#write about your mcs style

[jerzwriter]

For day 4 of the writing challenge - I have a confession. I took the original version I wrote for three of my MCs, Casey/Kaycee (OH) and Zoe (WTD), back in 2023 and edited it a bit. I also added a section for Carolina Rose (CoP), who I created after that time. In 2023, I said this was challenging for me because this isn't the type of writing I normally do, and that's still true today; of course, that's what made this a great challenge!

I'm not tagging my lists, as I'm not sure this is anything that would interest anyone, but it was still fun to do.

Day four of my 30-day writing challenge from @creativepromptsforwriting. Today's prompt: Write a scene without any dialogue.

Casey/Kaycee: * For those unfamiliar with my writing, Casey and Kaycee are different MCs that have the same background from childhood through the early part of their residency at Edenbrook Hospital. After the Miami Convention in Book 1, their paths diverge.

Growing up, Casey/Kaycee’s mother’s illness left her family with very little expendable income. As a result, shopping trips to the mall are not part of her memories. She had a lot of older cousins who gave her big bags of hand-me-downs, that’s where most of her clothes came from. Even though they were used, she was always excited to receive them. The clothes would end up dumped on the living room floor and she’d try everything on - putting on an impromptu “fashion show” for her parents or whoever happened to be there.  It wasn’t until years later that she realized that this wasn’t the norm for everyone.

Her parents always encouraged her to show her own style, and that would best be described as comfortable and eclectic. For example, she loved jeans, but they were often covered with patches she made from clothing she couldn’t use, or she’d pair a concert t-shirt with a frilly, formal skirt.

That fashion sense was appreciated when her family lived in Philadelphia, but when they moved to an affluent suburb before she began high school, many of her peers disapproved. By that time, her parents were in a better economic situation, so her Mom started taking her to King of Prussia Mall for shopping trips fairly often. She shopped in popular stores and bought trendy clothes… which left her looking like everyone else in a high school where she never felt like she belonged. So, by Junior year, she went down to doing her own thing. Since she wasn’t getting bags of hand-me-downs anymore, she would go into Philly and go thrifting with her old friends – this was long before thrifting was cool.

That style suited her well when she began her studies at New York University; she fit in with the more laid-back, bohemian scene in Greenwich Village. As a student activist and volunteer, she sometimes needed to dress up a bit more. But even at this age, she felt buying quality, timeless classics that could be easily mixed and matched, and would last a long time, was the way to go... when they were on clearance, of course.

Once she started med school her style could be described as whatever was clean, and sometimes, it wasn’t even that! It was a grueling four years, and fashion was the last thing on her mind.

By the time she arrived at Edenbrook, she had a classic American style with a bit of an urban edge. More confident in herself, she began wearing more body-conscious clothing and enjoyed getting dressed up when she was going out. But, on a day-to-day basis, jeans and sweaters or sweatshirts were her go-to.

At this point, Casey and Kaycee’s paths diverge and they become two different MCs with different headcanons. Both Kaycee and Casey kept their looks professional at work. If they weren’t wearing scrubs, they tended to wear tailored, business casual pieces that were professional but practical for the medical field. Practicality and comfort were their priorities when they were working long hours and caring for patients.

Outside of work, Kaycee’s style was a bit more classic, not conservative by any means, but more reserved than Casey’s. Kaycee continued to have a classic, American look. Casey’s wardrobe tended to be more flirtatious and sexy, and she paid more attention to trends after she began dating Tobias, who was a bit of a fashionista himself. Still, she never became someone who let trends dictate what she wore.

Zoe:

Poor Zoe lives in a post-apocalyptic world where fashion isn’t a thing, and clothing is what you were lucky enough to get. Still, I think people tended to find a style of their own, even if it was just how they wore their clothing.

Zoe is a fighter and a leader, she needed to be ready to act at any time, so she was about practicality and comfort, it had to be. But, during her time in The Tower (the colony where she grew up) and after, she preferred a bit of a sexy edge. For example, she preferred her jeans a little more snug if possible. If she was wearing an old Henley, she’d have a few more buttons undone than necessary, but she liked it that way. It fit her personality, flirtatious but fierce and ready for anything.

I imagine some colonists were able to make clothing at Olympus. Materials weren’t readily available, so style wasn’t the main concern, but this did allow residents to have a little more input into the clothing they wore. If Zoe had a choice, I would see her style as Army/Navy meets Bohemian flair.

Carolina:

Carolina grew up in the Bronx, in a working-class neighborhood where you learned to be street smart and how to look good doing it at a young age. Her abuela always told her, "You don't have to have money to have style, mija—you just need taste and creativity." Carolina took her advice to heart.

Her family wasn’t rich by any means, so she learned how to stretch a dollar. By the time she was ten, she’d spend weekends digging through second-hand shops in SoHo, looking for unique pieces on Fordham Road, or going to street markets where she could find designer knockoffs that passed for the real thing. By the time she was in high school, she had a knack for mixing a $20 thrift-store leather jacket with a $200 pair of boots off clearance at Macy’s and looking like she could have been in a fashion magazine.

Her work as a private detective requires her to blend in, so her day-to-day wardrobe tends toward low-key basics—black jeans, plain tees, neutral-toned blazers, and sneakers. She’s learned quickly that following someone around through the crowded streets of New York or sitting in your car for hours required comfort more than couture. But if the job calls for it, Carolina can turn on a dime. She has a small collection of “assignment clothes”—sleek cocktail dresses, uptown brunch wear, biker chick leather, yoga mom leisure, and college student chic all at the ready in her closet when the case demands.

Outside of work, her style leans sexy but effortless. Think of a cropped Yankees tee with vintage Levi’s and gold hoop earrings. She’s got a thing for 70s and 90s silhouettes and old-school NYC street style. She is not one to have luxury labels hanging in her closet (even after she begins dating an exiled prince), but she knows how to look like she does.

[teenagefeeling]

idk why i just now thought of this but my elementary art school teacher was genuinely so good at her job and like i did love her then but i don't think i fully appreciated how much she was actually teaching me until years later

[mephisto-reporting]

Hearbreak Anniversary with Zayne

Summary: It was your anniversary with Zayne. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Zayne Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Also I don't think any of these men would ever be the type to actually willlingly forget it. Especially Zayne. So I had to adapt the request a bit. Content Warning: injuries, panic, insecurities, self worth issues, Zayne POV

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version | Caleb Version

Zayne’s apartment smelled like him—clean, crisp, and faintly of the eucalyptus-scented candles he kept on the shelves. You sat on the edge of his couch, smoothing the fabric of your dress down your thighs, nerves making your fingers tremble slightly. The dim light of the chandelier cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the carefully planned surprise you had for him —flowers, his favorite treats, elegant scarves, and jackets you had spent weeks picking out. The final touch was the flexible weekend getaway tickets, somewhere warm and far from the sterility of hospital walls. A place where he could finally rest.

You had gone all out for tonight. The garden-themed restaurant was supposed to be the perfect setting—a quiet, intimate place where vines curled around twinkling fairy lights, and the soft scent of fresh blooms would fill the air. And you had dressed accordingly with something elegant, something that made you feel beautiful for him. The deep navy-blue dress you wore clung to your form just right, the intricate lace details at the sleeves soft against your skin. You had taken your time getting ready, styling your hair to perfection, slipping on a pair of delicate earrings he once admired absentmindedly. A spritz of white jasmine perfume, the one he once said reminded him of spring mornings. You wanted to look like someone worthy of being by his side. You wanted to be beautiful for him, for the man who had somehow, impossibly, fallen for you.

Because, truth be told, there were times you weren’t sure you were.

you still didn’t understand how this happened—how Zayne, the prodigy, the man who could save lives with his hands and mind, had chosen you. He was brilliant, disciplined, and deeply compassionate. And you? You were just… you. Ordinary in comparison. He never made you feel small, never belittled you, but standing beside him you felt you were just lucky to be there. His world was one of brilliance, filled with extraordinary people—Lina, the fearless Deepspace Hunter; his late friend Caleb, a DAA pilot whose loss still lingered in hushed conversations; his esteemed mentors and fellow doctors who spoke in a language you could only ever grasp at the edges. Compared to them, compared to him, you felt so small.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, was supposed to be about the two of you.

You had fallen for him in the quietest of ways—through the gentle cadence of his voice, through the moments he noticed things others didn’t. How he’d pull a chair out for you before you could do it yourself, how he’d check the temperature of your tea so you wouldn’t burn your tongue, how he’d listen, really listen, to your ramblings even after a 48-hour shift. He had nestled himself into your heart without you even realizing it.

And tonight, he had insisted he wanted to be with you, even with the chaos of the hospital weighing on his shoulders.

The call came two hours before your reservation. You already knew what he was going to say the moment you saw his name flash on your screen.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Zayne’s voice was warm, familiar, but there was an edge of exhaustion to it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t make it tonight.”

Your heart sank, but you swallowed it down, forcing your voice to remain even. “It’s okay, Zayne. I know you’re busy.”

“It's been a long shift, and the surgeries…”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cancel the reservation. Take some breaks and rest, okay? You sound tired…”

“I am fine, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “I swear.”

"It’s fine, Zayne." you whispered, even if it wasn’t. “We’ll just celebrate it another day. No big deal.” Even though it felt like one at the moment.

Still, you weren’t upset. Not really. You understood. You always understood.

You hung up and exhaled slowly, pressing your palms against your lap. It wasn’t his fault. He was working back-to-back shifts, saving lives, doing what he was meant to do. And yet, you couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from settling in your chest.

You exhaled slowly, stripping away the dress you had so eagerly put on just hours ago. You slip into into one of Zayne’s oversized sweaters instead, the one that still smelled like him, the sleeves swallowing your hands. You wear leggings underneath and slip on your shoes. You took your time packing the gifts back into the car, moving slowly, as if dragging out the moment would make it hurt less. Maybe when he was finally done, you could pick him up from the hospital. At least you’d get to see him and surprise him. This was what occupied your time for the next three to four hours.

Once everything was back in the car, you plopped yourself on his plush but ergonomic couch. You scrolled through your phone while waiting, mindlessly tapping through social media, until one post stopped you cold.

Lina’s story.

A picture of her sitting across from Zayne in a small restaurant outside Akso hospital, the caption lighthearted:

When you have to drag out your doctor because he won’t follow his own advice about resting. (-_-)

Zayne looked amused in the photo, tired but still composed, his lips slightly curved in a small, rare smile. He looked… content. His gaze focused on her as if she had just said something ridiculous.

Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen.

It was stupid. It was so stupid to feel like this. Lina was his childhood best friend. She had never given you a reason to be insecure, and yet, the sting of it hit you like a slow, creeping ache. He had time to go out for a meal with her. He had time to smile like that, even after canceling on you. You knew you were being irrational, that he had only stepped out for a quick bite in his busy shift, yet you felt betrayed.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you could stop them. You wiped them away quickly, but they kept falling, silent at first, then turning into quiet, shuddering sobs. You felt pathetic. Childish. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You knew he wasn’t. But it hurt anyway. Because you would have taken anything—just a few moments, even just a simple meal at that tiny restaurant, if it meant spending time with him today.

It hurt in a way that made your chest feel tight, made the lump in your throat impossible to swallow. The sting of it crept under your skin like a wound you hadn’t realized was open, raw and aching. The disappointment bled into something uglier, something heavier. Why, after everything, did it feel like you were always on the sidelines of his life? No, Zayne never made you feel that way. It was your own spiraling thoughts.

A loud sob choked its way out, your hands gripping the fabric of his sweater as if that would somehow ground you. You wanted to hate yourself for crying over something so petty. He was saving lives. He was exhausted. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

But it hurt.

You needed to go home. You needed to collect yourself before the ugly thoughts swallowed you whole. You stood up, tears streaming down your face, as the weight of it all seemed too much to bear. You didn’t want to sit here anymore. You didn’t want to wait. You needed to go home, to clear your head, to get away from the overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

You sniffled, grabbing your keys and heading out. The highway would be the fastest route home—less traffic, a straight shot. You rerouted, pressing your foot on the accelerator, trying to breathe through the tightness in your chest. You wiped at your tears quickly, trying to focus on the road.

The road stretched out before you, a wide expanse of concrete and asphalt that felt like it would swallow you whole. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you wiped them away, trying to steady your hands on the wheel, trying to focus on the road ahead. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you understood, that you were rational about his work. The reality of it, the empty seat next to you, the disappointment of seeing Zayne happy in a photo with someone else, it all felt too much.

And then—

Headlights. Too close. Too fast.

A car jumped the signal, trying to merge into the highway.

You slammed the breaks, the scream of tires against pavement rang in your ears.

The impact was instant. A violent, sickening jolt that sent your body forward, the seatbelt snapping against your chest, the airbag exploding in front of you. The windshield cracked, splintering into a spiderweb of broken glass. Your vision blurred, the world spinning.

Pain.

Your chest burned, lungs straining to catch a breath. Your limbs felt heavy. You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers fumbling, but it was jammed.

Fuck.

Your head lulled forward, resting against the deflated airbag. Your head was heavy, your thoughts slipping away like sand through your fingers. The distant wail of sirens reached your ears, but they felt so far away.

Your vision swam, the edges darkening.

I hope the other person is alright.

The thought barely had time to settle before everything faded into black.

ZAYNE'S POV

The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed faintly, casting an artificial glow over the chaos of the emergency room. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the undercurrent of blood—familiar, almost routine, yet tonight it gnawed at Zayne's nerves in a way he couldn't quite shake. He hadn’t left since he stepped through those doors, yet somehow, the guilt weighing on him had nothing to do with the lives he saved today. It was you.

He was tired. God, was he tired. His body screamed for rest, his temples throbbed from the strain of back-to-back shifts, but the hospital was understaffed, and there was no room for exhaustion when lives were at stake. As a cardiologist, his expertise lay in the intricate mechanics of the human heart, but duty demanded flexibility—especially in the ER. Cardiologists weren’t meant to be dealing with blunt force trauma and lacerations, but tonight, none of that mattered. They needed doctors. He was a doctor. So, he worked.

Even through the fatigue, his mind kept drifting back to you. He could still hear your voice from the call earlier, soft and understanding despite the disappointment laced beneath it. You didn’t deserve this. You had every right to be upset, to be frustrated that he had broken his promise, yet you didn’t even complain. That hurt more than if you had yelled at him

God, he loved you. And he hated himself for testing that patience again and again.

His hand tightened around the pen he was holding. He had plans—plans to make it up to you. The necklace in his office drawer, nestled in a velvet box, had been meant for tonight. Something small, perhaps, compared to everything you did, but a token of his devotion nonetheless. He could still salvage this. Maybe he could call you later, ask if you were still awake—

His device beeped, pulling him back to the present.

MVA on the highway. ETA: 5 minutes.

Multi-vehicle accident. Paramedics on site, victims en route.

Zayne exhaled sharply, shifting into work mode. He stepped into the ER just as the first stretcher was wheeled in. The radio chatter from their comms filled the space.

"Female, mid-to-late twenties, restrained driver, T-bone collision from a vehicle that ran a red light. Airbag deployment, but impact trauma to the chest from seatbelt. BP slightly low, likely from pain response. Tachycardic at 112. GCS is 14. Possible wrist fracture, mild concussion. No signs of internal bleeding from the ultrasound, but needs further imaging to rule out any complications."

He nodded briskly, slipping into the detached, clinical efficiency that had been drilled into him for years. It was only as he stepped forward, pulling the curtain aside, that his breath caught in his throat.

His world stopped.

There, on the hospital bed, was you.

Lying on the hospital bed, your hair disheveled, your skin pale against the stark white sheets. His breath lodged in his throat, the world narrowing to a pinpoint focus on the rise and fall of your chest. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. There was dried blood at your temple, your lower lip swollen where you must have bitten down upon impact. The sight of the IV line in your arm, the faint bruises forming along your collarbone—he couldn’t breathe.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Dr. Zayne…" Yvonne’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent. A warning. He was frozen. This wasn't just a patient. This was you.

He blinked, his hands suddenly trembling as he reached for his gloves. Breathe. He had to focus. Had to push past the sheer, gut-wrenching fear threatening to paralyze him.

This is her. She was waiting for me. She—

"Dr. Zayne!!" Yvonne pressed, handing him the updated chart. "She needs you."

That snapped him out of it.

The moment his hands touched you, they were steady again. His voice was even as he examined you, the motions automatic, controlled. He checked your pupils, gently palpated your ribs to assess for fractures. He was a doctor. He was your doctor right now. He had to move. Focusing, he reached for his stethoscope, pressing it against your chest to listen for abnormalities. The rhythm of your heart was steady, but your breathing was just slightly labored—likely from the seatbelt trauma.

"You’re going to be fine." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

You were stable.

"Her left shoulder—check for AC joint separation," he murmured, voice steadier than he felt. "Get a CT to rule out any internal injuries. And…" He swallowed. “Get me images from the crash site.” He needed to see how bad the collison was. He had to.

The hours blurred. He monitored your scans, adjusted your IV, checked your vitals more times than necessary. Each time his eyes drifted to you; his chest ached. He had seen the accident reports—your car, your windshield shattered, the crumpled hood. And the contents scattered across the scene…

You had planned everything.

For him.

And he wasn’t there.

Zayne clenched his jaw. Flowers were scattered, crushed against the upholstery. The pastries you must have picked out for him were ruined; their boxes torn open from the force of the crash. And gifts. There were so many gifts. He hadn’t even known you had planned all this.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

You had so much waiting for him. And where had he been? At a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, eating with Lina because she forced him to take a break. He had been smiling in that photo while you were—

God.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling shakily as he sat by your bedside. He should have been with you. If he had just—

The monitor beeped steadily, a quiet reminder that you were alive.

Now, he sat beside you, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, fingers curled into his palms to keep them from shaking.

"Wake up, sweetheart." he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just wake up."

And for once, Zayne—brilliant, composed, always in control—felt utterly powerless.

The beep of the heart monitor was steady, rhythmic, but Zayne found himself gripping the edge of his chair every time you stirred, waiting for that moment when your eyes would finally open. His body was stiff from staying in the same position for hours, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to miss it.

Then, a small shift in your breathing. A twitch of your fingers.

Zayne leaned forward just as your lashes fluttered, your eyes cracking open, only to squeeze shut again at the harsh fluorescent lights. You groaned softly, shifting against the sheets. Instinctively, you tried to sit up.

"Hey—stay put," Zayne said immediately, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you down. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers warm even against the hospital gown. "Don’t move too much yet."

Your body resisted for a moment, muscles tensing as if you wanted to argue, but the disorientation dulled your fight. Your gaze finally settled on him, hazy with the remnants of sleep and confusion.

Then you frowned.

“…You look tired,” you murmured, your voice soft, still groggy. “How long have you been here?”

Zayne’s heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Even now, even when you were the one lying in a hospital bed, barely recovered from an accident, your first thoughts were about him.

His throat felt tight, but he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. “You should look at yourself first, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flickered down, taking in the IV in your arm, the bruises along your wrist, the faint soreness that no doubt ached across your body. Zayne exhaled sharply and reached out, his fingertips tracing the side of your face before cupping your cheek fully. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, as if grounding himself with the warmth of you. His eyes were moist, though no tears fell.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, raw in a way that stripped away every layer of his usual composure.

You parted your lips, breath hitching as if you were about to reassure him—to do what you always did, to let him off the hook, to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But he didn’t let you.

“No,” he cut in firmly, shaking his head. “Not this time. This is the one time you shouldn’t be so understanding.” His jaw clenched, something bitter twisting in his expression. “I should have been there. We should have been celebrating our relationship. End of discussion.”

Silence settled between you.

After a beat, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again. “Why didn’t you demand my time?” His voice was quieter now, tinged with regret. “You had every right to.”

You hesitated, glancing away. “…I didn’t want to bother you.” Your fingers twisted into the hospital blanket, grip tightening slightly. “You’re important, Zayne. You save lives. I didn’t want to pull you away from that.”

Something in him snapped.

He let out a sharp breath, then reached for your hand, gently prying your fingers from the blanket. His grip was warm, grounding.

“Shh… And you think you’re not?” he murmured, shaking his head. “Don’t ever say that again.” His gaze bore into yours, unwavering. “You are important to me.”

"You’re important to me," he repeated, voice steady but almost desperate. "Just like my work makes demands of me, you are more than entitled to make demands of me, too."

Your eyes searched his, uncertainty flickering beneath the lingering haze of exhaustion. But Zayne’s gaze didn’t waver.

"I know I should have been there," he said again, quieter this time. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before brushing a thumb over the edge of your jaw, tilting your face slightly. “When I saw you on this bed when I entered the ER… pale, unconscious… I haven’t felt fear like that before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not in all my years of doing this. Not like that."

You didn’t say anything, but your hand came up slowly, resting over his.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.

This—this was what he almost lost.

His jaw clenched, then loosened as he exhaled. “I don’t want to ever feel it again.”

Another pause.

Zayne inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin, as if reassuring himself that you were still here. That you were warm. That he hadn’t lost you.

“I know I say I’m sorry a lot… and it probably has lost meaning to you.” he murmured; his voice rough with emotion. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if struggling to put his feelings into something more tangible. “I should have been there. And I will be. Every step of the way until you’re fully recovered and after....”

His eyes flickered downward, scanning you like the doctor he was, but this was different. This wasn’t just clinical analysis—this was personal. "You got lucky," he admitted, exhaling through his nose. "Blunt force trauma to the ribs, a mild concussion, and a broken wrist. Some lacerations on your arm and leg, but nothing deep enough to require surgical intervention. The worst was the head trauma, but the scans came back clear. No bleeding, no swelling. That’s the only reason I’m not having a complete breakdown right now…" His fingers ghosted over your arm, careful not to apply pressure. "Nothing life-threatening or with lasting consequences. But still… you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone." His jaw tensed. "Not when you have me."

You gave him a small, tired smile at that, and something inside him twisted.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to reach into his pocket, his fingers closing around the small velvet box. He’d gone to his office to clock off for the day to be beside you when he picked it up from his drawer. The very box he wanted to give you today. The one that was supposed to be given in a far more joyful setting. This was supposed to be today. A night spent celebrating the two of you—not this. Not hospital beds and IV drips and the hollow fear that had nearly swallowed him whole.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was that you were here. And this… this was still yours.

His throat felt thick as he flipped it open, revealing the necklace inside—a delicate silver chain holding a white jasmine pendant, smooth and polished, its petals carved with intricate detail. And behind it, barely visible, were his initials.

His fingers trembled just slightly as he took it out.

"I was supposed to give this to you today," he admitted, voice lower now, almost guilty. "Before all of this. Before I let my own priorities get in the way of what really mattered." He glanced up at you, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable. "I don’t want you to ever think that you come second. Because you don’t. You never have."

Gently, he reached around your neck, his touch featherlight as he fastened the clasp. The cool metal of the pendant settled just above your collarbone, resting against your skin. His fingertips lingered there, just briefly.

Then he let out a slow breath, tilting your chin up just slightly with his knuckles. His mind still reeled with everything that had happened, with everything he should have done differently.

"I love you," he said, and this time there was no hesitation, no wry smirk to mask his emotions, no half-hearted deflection. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. "Even when I do a crappy job at showing it." He didn’t need you to say it back—he just needed you to know.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then, his lips quirked, just slightly, into something softer. "And since I’m apparently on mandatory bedside duty, I hope you’re ready to be completely spoiled. I’m talking fresh coffee, extra pillows, a ridiculous number of medical advices—"

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, and Zayne felt something in his chest loosen at the sound. Then, slowly, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingertips over the pendant before reaching up to cup his cheek.

Zayne leaned into your touch instinctively, exhaling softly. He smiled, finally, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "We’ll be just fine. I've got you sweetheart... I'll always be here for you."

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version | Caleb Version

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

[peanutpinet]

Can u create a sylus x reader where she is doing errands while sylus is in a meeting, and she finds sexy undergarments and thinks about buying them. Without her knowing, mephesto is watching her and sylus is distracted?

Also I re downloaded this app just bec of your posts!!! Love it

Confidently Shy (Sylus x Fem Reader)

Request: Can u create a sylus x reader where she is doing errands while sylus is in a meeting, and she finds sexy undergarments and thinks about buying them. Without her knowing, mephesto is watching her and sylus is distracted?

A/N: hi reader, thank you for your request. I think this will actually be the first-ever actual suggestive content that I’ve written. I apologise in advanced for not writing smut as I’m still uncomfortable writing but maybe one day

Warnings: illegal business, slight stalking (Sylus using mephisto and checking the bills that went through his card), makeout, suggestive content

Disclaimer: This work is completely fiction. I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.

It was a quiet evening as Sylus was in the midst of his meeting, a meeting that bored him to the point he was getting sick of the facade that his business partner was making and decided to go over his tabs on his investments, his other business streams, and even bills that were charged under his card; specifically the ones that were made by you.

As the meeting continued on, Sylus sipped on his wine, scrolling through the tabs of what you were purchasing with his cards. Some groceries that cost only 100 dollars, several books that cost about 30 dollars and about 50 dollars for a set of undergarments?

“Well, this is something different” Sylus chuckled as he saw the amount that recently was charged to his card and what it was

Sylus decided to go a little further and looked at his other tab, which was linked to Mephisto. He knew that it was wrong to stalk you especially ever since you two were together, Sylus had ever paid attention to the recordings Mephisto had of you but he still had Mephisto keep an eye on you just in case.

As Sylus was playing the recording, he saw you walk into the undergarment store, eyeing on a few pieces until your gaze seemingly lingered on a black lace pair. It wasn’t a black show through kind of lace but it still covered what he felt you didn’t have to cover. It was a black full-cup bralette with a matching pair of bikini-style underwear.

Just imagining you in the undergarments made his breath hitched and felt a strain in his pants. It doesn’t help that his business partner keeps on rambling things that he knew were all fake and he already had Luke and Kieran prepared with the necessary proofs.

But he didn’t have to stay longer because he heard the little ring when someone enters the penthouse and he knew that it was you. The only other person to have access to the apartment were Luke and Kieran; meaning that it was you that just came into the door.

Without thinking, Sylus stood up and held his gun towards his business partner who was immediately confused but held their arms up nevertheless. “Mr, Mr Sylus, is so-something wrong?” his business partner stuttered

“I’m going to give you some time to get out of my personal space before I tip the press regarding your corruption issue and how you’ve been leading on to your clients on high-graded protocores when you so clearly don’t have any real protocores”

Without saying anything, his business partner knows that they shouldn’t cross the lines. That the tone Sylus was using was already a warning of ‘get out or I’ll show you another way out’.

His business partner scrambles out of the other door that he brought him in rather than the regular door that is connected to the rest of his penthouse because that is reserved specifically for you (ehem, Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto).

Sylus texted Luke and Kieran to handle his business partner and try to not return until later in the night which they got the hint and left the penthouse for you and him alone.

Sylus put his phone away and went out of his office to see you were cooking, the groceries you bought were already put away, and some of the chores were being done like laundry. But he was most curious of the undergarments that you bought.

Sneaking up slowly, Sylus wrapped his large arms around your waist while he lightly kissed your near down to your neck; making you giggle at Sylus’ sudden clingy attitude.

“Someone’s getting clingy” you giggled, making Sylus smile by your shoulder where he rested his chin. “Well, you left too early in the morning sweetie. I was still asleep yet my personal bed warmer was gone. Quite unfair when I always cuddle you to sleep, sweetie”

Hearing Sylus’ clingy self, you chuckled and turned off the stove before turning around. “I take it that your meeting didn’t go as planned?” you lightly cup his cheek, your thumb gently caressing the undereye circles underneath while he hummed against your hand and kissed it

“You can say that” Sylus grumbled, inhaling your scent that he has grown accustomed to

“Alright then, good thing I made one of your favourites. Creamy potato soup with steak and…” you didn’t even get to finish listing of the wine you bought for Sylus when he suddenly pressed his lips onto your, connecting you both.

Sylus was being particularly eager but he made sure to put one of his hand behind your head as he directed you away from the stove and onto the kitchen counter. Sylus gently lifted you onto the counter but never once did his lips part from you. In fact, Sylus tried to deepen the kiss even further which made you gasped; allowing Sylus’ tongue slip pass through and explore your tongue while his hand snaked underneath your shirt and lightly rubbed your exposed skin while your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist which made Sylus pull you even closer, his hand now snaked up to where your bra was; his fingers lightly toying with your bra.

You on the other hand was feeling a bit overwhelmed with Sylus’ sudden physical behaviour because normally he was able to control himself unless it was in the safe space of your share bedroom. Luckily enough, when you tapped Sylus’ shoulder to catch your breath, Sylus reluctantly pulled away and wiped your now smudged lipstick while you were trying to catch your breath, steadying your hands on his shoulders.

“Forgive me, sweetie. I went too far, didn’t I?” Sylus apologised, this time gently kissing your forehead, his lips lingering longer until your breathing was finally stable

“It’s just…” you started talking and Sylus put a distance between you two, ensuring your comfort first, trying his best to not give in to temptation

“Go on sweetie. Tell me if I was wrong” Sylus stated but you shook your head, lightly tugging on his hand so we would come back closer which he did and you hugged him, laying your head on his chest

“It’s just, it’s not like you to suddenly kiss me. Is something wrong that made you quite eager? Did you have a nightmare or something?” you asked, worried about his well-being

But instead, Sylus shook his head, chuckling at your worried tone. He gently cup your cheek and kissed the top of your head. “Nothing sweetie. Can’t I be clingy to the love of my life?”

Hearing Sylus say that made you blush which made Sylus chuckle even more, leaning into your ear and whispered, “Well I supposed it’s because a certain mechanical bird told me that you were shopping today and I was hoping to see what you bought in the last store you went to considering it’s not the regular amount you would spend on things you wear”

Immediately you know which store he was talking about and what you bought. Was he checking his tabs? Or was Mephisto snitching on you? Either way, you couldn’t help but blush and shyly buried your face in his chest.

“I’m teasing sweetie. If you don’t want to show me it’s completely fine. I respect your wishes. A man can only envision what the love of his life wears but I am a man who respects your comfort above all so I’m alright sweetie. Don’t worry about me” Sylus hugged your body against his, his touch were gentle

“I was just a bit distracted when I saw the store you went to and the piece you bought. That’s all. I promise” Sylus admitted, hoping you don’t find him creepy or weird

“I know you were just keeping tabs for your accountant and I know Mephisto spies on me to ensure my safety. I appreciate you taking care of me Sy” you replied, feeling grateful that even though you were sometimes nervous going out alone when who knows what trouble might be lurking around, you knew that Sylus would always ensure your safety no matter how busy he was

“I umm actually…I bought it for our trip. When we’re going to spend time together in the late-night breeze by the beach” you admitted, shyly looking away again

Certainly, this information caught Sylus off guard. Had you wanted to surprise him later on during the trip which he almost forgot he planned? But Sylus quickly regained his composure and gave you a soft smile, gently holding your cheeks to face him.

“Aren’t you the most adorable and thoughtful person I’ve ever come across in my life? Tell me kitten, were you planning on surprising me with this new piece?” Sylus teasingly asked while you playfully smacked his chest, making him laugh

“I’m kidding. I promise I’ll wait whenever you’re ready to show it to me” Sylus softly reassured you

As you lifted your head off his chest, you shyly looked away for a moment before replying him. “Well, if you’re that eager, I supposed you can have a look…”

Hearing your response, Sylus’ ears perked up but he calmed himself first and shook his head. “It’s okay sweetie. You bought it for a surprise then I’ll wait for the surprise. I’m not going to let you ruin my surprise until we’re at the resort for our trip”

“Then, I can show you something else that I have that’s similar…” you looked away as you were replying to him, making Sylus chuckle again

“Only if you want to, sweetie. But first, we should eat the food you prepare before it gets cold then if you really want to show me, I wouldn’t mind seeing it and having my dessert” Sylus teased, helping you down from the kitchen counter while you smack him again making him laugh but both of you knew that Sylus is a man of his word.

No matter how much teasing and anticipation he has, he would always prioritise your comfort and consent first. Period.

A/N: I tried to make it a bit spicy but of course, fluffy at the same time. I'll say this once, Sylus is a man of consent and every woman deserves a man like him. period 💅

[sy1vs-3]

idk if you take requests but I ADORE the sylus nesting habits thing you wrote and I was wondering if you have any thoughts on an mc who immediately sees it and never wants to leave it, maybe they even add some of there favorite blankets or plushies? like mc doesn't know it's a nest but it's cozy and comforting so they just follow his example. I like collecting (hoarding) and honestly my whole room is a nest at this point

Aww thank you, I’m really glad you liked it. I wrote it because I also love collecting cute little things, even if people around me don’t really get it haha (honestly, deep down we’re all just trying to build a cozy little nest). I’m happy to take requests, but I didn’t mention it before because I’m not sure if my writing style is good enough.

Now I’m really curious how Sylus with his dragon instincts would react if someone started adding things to his nest... I can't stop writing about him help 😭

please enjoy... ♡

part 2 🌸

Sylus noticed the changes in the nest he had made right away.

A few days earlier, he had won you a cute plush crow from a claw machine, and you’d carried it around all day, laughing happily. Then he saw that exact plushie placed right in the center of the armchair—right where he’d laid out his pillows.

The next day, you brought in a few more plush toys you’d won with him and placed them here and there. You had no idea it was a nest, but to you, this little corner in Sylus’s living room just seemed so cozy and sweet, you couldn’t help yourself.

A few days later, you placed a pretty flower you bought at the fair on the table, surrounding it with all the shiny little trinkets Sylus kept gifting you. Later, you brought in a couple of figurines and dragged over your favorite blanket. You started sitting there often and even hung up some cute string lights around it.

Sylus watched every change closely, glaring at anyone who got near the nest. No one (except him) was allowed to touch your things. When you were gone, he’d grumble contentedly to himself, adjusting everything you’d brought into the nest—examining each item and smiling quietly. You had brought your treasures into your nest.

That meant you liked it.

Even if his logical mind called it silly, he couldn’t stop the flutter of warmth that thought stirred in his chest.

Oh, and yes—he would absolutely want you to sit there with him. It’s your nest, after all, so you have to sit on his lap while he whispers silly things in your ear. He might even wrap you up in the very blanket you brought and hug you as close as possible. He’d take care of the flower you placed there himself, and he’d practically purr if you asked to sit with him in that spot. You don’t know it’s literally a nest—but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve clearly understood how it works.

He could sit there for hours, buried in soft pillows, nuzzling your neck and hugging you tightly, ignoring your playful protests— until he finally lets you take a picture of him surrounded by plush toys, pillows, and blankets.

masterlist 🌸 please don't translate or copy without permission

[navydoves]

It is absolutely hypothetically and totally unrelated to the new bug in the game... how do you think the lads men would kiss? My men looked hungry

Love your writing style!!

How the LADS men kiss

a/n: thank you for the submission!

✎ᝰ this is technically the second submission in my inbox, but since this is shorter i’m posting this one first. the first submission is an actual, full length one shot of sugar daddy sylus and sugar baby mc so stay tuned!

✎ᝰ don’t be afraid to submit anything, i’ll answer all. tysm!

࣪𖤐

Xavier

• for xavier, it depends on his mood. sweet and tender moments? think 21 days. careful with your face, cupping your cheek gently and initiating intimacy with his eyes before he even leans in. he’s careful not to push you, but if you’re reciprocating, he’s in. he always wants more.

• in these tender moments, he kisses slow, soft grunts and moans escaping his lips and filling yours. he’s a big head tilter, making sure he gets all angles of your lips against his, tasting every millimeter of what you have to offer. his hands aren’t stagnant either. they’re on your head, shoulders, nape, guiding you and making sure you two are in a rhythm.

• but when he’s horny, oh boy. think his nightly rendezvous card. his kisses are still soft and gentle, but absolutely filthy. he’s not the type to inhale your lips, no, he’ll take his sweet time with them and make sure you’re slowly building an ache in your body. his tongue is sliding against yours, flitting against yours, playing against yours like he’s trying to slowly shove it down your throat. there’s saliva everywhere once (if) he pulls away.

• xavier is also a fan of kitten kisses. he’ll kiss everywhere on your face and neck before diving back into you. he wants to cherish every part of your available skin before treating himself to your sweet taste again. contrary to popular belief, xavier is not as aggressive as people make him out to be. he’s very sensual with everything he does, he’s going to ensure you’re only thinking of him by the time he moves down lower.

• and xavier is not quiet either. his voice is soft and drawn out with each moan but it’s so absolutely erotic. almost like he’s hitting mini-orgasms every time he’s kissing you. he’s insistent the longer you two kiss, pushing you down and holding your jaw firmly to keep you from moving too much. by the first kiss you two shared, he already knew how to slot his lips against yours to ensure that every bit of your spit would be shared by him. TDLR: he’s super sensual and erotic.

Zayne

• zayne kisses like he’s got something to PROVE. he holds you still by your hips and no where else. he loves putting his hands on yours hips and just going to town. he’s a short kisser typa guy, meaning one kiss of his will never last that long. he’s very chatty during any type of intimacy, so he’ll pull back and praise and tease you before going back in.

• each new episode of a kiss is better than the last. he gets so worked up over time, seeing your face so flushed and shy as he speaks his sultry words to you. especially when the two of you are alone and he doesn’t have to be so cautious because of others. he loves pinning you somewhere and just getting his fill of you. pinning, not restraining. he wants you to have enough movement to see you shake and shudder under just his lips.

• zayne does not devour. yes, like i said, he is insistent but he’s never forcing his mouth on yours or eating your face up. he focuses on your lips rather than your tongue. in each kiss he’ll lick them, nibble on them, playfully press his tongue with yours and then pull back. sometimes he’ll focus on sucking one lip, other times he’ll focus on both and making you really feel his need.

• one thing about zayne is that he loves the sound of making out. he secretly really enjoys how wet and sloppy it sounds, so he will purposely wet your and his lips more just to hear how slick you two sound. call it an indulgence, but it really turns him on, especially when he pulls back and sees how glossy your mouth looks.

Rafayel

• needy kisses are rafayel’s specialty. even with a peck on the lips, he’s following his head toward yours for more. they’re often times more sweet than horny (i don’t think rafayel is the type to get horny that easily) but they manage to make you a little horny.

• rafayel is a lip nibbler. he fixes his lips into yours and suck and bites little nicks onto your skin just enough to make you yelp. it’s his way of subtle dominance and also his entertainment. he always enjoys it when you bite him back or whine at the teasing pain, but he knows you like it. of course he has to soothe those little bites with more kisses, so he takes your lips back into his and sucks on licks on them all needy.

• rafayel also really enjoys tongue. he doesn’t mind if you take the lead in the kisses and suck on his tongue, or if you let him do it, as long as someone is getting sucked on. he likes the warm, wet feel of your tongue against his and he likes teasing you with it too. especially when he’s horny, rafayel will lock your forearms in his hands and stumble with you as he insists his lips onto yours and his tongue into your mouth.

• he’s also a whiner and a groaner. each kiss, he’ll have to cup your face with his hands and ensure that every noise he makes is swallowed by you. his kisses are very devoted, like they were only made for you. for rafayel, there’s no need to go halfway. if he’s gonna kiss you he doesn’t want a peck, he wants a few good kisses that leave him breathless and yearning for more. his lips dominate yours most of the time, but he will more than gladly let your lips take control. in fact rafayel likes it when you take the lead and now you’re the one pushing him back, holding him still, sloshing your saliva in his mouth. he encourages it.

Sylus

• he eats you… but respectfully. sylus is all about guiding and leading and being a gentle dom. sylus’s lips and mouth are much bigger than yours, so naturally, when you go in for a kiss with him, he ends up taking the lead. but another thing about sylus’s lips is that they are really plush and soft, almost uncharacteristically so. it’s really enjoyable kissing him considering there’s so much to kiss there.

• he holds the back of your head or wraps his hands around your waist and makes you submit to his movements. you set the pace (how deep/sloppy/slow/fast you want it) but once you do, he’s all about control. his tongue will slide into yours and overwhelm you from how big it is. he doesn’t need to try much, he has you whimpering just from a few slides and sucks.

• sylus also gives off bumping foreheads. he’s so into the kiss that he’s subconsciously leaning into you and bumping his nose and forehead into yours gently. it’s affectionate as much as it’s a sign of pleasure. because he’s so into it, though, sylus gets majorly kiss drunk. the way your smaller lips nibble and lick on his, it really does it for him. he responds by taking one lip and sucking on it while keeping eye contact with you before moving his tongue back into your mouth. seeing how flushed you are is another thing that really arouses him.

• sylus groans into every kiss and he needs noises from you too. that’s why he likes to bite you here and there for a squeal. but most importantly, he needs moans. if he can make the kiss sloppy enough by slowing down your movements and really making you taste his needy lips and dripping saliva, then he will. and, aforementioned, he guides you the whole way through. he makes you take his spit but not in a degrading way, in an intimate manner where you’re learning his taste and he’s learning yours.

Caleb

• alright putting his ashy, dry ass lips aside caleb is a very good kisser. and by that i mean you can feel every single emotion in his body through a kiss. if he’s frustrated, upset, angry, aroused, cheerful, elated, you can find it all in a kiss—and that’s the way caleb communicates. he’s a physical touch type of person, so his emotions and vulnerability splay out and spill into your lips.

• that being said, one common denominator between most of caleb’s kisses is that they’re very passionate and loving. it is hunger, yes, but it’s not lustful. he’s not kissing you to get a rise out of his cock, he’s kissing you so you can feel good and he’d be elated if you took it further. he lets you go first, he lets you set the tone of the kiss because he’d literally kill himself if he overstepped your boundaries.

• similar to sylus, when he feels like it’s okay with you, he goes in with unrelated need. he’s a big head mover, position tester, lip dancer—whatever it may be. he doesn’t like staying in one position because he always feels like there’s more to explore. if he’s not tasting you like a dinner he’s doing something wrong. he goes from side dish to side dish in your lips, sucking and licking and kissing within seconds of each other.

• and then, he’ll pull back, rub the spit on your bottom lip around and smile at you and your pink expression before slowly going back in for more. he likes to build momentum most of the time if he’s not down right needy. if he’s horny then he just goes right in as long as you’re okay with it, but in the quieter, slower intimate moments, he slots your lips with his and builds up the make out session with kitten kisses and licks, then gentle lip sucks, then gentle tonging, until he’s ultimately a mess from how long he’s been pleasuring you.

࣪𖤐

[aleksatia]

Don't know if you will accept this one because not everyone is comfortable with writing for pregnancy trope. But i will try. 😭

Imagine the reader is pregnant, and for some reason, she can't get to the hospital or opted for giving birth at home, and the labor starts with just the reader and the boys, how would they react? (Zayne would go well, I guess lol)

Anyway, I gotta say I am obsessed with your writing ✍️ 🤤🥰

It honestly took me forever to get this request done, but here it is—finally! I ended up splitting it into two parts, including a bit of my own experience with childbirth.

The main challenge was that, even when extreme, birth tends to follow a similar pattern. I didn’t want to lean into unnecessary drama, so I approached it differently: wrote one complete mini-fic and turned the rest into short drabble-style sketches, which I’ll be posting here.

You can read more about Xavier/MC’s story here. I chose him simply because I hadn’t written anything focused on him in a while—and it just flowed (from pen... well, keyboard) that way.

CT/WT: birth scene, childbirth, emergency birth, home birth, water birth, airplane birth, snowstorm birth, intense emotional content, partner support, soft!men, vulnerable!men, protective partner, found family, twins, hurt/comfort, emotional intimacy, fatherhood, new dad energy, birth fic, drabble collection, first-time dad, emotional whump, soft smutless intimacy, love confession, trauma comfort, birth complications, raw vulnerability, medical emergency, no smut just feelings, domestic intensity. Headcanon!!!

🖤 SYLUS — The Moment He Realizes It’s Up to Him (Home Birth, Unprepared Conditions)

The Second It Clicks: You gasp. Double over. He’s at your side in a heartbeat. “Is it time?” You nod. Pain. Panic. Wet warmth. His blood freezes — then boils. No hospital. No doctor. No help. Just him.

His First Thought? “Fuck. No. Not like this. You deserve better.” Not chaos. Not uncertainty. Not cold floors and towels that aren’t sterile. He’s Sylus — he controls everything. But this? This is the one thing he can’t delay, buy, or dominate. It’s coming. Now.

Terror?Not for himself. For you. For the pain in your eyes, the grip of your hand, the sheer fragility of the moment. His entire being rallies like a war horn blaring inside his chest. “If the universe put this in my hands, then it’s getting the best fucking performance of my life.”

What he does first:He lowers you carefully to the bed. Kisses your knuckles, even as he’s barking quiet orders into a phone no one picks up. His voice is deep, steady. But his heart is galloping. He never lets you see it. Never lets his fear break through. You deserve certainty, and he’ll give it to you — even if he’s unraveling at the seams.

What He Says:“Kitten. Look at me.” You do. Eyes wide. Brave. Terrified. “You trust me?” You nod. “Then breathe. I’ve got this. I’ve got you. I always have.”

What He Feels:You’re vulnerable. And you’re still the strongest creature he’s ever seen. He wishes he could take the pain. Rip it from you and carry it in his own bones. But this is your war. And all he can do is be the sword and the shield. “Don’t you dare break on me, baby. You’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

And when you cry out —Something inside him shatters. Not weakness. Not panic. Love. The kind that could burn cities. The kind that makes gods kneel. He wipes your brow with trembling fingers, and for the first time in years, he whispers: “Please. Just let me do this right.”

The First Push:Your nails dig into his forearm. Hard. He doesn't flinch. He leans in, forehead almost touching yours. “That’s it. Breathe through it. I’ve got you.” Your body trembles. He sees it — the pain, the fear, the fight. And God, he’s never loved you more than in this bloody, imperfect, holy moment.

The Next Contractions Hit:They're relentless. And so is he. He’s on his knees beside the bed now, sleeves rolled, jaw locked, hands steady but heart breaking. “You're doing so good, kitten. So fucking good. I'm right here. Ride it. Ride it out. You're the strongest thing I've ever seen.” He keeps talking because your cries are the sound of his soul ripping open. He wants to scream with you — but he doesn’t. He can’t. You need him iron-clad.

When the Baby Crowns:For a split second, he freezes. The sight undoes him. It's real. His voice catches. He swallows hard. Then acts. Fast. He speaks softly but firmly. “Almost there. Just one more, baby. Give me everything you’ve got.”And when you do — when you scream and bear down and sob his name — the world shifts.

The Birth:The baby slips into his hands. Warm. Fragile. Alive. He catches it like it’s made of light. For a moment, he just stares. His lips part, but no words come. This. This is his child. His hands are shaking now. Bloody, trembling. But when the baby cries? He lets out the most ragged breath of his life. “You did it,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You fucking did it.” He ties and cuts the cord. Precise. Careful. Reverent. Wraps the baby in a soft towel and places it in your arms. And then? He just watches. Like the world cracked open to show him something he never thought he was worthy of.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He doesn’t move from your side. Doesn’t let go of your hand. The men in white bark questions. He answers in clipped growls, still on alert. They try to move in too fast, and he snaps, “She’s fine. You move when she says so.” The room is full now — but all he sees is you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:He sits beside you, one hand on your leg, the other gently stroking the baby's tiny back. His shirt is soaked, his knuckles still stained, his eyes rimmed red. He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes in the shape of you. Watches you like you might disappear.

And then he says it, raw and low:“I’ve killed for less than the pain you just went through.”“You scare me,” he adds, almost smiling. “Because I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did.”A pause. His voice softens. “Turns out, I was wrong.”

How He Is With You After: He won’t leave the room for the first 24 hours. Won’t sleep unless you sleep. Won’t speak unless it’s to you. Every time you shift, he’s there. Water. Blankets. Warm palms. He touches you like you’re made of fire and stardust. And maybe you are. You brought life into the world — and now he’s a man who’s seen a goddess bleed and survive.

What’s Changed? Everything. You’re no longer just the woman he worships. You’re the mother of his child. And he’s never been more dangerous, more devoted, or more in awe. And when he finally holds the baby in his arms, whispering something in a voice only the stars can hear, you catch the look on his face — as if the king of the underworld just met the one soul that could make him believe in heaven.

🎨 RAFAYEL — Water Birth Gone Off-Script (But You're Still His Masterpiece)

The Second It Clicks:You gasp. A real one. Water shifts behind the door. He hears it — not the splash, but the silence that follows. Brush mid-stroke, he freezes in the studio. Palette still in hand. Then he hears you call his name. Soft. Urgent. Different. His heart misses a beat. Oh. Oh, fuck. It’s time.

His First Thought?“Cutie, not yet — where’s the damn midwife?” This was supposed to be smooth. Music, candles, soft towels, help. He practiced. Took notes. Learned everything. But you’re contracting, you’re gripping his arm like a lifeline, and that carefully prepared plan just drowned.

Terror?Only for a split second. Then? It turns into motion. His version of war. No armor. Just bare skin, water, and wild love. He tears off his silk shirt, drops to his knees beside the tub, and cups your face. Eyes blazing. Smile trembling. “You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Let’s be legends, sweetheart.”

What He Does First:Lights dimmed. Calm playlist turned off. That’s not helping. He speaks instead. Constant stream of velvet and madness — anything to keep you in your body. He checks your breath, strokes your arms, pours warm water down your back. He holds your thighs when the cramping gets too much. “Breathe, Cutie. Moan if you need to. Scream. I’ll scream with you.”

What He Says:“You’re the most divine creature I’ve ever painted and you’re not even trying right now.” “Do you know what it does to me — to see you bring life into the world? I’m ruined.” “I love you. You’re terrifying. It’s magnificent.” “I’m not ready, but I’m so ready. Are you ready, sweetheart?” He laughs and cries all at once. Classic Raf.

What He Feels:Absolute awe. Like watching a volcano give birth to the moon. You’re in pain, and he’d trade his soul to take it away —

But you’re also gorgeous. Power and surrender. Fury and grace. He watches you like a living epic, memorizing every second. And somewhere deep down: terror. Because he’s about to meet a little soul that already feels like the most important thing he’s ever waited for.

And When You Cry Out —He flinches like someone hit his body. Then kisses your forehead. Then your shoulder. Then your fingers. “I know, I know, my love. You can hate me right now. But when it’s over, you’re going to be a fucking goddess in my arms again.”

The First Push:He holds you. Literally. Behind you in the tub, your back pressed to his chest. Whispers in your ear like poetry, nonsense, love confessions. His hands steady your belly. His cheek presses to yours. “Push. With me. Right now. Pretend the stars are watching.”

The Next Contractions Hit:You sob. Scream. Curse. He laughs through tears. “That’s my girl. Go feral, baby.” He doesn't pretend it's easy. He matches the chaos. You scream louder? He screams louder. You sob? He hums a lullaby in broken Lemurian. And when you break? He stitches you back together with every ridiculous, poetic, stupidly beautiful word.

When the Baby Crowns:He feels it before he sees it — the shift in your breath, the way your body tenses like a storm breaking. “Cutie — he’s here. He’s really here.” He helps you lean forward, moves behind and then lower, one arm steadying you as he shifts to kneel in the water. And then he sees it — the beginning of everything. His voice is gone. His hands shake. But he stays.

The Birth:The baby slides into the water. Raf catches him like he’s catching a star falling into the sea. He brings him up gently, lets him cry, and then stares — completely undone. He places the baby on your chest with reverence. Then breaks. Just breaks. Weeps silently as he holds you both.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He answers the door shirtless, soaked, with red-rimmed eyes and a feral look. “Too late,” he snaps. “She did it herself. I just got to be lucky enough to watch.” Then walks past them, back to the bathroom, because he’s not done looking at you.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again:You’re in bed. Baby asleep. Candles flickering low. Raf’s lying next to you, propped on an elbow, fingers lightly tracing invisible constellations on your arm. His voice is almost a whisper. “You made something I could never paint. Not with all the colors in the universe.”

Confession:“I used to think love was chaos. Fire. Tragedy.” He swallows. “But you — carrying him, birthing him — you made me believe in something bigger than all that. Something gentle.” Beat. “Still chaos. But now… now I want to live in it.”

How He Is With You After:He won’t stop touching you. Ever. Cheek pressed to your stomach. Hand around your ankle. Lips to your collarbone. He calls you his ocean, his cathedral, his everything. Gets jealous when the baby gets more attention, then sulks dramatically — only to melt the moment the baby yawns.

What’s Changed? He didn’t think he could love more than he already did. But now he’s ruined. Completely, gloriously yours. He paints you every day. He stares at the baby like a spell. And every night, he murmurs: “Cutie, I would live a thousand lifetimes just to land in this one with you.”

🛩️ CALEB — 35,000 Feet Up, When the World Falls Apart (And You’re the Only Thing That Matters)

The Second It Clicks:Your breath hitches. You shift. Then freeze. He knows your body too well — something is off. You whisper, "Caleb…" He looks at you. And in that one heartbeat, he knows. It’s happening. Here. Now. Too early.

His First Thought?“No.”Not like this. Not at cruising altitude. Not without equipment, backup, time. You were supposed to have two more weeks. He had a plan. A perfect one. And the baby just threw it out the emergency exit.

Terror?It brushes him. A ghost against the back of his mind. There’s a moment — sharp, almost blinding — where every instinct screams: get to the cockpit, take the controls, force the descent, get her to a hospital, make it stop. Not the birth — your pain. The helplessness. But Caleb is a fortress — fear doesn’t get through the walls. Not when you need him solid. Not when your breathing goes shallow and your fingers dig into his thigh. He shuts it out. Cold. Calculated. He stays. Right where you are. “Handle it.”

What He Does First: Turns to the nearest flight attendant — she’s pale, shaking. “Get blankets. Towels. Water. First aid kit. Everything. Now.”Then he takes your hand. Squeezes once. He shifts the cabin — clears seats, turns it into a command zone. Straps you in, kneels in front of you like you’re his entire mission.

What He Says:“Breathe.” “Look at me, not the chaos. Me.”“You're safe. I'm here. I’ll get you through this.”“No one’s going to touch you but me. You hear me?”Low, controlled. The voice of command — but laced with something raw. The kind of voice that means he’d rip this plane open and land it with his bare hands if he had to.

What He Feels:Failure. Because this wasn’t the plan. Because he let you on this plane, knowing the risks.  Because you’re in pain and there’s nothing he can shoot or order or carry to fix it.  But above that — something bigger. Something anchoring. You’re about to give him a child. His child. And he’s never been more terrified or more in love.

And When You Cry Out —He stops breathing. Just for a moment. Then grabs a wet cloth, wipes your forehead, presses his mouth to your knuckles. “It’s okay. I know. I know it hurts. Just hold on, love.” He doesn’t flinch when you scream. He braces for you. Becomes your wall.

The First Push: He helps you brace your legs. Talks you through it. Counts your breaths. His voice doesn’t shake. You’re gripping his shoulder like you want to break him — and if it helps, he wants you to. “Push. Right now. You can do it. I know you can.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come fast. Brutal. You’re soaked in sweat, sobbing, slipping in and out of focus. He holds your gaze. Forces you to stay present. “Stay with me. Just me. Eyes on mine.” He’s not just commanding your body now. He’s anchoring your soul.

When the Baby Crowns:His jaw locks. There’s blood. Pain. A sound from you that breaks something in him forever. But then— “I see the head. One more. One big push, baby. Do it for me.”He’s never begged in his life. Until now.

The Birth:The baby slides into his hands — hot, wet, alive. He holds it like it’s a grenade and a prayer. He hesitates for a heartbeat, then moves on instinct drilled in from every medical video he obsessively watched in the weeks before. Wipes the face. Rubs the back. Hears that first cry. And his shoulders slump like he just survived a war. He lays the baby on your chest with military precision— But his hands are shaking. And his voice is gone.

When the Plane Lands:Paramedics are already waiting on the tarmac. The moment the wheels hit the ground, he’s on his feet, securing the baby, then lifting you into his arms — no hesitation, no discussion. Your body wrapped in his jacket, his grip unshakable. “She stays with me,” he tells them — low and final. He carries you down the stairs himself, eyes scanning every face like a soldier clearing a field. And when the medics move in, he doesn’t flinch — but he watches every hand. Every word. His eyes never leave you. He’s still on the battlefield.

Afterward, When It’s Quiet Again: The baby’s wrapped and asleep. You’re in a hospital bed now, monitors quiet, lights dim. Caleb sits beside you — still in his flight-worn clothes, hands resting on the edge of the mattress like he’s holding the line. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just watches you breathe. As if any second, the universe might try to take you again.

Confession:“I don’t know how to do this part.” Soft. Almost a whisper. “I know war. I know strategy. I know how to keep you alive.”A pause. “But you just gave me everything, thirty-five thousand feet above the world. And I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

How He Is With You After: Hypervigilant. Keeps you warm. Fed. Rested. Checks the baby’s breath every ten minutes. Doesn’t leave your side — not even to sleep. Carries you to the bathroom if he has to. Barely talks. Just does.

What’s Changed? He always thought his job was to protect you. Now he knows — you are the reason he fights. You made life, in midair, with nothing but pain and instinct. He’s seen you soft. He’s seen you in love. Now he’s seen you divine. And no enemy will ever get close again. Not even turbulence. And definitely not labor at 35,000 feet — because he’s never letting you board a plane pregnant again. He’s already planning the next birth. Controlled environment. Ground-level. Walls. Doctors. No sky. No chaos. Just you, safe — the way you were always supposed to be.

🧊 ZAYNE — Snowcrest Emergency (Twins, a Storm, and You in His Hands)

The Second It Clicks:You’re at the stove, stirring a pot of mulled wine, the scent of cloves and orange peel curling through the wooden walls of the chalet. Snow presses against the windows like a soft white fist. Then something shifts. You freeze. One hand goes to the edge of the counter, the other to your belly. Your breath catches — once. Twice. Too sharp. Zayne looks up from the hearth, where he was stacking firewood. Sees your face. Sees your hands. His mind clicks into motion before you can speak. Contractions. Strong. Rhythmic. A month early. Twins. It’s happening. Now.

His First Thought?“No hospital. No OR. No neonatal equipment. Two infants. High-risk environment.” His mind races: What’s missing? What can he improvise? What matters most? You. He recalibrates in milliseconds. The plan has changed. You’re the plan now.

Terror?He doesn’t let it register. But for the first time in a decade, he feels his pulse spike without choosing it. This is not a patient. Not a clinical environment. This is you. And his hands — hands that saved hundreds — suddenly feel too slow, too human.

What He Does First:Takes control. Quietly, precisely. “Lie down. Left side. Pillows under your knees.” Gets gloves. Clean cloths. Lantern light. Wipes the counter. Boils water. Checks your pupils, your breath rate, heart rate. Starts counting contractions. Voice — steady as marble. “Vitals are within threshold. We’ll manage.” He doesn’t say "I’m scared." He sets his jaw and becomes the machine you need.

What He Says:“Cut the noise. Focus on me.” “Deep breath in. Hold. Now exhale slowly.” “You’re safe. I have you. Nothing’s going wrong under my watch.” And softer, almost like it slips out against his control: “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here.”Then quieter still, barely audible over your breathing— “I don’t want you to be afraid. Not with me.”

What He Feels:A depth of protectiveness so massive it short-circuits logic. He can’t afford emotion — so it burns quietly behind his ribs. Every sound you make, every twitch of pain — he catalogs it, files it, calculates it. But somewhere behind the math, something whispers: “These are my children. And she’s the one I never deserved.”

And When You Cry Out—He doesn’t flinch. But his jaw locks, and he moves faster. More towels. More warmth. Calmer voice. He adjusts your position, murmurs into your hair: “I know. I know, love. It hurts. You’re strong. You’re going to get them here, and I’m going to catch them. I promise.”

The First Push:““Push with the contraction. Not before.”He watches your breath, cues your muscles, syncs with your rhythm like surgery. You scream. He doesn’t blink. Just steadies your knee, keeps his voice low and close. “You’re doing it. This is the part that ends it. The worst is behind you.”

The Next Contractions Hit:They come harder, closer. You’re shaking. Your body starts to give. Zayne grips your hands, brings your forehead to his. “You’re not breaking. You’re giving life. Do it. I’m right here.” He says it like a command. But his voice catches.

When the Baby Crowns:It’s fast. First twin is anterior. Textbook. Zayne’s gloves are slick, but his hold is perfect. The baby slips into his hands — screaming. He wraps, clears, breathes. Then glances up at you, and — for half a second — his breath stutters. One down. One more.

The Birth (Second Twin):This one’s trickier. Breech. Zayne’s hands move with silent grace, guiding you, shifting your hips, protecting you from the risk. It’s intense. It’s dangerous. But he handles it like a master. The second baby arrives blue. He doesn’t panic. Just acts. Clears airway. Stimulates. Waits — cry. Only then does his chest move again.

When the Medics Finally Arrive:He meets them at the door. Calm. Precise. These are his colleagues — people he trusts. He listens to every reading, watches every movement. They confirm what he already knows: vitals are steady. No signs of immediate risk. He should transfer you. He planned to. But then you look at him — raw, pleading, exhausted. And he recalculates. “We’ll monitor here. Twelve-hour window. I’ll oversee everything myself.” He’s already wrapping you and the twins in fresh blankets, resetting the monitors. His voice is steady. His posture sure. But his hand doesn’t leave yours. He’s not just responsible. He’s personally invested. In this. In you. In all three lives now resting in his hands.

Confession:He speaks only when you touch his wrist. “I’ve never been this scared.” A beat. “And I didn’t let myself feel it. Until now.” Another pause. “You and them — you’re the only variables I can’t solve. And I think I’m okay with that.”

How He Is With You After: Meticulous. Attentive. Understated. Charts feed schedules. Tracks sleeping patterns. Never wakes you if he can help it. Takes night shifts. Warms bottles. Still quiet. Still reserved. But touches you more often now — almost absently. A thumb to your wrist. A hand at your back. Like he can’t not.

What’s Changed? Something in him has shifted — quietly, irreversibly. He was a man of logic. Now he’s a man of you. He doesn’t smile often — but when he looks at the twins, something in his eyes softens in a way he can’t quite explain. And every time you cry — from exhaustion, or joy, or pain — he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Tell me what to fix.” Even if he knows he never could. Because he’ll try anyway. For as long as you’ll let him.

[berryfairyluvr]

Hi! I love your writing and would like to request Caleb and princess treatment please 💝

caleb and his princess treatment

pairings: bf!caleb/husband!caleb x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive, slight hinting of jealousy?, mentions of pregnancy

a/n: you’re very sweet, thank you for the request!! i hope it’s to your liking <3

As far back as you could remember, Caleb had always treated you with the utmost care, tending to your needs in any way he could.

During your secondary school years, Caleb decided he would make not only his own lunch, but yours too. You’d always been a picky eater and he couldn’t trust you to feed yourself if the cafeteria didn’t have enough foods that interested you. After finally moving in together as a couple— he picked up the old habit and began making your lunches for work too.

Growing up, you and Caleb often took the public transportation to and from school or town. On extra crowded days when you could only find one empty seat he’d always give it to you.

He had always been the looming overprotective presence in your life, like the time he told the entirety of the school basketball team that you were “off limits.”

And of course he picks you up from the Association in his sports car, leaning against the sleek vehicle with a cheesy grin and deep dimples, aviator shades perched on his nose. “Well hello girlfriend..” which later became his personal favorite, “Hello wife..” Followed by wrapping a lengthy arm around your waist the other around your shoulders, kissing your flushed face.

Insists on carrying you if your feet hurt, you’re sleepy, or it’s even remotely inconvenient for you to walk. Bonus: bridal style all the time.

He talks about you like you’re his entire world (because you are)—casually, without shame. “Yeah, my girlfriend made this.” “MC said that once, it stuck with me.” “She’s smarter than me, actually.”

You try to help him clean up or fix something? He gently turns you around, plants you on the nearest seat, and kisses your forehead. “Let me take care of it, baby.” “Nuh-uh Pips, just sit here and look pretty for me, yeah?”

One of his love languages has always been acts of service— taking note of every little detail of your daily routines so he can find a way to make them easier for you without question.

His clothes? Pfft no, they’re our clothes. Whatever he owns he considers yours as well, emphasis on the clothing. He even buys things for himself based on how he pictures you in them eventually..

As cringey as it sounds, this man will hand feed you like a baby. Whether you’re working overtime from home or gaming he’s making sure you’re getting your meals.

Studying or working together proved to be challenging when he couldn’t tear his eyes off your figure or halt his lingering touches of affection which proved to be quite the distraction.

You're not just loved—you’re revered. He never lets you forget how special you are to him. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Let me prove it every day."

For some blissfully, wonderful, unknown reason, this man is always on his knees before you, for you. Whether it’s to tie your shoelaces or to praise his most favorite, sacred part of your- (whaaaatt ?? who said that ??)

You send ONE moderately risqué photo his way and he’s blowing up your phone like the dozens of ships he explodes with the fleet.

You knew him to be protective and caring before but when you’re expecting his first child it’s a different story. He spends the whole first month of your first trimester researching beneficial recipes for expecting mothers and their babies. “I’ll set aside time to meal prep each meal for you daily, it’ll be great Pips.”

When your newborn arrives, Caleb insists on waking up with you for each and every night shift of feedings and diaper changes. The dark circles under your eyes tug at his heart strings as he urges you back to bed as soon as you’re done with the baby. “My little copilot wants to be around mommy all the time too, hm?” He rocks your newborn back to sleep with a yawn of his own.

Gaming at his desk while you're dozing in and out of sleep from the couch he can't help but check on you, even if it's mid match. “You good, baby? Need anything? Water? Snack? A nap on me instead of the couch?” He's just glad to have you near and willing to do anything to keep you close.

He's always carrying your things for you, literally everything. When the two of you would walk home from school your backpack was always slung over his shoulder, it didn't matter that he had his own backpack and his basketball bag. That quickly became the norm for everything, shopping bags, leftovers from the hotpot place, your luggage when visiting him in Skyhaven.. The list goes on, you weren't allowed to carry anything on his watch. It was no use protesting anymore, you'd just be met with a dimpled smirk and kiss to your cheek.

Don't even try to leave or go to sleep without giving him his last kiss of the day. "EXCUSE ME. Where do you think you're going without my goodbye kiss?" He'd steal a few extra and say it was just for safety precautions.

He loves complimenting you all day, everyday. He loves the reactions you give him, would do just about anything for them.

read zayne’s version here

read sylus' version here

requests open ❤︎

[whosashan]

Hiii! I’m sorry I couldn’t find if you were open for requests or not so if you don’t take any at this moment please ignore this.

I really love your style of writing and I was wondering about how lads boys would react if MC asked them if they are in love with her or who she was in the past life. I know with Caleb and Zayne it can be tricky but I was thinking that maybe Zayne remembered his past or like MC suddenly remembered everything? That’s just an idea I had in my mind.

Anyways like I said please ignore this request if you don’t take any at this moment or you don’t like that idea!

Have a nice day❤️

WHO DO YOU LOVE?

pt. 2

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Doubt coils around your spine, relentless and unshaken, until the question slips free—do they love the person before them now, or the ghost of who you once were?

A/N: Hi there, thank you for your request. You didn't specify whether you'd prefer it to be more fluff or angst, so I did a little bit of both. Enjoy!

For a while now, an insidious question has gnawed at the recesses of your mind. Perhaps it stems from deep-seated insecurities, a relentless curiosity, or something more profound and unsettling.

Since uncovering the intricate tapestry of your past with your lover, a disquieting thought has taken root: are you merely a stand-in for someone who no longer exists? The paradox is maddening—you find yourself envious of a former self. The notion pierces your heart with a sharp, unyielding pain, knowing that there was once another—ironically, another version of you—who preceded you. That person was, undeniably, their one true love.

You grapple with the tormenting thought: are you genuinely the one he loves now, or are you simply a surrogate, a shadow of the past?

Xavier

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, shadows flickering against the walls, casting elongated shapes that danced with every shift of the flames. The air was warm, thick with the scent of wax and faint traces of Xavier’s smell - something so uniquely him.

He laid across the couch, head resting on your thighs, his platinum hair spilling like silk over your lap. Your fingers moved through the strands absentmindedly, tracing over his scalp in slow, rhythmic motions, just the way you knew he liked. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt peaceful. Intimate. Safe.

But your thoughts refused to be still.

You wondered—had he been like this with her too? Had she tangled her fingers in his hair just as you did now? Had she peppered his cheeks with soft kisses, stolen those rare, beautiful laughs that you cherished so much?

The thought shouldn’t sting. It was you, after all. The past version of you, the one whose fate had already been entwined with his long before you even remembered him. And yet, there was a weight in your chest, something heavy, something bitter—regret? Uncertainty? You should have been grateful. It was you. It had always been you. But still, the question gnawed at you.

How different was she?

Did her smile tilt the same way? Did she struggle to keep her hair neat, no matter how much effort she put into it? When she laughed, did her cheeks lift high enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes?

The flickering candlelight traced soft golden hues over Xavier’s face, his lashes casting delicate shadows against his cheekbones. His beauty was almost inhuman, sculpted and refined, made even softer by the haze of drowsiness settling over him. He was close to sleep, lulled by your touch. Maybe it was cruel to ask now, to shatter this moment of quiet serenity.

But you couldn’t stop yourself.

You inhaled sharply, trying to gather the courage that had been slipping through your fingers. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"What was she like?"

The silence stretched.

You thought, for a moment, that he had already fallen asleep, that your question would go unanswered. Relief and disappointment tangled together in your chest, neither strong enough to win over the other.

Then, his voice, soft yet weighted.

"Who are you asking about?"

His head shifted slightly, his dark lashes fluttering open just enough for blue eyes to meet yours. There was exhaustion in them, slight confusion, as if you had pulled him from the edge of sleep. Your fingers stilled in his hair, and he let out a quiet, displeased groan at the loss of comfort.

"Her. I mean… me. The past me." The words felt clumsy, uncertain. How were you even supposed to ask something like this?

Xavier’s brows knit together for a second, a flicker of thought crossing his face before his expression settled back into something unreadable.

"You were the same person you are now." His reply was immediate, almost dismissive, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But that wasn’t enough.

"I want you to be more specific." Your voice was barely above a breath, but there was something desperate beneath it.

He exhaled, fingers idly drawing slow, deliberate circles on your thigh, as if the motion would somehow ease whatever storm was brewing inside you.

"She was… eccentric," he finally said, his voice quiet, thoughtful. A pause. A hesitation. "Always stubborn. Always insistent. Never knowing when to give up." A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Not that much different from you now."

You scoffed, more out of reflex than humor. "Should I feel insulted?" you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

But then, as quickly as the moment of levity had come, it was gone again. The question that had been clawing at your ribs threatened to spill from your lips.

And then—

"Did you love her more?"

It barely came out, the words fragile, splintering even as they left you. Your entire body tensed.

Xavier’s hand stilled against your thigh. For the first time, something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe even hurt. Slowly, he lifted his head, pushing himself up until he was finally at eye level with you. His gaze studied you intently, tracing every furrow of your brow, every small tension in your lips.

And then, gently—so, so gently—he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent warmth curling through your chest. He was close now, so close you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, his warmth wrapping around you like a quiet promise.

"I would love every form of you the same." His voice was steady, unwavering. "For me, you will always be the one. Whether it’s the you from before, the you now, or the you in another lifetime. It doesn’t matter if you were human, a fairy, or even a worm."

A small, teasing smirk curled his lips at the end, a deliberate attempt to ease the tension, to coax a reaction from you. And it worked—heat crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks, and despite everything, you felt the ghost of a flustered pout forming on your lips.

Xavier leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze once more.

"Never doubt yourself again, hm?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, he pulled you into his arms, tucking you against his chest, your face fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. His embrace was warm, steady, grounding. The kind of touch that made all your doubts seem small, insignificant.

Because even if your question hadn’t been answered completely, even if some part of you still ached for something more—there was one thing you were certain of.

He never made you feel like she was better. He never made you feel like you had to compete with your own past.

For Xavier, it was always you.

Zayne

The only sound in the dimly lit room was the rhythmic clicking of keyboard keys, an almost hypnotic cadence breaking through the thick silence. The golden glow of Zayne’s desk lamp illuminated the contours of his sharp features, casting long shadows over his workspace. He sat with his usual meticulous posture, his frame effortlessly composed, exuding an air of quiet authority even in something as mundane as working. The reflection of his laptop screen glimmered faintly against his glasses, obscuring the rich hazel depths of his eyes.

Across the room, you lounged on the couch, your body half-sunk into the plush cushions, a book resting open in your lap. Despite the separate worlds you were both immersed in, there was a comfort in just existing beside him—his presence was grounding, a constant anchor in a sea of uncertainties.

Your gaze trailed over the words printed on the page. A romance novel—one that struck too close to home. It told the story of a man who spent lifetimes searching for his lover, chasing fragments of them across time, waiting for fate to intertwine them once more.

“Is it really me you love? Or the person—the people—I used to be?”

The line cut through you like glass, burrowing itself deep into the pit of your stomach.

Your fingers hesitated over the page as your eyes flickered toward Zayne. He remained at his desk, seemingly lost in his work, his expression unreadable. His dark hair fell slightly over his face, a few strands brushing against the thin frames of his glasses. Even when exhausted, he looked composed—controlled.

It was foolish, perhaps, to ask. You knew how he hated to be interrupted when he was deep in thought, yet you also knew yourself. If you didn’t speak now, the words would fester, gnawing at you like a wound left untreated.

"Zayne."

His name left your lips barely above a murmur, but he heard you. He always did.

His fingers stilled over the keyboard, his posture shifting as he leaned back into his chair slightly. He turned to you, the dim light catching the sharp angles of his jawline.

"Yes, love?" His voice was deep, slightly hoarse from disuse, carrying with it a subtle weight of exhaustion.

You hesitated. Just for a moment.

Sensing it, Zayne pushed his laptop aside and stood, his movements slow, deliberate. Without a word, he made his way toward you, his presence a steady force as he settled beside you on the couch. Lifting your legs with ease, he draped them over his lap, his fingers resting absentmindedly against your ankle. His warmth bled into you, solid and grounding.

Encouraged by the gesture, you swallowed and forced yourself to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind for far too long.

"What was my past self like?"

His brows lifted slightly, his fingers pausing their absentminded movements. "That’s a rather unexpected question," he murmured, adjusting his glasses—a telltale sign of nervousness, though he would never admit it. "What’s brought this on?"

You frowned. "Don’t change the subject."

A subtle exhale left him, barely audible, but you caught it. You knew him well enough to recognize when he was trying to sidestep something.

"I don't remember everything." His voice was measured, but there was a slight tightness to it. "Fragments, maybe. Fleeting pieces that don’t quite form a complete picture. But from what I do recall…" He trailed off, adjusting his glasses again before continuing.

"She wasn’t so different from you now." His tone was contemplative, as if choosing his words carefully. "Determined. Unyielding. Always knew what she wanted and wouldn’t rest until she got it." A small pause. "Much like you."

Your lips pressed into a thin line. That answer—it wasn’t enough.

"Did you love her more?" The words came out before you could stop them.

This time, his reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed, his fingers tightening just slightly against your leg—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across his expression before it smoothed into something composed once more.

"As far as I’m concerned, she is you. Every version of you—past, present, future—exists within the same soul, deeply ingrained in me. To compare them would be a fruitless endeavor. There has never been a question of more or less—there is only you."

His voice was even, unwavering, but there was a weight to his words, something deeper lying beneath them. A certainty so absolute that you almost felt ridiculous for asking.

Still, a part of you felt… silly. Jealous over yourself. How insecure could you be?

But it wasn’t insecurity, was it? It was the cruel weight of uncertainty, the knowledge that there were pieces of yourself you might never truly remember. And that truth would always linger, like a ghost in the back of your mind.

Zayne, ever perceptive, seemed to sense the turmoil playing behind your eyes. He lifted his hand, his fingers trailing up your arm before settling against your own, giving it a light squeeze. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a grounding gesture.

A smirk—barely there, but unmistakable—tugged at the corner of your lips as you met his gaze. "Is that so? Then tell me more."

Zayne let out a soft, resigned sigh, shaking his head just slightly. But even as he feigned reluctance, there was the unmistakable ghost of a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

And somehow, even if your question wasn’t entirely answered, even if you knew the uncertainty would return again someday—right now, his presence was enough.

Rafayel

Laughter filled the dimly lit bedroom, loud and breathless, bouncing off the walls as you squirmed beneath Rafayel’s relentless assault. His fingers moved with precision, ghosting over your sides, tracing over sensitive spots he had long since memorized. Your body arched in protest, hands weakly attempting to shove him away, but he was stronger, faster—his lips curled in amusement as he watched you crumble beneath his touch.

"Alright, it's enough!" You gasped between helpless giggles, trying—failing—to inject authority into your voice. The demand might have carried weight if not for the way laughter cracked through it, rendering it powerless.

Still, Rafayel, ever the merciful tormentor, finally relented. With a low chuckle, he slowed his movements, his hands instead settling on your waist, fingers splayed lazily over your hips as if he had all the time in the world. Then, in a gesture as disarming as it was tender, he leaned in, pressing playful kisses across your cheeks, your nose, the corners of your lips—each one stealing the remnants of your breath.

Your smile only widened, cheeks flushed a warm pink.

When you finally opened your eyes, he was already watching you, his usual mischief softened by something more dangerous—something deeper. His dark hair framed his face in perfect disarray, stray strands falling over his forehead, and his striking blue-pink eyes shimmered with something unreadable.

"You're killing me, cutie." His voice was honeyed, teasing, yet laced with a quiet reverence. "From all that laughing, I figured you loved my fingers on you. Should I take that as a request?"

A flick to his forehead wiped the smirk off his lips.

He gasped dramatically, cradling the spot as if you had mortally wounded him. "Now, you need to kiss it better!" His pout was exaggerated, his dramatic flair in full effect, yet beneath the playful act was a calculated charm—one that had always made him so dangerously captivating.

Rolling your eyes, you indulged him, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his forehead. The faint imprint of your lipstick lingered, and you smirked to yourself, deciding to keep that detail to yourself. It suited him, after all.

Rafayel hummed in satisfaction, but then his expression shifted. "That’s slightlyyy better." A pause. "Now, how about we order some seafood?" His lips curved into a small, knowing smile, his tone lighthearted.

And yet—your stomach dropped.

Your expression faltered, barely perceptible, but Rafayel caught it instantly. His head tilted slightly, amusement fading into mild confusion. "What is it? Wasn't it your favorite?"

Your blood ran cold.

"I told you—multiple times—I hate seafood." Your voice was steady, but the weight behind it was anything but. It wasn’t the mistake itself that stung—it was the realization that followed.

It was her favorite.

The realization came like a blade, cutting through you mercilessly. The past you—the before you—the version of yourself that had lived and loved Rafayel long before your memories had been wiped away.

You weren’t her. You weren’t the one he had fallen for first.

The air in the room felt heavier now, thick with unspoken words.

Rafayel’s face fell. His usual mask of arrogance slipped, replaced by something fleeting—regret, guilt, self-reproach. He cursed himself under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "Ah—sorry… we'll get Chinese, yeah?" His voice, usually so smooth, so effortless, now carried an edge of uncertainty. He was scrambling. He knew he had messed up.

But the damage had already been done.

Because you finally saw it—the cracks in his reassurances. The way his stories about her had painted a picture you could never quite step into. She had been different. More confident. More cunning. More effortlessly herself.

More like the version of you that you always wished to be.

Your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you turned away from him. You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Not now.

"Cutie…" His voice dropped to a murmur, gentle, coaxing. You felt his fingers ghost toward your cheek, but you recoiled before he could touch you.

That reaction made something shift in him.

The softness vanished, replaced by something colder. His jaw tensed, his lips parting slightly in what could have been a plea—but he hesitated.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat.

"Did you love her more, Rafayel?"

The words cut through the silence like a blade. There was no teasing lilt in your voice, no room for him to twist the moment into something playful. No. This time, you weren’t giving him an escape.

His body went rigid, his lips parting slightly as if the sheer audacity of the question had momentarily stolen his breath. Then, panic flickered in his eyes—just for a second.

"What?—Of course not!" The words left him too quickly, too forcefully. "I mean, god, you're the same person." His voice was rough, desperate, but the way he said it—like he was trying to convince himself just as much as you—made your stomach churn.

"Liar."

A whisper. Sharp. Accusing.

You pushed yourself up, slipping from his grasp, but Rafayel moved fast, his fingers catching your wrist before you could step away. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to make you halt.

"Where are you going?"

"Home." Your voice wavered, but your resolve did not. "I can't—I don't want to talk to you right now."

He tensed. "Y/N, don’t do this—"

"I need time." You exhaled, voice gentler now, but firm. "We’ll talk when I’m ready."

You didn’t wait for his reply.

The moment you slipped from his grasp, the warmth of his touch faded, replaced by the chilling weight of distance. And as you walked toward the door, you felt his gaze burning into your back.

But he didn’t chase you.

Not this time.

And as the door shut behind you, leaving Rafayel alone on his vast, king-sized bed, you both knew—

This wasn’t the end of the conversation.

Not even close.

Sylus

The silk sheets pooled beneath you as you sat on Sylus' bed, the fabric smooth against your skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed the room in golden hues, casting long shadows as you rummaged through the bags at your feet—your most recent indulgence. Or rather, his indulgence.

"You didn’t have to buy all this for me, you know," you murmured without looking up, fingers brushing over the expensive fabrics, the scent of luxury still clinging to them.

Across from you, Sylus leaned against the grand headboard, his arms lazily crossed, an amused smirk playing at his lips. His crimson eyes glimmered under the dim light, ever watchful, ever knowing.

"And yet, somehow, I still managed to," he mused, his voice a smooth melody laced with amusement. "Truly tragic, how I remain cursed with wealth and the urge to spoil you."

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"Why don’t you give me a fashion show, sweetie?" he suggested, tilting his head slightly.

Your excitement sparked instantly. You barely spared him a glance before gathering the bags and rushing into the bathroom, the sound of his low chuckle following you as you disappeared behind the door.

As you sifted through the clothes, something caught your eye—a dress you didn’t remember picking out. The color was… odd. Not bad, necessarily, but definitely not something you would have chosen for yourself. It washed you out in a way that felt unnatural, like a version of you that wasn’t quite right.

Sylus.

You sighed, shaking your head with a fond smile. He had excellent taste; he’d picked out dresses for you before—ones that flattered your figure, ones that made you feel effortlessly beautiful. But this? This felt like it belonged to someone else.

Still, you slipped it on. It’s always nice to try something new, you reasoned. And besides, you could always return it.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you straightened your posture, putting on your best model walk as you sauntered toward him with a small, playful smile.

Sylus’ gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate.

"You look ravishing," he murmured, his deep voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. He pushed off the headboard and closed the space between you in an instant, his hands slipping to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm and intoxicating.

"You think?" you asked, though your gaze drifted downward again, fingers idly smoothing over the fabric.

"That’s a rather interesting choice, boss." The nickname was teasing, but there was a layer of curiosity beneath it. "I don’t think I like this color on me, but if you do… I suppose I’ll wear it anyway."

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"Nonsense," he dismissed easily. "You’ve always looked stunning in this color. Or any color, for that matter, kitten."

Something in your chest twisted.

Your brows knitted together slightly as you peered up at him. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe he meant nothing by it. And yet—

"I’ve never worn this color before, though." You chuckled, keeping your tone light, masking the unease settling at the edges of your mind.

Sylus said nothing at first. A beat of silence stretched between you, but his grip didn’t falter. His expression remained unreadable, except for the slight glint of something in his crimson eyes—something calculated.

You knew this game. You knew how he played.

He was refined, meticulous with his words, carefully measured in everything he did. Sylus didn’t make mistakes.

And yet, you had caught one.

He loved you. That, you never doubted. His devotion was absolute, unwavering. But there was always this—this lingering ghost of someone else. A woman you had once been. A woman you no longer remembered. A woman you weren’t even sure you were.

And yet, she still lived here. In his mind. In his stories. In his memories of you.

"I can practically hear your mind working." His voice was smooth, but there was a quiet edge to it. "Speak."

You hesitated. You didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to pick at something that might unravel everything.

"You seem to like reminiscing about the past," you finally said, keeping your voice even, careful.

His eyes darkened slightly.

"Of course," he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Why wouldn’t I? The moments I’ve spent with the one I love should not be forgotten."

Your chest tightened.

He didn’t see it the way you did. To him, the past and the present were intertwined, threads of the same existence. But to you? The past felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

"Is that so?" Your lips curved into a wry smile, though the bitterness in your voice was barely concealed. "Then tell me, Sylus—who do you love more? Her or me?"

It was meant to sound like a joke. A playful jab. But the moment the words left your lips, the room shifted. His grip on your waist tightened, his body going still. His expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"What kind of question is that, kitten?" His voice remained steady, but there was something underneath it now—something more careful.

"It doesn’t matter if it’s the past or the present I’m thinking about—it’s always you on my mind."

But it didn’t feel like it.

Not in the way that mattered.

You swallowed, the months of quiet insecurities bubbling up, spilling over before you could stop them. "I don’t want you to think about her," you admitted, voice quieter now but no less firm. "It’s in the past—the past I don’t even remember."

A beat of silence.

For the first time that night, Sylus looked genuinely caught off guard. His expression wavered for the briefest moment before something else took its place—something softer.

"…I apologize." His voice, always so effortlessly poised, now carried an unfamiliar weight. "I never meant to make you feel that way, sweetheart. I won’t mention it again."

And yet—right now, it wasn’t enough.

"I need a moment for myself." The words left you before you could think them through.

You turned, ready to step away, but his fingers curled around your wrist—not tight, not forceful, just there.

"I won’t stop you," he murmured. "Take all the time you need." His hand lifted, brushing against your cheek, his touch warm, careful. You refused to meet his gaze, afraid of the emotions that might spill over if you did.

"But know that —when you’re ready, I’ll be right here."

A pause. Then, softer—so tender it nearly broke you—

"I love you."

And then, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head before letting you go.

And just like that, you slipped away from him.

Out of the room, out of his reach, out into the night, letting the wind carry you as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions inside you.

You weren’t sure how long it would take. An hour, a day, a month.

But Sylus—he would wait.

He always did.

Caleb

A/N: For Caleb, I decided to twist it a little and instead make it about your future self. Hope that's alright!

It was always easy to be carefree with Caleb nearby.

He made the world feel manageable—as if no matter what went wrong, he would be there, steady as ever, grounding you with nothing more than a glance. You hated how much you depended on him, how much you needed him, but he made it feel so natural, so right.

And even now, as you perched on the kitchen counter, watching the way his muscled back flexed with each movement, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the cutting board filling the space between you, you thought—maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I need.

Your gaze lingered. It was the only sight you ever wanted to see.

Caleb, as if sensing your attention, let out a low chuckle. "I can feel you staring, pipsqueak." He turned his head slightly, a boyish grin tugging at his lips. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Your heart stuttered. No matter how much he changed over the years, that grin—that teasing, infuriating grin—never did.

"You're a terrible chef," you huffed, crossing your arms. "I’ve been waiting for my dish for, what? An hour now?"

He snorted. "Fifteen minutes, actually."

"Felt longer."

"Impatient as ever." He shook his head, flipping something onto a plate with practiced ease.

You chuckled softly, but the warmth in your chest flickered, cooling as a shadow of uncertainty crept into your mind. You hated thinking about the future. The unpredictability of it, the way it loomed, stretching out like an abyss, no matter how tightly you tried to hold onto the present.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Caleb moving until his presence was right there. His hand shot out, pinching your cheek.

"Finally got your attention, pips." His voice was teasing, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

You groaned, swatting his hand away as he set your plate aside. His violet eyes—always so sharp, so unnervingly aware—locked onto yours.

"What's going on in that little head of yours, hmm?" He leaned in slightly, voice still playful, but now edged with something serious.

You hesitated.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid to ask. But the words clawed at your throat, relentless.

"I was just thinking..." you mumbled, staring down at your dangling feet.

"Rare sight." He smirked.

You shot him a glare and shoved at his chest, earning a low chuckle.

"Shut up." You exhaled, fingers tightening around the hem of your shirt. Then, before you could lose your nerve— "Caleb, do you see me in your future?"

The teasing glint in his eyes faded instantly.

For the first time in the conversation, his smirk disappeared, replaced by something unreadable. He stared at you, brow furrowing slightly, as if trying to figure out why the hell you’d ask something so ridiculous.

Then—without hesitation— "You’re the only thing I’m certain about in my future."

Your breath hitched.

"It’s you, by my side, exploiting me as your personal slave." His lips quirked up, but you knew him too well. The humor was a shield, a flimsy attempt to soften the truth beneath it.

And the truth was—Caleb didn’t make promises easily. He was a liar, through and through. You knew that. Hell, he was probably the biggest liar you’d ever met.

But right now?

There was no lie in his voice. No hesitation in his certainty.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t feel so terrifying.

But doubt was a cruel thing. It never let go easily.

"But what if I’m not the same?" you murmured, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your shirt.

Caleb scoffed, ruffling your hair with a tenderness that contradicted the smug grin on his face.

"Then I’ll adapt to whatever version of you I get." His voice was soft, but his grip—his presence—was solid.

Your throat tightened as warmth bloomed in your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, breathing him in.

"Even if I become the worst version of myself?" you teased, tilting your head slightly.

Caleb hummed, amused. "If that’s the case, I’ll just make sure I become the best version of myself." He leaned in, voice dropping to something lower, something that sent a shiver down your spine. "And if your worst self turns out to be particularly sadistic, well..." His lips barely brushed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I’ll make sure to satisfy your cravings, baby"

Heat coiled in your stomach. You barely had a second to react before he pulled back, pressing a finger to your lips just as you tried to close the distance.

"Ah-ah. Eat first, pips."

You groaned. "You’re impossible."

He chuckled, eyes glinting with something dark, something possessive. Something that promised—no matter what version of yourself you became, he would always be there.

With Caleb, there was only one certainty in life—

You would always have someone who loved you unconditionally.

[bambooswordwielder]

Obsessed with the fact that Shen Yuan only transmigrates when all the Peaklords have settled into their positions for a few years because the idea of Shang Qinghua being stuck watching Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge arguing for nth time about some budget detail that is DEFINITELY getting overblown now and just being stuck thinking

"Damn this would've been such a good enemies to lovers plot line... Imagine how much I could've made off of them..." and regretting not monetising their rivalry more before he killed off Liu Qingge ( "Oh and the angst Shen Qingqiu would've faced after his secret lover died and everyone blamed him for it! Fans would've been begging for more extras!" 🐹💔)

Like all the peaklords are desperately trying to mediate and fix the situation and Shang Qinghua is just imagining his one hundredth Fix-It Fic/AU where Shen Jiu is the King's trusted scholar and Liu Qingge is the King's personal bodyguard

Everyone thinks when a single tear falls from Shang Qinghua's eyes its because during Liu Qingge and Shen Jiu's fight they destroyed both his newly drafted budget (for the fifth time that month) and the fact they also destroyed the table (for the third time that week and the week just started)

Reality is Shang Qinghua is crying because he thought of an angsty death scene for the two Romeo and Juliet style because both their families couldn't accept them being together

Years of this pass and at some point he even picks up writing again (specifically about characters clearly based on Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge) and he gets really popular, popular enough his novels start to flood all of Cang Qiong and even Liu Mingyan takes some inspiration from them

Everyone knows damn well that the characters are clearly meant to be Peaklord Shen and Peaklord Liu, but no one tells because they all are legitimately waiting for the next volume of "Battle-to-your-poisonous-heart-and-peaches"

Does everyone know it's Shang Qinghua... Noooo.. Would anyone admit if they did know.... No.

Then all the sudden on day Shen Qingqiu suddenly looked in the dictionary and discovered what the word 'nice' is and now he doesn't abuse his students 🐹🤯

He even let himself get poisoned and potentially ruined his cultivation for life for Luo Binghe of all people!? Um excuse Airplane Logic, but the MC is supposed to only get all the good stuff AFTER he falls into the abyss!

And what's this about Liu Qingge helping to 'clear' his meridians so he has to personally visit Qing Jing peak every week?? Def something is off, an author knows fishy when he sees it

For how many years Shang Qinghua is stuck watching these two do their whole "You're my precious Shidi" and "I'll always be here for you" act and he's just stuck eating dogfood wondering when exactly is the marriage extra coming in and why the System won't tell me why Shen Qingqiu is acting all happy go lucky now

Shang Qinghua notices Shen Qingqiu talking to Yue Qingyuan more, he notices Qing Jing disciples running straight to Shen Qingqiu with joy and excitement rather than the reserved fear they had before, he notices how Shen Qingqiu only glares at him twice every meeting than before!

Maybe this isn't his version of PIDW, maybe it's a fan made version where Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu fall in love and with the power of love and friendship Shen Qingqiu learns to be kind and to care and isn't going to cause Luo Binghe to go down his dark path and maybe they can all have a happyily ever after—

*Endless Abyss Arc*

"Oh fuck–"

[Before Endless Abyss Arc]

*Shang Qinghua watching from a distance as Luo Binghe is practically clinging to Shen Qingqiu's side. Shen Qingqiu pats Luo Binghe's head and Luo Binghe does THAT smile he only does for his wives*

"Well this is an interesting fanfic..."

[After Airplane Reveal]

"Wait... So you're actually a transmigrater as well, Cucumber-Bro?"

"Yeah, and?"

"..."

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Do you hate, or have you at least at some point hated, Liu Qingge?"

"I– No–Wait what???"

"Let me reword it. Have you ever considered murdering him at one point?"

"WHYAREYOUASKINGMETHESEQUESTIONS!? YOUKNOWWHATHAPPENEDTOSHENJIU! IMNOTRISKINGHISFATE!"

"... So I'll take that as a no."

"OBVIOUSLY!?"

"So it's just a normal Friends to lovers 😮‍💨 No flavour 🙄"

Shang Qinghua was then brutally attacked.

[During the Five Years SY was dead]

*Shang Qinghua watching Liu Qingge go every single day to fight Luo Binghe for Shen Qingqiu's body*

"Oh my Airplane.... It's not a enemies-to-lovers... It's not Teacher X Disciple... It's a bloody love triangle with both! Oh how much money this plot would've made me 💔 I would've been able to pay for four months worth of rent and groceries!"

Random Disciple visiting An Ding: "Um.... Is Shang-Shibo okay? He fell on the ground?"

An Ding Disciple: "Leave him. He does that sometimes. Now about your budget request..."

*Shang Qinghua screaming in the background*

Random Disciple: "..."

An Ding Disciple: "..."

Random Disciple: "Should we check on–"

An Ding Disciple, now dragging other disciple away: "Let's settle this at your peak."

Years later when Bingqiu have already had their wedding and everyone has become somewhat tolerant of their relationship, Shang Qinghua just sighs loudly and Shen Yuan asks him what's up. Shang Qinghua looks him in the eyes and just shakes his head.

"My ship...💔"

"..."

"OW– Why did you have go hit me on the head!?"

"Because I don't want to know what's going on in there and I need to make sure what's in there stays in there."

[enha-files]

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐋𝓔𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 ◞ ( 𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 )

✶ 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝓲𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . as nominations have ended, we are happy to announce that the voting period has started! please, read the post and vote your fav writers! ‎˃̵ᴗ˂̵ we would like to congratulate our nominees on being selected for our award show ! check out the nominees below :

❨ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 ❩ you can vote for your favourite blog for any of the categories listed below in this google form ! keep in mind : you cannot vote for yourself or buy votes. do not self-promote under this post or make any similar posts! ◟ check out!

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝟢𝟏 ❜ the main awards

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for writer of the year ◟ dani ( @flwrstqr ) cael ( @boyfhee ) jiah ( @okwonyo ) luna ( @fairqves ) jennifer ( @tzyunaes ) ren ( @mygnolia )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for fic of the year ◟ adore you ( @yeokii ) 1O things i hate about you ( @yenqa ) love at first speed ( @jaylver ) no doubt ( @jakesimfromstatefarm ) candlelit ( @/boyfhee )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for smau of the year ◟ situationship ( @yizmiu ) that's your boyfriend ? ( @jlheon ) love, money, fame ( @coqhee ) one note ( @filmbyjy ) choose you ( @fgumi ) good graces ( @juyeoz )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best themes ◟ jiah ( @/okwonyo ) hana ( @/yeokii ) mitchie ( @seokgyuu ) sophia ( @strawbyein ) rei ( @soov ) sru ( @bywons )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for blog of the year ◟ jiah ( @/okwonyo ) dani ( @flwrstqr ) ronnie ( @heejamas ) cael ( @/boyfhee ) adrianna ( @hoonquette ) vanya ( @star-sim )

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝟢𝟐 ❜ the other awards

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best new writer ◟ jennifer ( @tzyunaes ) sophia ( @strawbyein ) dani ( @flwrstqr ) eun ( @jaysng ) xuan ( @mioons ) mari ( @all4aoki )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best drabble ◟ how to drink ( @/soov ) don’t forget to kiss me ( @yuons ) secret glances ( @levandright ) spoiled rotten ( @/boyfhee ) nobody’s home ( @weoris ) tryna change your mind ( @/okwonyo )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best one shot ◟ ms & mr. president ( @/jlheon ) emails i never meant to send ( @onlyjjong ) my love (mine all mine) ( @/star-sim ) when tracks align ( @calychuchis ) heartshaker ( @/bywons ) love, leashes and second chances ( @amoressb )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best fluff fic ◟ adore you ( @/yeokii ) custom-made ( @/soov ) the art & science of parenting 101 ( @/jakesimfromstatefarm ) still into you ( @i2sunric ) the better ( @/fgumi ) take a chance with me ( @dksfml )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best angst fic ◟ the tattoo on my ring finger ( @thatfeelingwhenyou ) maybe in another universe ( @leaderwon ) with or without ( @/bywons ) out of my head ( @babeyun ) astronomy ( @pshcomforts ) bandaids are no good for the heartache ( @hugz4hoon )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best au ◟ hogwarts!au — forbidden taste ( @elikajinnie ) spiderman!au — head over heels ( @/star-sim ) hacker & college!au — hacked ( @misojunnie ) soulmate!au — off my face ( @dksfml ) memory loss!au — spring snow ( @leaderwonim ) gymrat!au — gymrat!sunghoon headcannons ( @/yuons )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best headcannons ◟loser in a hot man’s body ( @/fgumi ) pulling them by their belt ( @/boyfhee ) pearls&diamonds ( @/okwonyo ) falling for my mc! ( @mygnolia ) signs of affection ( @hhmnya ) stuck with you ( @/flwrstqr )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best plot ◟ head over heels ( @/star-sim ) safe & sound ( @thatfeelingwhenyou ) bandaids ( @dazzlingjaeyun ) the redroom ( @enhastars ) the art & science of parenting 101 ( @/jakesimfromstatefarm ) race for your heart ( @coqhee )

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ • 𝟢𝟑 ❜ fan favourite awards

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best most loved blog ◟ jiah ( @/okwonyo ) dani ( @/flwrstqr ) juni ( @/yuons ) lily ( @lilyberyls ) alice ( @jayflrt ) vanya ( @/star-sim )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best fan favourite fic ◟ ms & mr president ( @/jlheon ) maybe in another universe ( @/leaderwon ) midas touch ( @/okwonyo ) against all the tides ( @jaylver ) to weave my love ( @mygnolia ) no doubt ( @/jakesimfromstatefarm )

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎for best writing style ◟ sru ( @/bywons ) cael ( @/boyfhee ) juni ( @/yuons ) rin ( @jaylver ) violet ( @byhees ) bug ( @heedeungism )

【 roll call ! 】 please make sure to vote every category! we wish you the best of luck join our discord server to keep yourself updated on all the announcements, interviews, and special things we’ve created for the enha-files awards ! ᴖ ᴈ ᴖ

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ᐢ..ᐢ we hope you do take part in our first event ! thank you ♡

[strwbrychffoncke]

"santa, baby,, 3.2k words synopsis: after being spoiled by sylus all year round, you struggle to find the perfect thing to gift back— so you decide, what better than to gift yourself ? contains: sylus x f?reader (no phys. desc. but later described to be wearing a dress so take that how u will) not specifically lads mc but u are a hunter (there's just one line from his melodic waves (?) card + called "miss hunter" by the twins) ,lots of fluff ,starts off w unestablished relationship (& later unfolds.. the feelings are mutual) ,slight yearning ,angst if you squint hard enough ,sylus throwing money at u bc he can ,decorating ft. the twins ,kinda needy sylus ,teasing (goes both ways) ,soft!sylus ,kissing -> makeout ,slight marking (receiving) ,sylus slings you over his shoulder (wander in wonder style.... heart eyes) ,implied suggestiveness + twins shenanigans at the end LOL that should be it.... note: managed to write an excuse into the story for releasing this after christmas heh.... i seriously was so stuck & maybe it was bc the amount of fics i cranked out after not writing fics for so long?? but i still like this & hope you will too :x dedicated to the sylus lovers: i love u i hope u can forgive me for being late w this

-

sylus has never been one for the holidays.

he didn't really have a reason to celebrate anything, so he didn't go out of his way to do so, continuing with business as usual while barely registering when these dates would come and go.

the only tell that such holidays were close was the small decorations set up around the base, courtesy of the twins.

he grew accustomed to walking into his office, a small christmas tree set up on his desk along with a string of little red lights draped across the front of it, small crow embellishments hanging around the place and paper snowflakes strung from the ceiling.

and he doesn't think he can forget the sight of the twins struggling to fit a ridiculously-sized (and real, mind you) spruce tree through the front of the door.

at the time, sylus only shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"what do you two think you're doing?"

"oh, hi boss!" they'd said in unison before kieran continued.

"well, you know, christmas is coming up already," he started.

"-and you don't have a christmas tree!" luke finished.

"...did you two cut this one down yourselves?"

"why, of course!" they answered together proudly.

sylus only sighed in response.

"do whatever you wish..." he trailed off, walking out of the living area back down the hall, some classic holiday song fading as his steps receded further.

this was all until you entered the picture.

as your relationship (whatever it may be) continued to grow with sylus, so too did your visits to the N109 zone, and by extension, his mansion.

for this reason, your more frequent visits reflected in the usually dark mansion: a cute yet out-of-place mug in the sink, pink towels in one of the bathrooms, some clothes left astray in the guest bedroom, even some cute lamps and decorations in the main living area (that sylus would make a teasing comment about once noticing, but make no move to take down, even encouraging you to add anything else you like. to him, his space was yours).

but in your most recent visit to sylus' place, you noticed the sheer lack of any change since you'd last stopped by about a week prior.

—not that he was one for decorating in the first place, but did he really not have any festive cheer anywhere in his little den?

when you barged into his office and spoke out about how the place looked exactly the same when christmas was so close by, joking about him having no holiday spirit, he only let out a hearty chuckle before offering you his card with a simple "then why don't you fix that, sweetie?"

he watched amused as your eyes glimmered with excitement, snatching up his card before happily scampering away to your laptop to begin your shopping, his eyes following you all the way till you were out of sight.

"such a simple kitten," he muttered to himself, smirk adorning his lips before he got back to work.

in no time at all, the halls were adorned with shiny silver tinsel (in which mephisto had so generously helped you put up), a faux black christmas tree was set up in the living area with cute twinkling lights, and silver and red ornaments came in several boxes (among all the other small decorations you had to put up in other various rooms).

when luke and kieran stumbled upon you opening the ornament boxes, they basically offered themselves up to help you with the tree.

you tilted your head at them, confused.

"you two really want to help me?"

"please, miss!" luke begged.

"we won't cause any trouble, swear it!" kieran finished.

"no, its not that— you can help, that's fine, but—"

"yay!" they cheered in unison.

"—if you guys like to decorate, then why didn't you put up any decorations for christmas?"

they blinked at you behind their masks.

"did you miss our decorating job?" luke tilted his head.

"yeah, we did more than we usually do!" kieran piped up.

you blinked at them.

"what are you—"

"didn't you see the little christmas tree in boss' office?"

"and the little hat by mephisto's perch!"

"not to mention our hand-cut snowflakes... those are difficult, you know???"

"...you call that decorating?" you deadpan. "what's so different about them this time, then?"

"ah," luke began, excited.

"we put up a bunch of mistletoe!" they spoke in unison.

"thats—"

"now, lets get to the tree!" kieran quickly changed the subject.

"yeah, im itching to put these up!" luke finished, eyes trained on the boxes of ornaments.

in your momentary shock, they seemed to have closed the distance in the blink of an eye, sorting through the boxes themselves and beginning to map them out on the tree.

while they begin their fun, you imagine being caught under the mistletoe with sylus, imagining the look in his eyes as he looks down at you before closing his eyes, leaning in, his lips moving closer and closer—

you snap back to reality, shaking the image out of your head.

you breathe out a sigh to try and calm your racing heart, turning around as you wonder if sylus put the twins up to that, or if they decided to hang them all up on their own accord.

you push the thought away as you join the twins in embellishing the tree, ignoring their bantering as they babble about how perfect mephisto would act as the tree topper instead of some lousy star.

-

"hey," you pipe up, hanging an ornament on a free spot between the branches. "what would you two like for christmas?"

the twins stop for a moment before looking at you behind their masks, tilting their heads.

"huh?"

you look back at them.

"what do you want for christmas?" you ask again, eyes darting between both masks trained on you.

the idea being foreign to them, they think about it for a long moment before ultimately shrugging.

"dunno," they answer in unison.

"well, try thinking of something. a new gun, another type of weapon, new matching masks, anything at all."

"hmmm...."

while they're lost in thought, muttering to each other about how their current gear could benefit from an upgrade even if its still perfectly intact, your mind drifts back to sylus.

what would sylus want for christmas?

you think about everything that he has, how he so easily either hands you or swipes his card without batting an eye, and where you are right now: in his mansion.

what could you possibly gift to a man who already has everything?

-

a couple of days later, sylus takes his leave for a deal, expecting it to be over quickly. he tells you to stay at the mansion if you wish while he's gone before he's out the door (not without taking one lasting glance at the decorated tree, a pleased smile subconsciously curling on his lips before the door clicks shut).

having him leave is both a blessing and a curse: you can easily brainstorm more ideas of what to get for him out in the open, but your heart seems to long for his presence within an hour of him gone.

which is how you find yourself plopping down into his office chair, spinning back in forth in it as you let out a sigh, allowing the lingering scent of him to envelop you as you think.

anything you thought up either seemed too simple, or it was something he could easily have.

jewelry? he had plenty, for you and him both, and could easily obtain more.

cologne? he already had a small collection, but would favor the ones that you said you liked the most.

vinyls? not a bad idea, but you weren't sure if you were willing to sort through his entire collection to find one that he was missing (or if one you got him would even be his taste).

when you asked the twins, they both answered "a new karaoke machine!" to which you swiftly shut down and left the room, mumbling about how they were no help at all.

not that his actual singing voice was any bad per se, but....

you shuddered at the ego boost he'd undoubtedly get from receiving such a gift from you.

like you needed to inflate it any further.

your mind wanders to him; the way he seeks you out in the form of bugging you, always finding a way to turn the tables on you and tease you after he started something, the way he'd never back down when you bite back, the constant petnames and lasting glances—

the way he'd playfully (or not) respond to something you said, on several occasions:

"i'm not sure friends is the right term for us, kitten."

you jolt at the memory of his words hearing his voice crystal clearly, remembering how close he was when he murmured them to you, the way you looked back at him wanting so badly to close the distance when the moment was interrupted, leaving you wondering if there was truth to his words (the look in his eyes definitely suggested it) or if he was simply teasing you again.

and suddenly, it hits you.

what if... i gift myself to sylus for christmas?

you ponder the idea for a moment.

as ridiculous as you think it is, you want more than anything to go through with it anyway.

in the worst case, he may just laugh it off and tease you to no end.

embarrassing at most, sure, but nothing you (probably) couldn't live with.

and in the best case?

"..."

you shake your head, taking deep breaths as you try not to work yourself up with your wishful thinking before rolling the chair back slightly.

with the anticipation of sylus' reaction to this genius idea, you start thinking about an outfit that would be fitting for the occasion.

and given the nature of your gift, the only thing you really need is some ribbon.

-

sylus was tired. the meeting of the deal lasted much longer than anticipated, and all he wanted was to return back to the mansion and spend his precious time with you.

he had half a mind to call it off and blow the place up for wasting his time before dashing back to you, pulling you close and never letting you go.

—but this client would serve to benefit him, so he restrained himself enough to power through it

(images of your cute, angry expression at pulling such a stunt almost tempted him but the thought of you berating him crossed his mind served in helping him to resist the urge).

when the day finally came to return home to you, he wasn't afraid to hide how eager he was, wrapping everything up swiftly before letting them deal with the rest, and hastily making his way back to you via driving.

when he arrived back, the first thing that floated through the entrance was some festive, almost flirty christmas tune.

he shut the door, making his way through the place before pausing at the sight before him.

-

sylus had texted you over an hour ago, with a simple "be home soon, kitten," leaving you to run around and prepare your surprise, ultimately resulting in your current position.

"come on..."

you're sat by the foot of the tree, trying to tie the last piece of ribbon over your head when it slips from your grasp yet again.

"ugh..."

for your outfit, you settled on a cute off-the-shoulder knitted dress paired with some stockings, leg warmers, and some pretty jewelry to finish it off— it was the cutest outfit you could put together while also ensuring you'd stay warm (considering you weren't too sure how long you'd have to wait, and the mansion seemed to have a natural cold air about it, even with the fireplace running).

you'd tied the ribbon into bows around each of your wrists and ankles, even going as far as to add a silly stick-on bow that was meant for wrapped gifts onto your chest, giggling to yourself at the absurdity of your plan.

you grasp the ribbon you're struggling with, curling it around your neck instead, thinking it a better place to tie a bow when a voice interrupts you.

"well, this is a surprise."

you almost jump at the voice, turning your head to meet with the man of the hour, hands on on his hips, head slightly tilted, and most notably...

his sharp, crimson gaze directed completely on you.

sylus' eyes drag over your figure, admiring the way the dress hugs you, accessories sitting pretty (your bare shoulders seeming to beg for his attention), adorned with cute ribbons all tied up around you, short laugh escaping him at the sight of the bow stuck to your chest.

"we-welcome back," you breathe out, suddenly nervous under his intense gaze.

he slowly steps towards you.

"how did this pretty little kitten find her way under my tree, hm?"

at his tease, you manage to get over your initial shock enough to bite back a response.

"you know what it means for something to be under the tree this month, don't you?"

he's right before you now, eyes dancing with amusement as he continues gazing down at you.

what a sight you were this up close.

"hmmm, its been awhile. why don't you remind me," he bends down to your level. "kitten."

"well," you tilt your head slightly. "during this month, presents are placed under the tree, waiting to be opened by their recipients on christmas day."

"go on..."

"the presents are also wrapped up in pretty paper and sometimes decorated with bows."

"uh-huh," he nods along.

you've dragged out the explanation knowing he already knows all of this, and he's still waiting for you to explicitly say why you're there yourself.

"so... it seems you've gotten a pretty expensive gift this year."

he smirks.

"oh? the sender must be quite.. generous."

"quite generous, indeed." you agree.

he kneels down properly now, hand reaching out to grasp your chin between his fingers before tilting it up.

"this... gift... wouldn't happen to come with an instruction manual or anything, would it?"

his free hand is slowly tugging at the bow you'd just tied around your neck, loosening it as he keeps the end grasped between his fingers.

his gaze holds both mischief and something else.

admiration? adoration?

who knows.

you laugh.

"nope. the only thing you need to know about this gift," you reach a hand out, holding it against his chest. "is that it's all yours."

and thats what does it for him.

the second he processes those words, no other response is given except his lips crashing into yours, his scent (the real thing) enveloping you as you're slowly consumed by him.

before you know it, you're lying on your back against the floor, sylus hovering over you as he continues, lips dancing with fervor against yours, silk ribbon lost somewhere between you both leaving your neck more barren— not that you really noticed.

when he separates to catch his breath he does so for only a moment before diving down to kiss your jawline and down your neck. your arms are wound around his neck, panting as you try to catch your breath.

"sylus..."

"you are all i've ever wanted," he speaks against your skin, kissing across your shoulders before nipping at the skin.

"well, i th-thought, you might appr-eciate the pre-sent, hah" you manage in between gasps due to his ministrations.

he pulls back to look into your eyes, the love and adoration circling his dark gaze so deeply you momentarily get lost in them.

he cups your cheek in his warm hand, watching as you immediately nuzzle into it.

his eyes rake over you again, now slightly disheveled, still catching your breath in puffs of air through your parted lips, watching him expectantly as pretty marks already begin to bloom across your exposed neck and shoulders.

he shudders.

"i think... id like to play with my new gift someplace else."

before you can ask him what he means, your vision is turned upside down as he easily lifts you up with one arm, slinging you over his shoulder before standing upright, and making his way towards his bedroom.

though, on the way, he's interrupted (much to your embarrassment).

he's halfway down the hall when a voice pipes up out of nowhere.

"boss! oh- and miss hunter!"

its none other than the twins.

"sylus, sylus! put me- put me down!" you plead from behind, hitting at his back and kicking at his front.

"what is it?" sylus speaks curtly, paying absolutely no mind to your pleads and hits, instead bringing his free arm to hold your legs down firmly against his front.

"first of all, welcome back!" kieran starts.

"secondly, we were wondering..." he trails off, feeling a little strange.

"—when we'd get to open our presents!" luke finishes for him, kieran nodding along excitedly.

sylus deadpans.

"what?"

"well, miss hunter said she would get us presents—"

"—and we want to know when we can open them up!"

sylus lets out a short, pleased laugh.

"is that so? well, miss hunter, what do you think?" he turns his head slightly, awaiting your answer.

you've given up fighting him at this point, having gone limp in sylus hold, but respond anyway.

"you're supposed to open them christmas morning—"

"but didn't we miss that because boss was gone?" kieran interrupts.

"yeah, you insisted to wait for him so that we could open them all together!" luke accuses.

sylus' expression takes one of surprise suddenly.

"oh? is that true?"

"yes!" the twins answer for you.

"well in that case.. you can't make them wait forever, miss hunter," sylus teases, dragging out the pet name as he jostles you slightly in his hold.

the movement elicits a sound of surprise from you, gripping onto sylus shoulder with one hand and his arm that's holding you securely with the other, steadying yourself before lifting your head up slightly, enough to speak into sylus' ear.

"they can open them once we're done!"

you glance back at the twins as a pleased smirk curls on sylus' lips.

"you'll get to open them soon enough, just practice exercising a little more patience. we'll be ready shortly."

and with that, sylus walks past the twins, whisking you away to his bedroom and making sure to lock the door (should the twins get any ideas in their inevitable impatience).

a light snow had begun to fall and a quiet calm enveloped the base as sylus took his time to unwrap you, savoring you and keeping you warm from the cold, finally uniting together and become one another's in the truest sense, words of love and affirmations warming you both to your cores.

and sylus thought maybe, just maybe, the holidays really were worth celebrating, so long as it was with you.

-

extra:

the twins had watched sylus make the rest of his way down the hall with you in tow, waving at you as you mouthed apologies behind his back before you both disappeared behind his door.

"do you think theyre—"

"oh definitely," luke answered, knowing what his brother was thinking.

"hell yeah, boss man!" kieran cheered, fist pumping in the air.

"but in that case... how much longer do you think we'll have to wait?" luke wondered aloud, mask turning to look at his brother.

"hmmm...." kieran gave it a long thought.

"..."

"we're definitely not opening them tonight."

-

a/n: omg i finished it??!!? im quite pleased w this one, might need one more editing job later but i feel satisfied.... to the rafayel kissers.... what would u say if i said i had not a single idea for his fic.... im sorry ill figure it out, promise, i'll take a short (short) break from this one before trying to draft it & see how it comes out... thanks for your understanding......

[a-cloud-for-dreams]

@choicesficwriterscreations

Hey There! I saw this, and I couldn't agree more! Nothing says I love you more than "I'm willing to try this for you." And this works for all kinds of relationships: romance, friends, and family, too.

Would you be able to create something showing this for one of your characters or pairings? It could be a drabble, fic, edit, art - anything at all!

NO PRESSURE AT ALL - only if you want to, but I'd love to see what you could come up with!

A meeting in Wyoming (F!MC×Nik)

F!Main Character: Alex

Pairing: F!MC × Nik Ryder (Nightbound)

Summary: Alex and Nik were invited to visit Jacqueline in Wyoming, Alex's mom. Will Nik be able to impress his girlfriend's mother?

Word counting: 4.4K

Fluff ● Romance ● Comedy ● Family ● Winter

Rating: Teen/Mature (Fluff, Love, Comedy, Smut, Hurt)

Warnings: family problems, light and less detailed smut, parental problems, mention of death & unwanted pregnancy

Author's note: The funny childhood memories weren't made up... It was naughty me 🤭🤭 Also yes, I canon Nik's birthday beeing in winter... I decided to give him my birthday, January 23rd (01/23/??). Since according the Nightbound book, the Main Character's birthday takes place around Mardi Gras.

-> -> -> Full Masterlist here <- <- <-

Thank you so much to anyone who takes the time to read, like, comment, or reblog my stories/fanfics. It means so much to me! Please inform me if you would like to be added/removed from my new Tag List.

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @lilyoffandoms ; @lawrencebarkley ; @secretaryunpaid ; @blackcatkita ; @peonierose ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @mxdanni ; @jdstar88 ; @choicesficwriterscreations for the CFWC Holiday Event 2023 ; @choicesholidays & @choicesflashfics for the Winter Prompts

Prompt #1: "I'll try that, for you. I may not like it, but I'll try it."

Prompt #2: "I'm thankful for you" for @choicesholidays

Prompt #3: Winter, Family gathering, Pre-Christmas time, Old Memories, Christmas memories for CFWC Holiday Event on @choicesficwriterscreations

Prompt #4: "Now, I’m really nervous to meet your family." for @choicesflashfics

Prompt #5: "I made you two some hot chocolate too." for @choicesflashfics

On cold winter day in Wyoming, the young couple in their formal business wears stepped inside the elevator, pressed the button to reach the highest floor of the crystalline building. They're soon to meet and enter the office of Jacqueline Fontaine, mother of Alex Clarissa Fontaine.

"Looking handsome today, Nik. Like a real business man.", she praised Nik's new outfit. Both of them carrying their wet winter coats in their arms.

"Have to look great if I want to impress your mom, right? And you look like a real business woman, rook.", he confessed to Alex who wore a light blouse, a black skirt and matching heeled boots.

"Thanks, Nik. My mother is a business woman, why not show some respect, huh? She likes a formal dresscode. Besides, don't forget to behave yourself too. The look isn't the only thing that matters."

"I always behave myself, rook. You sayin' this to me?? I'm a total gentleman. No big deal, relax. Let's just quickly make-out a bit in the elevator before someone else enters it. Besides, it'll take time till we reach the top of the building. So why not enjoy a bit and loosen ourselves?"

"Niiiiiiik, behave. Not in my mom's office.", she rolled her eyes and he chuckled as she delievered a soft, playful punch on his shoulder

"Just kiddin', rook. Don't worry. But... You look so damn hot today that I would like to. Not my fault that you're ruining the gentleman inside me.", he mischevously smiled at her.

As the two reached the highest floor, they left the elevator and walked hand in hand towards the dark, wooden door with a metallic name plate on it. It said: Jacqueline Fontaine's Office (Accountant & CEO). (-> Pinterest moodboard here)

"We're here. You nervous?", she asked him and knocked lightly at the door.

"Maybe a little. Damn, she's a successful business woman. She must have high standards and I... Now, I’m really nervous to meet your family. What did you told your mom about me?"

"Uhhh, that you're a hot police officer. I mean... I couldn't tell her that you're a nighthunter, right? The supernatural world must be a secret for the safety of both worlds. And umm, a police officer seem to be the clostest related to your job, right?"

"Guess so. Hey, why isn't your mom opening?"

"Hmmm, guess I didn't knocked loud enough or she isn't here.", Alex wondered and decided to open the door herself.

With Nik close behind her, she stepped inside the office where her mother was sitting at her large desk, but she wasn't alone. Infront of her were her clients seated who were probably discussing a business matter with her. Alex's mother got surprised when she suddenly saw her daughter infront of her. The mother wore a light blouse and a short, black skirt which. Earrings were hidden behind her black, shoulder-lenght hair. Her fair skin was covered with make-up. For her age, the woman has definitly held herself good.

"Alex??! Dear, what are you doing here all of a sudden? I'm having a very important business meeting. Very important, dear.", she signaled to leave.

"But... But you wanted to meet us and..."

"Later, darling. Later, not now. Wait in the hall for me. And next time, you better knock before entering.", she stood up and ushered her and Nik outside of the room to leave. The door got closed infront of the two.

"Damn, that was... rude. Rook, didn't you informed your mom that we were coming? Was there an exact time planned or..."

"Shut up, Nik!!! Quiet!!! I'm super annoyed and disappointed right now!!! And of course, I informed her!!! The fact that she's the one who invited us.", she faced him with anger which made Nik worry.

Of course she wasn't mad at him, but somehow he felt hurt by her harsh words like shutting him up. They rarely had a fight and if they were argueing, then it was often how overprotective Nik was or how Alex put herself into danger again.

"I... I'm sorry, rook.", he looked away and both took a seat on a nearby couch in the waiting area. For a few minutes it was total silence between the couple. Nik waiting that Alex would calm herself down. When he finally looked at her, he saw her wrapping her arms around herself and rubbing them against her body while closing her eyes.

"Rook, are you okay?", he got worried and moved closer for a hug.

"It's cold. I hate winter."

"I was born in winter."

"I hate the winter, not you. I'm sorry how I yelled at you. Now please, take me home."

"But we just arrived in Wyoming, rookie. The flight took five hours and... Who told you to wear a skirt? Suffering for fashion."

"I know, I know, I regret that too. Let's... let's go to my home in Wyoming. My mom's home. Let's take our luggage back from the reception downstairs and go.", she finally opened her chocolate-brown eyes to meet his.

After the young couple in their winter coats collected their luggage from the receptionist who was so kind to take care of it, so they didn't had to carry or roll it around. She also handed Alex a mysterious envelope and gave direction to the nearest bus stop.

Both put on their winter gloves while they waited for the bus outside in the cold until it arrived. It was already full of passangers, so they had to stand and hold on tight. The gloved hands tightly wrapped around the holding loops as their bodies were pressed at eachother's.

"Why's the bus so full?", Alex got upset.

"Hey, cheer up. At least you're stuck here with me.", he tried to lighten up her mood, removed his hand from the holding loop to hold her's which made her smile.

After a short drive, Nik and Alex arrived infront of a nice family house. It was a sturdy two-story residence designed with a wide garden, large balconies, a screened-in front porch and a free-standing garage. A few CCTV cameras guarded the property, but that wouldn't stop Alex from entering her own mother's home where she spent most of her childhood.

"Nice place, rookie", he let a low whistle out while he inspected the property.

"Oh yeah? Wait till you see the penthouse my adoptive father gifted my mom on their anniversary. Now would you come over here and give me a lift?", she requested while trying to reach the nearest window of the house.

"Uhhh, where are the keys?"

"I don't have the keys, Nik. I gave them back to my mom after I decided to move out, silly.", she giggled and desperatly tried to reach the open window but failed. Instead her heeled winter boots made her slip, but Nik quickly managed to catch her and prevent her from falling.

"But Alex, we can't just break in like thiefs. That's illegal and right now your mom might be seeing us through these cameras she has placed around the house while sitting in her office. And the neighbors..."

"The neighbors know me, unless they're new. Besides I'm Jacqueline's daughter, so everything what belongs to her, belongs to me. Well, maybe not everything, I think. But don't worry if the cops arrive, I'll talk to them. So could you just real quick climb through the window, enter the house and open the front door, please? I'm freezing."

"But your mom wouldn't be impressed by me. She'll hate me. I want to show her my best side, rook. I can be a true gentleman too."

"Would a true gentleman let a lady freeze in the cold outside?"

"Okay, fiiiine. I'll try that, for you. I may not like it, but I'll try it."

And with that Nik began to climb a tree near the building and slipped through the nearest open window inside Jacqueline's house. It would have been much easier if he wasn't wearing the nice, formal clothes and his new winter coat which Alex bought him for this trip. When he finally landed on stable ground, he searched for the light switch in dark room. When he found it, he turned on the light and discovered that he was standing in a kitchen.

"Guess Jacqueline is expecting guests today.", he wondered as he saw preperations of food and beautiful table decoration on the table.

Without losing any time he began heading towards the front door of the house to quickly let Alex inside. Poor girl must be already freezing outside. As he moved his hand towards the handle to finally open the door, he froze. He heard a clicking sound appearing from outside and the door lock began to move.

"Damn, someone's opening the door. Alex's mom is here!!! I'm doomed. I'm soooo doomed. Worse gentleman ever. She caught us and she'll..."

"Who caught us?"

"Alex?!!! How did you?", he couldn't believe his eyes that the one who's opening the door was Alex. She's alone. Nobody was standing behind her and she's holding the keys of the house in her hand.

"Nik, I just remembered. Mom did gave me the keys of her house!! Remember the receptionist? Mom delievered her second key through the receptionist to me. That's what was inside this envelope the whole time. Mom just texted me, she'll stop here by later.", she victoriously smiled while holding the key infront of Nik's face.

"I can't believe you, rookie. You're full of surprises.", Nik akwardly ran his hand over his hair, took the luggage from her and carried it inside as she closed the door from behind. Both rubbing the dirt away from their boots on the rug, getting off their winter gloves and hanging their coats on an empty standing clothes rack.

"Yup, sorry that you had to climb. Now we're inside, so we can relax a bit. I'll show you the house."

"I already saw the kitchen. What I'm interested to see is your room? I bet it's upstairs.", he grinned, left the luggage in the hall and already sprinted upstairs.

"Don't you dare, Nik!!!", she quickly followed behind him to catch him.

"Stop me if you can, rook!!"

"Holy light... So much... pink?", his eyes gotten wider as he stood inside Alex's childhood room and analyzed his surroundings.

The children room was still in a good condition and looked very cozy. The pink painted walls were decorated with pictures and posters of flowers and majestic horses. Even the blankets, pillows and sheets on the bed were pink. Almost everything was pink, white and lavender colored. Soft plush animals were lined up on the bed. A white plush kitty, a pink plush bunny and more little cuddly friends.

Nik moved closer to a book shelf, bending little down to inspect the books. Children books about princesses, fairies, unicorns and other fairytales.

"I always dreamed to be a fairy, talk to animals and save the world.", Alex leaned against the doorframe and explained. Her eyes shimmering with happiness as she got reunited with her past and the beautiful, old memories she had as a little girl.

"Well, your dream got true. You're partly fae. Royalty and with your powers you can do anything. Even save the world."

"Yeah, somehow you're right. Just the fairy wings are missing. I wish I could fly."

"But you get to fly on a dragon in the fae realm."

"Hmm... Well... I also dreamed of a prince. My dream prince, a prince charming who will take care of me, make me happy and shower me with love. Just like Prince Phillip and Princess Aurora from Sleeping Beauty. But instead I got the Prince of Swords. I got you, Nik. And I wouldn't trade it for anything because I love you just the way you are.", she happily confessed, moved closer to him and rested her arms around his shoulders while he pulled her even closer till their lips were about to meet.

"You're truely a beauty, Alex. I love you too and I'm glad you came into my life. You're... you're so damn perfect. You're gorgeously beautiful, my princess. No, you're my Queen.", he got closer and moved his arms around her waist. His cheeks leaning to hers as he planted a kiss.

"Oh, Nik...", she leaned closer to him and grabbed the black tie he was wearing. Nik Ryder looked like a handsome gentlemen today. Since she saw him in this formal suit. Well groomed and the masculine smell of his long-lasting perfume which she couldn't resist, so she started kissing him.

"Careful, I don't want to be covered with red lipstick marks. Your mom wouldn't...", he tried to warn her, but didn't pull away. He couldn't resist her either. He wanted more and closed the distance between them. He is all over her. His arms are around her and his lips seeking her's. She couldn't resist and he couldn't resist. The two of them are locked in a passionate embrace, feeling the hot closeness of their bodies, enjoying the sensations the other evokes. Lost in that moment.

Yet it’s not enough, and Nik was feeling it too. He eventually broke away from her and looked deep into her chocolate-brown eyes.

"I don’t want to talk any more," he confessed intensely and led her to the bed. "I want you, Alex. I wanted you before too. Now. Here. With me."

Soon enough, both tumbled onto the bed and proceeded to explore one another, discovering which touches are the most pleasing. Nik was everything she fantasized he would be and equally committed to giving pleasure as receiving it. Alex didn't care anymore that she was lying with Nik on her large childhood bed. And surprisingly it was enough space for both of them.

Together they stoked the fires of desire until neither of them could bear it any more. They came together again and again. The feel of being as one is all-consuming and they almost lost the track of all time.

In the end, both let the waves of pleasure cascade over eachother and then collapsed into one another’s waiting arms.

Nik looked into her face, his eyes slightly wide and an expression of almost awe on his face. "You're so… incredible."

"So are you, Nik."

After an intiminate moment and some kisses, they finally pulled away from eachother and were heading back downstairs.

"Alex, you're so smokin' hot. I want you to seduce me. Let's... let's... let's continue this later.", he wispered.

"Nik, you're beeing so naughty right now. In my mom's house? Where is your gentleman behavior now?", she giggled and gave his shoulder a soft punch.

"I have fallen under your spell, my beautiful Queen."

"Yes, my King."

After Alex showed Nik the rest of the house. Both entered the livingroom at last where they got greeted with a small hiss. On a nearby shelf there was a small, green snake in a terrarium watching them which made Nik a little nervous. Jacqueline's pet snake, Slitter.

"Guess, it doesn't like us. Very typical. Slitter only likes my mom and nobody else. Still wishing it was a cuddly kitten or bunny instead of a snake."

But Nik got busy admiring the family photos hanging on the wall. The young people on the picture were looking so happy. A happy family. A family he also wanted to have and share his childhood and memories with, but unfortunatly he lost his parents when he was way too young. Then, his eyes fell on the tiny, silver-haired girl in the picture smiling.

"Rook, you look cute. And your silvery hair...?"

"Yup, that's me standing with my mom and my adoptive father infront of the Christmas tree. We celebrated Christmas every year together here and I got a lot of presents. I miss those times, because now we barely have time for eachother. Always busy with business and work. And, yes, my silvery hair... Nobody believed me that it was my natural hair color. That I was born with it.", she answered while trying not to get too emotional in the sudden flow of memories.

"Silver. You got the black hair from your mother and the silvery-white from..."

"My dad, Elric. Yes. Yes, I figured it out too. Later when I found out about the existence of my father. I... I still can't believe how my mom hid this from me. She told me that after my birth my father died and...", she almost cried and felt Nik's arms around her body who tried to comfort her.

"Shhh, I'm here Alex."

"Oh, Nik... I..."

"Alex, my dear.", a sudden voice appeared which made Alex and Nik turn around to see.

"Mom??!! You're here??!! Since when? We didn't heard you coming.", Alex panicked just as Nik and both seperated from eachother's embrace. Nik's cheeks turned softly red out of embarrassment and secretly hoped that Jacqueline didn't found out about his and Alex's doings upstairs.

"Misses Fontaine, it's a pleasure to finally..."

"Alex, I just entered the house and I already heard everything I needed to know. So you found out about the secret your biological father? Oh, of course you would one day, especially when you decide to stay in crazy New Orleans.", she interrupted Nik to explain herself.

"Mom, why?"

"To protect you. That's all, to protect you!! New Orleans, that crazy place... Kristin and you just had to go there to celebrate your 25th birthday. Dear, you have no idea what I have been through all. Nothing is as it seems there. It's dangerous and New York isn't safe anymore either."

"Mom, you know... about the supernatural world?"

"Don't say anything more. I don't want to think or talk about this matter right now. You're the only person I care and have left in this world now with the recent death of your adoptive father. I love you and I don't want to lose you too."

"Not when she has me.", Nik confidently stepped closer to Alex and embraced her and gave Jacqueline a reassuring smile. Alex's mother easily forgot her worry and smiled at the man.

"You must be Nik, my daughter's boyfriend? You seem aware about this world too. I hope you will keep my child safe."

"Of course, I'll take care of Alex. I'll protect her and always be by her side. Nothing will harm her on my watch, I swear. And yeah, I am aware about the World of Night. I lost my parents through the hands of monsters. They got killed infront of me when I was a child. I was the only one who survived.", he felt to explain his matter towards Jacqueline even though it hurt to bring back old memories.

"Oh, I didn't know. Poor Nik child, I'm so sorry to hear. Alex and I will be your family from now on. Besides, we're not actually here to remember the past. Let's focus on the future. I'm Jacqueline Fontaine, the beautiful mother of my beautiful Alex. Please, take a seat on the couch in livingroom, I'll bring something to eat. I made you two some hot chocolate too."

"No need for that, we'll have together dinner anyway. Thanks for this invitation, Misses..."

"Just Jacqueline would be fine. Please not these formalities with me even though I am a successful business woman and accountant. Such a gentleman you are, Nik. We're family and with Christmas just around the corner, I'd love if the two would stayed longer with me till the holidays end. I never thought I would feel so lonely.", she confessed which surprised Alex.

"What if you get busy with work again?", Alex asked.

"Dear, family comes first and I should have realized that years ago. I'm sorry what happened today in my office, but my client... well... he wasn't easy to handle. But I feel so ashamed that I couldn't give you the time and attention you deserved since you were a child. That your adoptive father had to look over you because I couldn't. You're my everything and the only thing I have left now. I might have not liked suddenly beeing pregnant and I wasn't happy, but your adoptive father supported me. He helped me giving you a chance and I don't regret. I love you, Alex. I love you so much, darling. You remind of your father, Elric. I still love him and I hope he hasn't forgotten me."

"Oh mom, love you too. I thought... I always thought I'm not good enough for you.", Alex crashed into her mother for a hug while tears welled up in her eyes.

"Shhh, my darling. Quiet. You're here now with me and I'm glad Nik brought you to me. I'm thankful for you. I'm thankful for having you with me, sweety.", Jacqueline wispered and moved her eyes towards Nik. The man was silently standing infront of them and then left to give mother and daughter some privacy.

"Mom, there's one thing you should know... I personally met my father, Lord Elric in Lamrian.", she confessed which surprised Jacqueline because she would never have expected that.

"How did you find him so easily? Or how did he recognized you? Is he okay?"

"He... He... He died, mom. I just found him and then I lost him. We only shared a few hours, but they were beautiful ones. Truely the best.", she sniffed.

"No!! Noooo... It can't be... How could this happen? He... I still love him and I can't believe he's gone. I should have visited him, but I was such a coward to face New Orleans again. Poor Thalissa.", she deeply regretted and wiped her tears away.

"Mom, Elric sacrificed his life to save mine from a bloodwraith. If it wasn't for him, I... I would probably be dead already."

"A bloodwraith? That's impossible!! How? Don't return there anym..."

"That's okay, mom. The bloodwraith got defeated and everyone is safe now. It's safe now. And Elric still loved you and shared beautiful stories and compliments about with me you. He still remembers you.", she reported which gave Jacqueline a positive and warm feeling. That the gentle man who ruled over her heart still loved her, even though she already moved on with someone else.

But there was also more to share. That Jacqueline's daughter, Alex was not only a half-fae, but also the next heir of Lamrian and that she unlocked her magic powers with the help of Lord Elric. She can do magic. Maybe she'll tell this Jacqueline another time and not everything at once. Besides, it was time to let her mother explain how she got plunged into the supernatural world. What's her story?

When she asked, Jacqueline's expression turned bitter and she decided to tell this another time. Not now. Now it was time for joy, have a great family bounding time and get to know her daughter's boyfriend better. She called Nik back and all three were seated on a fluffy sofa in the livingroom, having hot chocolate to drink and stories to tell. Jacqueline excitedly showing Nik her family album and pointing at the pictures.

"And this photo was taken by Alex's adoptive father after Alex got born in the hospital. The nurses were so amazed that she had so much hair already. Ooooh, look how cute my baby looks wearing a gown in that picture. Like a mini-princess.", she enjoyed Nik's company.

"She was a cute child indeed and she's still beautiful."

"Thanks to my fae genes.", Alex added.

"Right, that's my baby girl. The prettiest baby of all. Such a natural beauty. When she sleeps, she's basically a Sleeping Beauty. Oh, have I told you the story where we were travelling to Dubai and how she played with her mouth out of boredom because we had to wait? I don't know if it was Dubai, but definitly somewhere in that region. She made that weird noise which made the police officers laugh and then, they let us enter first. Ha! Or the story where she was wearing squeaky shoes in the supermarket which irritated the customers who were trying to find the source of that noise? Ooooh, I have another story where little Alex stole a high-heel from a shoe shop."

"Mooommm??!! I was sitting in a baby-stroller. It happened by mistake.", Alex freaked out a little which made Nik laugh.

"A high-heel for a baby??!! Hahahaha!!! Didn't know you were a huge trouble-maker since childhood, rook? Jacqueline, Alex hasn't changed a bit. Still the same cute and naughty girl. A total trouble-maker."

"Nik!!! Very funny. Laugh how much you want. Mom, tell him the whole story like you told it to me. That I picked up the high-heel to play with it in my baby-stroller. You didn't noticed till we got home and went back to return it.", she explained.

But Jacqueline was too excited and continued with Alex's childhood stories and showed several pictures. Baby pictures, pictures when her daughter was toddler and school pictures till teenage life.

"Nik, isn't my Alex so beautiful? I hope my grandchildren will also be lovely babies like Alex.", she said which made Nik and Alex turn red. Nik immediately tried to change the topic and pointed at another picture.

"Uhhh, well... I... Oh wow, Alex was a cheerleader at highschool? How athletic. That might explain some of the moves she got."

"I was did martial arts as well, Nik. When I was a child before joining highschool.", Alex proudly added.

"Hey, did you do that weird noise with your mouth again? The one you did infront of the cops? Could you show me that, please?", he smirked which made Alex a bit angry.

"Nik, you...", she hissed as he made fun of her.

"Alex, behave yourself!! Nik was just beeing friendly. He's my guest. Be nice to him.", Jacqueline wished.

"Sorry, Alex. I was just enjoying your childhood stories."

"Wait till I ask anyone about your own embarrasing childhood stories, Nik. Or anything spicy."

"Who will you ask?", he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'll figure it out somehow.", she confidently smirked at him and winked. Sweet revenge as they say.

After an eventful evening, the three had a delicious dinner together in the dining hall. Nik already knew secretly what food Jacqueline cooked for them since he was the one who climbed up the window which lead him to the kitchen.

As the cold winter night decented, they were all getting ready for bed. Jacqueline requested Alex to sleep in her childhood room and Nik in the guest room before she went to bed. The young couple kissed to have a good night to eachother before heading towards their rooms. Afterall, they agreed to stay with Jacqueline till Christmas to make the lonely woman happy.

"You know Nik, when my mother said that you're our family now... I think she already accepts you as her son-in-law.", she giggled, ran away and left him alone, wide-eyed with an open mouth.

"Alex! Hey, come back here. Youuuu... Wait till I find you under a mistletoe, you little trouble-maker."

After Christmas...

"Oh Tonya, my friend, this year I had a wonderful Christmas. I celebrated with my daughter who I haven't seen for so long. Today she's leaving with her boyfriend, but she promised to visit again and call me more often. And I will definitly visit her too and perhaps stop by to see you too, my friend. I'm just so glad to be united with her again. All our misunderstandings are gone now. How were your holidays, Tonya?", Jacqueline was talking with an old friend from New Orleans on the phone while admiring the decorated page her child created for the photo album with the title "Alex's Winter in Wyoming with Nik."

In the meantime, Alex and Nik were outside to enjoy the winter weather. Both standing in their ice-skates on a frozen lake and holding eachother's hands, as Alex was trying to teach Nik how to ice-skate. She was an excellent skater and wanted Nik to have some winter fun and try something new.

"Nik, you're doing great. Try to hold... Woaah!!", she fell on Nik as he suddenly lost his balance and crashed with her on the ice. Their faces were near as Alex was lying on Nik.

"Sorry rook, I..."

"Shhh...", she got closer to him until their lips met eachother's to a passionate kiss.

-> Learn more about the past in this fanfic <-

[uyuforu]

MC Persona Chart Observations III

All pictures are mine @uyuforu.

Other posts you could like:

જ⁀➴ Astro Observations X Career Edition

જ⁀➴ MC Persona Chart I

જ⁀➴ MC Persona Chart II

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ʚɞ Sun 7H usually indicates you"ll do a job in the creative field. If you also have Sun Leo 7H, you'll do a job in the movie field, you'll work for the cinema industry, or anything relating to acting and movie.

ʚɞ Moon 4H means you need to feel comfortable at work to work properly, you'll perhaps also want to work from home, or work with family? or work with people who feel like family, work in an environment where you trust people and know them already too perhaps.

ʚɞ Mercury 7H means you'll mostly talk about art, something creative at work. You can talk communicate well, nicely, and with fairness at work. You could also find way to make anything you write or create at work, like imagining, in a romantic or poetic style.

ʚɞ Venus 8H can mean you could be obsessed with your job, you could love it sometimes, but also hate it sometimes. It may depend a lot on a lot of circumstances. You could also like that what you do is "secretive", perhaps your work needs to stay hidden during the process, and you enjoy this.

ʚɞ Mars 5H means you can have a lot of imagination at work, a lot of creativity. Perhaps in your work, the one who comes with the most creative project "wins". It can also be a source of stress for you.

ʚɞ Jupiter 10H could mean you could gain a lot of popularity and reputation if you succeed in your job, perhaps even celebrity. You could eventually become famous at your job for your work.

ʚɞ Saturn 2H could mean there are obstacles in the stability of your work. It can be about your financial stability, but also in general. It's not the usual 9-5 job, it may be the kind that works while there is a project going on. It's considered unstable at least. You could also struggle with money somehow. Doesn't mean you gain nothing, it means that there may be a lot of deals with money as well and it's "complicated".

ʚɞ Pluto 10H means your reputation, popularity will drastically change because of your job.

ʚɞ Juno 9H can mean you could teach your FS a lot about your work, and they can also teach you some things about it. You could share ideas with them, talk about it with your work. They can also inspire you, like a muse. You could often be away from your spouse because of work.

ʚɞ Scorpio MC can mean you'll have a very deep and mysterious reputation at work. People can know you for your work yet not really know much about you personally. You could enjoy not being totally known, it gives a sense of mystery, and you could also keep some privacy this way.

ʚɞ Capricorn Rising means people can see you as someone who is in charge at work, someone who decides, someone who has responsibility. They can see you as cold, serious, and you could also expect a lot from others. They can also feel like you have some authority. People at work may respect you a lot.

ʚɞ Aquarius 2H means you'll gain a lot of original ideas from working, you could also gain online popularity, or meeting more friends as well. You could also gain a wider imagination.

ʚɞ Aries 3H can mean you can talk fast at work, you can also need to be the fastest, or think the fastest possible. People and you could talk in passionate way, you at least need to be passionate to do your job. Arguments can happen. People at work can often disagree or find themselves annoyed at unexpected problems.

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ʚɞ Taurus 5H means your job is creative indeed, and it can be more linked to art, beauty, anything that is considered beautiful, and in this case more "physically beautiful".

ʚɞ Gemini 6H means you'll work in a field where ideas, communications, thoughts, imagination, creativity, talking, singing, writing is important. Perhaps a work where you need a lot of ideas, a lot of thinking, and you could also need to have a lot of knowledge as well.

ʚɞ 1H Ruler in 2H means you could glow up during your career, you could also be seen as rich, or wealthy, more than what you are.

ʚɞ 7H Ruler in 4H can mean you can work or have contracts with your family. Sort of like a family business.

ʚɞ 3H Ruler in 5H can mean you'll def need to use your imagination at work, and you could often talk more about ideas, creative projects than anything else at work.

ʚɞ 5H Ruler in 8H means you could keep your creative ideas to yourself, as private, not spoiling anything to people outside the office, or the job. You could also be obsessed with finding ideas, constantly thinking of creative ideas.

ʚɞ 6H Ruler in 7H means you could work with different contracts, you could also have a job that required to have a project to continue working. When the project ends, the work is over as well.

ʚɞ 10H Ruler in 10H means your reputation at work is very important, having a good reputation at work is very crucial for you.

ʚɞ Chiron 8H means you job can be sometimes toxic for you, you could also be obsessed with your job and it can be too much sometimes. You may struggle from taking a break from it too.

ʚɞ Jupiter conjunct Part of Fortune means you have a lot of chances to eventually become famous because of your job. At least you'll attract good contracts and good things, good attention through your job.

ʚɞ Jupiter conjunct MC is very similar to the one above, but it def focus more on the popular/ famous part.

ʚɞ Mercury sextile Venus means you can often have romantic ideas in your job, or poetic, beautiful ideas. You could also work often with aesthetics, or making something look good, having to imagine something that looks beautiful or that sounds beautiful. If you write things, you could often focus on writing things that touch people.

ʚɞ Part of Fortune 9H means you could have a lot of foreign opportunities because of your job, you could also have a lot of opportunities to learn a lot of different things through your job.

Thank you for reading!

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back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[cherimoyatea]

Heyyy, can I request an ff where Sylus and Mc are having their intimate moment but they forgot to close the door so Luke and Kieran accidentally saw them?

Ahhh a request! Hi Annonie!

Thank you so much for trusting me with your request! I actually never saw that coming, so I'm kind of both nervous and excited at the same time!

Life has been busy recently and I didn't have much time to write but your request was spinning in the back of my head! And this was so much fun to write!

I changed my style for a more comedic route this time and kept things lighthearted, hope that's okay!

Love, Cheri 🍒

❧ Sylus - Private Surprise

Pairing: Sylus x You Word Count: 826 Tags: established relationship, comedy, suggestive content (kissing, making out, no smut tho), luke and kieran being adorkable

It's Friday night, and you have eagerly accepted your boyfriend's invitation to spend the weekend at his villa in the N109 Zone.

After a long, challenging week, the chance to spend a few days with him couldn't have come at a better time, and your heart fluttered when he picked you up to have dinner together before driving you both back to his place.

You're standing by the sideboard in his living room, about to pour yourself a drink, when Sylus suddenly appears behind you on silent toes, putting his hands on your hips.

''Mmm, I missed you, Kitten…''

He whispers in your ear, grazing it with the tip of his nose.

Slowly, the silver-haired man moves his head down your neck, gently placing soft kisses there. His touch on your skin sends a tingle through your body, and you can't help but close your eyes and tilt your neck, giving him more space as he moves down to your shoulder.

''S-Sylus… Luke and Kieran will be here anytime soon.''

You stutter nervously while his hands move to the hem of your shirt, slowly sliding beneath the fabric to find the soft skin of your stomach, a smirk forming on his lips. ''Don't worry about the twins, Sweetie. I've sent them off to pick something up for me—they'll be busy for a while.''

Even though your pulse is racing with excitement, you set your glass back on the sideboard and turn around with a teasing smile, crossing your arms to appear nonchalant. ''Oh! So this is the surprise you mentioned earlier? I see…''

''No Kitten…'' Sylus replies with a smug grin, unfazed by your cheeky attitude. Even though you are pretending to be indifferent, your flushed face gives you away. With one swift move, he lifts your hips and places you on the sideboard, stepping between your thighs as he spreads them with his strong hands. ''...the surprise is yet to come.''

The red-eyed man leans closer, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before hungerily sliding his tongue out, inviting himself into your mouth. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you willingly let him in and wrap your arms around his neck, returning his kiss passionatly.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you don't hear the front door being opened and steps echoing in the hallway, coming closer…

''Boss, the address turned out to be wrong. We-''

You both startle and your heads swivel toward the voice when the door swings open and Luke and Kieran enter the living room, suddenly freezing in their movements as their eyes meet you and Sylus.

Obviously caught in a very intimate moment.

''O-Oh shit!! Boss?! MC??'' Kieran squeaks, while Luke throws his hands over his mask in an attempt to cover his eyes. Shrill screams echo through the huge villa, and Sylus raises an irritated eyebrow, unsure who's louder—the twins or you!

Panicked, the young men try to escape the awkward situation by running off, but Kieran stumbles over a pouf, grabs Luke's arm, and causes both of them to trip and fall to the floor instead.

''Waaah, my eyes, my eeeyes!'' Luke whines, rubbing his hands frantically on his mask, while Kieran tries to gather himself from the floor, still paralyzed by embarrassment.

The twins feel like they just walked into their parents!

''Argh, enough now!'' Sylus snarls and pulls away from you, giving you space to quickly jump off the sideboard and hide behind his large form so you can fix your disheveled state. With a single motion of his hand, the twins are swiftly thrown out of the living room, the door slamming shut behind them with a loud bang.

''N-Noo…!'' You cover your face with your hands in embarrassment, feeling the heat flood your cheeks.

Why didn't you lock the damn door?

''I'll never be able to face them again!'' You whine, wishing the ground would open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

Sylus lets out an amused huff and gently grips your wrists, pulling it away from your flushed face to look at you. ''I feel like the twins aren't any better, Kitten.''

The next morning, the twins are nowhere to be seen when you and Sylus have breakfast in the dining room. And even for the rest of your stay, there is no sign of them, anywhere.

Once you're back home, you find a small gift basket on your doorstep, filled with your favorite sweets, flowers, and plushies. As you approach, you catch a glimpse of two shadows hiding around the corner of your stairway, watching you closely from afar.

Pretending you didn't see them, you pick up the basket, fish for the note inside, and chuckle as you read it silently:

''Sorry MC! We won't tell anyone! Promise!

xoxo, Luke and Kieran

p.s.: Luke has serious questions about the 'sideboard moment' but don't worry, he's too embarrassed to ask.

p.p.s.: Next time, maybe a 'Do Not Disturb' sign?"

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

[starlitunicorn]

Scar Tissue, Chapter 1

Zayne x Reader. University AU. Reader is not MC. Slow-burn. Angst!

When you begin your university year with an accidental collision with her new professor, Dr. Zayne, your world is thrown into awkward chaos. What starts as a simple mishap spirals into a tense dynamic between you and the former surgeon. Word count - 4.3k Chapter 2

A/N: I was really inspired by the wonderful @eelliotss and their story "Borrowed Time". It made me want to try writing something, for the first time in my life. It was definitely a hard challenge, since English is not my first language, and I don't have a writing style, but I really wanted to create something as wonderful as them (please check out Borrowed Time, it's literally a masterpiece). I would be more than happy to hear criticism or suggestions, just be gentle, I'm really new to it. ♡

Throwing a playlist I used while writing, hopefully it will help you immerse yourself in the story.

The fresh, slightly cold air tossed fallen leaves, lifting them from the ground, forcing them into a bizarre dance mid-air. Slightly cold autumn air is pushing its way through the tops of the trees, carrying careless talks and laughs of the students, who are slowly approaching the big, towering building. 

The start of the new academic year is always worrying in anticipation of new acquaintances, new friendships, and new experiences. But the least exciting part here is probably the lectures, a bunch of homework, that will keep you away from going out with your friends, and tests. Fixing the loose strap of your backpack, you slowly walk along the stone pathway, tossing the golden leaves with your shoes. The lingering summer memories are flashing in your mind, making you miss hot sunny days and carefree time away from the town. Approaching the big, open glass door, you look up at the large building with the flashy name of your university. Covering your mouth with your hand, you yawn, stepping over the doorstep. Even though you promised to go to bed earlier last night, you stayed up too late, like usual, playing games. It will be hard to get back into the “normal” schedule after three long months of going to bed at sunrise. A loud laugh and hustle behind makes you turn your head. A group of students, walking inside the building, was laughing and talking loudly, sharing some funny moments from their summer vacation. They were so loud that it was hard not to hear what they talked about. You huffed, turning your head away, when suddenly, you bumped into something. Or someone. 

A strong smell of cologne and coffee enveloped you when your nose touched the soft fabric of a coffee-colored coat. Base notes of wet moss and amber with light heart notes of jasmine and pine hit your sense of smell, leaving a transparent cocoon around you. A loud gasp escaped the lips of the person you just walked into. You slowly looked up with your guilty gaze, but you underestimated how high you had to lift your head. Your gaze stopped first on the steaming brown blotch staining his chest: a fresh splash of coffee. Then, higher, to meet a pair of deep hazel eyes burning with irritation. 

His pale face looked irritated. His refined features were nicely framed by the dark, short hair, which looked shiny and well-styled. His thick eyebrows were furrowed, making his eyes appear even more piercing. Scarred fingers were clenching the half-empty cup of coffee as if waiting for something. An apology, perhaps. You quickly snap back from observing the man, nodding your head in a guilty gesture. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Your hands searched your pocket, getting out a clean handkerchief, and handing it to the man in front. He swiftly grabbed the cloth from you, rubbing it on the wet spot, seemingly making it worse, smearing the coffee around the white shirt. Mortified, you murmured another apology and turned on your heel, rushing toward the stairs to escape the heat of his gaze—and the burning embarrassment tightening in your chest.

Swearing under your breath, you quickly move up the stairs, hoping this encounter won’t cause any trouble for you. Your palm slightly tapped your forehead, as if punishing yourself for not being careful enough. He didn’t look like a student. Maybe the way he wasn’t rushing anywhere, like other students, or the fact that he looked older than all the boys around, made you think he was the new lecturer, or someone with a higher position. What can make it worse? 

The morning encounter disappeared from your mind really fast, in the rush of the day. Running around the halls, trying to find the correct lecture hall, and meeting with classmates quickly took your thoughts to a different place. Your phone was exploding with new group chats and new contacts, trying to keep up with everything. The buzz already made you miss the quiet of your room and the comfort of your bed. Quickly unfolding the piece of paper with your schedule, you glance at the sign with the room number. Making sure it’s the correct one, you step inside, looking for an empty desk. Your gaze fell on the empty desk near the window in the room's far corner. You never liked sitting right in front of the teacher's face. If you took the front row, it always made you feel more supervised. This could take away the pleasure of doodling when the lecture gets too dull. Just as the bell rang, the door slowly opened, and the sound of footsteps echoed in the spacious room. Weirdly punctual, you thought, tapping the pen on the empty page of your notebook. The teacher's arrival time tells a lot about their teaching and their temper. Someone who is constantly late is usually laid back and a really easy-going teacher, letting students slack, or will try to blend in and joke around with them. As for someone who arrives with the bell.. It can be a tough one. Meaning, no relaxing in their lessons. 

It was enough for you to see the coffee-coloured coat that flashed in the doorframe, as your head sank into your shoulders. Soon, his tall figure was standing next to the teacher's desk, as he carefully put the cup of hot, fresh coffee on the table, next to the pile of files. He didn’t seem to rush, slowly taking off his coat and placing it on the back of the chair, exposing the faint coffee stain on the white shirt. 

Arms crossed, as the gaze of his hazel eyes carefully studied the room. It stopped on you for a second too long, forcing you to look away with a hint of guilt, once again reminding you of the incident in the morning. You slid down the chair, grabbing your notebook and hiding your face. It seems like he didn’t forget about the spilled coffee as fast as you did, since it ruined his outfit for the day. And it’s the first day of the new year, what a look to show up in a stained shirt. He finally stopped drilling your notebook with his eyes, slowly walking in front of his desk and leaning on it. “I hope you all had a nice summer, but it’s time to get serious and put a great start to your new academic year,” his voice, calm yet loud and clear, filled the room. It didn’t sound as you imagined it would, and there were no angry notes, so it made you relax and brush off the embarrassment once again. “I’m Zayne Li, a former awarded Cardiac Surgeon from Akso hospital, and now, your new anatomy teacher. You can call me Doctor Zayne. Hopefully, we can all work well together and achieve great results by the end of the year.”    

A wave of whispers rumbled across the class. Zayne Li was a well-known surgeon in one of the most prestigious hospitals in the town—the person who conducted tons of scientific research and was even awarded for one of them. Students seemed to wonder why he quit his job to teach at the university. Giving up something you've built for a long time isn't logical. “You have a lot of questions, I see. You can ask,” he lets out a quiet chuckle, turning around and grabbing the files from the table, opening them, and scanning through the text. The voice from the first row yelled out first, “Dr. Zayne, why did you quit your job as a surgeon at Akso hospital?” Zayne stopped, tapping his finger on the hardcover of the files. “You can ask anything not related to my dismissal.” Other students started asking questions about his work. Some had questions about his research, while others said he inspired them to enter this university. Zayne graduated as the best student from this exact university, which many think made the place special, and studying here could open many doors in the future. 

As for you, your inspiration to enter this university is your parents. They insisted, you didn’t complain, since at the time, you didn’t have any ideas for your future direction. The physical therapist wasn’t that bad, and your grades allowed you to get in. Still, his answer left you wondering. What could make such a successful doctor leave his position to be a teacher? You trailed deep in your thoughts, doodling some chaos on the pages of your notebook. You didn’t notice how the conversation shifted from questions to introductions. Your name was called twice, before you finally came back to reality, lifting your head up, and getting up. “Sorry. Uh, that’s me. Nice to meet you, Dr. Zayne.” Still struggling to keep eye contact with the man, you stare at the coffee stain on his shirt. He seems to notice, letting out a quiet hum and ticking your name in his journal. “You seem very windy today. Not the greatest first impression,” he murmured, looking down at his shirt. Some students turned their heads around to look at you. Annoyed, you don’t say anything, swiftly sitting back in your chair. Embarrassment burns in your chest, but it goes away fast. It must be the payback for his ruined outfit. Quickly wrapping up introductions, Zayne starts the lesson with some literature recommendations to get into the subject. Writing down the necessary books, you feel Zayne’s heavy gaze on you as you glance up. His unblinking hazel eyes, as if looking somewhere past you, make you feel cold shivers on your back. So much for wanting to stay “unnoticed”, that’s why you chose the furthest desk, but it seems like there’s no hiding in this class. 

After the bell rang, class ended. Everyone collected their scattered belongings, leaving the classroom. Zayne, on the other hand, wasn’t rushing to pack. His files were standing on the table in a really nice pile, placed on top of each other. He tried to be precise even in the way he put things on his desk. You were leaving last, since the way from the corner of the room to the exit door was the longest, but just as you prepared to step out of the class, you heard a clear call. “Hey. I think I should give this back to you.” Zayne reached into his pocket and handed you the handkerchief from earlier. Now, stained with coffee and shriveled, it was saturated with the smell of Zayne’s detergent, sitting in his pants pocket all day. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not mad. But you should be careful spilling someone’s hot drink like that. Others might not be as forgiving.” His strict tone echoed in your head, like a parent lecturing the child about putting on the hat before going outside. Your fingers slowly grab the handkerchief, shoving it into the open backpack. Your lips curve into a smile, which you usually give someone when you mess up, showing a barely visible dimple on your cheek. It seems that in that exact moment, Zayne froze on the spot. His fingers dug into the edge of the table, and his mind shifted somewhere far away from here, deep in his memories. Noticing that his consciousness left the walls of this room, you quietly smacked your lips, rocking back and forth. Maybe he tried to remember something, to tell you about an assignment, or something else, so you just decided to give him some time. But it didn’t look like he was about to return anytime soon, so you slowly started backing up from the class, looking all around the place in a silent embarrassment. “Soo-oo.. I think I will go, I need to find another lecture hall. Have a nice day, Dr. Zayne,” you murmured, quickly turning around and disappearing from the classroom, like the wind. You heard him say something in return, but you couldn’t understand it, since the sound of his voice was drowned in the crowded corridor. Blinking several times at a loss, you shake your head, trying to eliminate the feeling that your new teacher is a weirdo. After a tiresome first day, your next destination was the university library. You decided to grab all the literature needed for your new subjects while you were at it. The library hall was in the farthest corner of the building, so reaching a big room stacked with books took some time. A library assistant handed you a little piece of paper with blanks, so you could write down all the books you’re taking. You ran your fingers through sparkly clean shelves, which were polished before the start of the new year. Your hand stopped at the “scientific research” section for the correct title. You scoffed under your breath, fingers closing around a book with Zayne’s face staring back at you from the cover. “Recommending your own research as class literature,” you muttered. “What a braggart.” But the smug satisfaction barely had time to settle before a low hum sounded behind you. Your arms instinctively wrapped around the book, clutching it to your chest. You didn’t dare turn around. The scent of coffee hit your nose, sharp and unmistakable. A sigh slipped out of you, heavy with dread, as you slowly turned, already picturing the furious expression you’d seen that morning when you'd spilled his drink.

“I mean… that’s wonderful. You must be really proud of it.” The corners of your lips twitch as you force an awkward smile. He doesn’t react, just rolls his eyes and takes a slow sip of his caffeine-heavy drink. Your ears burn. No way you’ve embarrassed yourself twice in front of your new teacher on your very first day. And to top it off, insulted him to his face.

“I just wanted to see who would actually stop by the library to get the books,” he said, pausing to lick the bitter remnants from his lips, “so I could maybe point them out as dedicated students next time.” Then his gaze flicked toward you, sharper now. “But I wouldn’t mention you. Since you already think I’m bragging, you should go ahead and read all my research.” He tilted his head with clear irritation, then set his coffee cup on the nearby table. 

Zayne stepped forward, closing the distance between you in one long stride, never once meeting your eyes. Your fingers dug into the book’s hardcover, but your legs refused to move. His chest stopped just in front of your face when he finally closed his eyes and exhaled—a long, heavy breath, like the weight of the entire day had just dropped onto his shoulders.

“Move.” The word came low and calm, almost a whisper scraped from the back of his throat. It cuts through your trance like a blade. You jolted, stepping aside without a word. His hand brushed past you, reaching for the book you'd unknowingly been blocking. 

Finally, lowering the worn research in your hands, you feel another heavy weight pressing down on your arms. Zayne places a thick, glossy book on top of your little pile. He moves past you, calm and deliberate, retrieving his coffee from the table. He said nothing, leaving you in the quiet of a library, staring at his light smile from the book cover. You lift your head and furrow your eyebrows at his echoing presence. Shoving books in your backpack, you try to fit everything without damaging your belongings. You quickly fill in the book registration paper and leave it on the desk at the exit, sprinting out of the library and soon out of the building. In your thoughts, you are already home, leaving the heavy day behind the university doors. The trip home doesn’t take long. The bus ride almost lulls you to sleep, but you manage to jump out of your seat before missing your stop. Entering the small apartment building, you climb the stairs, dragging your feet behind you. Stopping in front of your apartment, you slowly open the door, yelling, “I’m home!” from the doorway. You hear the quiet hustle in the kitchen when a dark-haired girl peeks out of the corner. Seeing your exhausted face, she offers you a warm smile. “Oh, hi. How was the first day?”. She finally leaves the kitchen, wiping her hands with a stained towel. It’s been the second year you and your friend Simone have been renting an apartment together. Living with her was not draining. She was a great roommate, and it took some weight off your shoulders regarding payments.

“They already loaded us with a mountain of books to read, and I’ve managed to get on my new teacher’s bad side. Wouldn’t be surprised if he fails me.”  You flopped onto the couch, grabbing a pillow and pressing your face into it, trying to bury yourself in the soft, forgiving embrace and shut out the world. Simone laughed, perching on the armrest and promptly stealing the pillow, your only line of defense, exposing your face to the light. “No one’s going to fail you,” she said with a grin. “Just get your teacher something nice. A bottle of wine, some fancy chocolate—boom, apology accepted. Who wouldn’t love that?” She flashed that radiant smile again, the one that always, without fail, made you feel a little better. “I was just cooking. Food’ll be ready in ten. Go wash your hands.” But you were already sprung to your feet, yanking open your backpack and dumping the books onto the couch to make space for something else.

“You’re a genius! I’m getting an apology gift.” You were halfway out the door before you finished the sentence.

“You can start without me!” you shouted back. Simone didn’t say anything, but her smile lingered. Somehow, she always knew exactly what you needed—even when she didn’t realize it. 

The late afternoon air hit your face the moment you stepped outside—crisp, laced with the distant scent of city exhaust and someone grilling down the block. You didn’t slow your pace. You zigzagged past the corner store, dismissing the sad stack of mass-produced chocolate bars in the window. 

No, this needed to be thoughtful. Personal. Maybe even charming. If Zayne was the type to wear expensive cologne and carry himself like a walking thesis paper, he probably wasn’t a fan of cheap sweets or mugs that said #1 Professor.

A small boutique caught your eye, tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore. Its window displayed neatly wrapped gift boxes, jars of imported honey, artisan teas, and a pyramid of dark chocolate truffles that looked sinfully expensive. 

A soft chime rang as you stepped inside. The place smelled like cinnamon, cedar, and vanilla—like December wrapped in tissue paper.

A woman behind the counter looked up with a warm smile. “Looking for something in particular?”

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “Something for a… teacher. As an apology.”

Her smile widened knowingly. “Tough start to the year?”

You nodded, laughing a little under your breath. She guided you toward a velvet-lined shelf of truffles—dark, decadent, and neatly boxed with subtle gold accents. One label caught your eye: Dark Chocolate with Whiskey Ganache. You picked it up. Rich. A little bold. Slightly dangerous. Just like the man you were trying to appease.

“This one,” you said, nodding. “It feels… honest.”

“Excellent choice,” the woman said, ringing you up. “Strong enough to say sorry without groveling.”

You left the shop ten minutes later, the gift bag swinging gently at your side. In it was your olive branch—boozy, bittersweet, and slightly impulsive, just like you. Simone was right. You couldn’t undo the mess, but maybe you could sweeten the aftermath. 

Arriving back home, you realize that Simone has already vanished from the apartment. You notice a little note on the fridge, with her pretty, neat handwriting: I’ll be late, don’t forget to eat something. You look around to notice a small plate of pasta with meat sauce on the table, served with cheese, and even cutlery laid out for you, like a quiet invitation. 

A warmth spreads through your chest like a blanket. You didn’t need grand gestures. This was enough. This was Simone. Thoughtful even in something so simple as making dinner. 

You scooped up the plate and made your way to your small but clean room. It was lined with bookshelves, scattered with little figurines, and glowing softly from a tangle of LED lights. Nothing extravagant—just yours. 

Devouring the still-warm pasta, one hand already hovering over your laptop’s trackpad. The screen lit up as you opened your browser, fingers hesitating for only a second before typing: Zayne Li. The search bar flickered, loading results almost instantly. Articles. Publications. Academic praise. But nothing, nothing about his sudden departure from Akso Hospital. 

You leaned in, scanning the titles again. If someone like him, arguably one of the best surgeons in the country, had walked away from such a high position, shouldn’t that be front-page news? 

You even found his social media profile, though it felt sterile, curated, like a gallery where only the right parts of a life were displayed. Polished. Untouchable. Whatever happened… it was hidden. Intentionally. A soft sigh escaped you as you leaned back in your chair, pushing the empty plate aside. 

If the truth was hidden five feet deep, you weren’t curious enough to grab a shovel. At least, not yet. So you decided to get your mind off it by launching your favorite game, slightly glancing at the gift box, in anticipation of tomorrow.

The morning was quiet, cold but fresh and welcoming. You arrived earlier for the possibility of meeting up with Dr. Zayne and giving him your apology present, that you so thoughtfully prepared yesterday. The university halls are half-empty, still sleepy from the quiet night. Only the most dedicated students roamed these corridors at this hour. Those chasing scholarships, high honors, or simply the peace in the quiet of the library. 

You look through the schedule sheet, scanning the list of classrooms and lecture slots, stopping on the ones marked with his name. First period. It has to be the chance. But, arriving at the destination, you’re met with silent, empty walls. Your stomach twisted. What if you can’t find him before classes start? What if you lose the moment, or worse? What if the chocolate melts? You run around the halls, mind racing with possibilities. Where would Dr. Zayne go this early? What is the first thing he does in the morning? Then it hits you. Coffee. Of course. Without hesitation, you pivot towards the side exit to find a small coffee corner in the university garden. And there he is. Sitting alone on a bench, a paper cup cradled in his hands. He’s not on his phone. He’s not reading. Just sitting. His eyes are distant, as if he’s entertained by some unspoken deep thoughts. The rising steam curls around his face in soft spirals, making his glasses fog. He didn’t have those yesterday, but chose to wear them while drinking a hot drink. 

You slow your step, heart thudding from the sprint. Finally, taking a deep breath, you walk closer to the bench, figuring out how to start your heartfelt apology, since you didn’t think it through before. Your fingers clench around the pretty red box as you slowly nod, clearing your throat, trying to grab his attention, as he seemed not to notice you.       

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne.”

He glances up, brows faintly raised. You push through the knot forming in your throat.

“I know we had a… rough start.” You try to keep your tone light, but the words already feel like too much and not enough at the same time. “And I realize we’ll have to tolerate each other for the rest of the year, so—”

A pause. Your mind races ahead of your mouth, tripping over everything you didn’t rehearse.

“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I wasn’t careful and didn’t mean to sound rude or disrespectful. Especially toward your work.”

You extend the box toward him, almost too fast, and squeeze your eyes shut the moment it leaves your hand, bracing for laughter, or worse, complete dismissal.

“I don’t like alcohol.” He cut as sharp as a blade, making you freeze on spot. Somewhere in your mind, you could almost see a black Game Over screen flashing across your vision. 

Of course, you managed to mess up again, and how did that even happen? There’d been no way to know his preference, but that didn’t make the sting any less brutal. Pulling your hands away, your face darkened. Your shoulders dropped, the heat rising in your cheeks, as you were already prepared to leave without saying a thing, because it seems like a silent retreat is better than taking the embarrassing hit in the gut. 

“But you put in the effort,” he murmured, voice low and edged with something unreadable. “I appreciate that.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I accept your apology. Though you should know. I was never mad to begin with.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“I’ve had worse from first-years. It takes more than spilled coffee and a stray comment to make me hate someone.” 

Zayne’s long fingers grasped the box, tucking it neatly under his arm as he rose from the bench in one smooth motion. His height loomed for a second before he gave a small, deliberate nod—an understated gesture of gratitude. Then, unexpectedly, his hand landed on your shoulder. Firm. Measured. His gaze locked onto yours, eyes scanning your expression with unsettling precision, making you feel like after a carrot, there will be a stick. “You really are.. windy.” 

It wasn’t quite an insult. Not quite praise either. But it lingered in the air, and for some reason, it felt like he wasn’t entirely wrong. With that, he disappeared from your view, behind your back, entering the building, leaving a somewhat bitter aftertaste of your failure. But at least you know your teacher is not holding a grudge, so there’s nothing to worry about. Right?