way he listened to your ramble about your day even when his own had left him drained. The way his hand always found yours under the table, steady and sure.

Imagine he knew something had shifted. Not his love. Never his love. But your trust.

Imagine he knew what it looked like. The way his eyes drifted when MC laughed. The way he softened around her. But what no one else saw, what you did not seem to realize was that it wasn't love. It was duty. About family. MC was a girl he grew up with, a patient he'd watched fight her demons tooth and nail. She was a reminder, not a desire.

Imagine, he saw it in your eyes, the creeping doubt. The belief that you were nothing but a second place to someone who wasn't even playing the same game. That realization shattered him. He remembered the conversation you two had once, late at night, your head on his chest. "Do you think you could ever love someone more than you love me?" You asked, not accusing or something, just plain curiosity.

Imagine the way he had pulled you closer, kissing the crown of your head and saying "No, there's no one else for me. Only you.” He meant it. He still meant it. But something had crept in between the two of your lately. An invisible wall neither of you had placed but both felt. It was born from the silence. From the misunderstandings. From him not being careful enough with the way others saw his kindness, and you being too quiet about how much it hurt.

Imagine watching you smile faintly at a conversation you aren't really in, Zayne felt a pang of guilt. Not because he had done anything wrong but because he hadn't done enough to make you feel safe. Loved. Chosen.

Imagine the way he wanted to cross the room. Sit beside you. Take your hand in his and whisper 'It's only ever been you.' But the timing never seemed right and maybe, you wouldn’t believe it anymore. So he stayed seated. Eyes lingering just a little too long. Not on MC. But on you. The one who had seen him. Chosen him. And loved him with a kind of quiet bravery that both terrified and humbled him.

Imagine the way he swore to himself that he'd stop being silent. Stop letting the shadows of old relationships or misunderstood bond blurs the truth. He was yours. And he'll prove it, every day from here on out.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

:happy ending? Not quite. Sorry it took so long, I was playing valorant and was editing everytime I died.

[maeparu]

Zayne x CrushingNurse!Reader | Part Five

Where has your smile gone? ANGST PT.2

Part One • Part Two • Part Three • Part Four

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

I | Zayne drops his voice a little lower than necessary while standing beside you knowing it will usually make you nervous, murmuring, “You’ve stopped stuttering. I almost miss it.” Your heart skips a beat but you keep your face neutral, “I practiced.”, you reply before walking away.

II | Zayne purposely asks you to help with something simple, things he could easily do himself. He knew it made you nervous, he could always feel the ice around his heart melt everytime he saw your hands shake as you tried to help. What he loved even more was teasing you about it. “Hands shaking today?” he asks lightly- carefully. You don’t even smile. “Not at all." He frowns.

III | “Your notes are unusually thorough, much more than usual. Am I making you nervous again?”

“No.”

He pauses. He pauses in that way that would always make you squirm, eye darting everywhere but his way, fingers twisting in the cloth of your scrubs.Now, you don’t even blush.

IV | During rounds, he lingers at your side a beat too long- long enough that you’d normally turn tomato-red and trip over your words. Now, you just shift away and keep taking notes. He stares at you. Silent.

V | You haven't brought him coffee today, nor did you yesterday - or the day before that actually. A routine you had been stuck to for months, suddenly halted. Zayne tried to recall the few days before you started acting so distant, had he done something? Said something? Where has your smile gone? Zayne thought, just as he saw you walk past his office- cup of coffee in hand.

VI | He bumps your shoulder very lightly while reaching for a chart. “Careful,” he says dryly, “wouldn't want our nurse to fall and get hurt." You reply, “There are things that cause a lot more pain than just a fall." He stops mid-motion, like what?

VII | He starts standing closer when reviewing reports with you—close enough that your elbow brushes his. You used to flinch. Now you don’t even react. You shift your chair away and don't even look his way.

VIII | “Nurse." Zayne calls out one day, "Could I speak to you for a moment?" You hesitated for a moment before taking a step forward before halting again at the faint sound of giggles. "I'm busy, Doctor." “Yeah." Zayne mutters, eyes locked on you, "You seem to be a lot these days.” You could barely keep your bottom lip from trembling, responding with a simple, "Yeah." before you walked away.

IX | Zayne starts correcting your minor errors in a purposely sharp voice, just enough to gurantuee a reaction from you - at least it used to. You only say, “Thanks for pointing it out." and fix it. It feels too calm. Too clinical. Nothing like his nurse.

X | He tries to joke during a lull between patients: “Still not a slightest hint of a smile. Should I be worried?” You just reply, “Probably not,” without even looking up. Zayne’s smile falters just slightly.

XI | He casually mentions, “You haven’t tripped over the IV cart all week.” You respond, “I learned how to walk.” There’s no laughter in your voice. It doesn’t sit right with him at all.

XII | He walks up behind you while you’re writing and says your name. A few weeks ago that would’ve made you jump and stammer. Now, you turn slowly, blink, and wait.

“…Yes, Doctor?”

It irritates him- if only you knew how much.

XV | He's done, he can't take it anymore. He corners you one day, just as you're about to leavs, quietly and not so casually this time, “Did I… do something?”

You give him a polite smile. “Of course not.”

"Then why? Why have you been acting like this? Who hurt you?" He fires one question after another.

You feel the tears pool in your eyes but you don't say a word. Not one. You just push those tears back and smile sadly, breaking the doctor's heart into a millions of pieces and walk past him and out of the door.

All Rights Reserved © DarlingsBlackBook

This is a bit of a filler part but it is needed to fill the gap between the last part and the next one ( a lot of drama will go down )

Taglist : @sylusgirlie7 @jeonjenny @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @draftbeerbibi @weebinator01 @satorustorm @asilaydead @ninaandtuna @gremlinartstudio @keyiswatching @dreamlesssleepsaga @eurynam @amerti @neobitch127 @m30wk1ttycat @yuurisfavblog @dysphxriaii @zainaaryam @floofycookie @beesin03 @thatpersonnamedrook @chiikasevennn @ollie-the-fae @dramaticalsachan @babylilxc @minsified @destinysrequiem @xsammijoanneex @hirostrvw @pepperushia @starllight613 @seris-the-amious @moonlight-inthe-sea @luvvhue @gojosballsack69

If I have missed anyone, please let me know! I'll make sure to add you for the next parts♡

[maeparu]

Zayne x CrushingNurse!Reader | Part Four

When the joke stops being funny ( time for angst muahaha )

Part One • Part Two • Part Three

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

I | It started when you dropped a pen after Zayne passed by, and one of the nurses whispered loud enough for others to hear, “Careful, she might faint. He breathed near her.” You were shocked, still you laughed with them. That was the first time you didn’t meet Zayne’s eyes all day.

II | You used to prep his morning coffee without being asked. One day, a colleague asked, “Are you trying to date him or adopt him?”

You did not know how to answer her, you could only watch her walk away as she chuckled to herself. You could feel the warmth spread up to your cheeks, embarassment running through every single vein in your body- you threw the coffe you prepared down the sink, both yours and His. Later on, Zayne passed by the desk you were standing at and asked, “Are the coffee machines broken?”

You bit your lip as a pang of guilt - and embarassment again - hit you right in your chest. "No, they are not broken." You answered and looked back at your screen right after, quietly dismissing him. He stood there for a moment, you could feel his eyes inspecting you and you did your best to keep a poker face- after a few seconds he quietly walked away.

III | You started sitting at the far end of the table during meetings. Zayne glanced toward your usual spot. When his eyes passed over you, you looked down. He did not say a word about it, but the way his tone turned clipped for the rest of the briefing? He did not have to.

IV | A group of nurses giggled when you rushed into the OR after being called by Zayne. One said, “She gets summoned and sprints like she’s about to get proposed to.” You tried to laugh. It cracked in the middle. You were used to these comments coming from Mc- but you had built somewhat a friendship with her, these were just your collegues. Collegues whom you definately did not have the kind of bond with to be making such jokes. But, it's fine. They were just joking, they did not meet any harm.

V | You stopped wearing the pretty clip you used to use for your hair. The one Zayne had gotten for you as a birthday present. You had been shocked, but so excited when he congratulated you and had worn the golden hairclip ever since. Until a nurse asked you, "Do you wear it because your hair actually gets in the way or just because a certain doctor gifted it to you?"

VI | Zayne asked you a question and you stuttered again - usually you just laugh it off and Zayne raises and eyebrow. This time, you saw the same nurses that had been dropping comments about you chuckle as they looked your way. You just apologized and walked off mid-sentence. He stared after you for a beat too long, lips slightly parted like he might call out. He didn't.

VII | One of the new nurses caught you staring at Zayne across the hallway and whispered, “Dream smaller.” What? It wasn’t loud. But loud enough for the people nearby to chuckle. You chuckled with them, even though the knife that had been stuck in your chest these past weeks twisted even further.

VIII | Zayne corrected a minor error in your notes. Usually, you’d flush and nod and promise to fix it. This time, you just said, “Yes, Doctor,” and turned away before he could say more. He watched you walk off with something tight behind his eyes.

IX | The nurse’s break room got suspiciously quiet when you walked in. A moment later, someone said, “Wonder how she even got placed on his team. Must’ve blushed her way in.” You stood frozen. No one said anything, they just laughed as if your weren't standing right there, just making a cup of coffee. It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of your chest, because even though she worded it carefully as she did, you knew exactly what she implied.

X | You stopped speaking in group briefings unless directly addressed. Once, you did answer a question, and someone coughed “Pet” into their elbow. Zayne raised his head at the sound, you could see him question himself whether he really heard that right or not. He glanced at you. You didn’t meet his gaze.

XI | MC came to Zayne for a check up and found you pecking at your lunch alone at the desk instead of with the others in the breakroom. She walked around the desk and sat beside you at the empty chair. You tried to act fine. She didn’t comment on the cold sandwich or your red eyes. She just said, “Want me to punch anyone?” You shook your head. She muttered, “Coward,” and stayed with you anyway.

XII | Zayne asked for assistance with a patient and you hesitated before agreeing. He tilted his head slightly. “You always volunteer.” You shrugged. “I just thought maybe someone more… competent could”

"You are one of the most if not the most competent nurses here." He replied, then kept an eye on you. Waiting for the way your eyes would widen and shine at the compliment - as you usually would. And you wanted to, but you already feeling the side eye your collegue next you shot you- you kept your head down. Still, you helped him out. His jaw was tight the entire appointment.

XIII | MC watched you fumble and apologize for a mistake that wasn’t yours as she was seated in the waiting room. When you left, a nurse said, “She’s scared he’ll stop liking her if she breathes wrong.” MC raised a brow and said, “Funny she is the one scared when she has the least reason to be." Silence.

XIV | You dropped your ID badge and someone said, “Pick it up, maybe he'll see something that'll actually catch his attention” You laughed. Later, when Zayne said your name, you had to push back tears at his voice. He noticed.

XV | You once brushed past him in the hallway and he turned slightly, as if expecting a nod or greeting. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even slow your pace.

XVI | Zayne began checking over your work more than usual. Not criticizing—just… looking. Quietly. One day he said, “Your....way of leaving notes to me have changed.” You said, “I’m just trying to be more professional.” He looked like he wanted to ask something. He didn’t.

XVII | You tried to smile at him when handing over a chart, but it came out wrong—tight, strained. He took the clipboard and said nothing. But he was still holding it when you walked away, not flipping the page.

XVIII | Zayne told a mildly sarcastic joke during rounds- keeping an eye out for your reaction expecting your usual nervous giggle.. The group laughed. You didn’t.

XIX | Mc showed up again, something told you it had nothing to do with a check up or another reason she had to see Zayne for- maybe you were delusional, but you thought maybe she came to check up one you. No one had in a long time. “You know he’s not blind, right?” You smiled, “I think he might be.”

XX | One evening, Zayne passed by and paused near your desk. You didn’t look up. He said, “You’ve been different lately.” You kept typing. “Just focusing on work.” He didn’t move. “…Did someone say something to you?”

Silence.

"No." You responded simply, quietly- but somehow that single word felt like a cry, a shout- as if you were banging on a invisible glass cage you were trapped in.

He walked away but as he lay in bed that night he could not stop thinking about it.

All Rights Reserved © DarlingsBlackBook

[maeparu]

[maeparu]

a threesome with sylus and zayne...

where, admittedly, you were a little nervous to try it, because you’ve seen the porn. it’s always two men using a woman for their pleasure only, where she is the side character, the object to be used.

but, it’s sylus and zayne so of course it’s the complete opposite.

it starts with them between your legs. they’re taking their time with you, both savoring everything you have to offer them. you’ve never had two men eating you out before but your legs are shaking in pleasure as they both tongue at your clit. zayne’s fingers are pumping in and out, curving to hit just the right spot while sylus sucks your clit into his mouth, the both of them working together to make your back arch off the bed, to pull the most lewd noises from you.

you don’t know where, or who, to grab, fingers alternating between sylus’ hair and zayne’s. they make you cum like that, both of them on their knees in front of where you’re spread out on the bed. the orgasm makes you see stars, you have to close your legs and push them both away because they’re greedy, and they keep licking into you even though you’re hyper sensitive.

eventually, it’s sylus who breaks first, needing to be inside of you. zayne obliges, moving to the other side of the bed so that sylus can flip you over pulling your ass in the air as he sinks in.

“sylus,” you moan, his cock spreading you open, and his pace is relentless as he fucks you from behind, his hips connecting hard with your ass on every single thrust. he's trying he very best to make sure you feel him deep inside of you.

“does it feel good, baby? does my cock feel good?” he asks, his voice husky with pleasure. you whimper in response nodding your head, arching your back more for him, knowing he loves the view of your ass like that.

you catch sight of zayne then, just as hard as sylus and almost on reflex, you open your mouth, waiting for him to get close enough to take him into your mouth, you feel like you're practically drooling for it. he comes to the edge of the bed, climbing up and kneeling in front of you, moaning softly as you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling around the head.

zayne’s cock is in your mouth, his fingers in your hair. he’s guiding you gently, helping you bob on him and sylus still pounding into you, your entire body is alight. it's as if the only thoughts in your head are the two men with you.

“good job, pretty girl,” sylus’ praise fills your ears, “that’s it, take his cock into your perfect little mouth,” he says, picking up his rhythm, his hips snapping quicker against you.

a muffled, “mmmf!” leaves your mouth, unable to talk around zayne’s dick.

you look up just enough to see zayne’s jaw go slack in pleasure, and whispered, “fuck,” leaving his mouth.

“she's doing so well,” he says, and you realize he's talking to sylus, who grunts in response. the idea that they’re having a conversation right now would be hilarious to you if you weren’t con the brink of another orgasm. you can only moan, sending vibrations up zayne’s cock, it pulls his attention to you, “aren’t you?” he says, looking down at you now, watching as you bob up and down on him, “you’re doing so well,” he moans deeply, “you love this, don’t you?”

“i think she does,” sylus answers for you, “can feel her getting tighter.” he pulls almost all the way out, slowly pushing back in so that you can feel every inch of him, a muffled whimper leaves your mouth. “are you gonna cum again, kitten?”

you’re fluttering around him when he suddenly pulls out, and you gasp at the sudden loss of him. “wouldn’t be fair if i didn’t share,” he says. you watch as he swaps with zayne, who quickly flips you onto your back, spreading your legs wide before he pushes inside of you with a groan.

in this new position, zayne brushes your clit with his pelvis on every thrust, and you can feel your toes curl at the sensation. then, sylus is next to you, he taps the tip of his cock against your lips a few times before he slowly lets you take him into your mouth.

“god, fuck,” zayne says through gritted teeth. you feel him throb inside of you, once, twice, three times and then the warmth of him spilling inside of you. that, plus the way zayne circles your clit with his thumb, pushes you over the edge. your second orgasm hits you just as hard as your first one, the scream you let out is muffled by sylus.

“you’re perfect,” zayne says, gently thrusting, working you both through your orgasms.

of course, when sylus cums in your mouth he’s praising you the entire time, “that’s it, beautiful, you did so good for us.”

and the aftercare is going to be gentle and wonderful. they’re going to take their time and make sure you’re okay after how intense things were, and if you all happen to go for another round in the shower…..

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪’𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘊𝘖𝘙𝘌. 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘣 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴… 𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘧𝘳

[maeparu]

ᡣ𐭩 zayne | scrubs ᡣ𐭩

cw: vaginal fingering, p in v, finger sucking

zayne has an inkling that you have some sort of obsession with his scrubs.

he doesn’t exactly know why, but there’s been too many instances of you ogling him in his scrubs for him to pass as simple coincidences. the first time, he’d just finished up in surgery, the complications making it run longer than most, his body weighed down by exhaustion that he’d simply decided to return to his office, without changing. he hadn’t expected to find waiting for him was you, a cute, little bento box clutched in your hands, wrapped up in a snow-patterned cloth. 

he’d been thankful, he always is, what kind of boyfriend would he be otherwise?

but you hadn’t smiled at him that night, instead stared at him blankly with wide eyes and parted lips. he’d tried talking to you, but it was as though your mind was preoccupied, your gaze solely fixated on his scrubs, every flex of his lithe fingers as he’d undone the knot of the cloth. zayne thinks he might’ve heard your breath catch when he sat down in his chair, his thighs spreading slightly to get comfortable, scrubs pulling over his thighs a little.

you’d excused yourself with a flustered air, not without kissing him, however, the movement of your lips a little too desperate for him to consider normal, the scrape of your teeth against his lips enough to have him readjusting his half-hard cock in the privacy of his office.

the next few times it happens, zayne can’t help but be intrigued.

you’re handsy, the desire in your eyes barely concealed, the press of your thighs hard to miss when he spins a pen between his fingers, pretending to think. but it’s not his scrubs only, his glasses seem to have some hold over you too.

like when his glasses slide too low on the slope of his nose and he pushes them up, zayne can spy the way you bite your lip, your hand curling into a fist on your lap. he wishes you’d just act on your urges, but all he gets are eager, little kisses, your hands drifting over his chest for a moment before you pull back with a sweet smile and a kiss to his cheek and say you’ll be waiting for him at home.

he can’t have that. when grayson mentions next month’s observational surgery for medical interns, zayne knows exactly what to do. 

one call later to akso hospital’s chief of surgery, with the promise of attending whatever upcoming medical conference is next, he’s managed to get you a front row seat.

zayne hopes it’s enough to make you finally snap.

- 

you don’t know how you’ve managed to find yourself here.

you thought observing surgeries was strictly for residents and interns, but apparently the invitation extends to doting girlfriends too. to your mortification, you think zayne might be catching onto your blatant, although extremely appreciative, ogling of him in his scrubs. which is why you’re sitting here now, perched on a metal bench, watching as your boyfriend’s gloves slip on, a mask covering the lower half of face.

aortic aneurysm, grayson had mentioned. 

any longer and you may as well have had an aneurysm yourself. 

you can hardly sit still, teeth sinking into your lower lip as zayne’s low, commanding voice comes through the speaker, narrating the surgery with precision. you shouldn’t be feeling this way, thighs pressing together under your skirt as you listen to his voice, watching the way he works, completely in his element with such professionalism that has you feeling hot and entirely too bothered. 

which is probably why you’re pawing at his broad shoulders and pulling him down with a rough tug, lips pressing against his in a feverish kiss the moment he’s out of the operating theatre.

“sorry,” you whisper against his lips, “you just- you look really good, zayne. really, really handsome and if you don’t fuck me right now, i think i might die.”

zayne huffs out a laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth affectionately.

“yeah, sweetheart? i suppose it would be against my oath to neglect someone so direly in need.”

you nod rapidly, pulling him down for another searing kiss, fingers slipping into his hair, pulling at the soft strands. zayne smiles against your lips, guiding you towards his desk, your lower back hitting it as he boxes you in against it, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

a soft moan leaves you when he squeezes at your ass, groping at the fat, his breath hot against you as his other hand slips under your skirt, rubbing up against your embarrassingly drenched panties. 

“you’re this wet?” zayne asks hoarsely, groaning when he pulls your panties to the side and feels your slick sticking to his fingers stubbornly as he rubs the pads of his fingers against your slippery, puffy folds. “just from watching me perform a surgery?”

“surgery, scrubs,” you mutter absentmindedly, half-lidded and drunken gaze dragging over the length of his arm, pussy clenching at the visible flex of his bicep and the muscles in his forearms, the sinewy skin littered with scars nearly enough to make you cum right and then there. “i think i’m just always wet around you, zayne.”

his smile against your cheek makes your heart flutter, an airy, contented sigh leaving you as he sinks two fingers inside of you, curling them with practised ease. 

“it is flattering,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently, his hand pulling your sweater up until your bra is exposed, fingers unclasping your bra quickly. zayne sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your breasts, his jaw clenching. “fuck- you’re beautiful, love.”

“thank- ah- thank you.”

you flush under his gaze, head tipping back as he thrusts his fingers into your clenching cunt, the low, hoarse groans he lets out into your ear making you curl your hands into his scrubs, pulling him impossibly closer. the praise he gives you makes everything spin around you, swirling and melding into nothing until all you can hear are his soft whispers.

“good girl… taking my fingers so well, yeah? pretty, pretty fucking baby… all mine… you sound so pretty, sweetheart… i love you…”

you can barely handle it all, mouth opening for his fingers when he slides them inside, sucking dazedly, hips rocking down against his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, gasping when he curls them further and presses his thumb against your swollen, aching clit. when his mouth latches onto your breast, kissing and sucking, tongue flicking at your nipple before he bites down with measured restraint, you know you’re done.

he groans when you pull at his hair, muffling your sounds with a sloppy kiss. zayne’s arm wraps around your waist to hold you up when he feels you shake, licking into your mouth with such fervor that has you whining and whimpering until he pulls back to shush you.

“what- what are you doing?” you ask, voice slurring, shaking your head in a panicked gesture when he tries to pull his scrub top over his head, “don’t do that. the scrubs and glasses stay on.”

“you’re serious,” zayne muses when you stop him again, his fingers lacing with yours. “so, i was right.”

“mhm,” you smile up at him, tongue licking over his lower lip playfully.

he smiles lazily, pushing his glasses to sit higher on the slope of his nose, sitting in his chair, his thighs spreading invitingly, the fabric tight around the hardened bulge that makes your pussy throb.

“c’mere, sweetheart.”

as if you needed an invitation. you’re pulling your skirt and panties off, clambering up onto his lap, his chair creaking as you kiss him, hand slipping between your bodies to free his hard, thick cock that’s smeared with milky beads of pre-cum. 

there’s a collective sound of relief leaving both of you when you sink down on his warm length, his hands grasping your waist as you rock your hips down, whining softly into his mouth.

you lean back, rising and falling on his cock, setting a rhythm that has zayne’s eyes fluttering shut, his head tipping back to rest against the back of his chair. the bob of his adam’s apple has you growing wetter, pussy fluttering around his fat cock, zayne’s hand roughly squeezing at your ass.

“that’s it,” he breathes out, hooking his thumb against your teeth to pull you closer, lips pressing against yours. “ride my cock, love. take what you want.”

his collarbone is exposed, peeking through the v of his scrubs, your hands guiding his hand to your throat, whimpering when he squeezes your neck gently. his fingers are pushing back into your mouth before long, the same fingers that were moving so precisely only hours ago; saving someone’s life.

you let your tongue lave between his fingers, head bobbing as you ride his cock, fingers pushing at his scrub top, walls clenching around his cock when zayne bites the hem, holding it between his teeth. he looks good like this, almost as fucked out as you are, a hazy smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, breasts squishing up against his warm chest while you work your hips, bouncing on his cock, your hard nipples brushing against his pecs.

“i love you,” you mumble, voice shy and airy and cheeks flushed, despite the fact that his cock was currently stuffing you full.

“i know,” zayne whispers, hand pressing against your back to keep you flush against him as he picks you up, laying you down on his desk. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

which is why he fucks you like he means it, because he does, guiding your ankles to lock around his back as he leans over you, pounding his cock into your cunt, forcing your pussy to stretch around his thick cock, his hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t bang against the desk.

his glasses slip off with a clatter, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care, too consumed by pleasure and lust, your teeth sinking into his shoulder when he grinds his hips into you, cock buried so deeply inside of you that your thighs are twitching, eyes squeezed shut. 

“zayne,” you gasp, “zayne, i- i can’t-”

“gonna cum?” zayne asks, his voice hoarse and trembling from the pleasure, “please, sweetheart? cum on my cock, wanna see you look all pretty and undone, my love.”

the brush of his thumb against your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge, that and the way he drives his cock into you, in one measured, deep thrust that you’re almost sure you can feel his cock in your throat.

“c’mon,” he rasps into your ear, the lewd words accompanied by the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your cheek in encouragement, “c’mon sweetheart, cream my fuckin’ cock.”

you’re crying out, back arching, fingers scrabbling for purchase, wrapping around him, gripping the fabric of his scrubs desperately, your squeal muffled by zayne’s mouth slotting over yours, the heels of your feet pressing against him, trying to keep him stuffed inside of you. 

“fuck-” zayne groans, “oh fuck- sweetheart, take it, take my cum.”

he thrusts into you unevenly, grunting as he cums, his body falling over yours, hot cum flooding your pussy as his cock throbs and jerks inside of you. a contented sigh escapes you as you lay limp on his desk, nails scratching at his scalp gently, fingers running through his hair soon after.

zayne smiles at you when he props himself up, his lips brushing across your jaw fleetingly.

“maybe you should exclusively wear scrubs from now on,” you suggest, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes, pecking his lips.

“you’d never let me leave the house,” he whispers against your lips, amusement lacing his words.

“how could i?” you pout, your nose nuzzling against his, “not when you look this good.”

zayne lets out a low laugh, helping you sit up, cleaning you up with a few tissues before he does the same, helping you with your clothes after, his hands smoothing over your ruffled skirt.

you yawn contentedly, pressing yourself against him, rising up onto the tips of your toes to kiss him again, mewling softly when he pets his hands along your waist and hips.

“you did really good today,” you offer when he drags you onto his lap, curling up against his chest. “the surgery, i mean, i don’t know a whole lot about hearts and aortas, but i think you did great, zayne.”

“you don’t know a lot about hearts?” he muses, tipping your chin up with his finger, “that doesn’t sound right.”

“what?” you ask confusedly, brows furrowing as he kisses your forehead. “what do you mean?”

“how could you not?” zayne whispers, his gaze soft and riddled with overwhelmingly love and affection. “how could you not when you’ve completely captured my heart and soul?”

[maeparu]

「Where the Wind Left Us」 Caleb

       ↳ He died in the war- or so you thought. Years later, he returns with no memory of you, and you're forced to face the man who once loved you like forever... now looking at you like a stranger.

Caleb had once been a fighter pilot, sharp, brave and deeply in love. Before the war, before duty stole him away, he was yours. Have a love rooted in hope, built during quiet moments in the chaos of wartime. But when the war escalated and he was called to serve, to protect the country and to protect you.

You had written to him. Countless letters. Words filled with devotion, with trembling wishes for his safety. For his return. With each letter, you tried to remind him that he was still loved, that you are still here, waiting for him. But the war ended, and he never came back.

You stood among crowds of reuniting lovers, heart clenched, eyes scanning every face that was not his. In your fist, a handkerchief crumpled tight with tears. They handed you a uniform. A final gesture. They said his plane had been shot down over enemy lines. No body. No wreckage. No closure. He had been declared missing in action and then, eventually, dead.

Years had passed. Then decade. Still, you remained alone. Something inside you had died the same day he did. If not in body, then in memory. You could not bring yourself to move on. His absence was a shadow you had lived beside. And then-

"Ouch!" A small voice snapped you out of the daze. You looked down to find a young boy who had fallen in front of you. Without thinking twice about it, you knelt beside him, concern pushing through the numbness. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" You asked. But when the your eyes met, something inside you cracked. A ghost of the past but this time, his eyes resemble somebody else. Someone long lost. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t look away. It was like seeing a ghost, not of the boy, but of someone you once knew better than yourself.

Later, you found yourself seated in a familiar little ice cream parlor. One that hadn't changed much over the years. Once, it had been the setting of the happiest date of your life. And now, across from you, sat the boy with his apple-flavored treat. "Are you sure you're okay?" You asked. "Yes! I'm a big boy now. Not even a scratch can make me cry!" He beamed. And that smile, that smile nearly identical to another's from so long ago. "Say, kid" You asked gently "Where are your parents?" "Oh!" He paused mid lick, then looked up like he'd just remembered. "Probably looking for me! We just got back here because this is my father's hometown!"

It was almost cruel, how easily your heart twisted. Once upon a time, there was a love story. A foreign soldier lost in a strange land, memory fractured by war. And a medical nurse who found him, pieced him together. They met. They bonded. They fell in love, not knowing that time and fate had other plans. And now, you are left with nothing but the ruin of a fairytale that was never meant to last.

"Oh, it's Dad." the child mumbled as he looked out the window. And there he was. Caleb. Alive. Whole. Smiling that same hesitant smile. Though now touched with worry as he spotted his son. So you look away and turn around. "I need to go" You whispered almost to yourself. In the end the child pout, the same way he once does causing you to chuckle despite the pain, despite the heartbreak. Despite the realization that the two of you were in fact, never meant to be together. But it was alright. 

"I'm afraid I'm quite running late for my errands young man." You smile fondly at him. "But-" He was cut off by the sound of his father calling him from the distance. "Well then, goodbye." You stand up, bidding your goodbye to the young child. "Wai- wait! What's your name?" You thought for a moment and look back slightly at the child. "No one, just a ghost from the past." You whispered along the wind. You never look back. And by the time Caleb reach the child's side, you were already long gone. 

♡

It's been a while since you've clean up your lawn. Its been a while since you have done such a thing ever since the revelation that your former lover. The one you thought was dead for the past few years was in fact, alive and breathing. And has a son, a family. It took you a while to pick yourself up from pieces. For years, you mourned for him, loved him in silence. Lit up a candle for a man declared dead with no body to bury. But then, like a cruel twist of fate, he appeared. Alive. Well. And with a child.

You tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter. That too much time had passed. That you both moved on even though you never truly had. And that he was someone else's now. That he had a family, and your part in his story was long over. But it wasn’t grief you were feeling now, it was betrayal. Not because he had lived. Not because he ha didn't tell you. Because he had come back into your world as if you were a stranger, not the person who once waited for his letters like they were lifelines. Not the person who loved him enough to mourn him twice.

You clenched your jaw, yanking a weed from the dirt with more force than necessary. Why were you so broken over this? He hadn't done anything wrong. No one had. And yet, deep in your chest, a sharp ache remained. You would’ve preferred he stayed dead. It was easier than this.

"Hello!" You pause, something that you tried not to show too much as you turn to face a familiar child. "Hello sweetheart." You tried to smile, really. The child did nothing wrong. Hell, no one did anything wrong. At the same time it really hurts you to be around this child as time went on. "Are you lost sweetheart?" You ask, setting aside your things to talk to the child properly. You haven't seen the boy in days, and now that he was standing right in front of you, it was clear that what happened wasn't a dream. It was true, he was back and you don't know it that was for better or for worse. "Are you okay?" The boy asked catching you off guard. "Of.. course. I'm okay sweetheart. But! but more importantly, Why are you alone again? where are your parents?"

Starting to get pissed off. The Caleb you knew was responsible, a man with taste. You knew who ever we has with right now would be a perfect good match for. But come on! Who lives their child alone?! This isn't the first time this happened, this child also happened to be away from this parents the first time you've seen him. Why are people so irresponsible with their children? Doesn't he love children? He never told you that of course, but you knew he always wanted one and you knew he would be a good dad. So where in the world is he right now-

"My paren-" "Pipsqueak! you little-!!" He pause, you watch him. You watch him watch you, your eyes slowly meeting half way. You did not want to see him. You were doing everything in your power not to see him.

These days, you moved differently. You rarely left your house and even if you did you took side streets, crossed early at lights, pretended not to notice the ache in your chest when someone said his name like it wasn’t a ghost curled inside it. He was back in town, for good, you knew that. But you aren't expecting to see him again, not now. Probably not ever. 

The way he was looking at you. The way it send shiver down your spine. He doesn’t know, you reminded yourself. He doesn’t remember you. He’s not looking at you because he knows you. You told yourself, trying your best to stay calm as he kept looking at you. Why was he even looking at you? He came to pick his son right? Right!

"You" You spoke, sharper than you meant, "Really need to learn how to watch your kid." You did not know where did you get that, words just came out of your mouth before you knew it. Caleb blinked like he wasn’t expecting you to speak first. Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting you. But then he stared at you again, this time, really stared.

The way you tried not to notice how his gaze lingered. The way it clung to your face like it recognized something but couldn’t quite name it. How it made your heart squeeze and your chest ache with things you’d buried long ago. You hate how he still looked at you like that. Like you were something soft in a world gone harsh.

"I- yeah" He replied, finally. "I didn’t know he snuck out again. He’s been doing that a lot lately." "Well, maybe he’s trying to get attention" You snapped, folding your arms. Where did that sassiness came from? "You know, since you're busy with your wife... or whatever." You tried to sound nonchalant, you really do.

But you saw it the moment the words left your mouth, the way something flickered in his expression. Confusion. A little hurt. "My what?" "Your wife.” You repeated, biting down the bitterness. "Look Mister, you've got a family. I get it. But maybe someone should be making sure your son doesn't keep ending up on strangers' lawns."

The way he looked at you like you just accused him of murder. The he said carefully "I don’t have a wife." You thought your ears were playing tricks at you. "I'm not married” He added, frowning. "It’s just me and this little guy over here." You opened your mouth then closed it before opening it again. "I saw you, at the ice cream parlor. You look like family." "We're not" He said simply, eyes softening. "Not like that." You look away. This isn't how you wanted this to go. You weren't even supposed to be talking to him.

Just when you felt like running away. The boy tugged at your sleeve. "Can we still go to the park?" The park? when did the two of you started talking about a park? You glanced down at the boy, then back at Caleb who was still staring at you. Like you were something fragile and familiar. Someone strange all at once. You cleared your throat. "Look, I don’t know what this is. But this little guy right here shouldn’t be wandering off." You smile gently at the boy, gently prying off his hand of your shirt "Next time it might not be someone nice who finds him."

Imagine just when you were about to turn around and walk away for real. "You’re right" Caleb said, voice steady. "You're completely right." What is this guy playing? "So maybe you should help me keep an eye on him. Just for today. Park trip?" 

You hesitated. This man, this stranger who still managed to look at you like you were everything, was asking you to walk beside him again. Even if he didn’t remember. Even if it shattered you. Just then, his son grabbed both your hands and squeezed. "Please? I can hold on both of you this time!" You sighed, you could almost feel a headache forming. "I swear" Caleb spoke quietly. "I’m not trying to make this harder for you." He added. "I just... something about you feels like I’ve known you forever." You didn't answer.

Instead you turn to his son who was looking at you with hopeful eyes. Oh those puppy eyes, who could ever say no to them? "Give me a minute darling, I'll clean this up in a bit." "Oh. Oh! I could help!" You laugh, ignoring the way his stare linger. With your heart pounding, trying not to fall apart as the man who once promised to come back to you followed behind. With no idea he already had.

♡

It began in fragments. A shared walk beneath rusted leaves. A passing smile from across the yard. A quiet lunch in the sun, where the child spoke the most and the two adults sat guarded, orbiting each other in silence.

For you, it was cautious. Your heart, once cracked open by his absence, had been stitched closed over years of grief. And now that he stood right before your eyes, not a memory, but a living echo. With his laugh the same, his presence still magnetic. But his eyes were new. Unknowing. Which honestly made it worse. You didn’t know how to touch a ghost who didn’t remember haunting you.

He was gentler now. Or perhaps he always had been, had you simply forgotten how it felt. He watched you like you were something steady, something quiet. Like he was trying to place you in a dream he couldn’t quite recall. And you tried not to look too long. Not to stare when he leaned back on his hands, when he ran a palm through his hair the way he used to when deep in thought. You tried not to remember how his touch had once been a promise. Now, it was unfamiliar. Unwritten. A beginning that mocked the ending you had survived.

For Caleb, it was instinct.

The pull towards you was natural, like a rhythm he already knew. He could not understand why but it lingered in his chest every time you were near. Like a compass buried deep inside him had found true north. There was something in the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t watching. Like you were mourning while he breathed. Like he had hurt you without meaning to. Like he had once been your world, and now you didn’t even know how to stand close without burning.

You were kind, but careful. Present, but slightly too still. He noticed the way you never leaned in too far. The way your hands stayed folded, as though holding yourself together. And yet, somehow, you two kept finding each other. A cup of tea offered without words. A shared glance when the little guy laughed too loudly. The comfortable silence of two people who knew how to sit with something unspoken.

For you, it was terrifying. To feel the old ache inching back slow, quiet and cruel. To fall for him again, when he had no idea you were simply picking up where he had left you broken.

For him, it felt inevitable. Like he was falling toward something he couldn’t name. Something familiar. Something that felt like home. Even if he didn’t know why.

♡

Caleb hadn't meant to visit.

He was just dropping off for his son's hat. Left behind again after your impromptu park trip. But when you opened the door and offered a gentle, "Come in for a minute." He stepped inside, telling himself it was polite. Just polite. And then he saw it.

First, the jacket. Hanging by the coat rack. Old, military-issued, a bit scuffed. Familiar. Too familiar. Then the model planes. Dusty but lovingly displayed on a shelf, and one of them, one specific fighter jet had a scratch on the left wing. And then the mug. Sitting quietly by the window, like a ghost of a morning ritual. Chipped. Faded. Still readable, Return With Honor. He stared at it like it had slapped him.

His chest tightened. His brain did math. You said you lived alone. That you never married. Yet this place didn’t feel like yours alone. It was layered with someone else's presence. And Caleb, who, despite his calm exterior, had an ego thoroughly capable of jealousy, was not immune.

"Nice place." He said, eyes still glued to the jacket. Boyfriend? No. You said you aren't seeing anyone. But maybe someone from the past? Someone important, judging by the shrine level energy in the room. "Thanks." You replied, walking toward the kitchen. "It's quiet. Suits me." "Yeah. You into aviation or something?" By his question, you paused. "A little." He nodded like that explained everything, but the knot in his chest was winding tighter.

"Those models." He said, referring to the planes. "They're vintage... Collectibles?" "They were someone else's." He felt an ache. "Someone close?" He asked and your silence was enough. Caleb cleared his throat. "Boyfriend?" "What's it to you?" You almost glare at him but ended with a sigh. "Nothing." He said too quickly. "Just curious. Not judging or anything. Totally healthy to you know... keep stuff from a boyfriend." He almost cringe at his own words. Nonetheless he tried to play it cool. "Even years later. It's fine."

"Wasn't a boyfriend." "Oh." He looked relieved then paused. "Husband?" You didn't respond. His jaw clenched. "Okay. Cool. So just- was it serious?" It was entertaining, really. To see him acting like this. Still, "Very." He exhaled slowly, pretending it didn't bother him. Pretending the idea of some air force Romeo haunting your house via jacket and coffee mug didn't sit like a boulder in his gut. "Is he… still around?" He asked.

You turned slightly, enough for him to see the flicker of something in your eyes. Not anger. Not sadness. Something older. But then you blink and it disappears. "No." You said simply, too nonchalant. "He died. Years ago. During the war." Caleb blinked. "Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to-"  "It's alright."

Caleb, in all his complicated grief and confused feelings, nodded gently and then exhaled the kind of breath no normal person should ever exhale after hearing about someone's dead lover.

Relief. An actual, horrible, shameful relief. "So... you never moved on?" Why does he even asked this questions? "I tried." You said, sighing. Looking back, you never truly get over him. Even before this, you carry him with you. "Didn’t stick."

He looked away, heart weirdly heavy. And relieved. Which was so wrong. He barely even knew you. "I'm not saying I was jealous." He muttered under his breath. Clearly wasn't very jealous. "But I just think it's a little unfair that a dead guy still has better closet space than me." You pause, looked at him and then choked on a laugh. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing. I mean. I didn’t say that." He tried to recover but found himself already walking toward the jacket. "That tear in the shoulder? Looks like something from field duty. Enemy fire?" There was a moment of silence before your voice was heard. "Crash." Ah. Damn. He looked back at you. "Did they recover him?" You shook your head, mind replaying the day you received his uniform. "No. The plane was downed over enemy territory. No body. Just..." 

Caleb swallowed, then turned back to the jacket. His fingers brushed the edge of the inner collar. And there, faint but stitched in, was a name. Caleb. His own name.

He blinked. Huh. "That's weird." He whispered to himself. "What is?" "Nothing." He let go quickly, stepping back like the jacket burned him. "Just thought it looked familiar." "You probably knew someone like him." You said, looking at the jacket. "You were a pilot too, weren't you?" He nodded slowly.

The silence that followed was thick with something he couldn’t name. Finally, you turned to him, brows raising. "You okay?" "Yeah. I'm fine. Just..." He looked back at the shelf of planes. "Trying to figure out if I'm feeling haunted or just wildly insecure." You gave him a long look. "Don't worry. You're not the first man to get jealous of a ghost."

♡

It didn’t hit all at once.

Just a flicker. Later that evening, after he returned home and set down his keys. Caleb sat in silence for a long while. Hands resting on his knees, his mind somewhere far behind him. His son asleep upstairs. The house was quiet. But his heart wasn’t.

He couldn't stop thinking about the jacket. The way it had felt under his fingers. The fraying of the collar. The weight of it. Familiar, like a favorite song he hadn't heard in years. And then… the name.

Caleb

His name. Same spelling. Same placement he would have asked for, had it ever been his. And that particular kind of patch stitching, he knew it. Not in theory, not from others but he remembered doing it. Sewing that rip in the field. Threading it clumsily, cursing the cold, using his teeth to pull the knot tight.

The memory was sharp. Real. Immediate. He jolted. For a split second, the sound of wind filled his ears. Rotors. Heat. A hands pressing against his chest. A medic’s voice shouting. The taste of blood. The voice- the voice. Laughing. Crying. Then it was gone. He stared at the floor, breath unsteady, as something ancient and half buried inside him cracked open. He didn’t know the name. Not yet. 

But suddenly, he knew the jacket. He had loved someone once. And he had left them behind.

♡

It had been a while since Caleb last visited. Life had a way of stepping in, work, obligations and the silent ache between two people who used to know each other like breath and now barely touched the surface. He hadn't come by in days, and though you told yourself it was a relief, the echo of absence sat heavily in the corners of the house.

Still, his little boy came. He had a way of showing up with grass in his hair and stories far too big for his age. That afternoon, he sat cross-legged in your living room, babbling about paper airplanes and how he could totally build one that flew to the moon if he wanted. And you listened, smiling through the heaviness.

Then, in the soft lull of conversation, you asked a question that had lingered for too long. "Your dad... what's he like?" When you asked that, the boy shrugged like it wasn't complicated. "He’s kind. And quiet sometimes." He giggle. "He forgets things. But he always remembers the important stuff."

You hesitated before asking, you don't want to get hurt. "Was it always just the two of you?" The boy tilted his head. "No. My real parents died. In the war. Dad, Caleb, was their friend. He says he owes them everything."

The world tilted just slightly beneath you. He wasn’t his son. Not by blood. Caleb had taken the boy in. Raised him. Loved him. Not because he had to. But because it was the right thing to do.

You watch the little boy rummaged through his small backpack and pulled out something you hadn’t seen in years, a small box, worn at the edges. "He gave me this." He said, opening it like it was no big deal. Inside sat a ring. Their ring. The one pair Caleb had with him the night before he left for the war. The one you thought had been lost with him forever. You breath caught.

"He said it was for someone important." He added gently. "That he didn't remember who, not really. But he knew it was meant for someone. That he'd given it to them before everything." The air went silent with something unspoken. "He said that's why we came back here." The child said simply. "Because father- my first dad, told him he had left something important in this town. Someone.”

The ring sat there between them, heavy with memory.

You did not reach for it. Not yet. Because hope was a dangerous thing. And love, especially a love that once had died, was terrifying when it tried to live again. You turned your head, blinking quickly, steadying yourself. You could feel it, fate pulling at the thread. Winding them back toward something unfinished. Caleb didn’t remember you. But somehow, his heart still did.

And yours? Still afraid. But still beating for the same man.

♡

It came to him like a storm. No warning. No slow unraveling. Just a breath, then the world tilted. 

He was standing by your the porch, hand raised to knock on your door when his eyes flicked to the side window. There, through the curtain, he saw you. Front facing him and staring at the ring.

That ring.

The one he had carried through fire and blood and years of unknowing. The one he couldn't part with even when his memories scattered like ash in the wind. The ring he had told himself it was a symbol of something lost, of someone important.

And in that moment, it wasn't just important. It was you.

He staggered back a step, unsteady.

The noise of bombs, of roaring engines, your voice flooded in. Your hands on his uniform, trembling the day before he left. The taste of your kiss. The promise he made with that ring pressed between your and his palms. The letters. The laughter. The ache of missing you so badly that it bled into his bones.

The crash. The fire. Your name screaming on his throat. Your face, framed in smoke, reaching for him as everything fell apart. He remembered it all.

The weight of your head on his chest after long shifts at the field. The curve of your smile when you handed him that ridiculous mug. The way you looked up at him like he was something worth returning for.

He remembered loving you. And the unbearable grief in your eyes every time you met now soft and guarded. Like you were terrified to reach for what had already died once.

His breath came out broken. You didn’t know he remembered. Not yet. But standing there, staring at the one who had waited for a ghost, who still wore that love like an old scar, Caleb realized something. He did not just fallen in love with you again. He never stopped. And now, he finally remembered why.

♡

You noticed it first in his silence.

Not the awkward kind, it was the silence of someone searching for words. The kind that felt like knowing. Like he was seeing you for the first time. Or maybe remembering how he used to.

The way he looked at you had changed. Less like curiosity. More like memory.

He didn't say anything when you offered him tea in the same chipped mug, the one with the faded letters he'd once picked out himself. He just smiled. A Small, soft and took it with both hands, like it meant something. And it did.

You could feel it shifting from within, the weight of unspoken things settling into the space like dust. You did not ask if he remembered. You didn’t dare. Because what if he didn’t? Or worse, what if he did and chose to forget again? You were terrified of loving him twice only to lose him all over again.

He sat across from you, watching you with the same steady calm that used to unravel you within seconds. Like you were a place he had once called home. And now, was again. And still, you held back. Because time had turned your love into something cautious. Because you had built your life around the absence of him, and now, with his presence sitting in your kitchen again, it felt like you were grieving in reverse.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out the ring box, not dramatic, not rehearsed, just... instinct. He held it between them without opening it. And you stared. Your heart cracked. "Why are you carrying that?" You asked, voice barely above whisper. He did not answer at first. Instead, he looked at you like someone who had finally, finally found what he had spent years trying to remember. Then he quietly said. "Because I remember who it belonged to now."

You breath hitched. You did not cry. You wanted to but there were no tears left. Just silence, fear, and the tender ache of almost believing him. "You don't have to say anything." You finally spoke. "You don't owe me that." You added.  "I do." He replied. Quiet and steady. "I left you once." There was a pause. "Not because I wanted to, but because the world forced me to." He looked at you. "I won't leave you again."

And you looked away, blinking rapidly. "But what if you forget again?" Fear. "What if I lose you twice?" You don't know if you would be able to handle that again. He exhaled. A breath full of pain and love and all the words he never got to say the first time. "Then I'll come back again." He said, eyes looking for yours. "And again. And again. Because it’s you. It’s always been you. Even without my memories, I found you." You finally looked at him. And in his eyes, you saw him.

Your Caleb.

Not just the man he used to be. Not just the man war tried to erase but the one who had always, in every version of himself, loved you. And in that moment, you don't need the ring. You don't need the memories. You don't need the promises made in uniforms or letters. You just needed this The quiet truth between them. The forgiveness in your heart. And the love that had never really left.

You did not kiss. Not yet. There was no sweeping declaration. No grand reuniting. Just the ring resting between you two. Two hands meeting across the table. And a slow, steady heartbeat that finally, finally felt like home.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

Letter Never Sent

My dearest love,

If this letter reaches you, then I’ve made it back, whole, in one piece, and still yours. And if I haven’t… then let this be something that stayed behind, even when I couldn’t.

There’s something I wanted to ask before I left, but the moment kept slipping away. I was too busy memorizing your smile.

So here it is, written plainly and tucked into these folds of paper like a promise:

Will you marry me?

I don’t ask for forever. Just ust for the chance to return to you. I’ll chase every sky, every mile, every storm, if it means finding my way back.

No matter where the wind takes me… I know where it will leave me.

With you.

Always,

Caleb