In Another Life. - W. J. Moriarty

what if i start writing ?!#(#! wonderjng what i will come up with

I'm back i been inactive for a while so here my new artwork ☺️

Ness alexis 👀

SCARABOOBS WAG K N COLD SAKIN PLS

32 | finals day one

raised the bar !

masterlist / prev - next

synopsis yn thought she finally escaped the perpetual doom of placing 2nd after she graduated high school. but alas! the leaderboard has her name printed under another’s! a name she thought she’d never get to see again. better luck next time, i guess.

{ ⚖︎ } taglist — @bedobedobedo @nejibot @thenightsflower @crowbird @elitestar @bleedingwhiteroses222 @dksfl920 @sevynnee @hangezoessidehoe @lunaflvms @ifelloutofbed @aerasoline @cloud-emoji-exe @platinumuse @lovelyiez @yolotokyoo @katsumikumo @elysiasbae @kiwinfinity @hutaosgraveyard @heizoussidebadonkers @plutoslostagain @rizakari @leeis @miissfortune @kiyowoir @llghtsnoww @cotton-eee @spookyrule @kanaqwqbear @ittakestw0totango @plinkuro @eeelia @sunizome @notsonicedevil @lolbitina @scarach00chie @iamvy @deareztmixks @zasaic @lordbugs @reiikonee @whats-humanity-lol @fluffloversmutavoider @mitheal @hugs4shizu @anniejourn @zyamq @jjkieslovies @yaefics @ara-arashi @scarahours @catsfavoriteperson @slvdsjjk @kayleigh-reuthlr @kokiifruit @sugxqts [1/3]

Hii! For the valentine's event can i please request Kaiser with marriage booth? Thank you so muuuch!⚘️

##DO YOU LOVE ME OR NOT, WANNA FIND OUT?

↪In which, Kaiser thinks the best way to find out if you love or hate him is by a kiss

↪ft. Kaiser

↪Guess who forgot who Kaiser was halfway through😍😋 Also, I tried.

↪Mentions of murder(jokingly, probably) and uh roaches?(somewhat a replacement for butterflies bc im original like that/j im sorry)

Event navigation

"You insufferable bastard."

"D'aww, can't you at least sugarcoat your words, mein Liebling?" You scowl at the pet name, and Kaiser finds the sight adorable—very kissable, he'd add.

Kaiser places a hand on his chest, his face mocking a hurt expression. "You wound me, dearest. The price for this experience was not a hefty one; the least you could do is thank me for giving you this one-of-a-kind experience." 

The gasp you let out was nothing short of comical. And the guests—your classmates—grows curious about the conversation you're having.

"You paid to have us in this hellhole?!" 

The way Kaiser looks at you makes it seem as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Yes," he said, and you considered committing 2nd degree murder right then and there.

Your hands are trembling with fury, and all you see is red. Blood—you're out for Kaiser's blood, and you'd be sure to squeeze him of every last drop once you've managed to stop his heart from beating entirely. 

"Why do you hate me so, dearest?" he asks, and you're drawn out of your thoughts as you stare at him dumbfoundedly.

Come to think of it, why did you hate him exactly?

The answer to his question was left unfounded, even to you. All that you knew was that ever since he'd decided to bother you to the best of his abilities, your heart started to flutter as your liver and lungs danced around, doing a tango in your stomach. Heat would rise up to your face and smoke would come out of your pores the more he spent time pursuing you, and from then on, you assumed it must be because you hate him. 

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is. You're bullying me for no reason whatsoever." 

You flare your nostrils in annoyance—at least, what you think is annoyance—at the way the cockroaches fly and buzz around in your stomach, begging to be sprayed with insecticides. You've noticed it appearing more often; the insects comes and flies around at times where Kaiser flashes his stupid, stupid smile at you. You remain silent as the makeshift priest drags on his speech. A second more, and Kaiser asks you yet another question: "Is it really hatred you feel for me, dearest?" 

"Yes," you reply without skipping a beat.

"Oh, how you hurt me, beloved." 

He begins his theatrics, and you roll your eyes at the sight. But despite your apparent display of annoyance, a microsmile graces your lips, barely noticeable to normal people but an easy find for Kaiser, who loved you dearly.

He takes ahold your hand in his, and you try to pry his wretched hand away from yours, pulling and tugging on it with force no stronger than when you try to lift a hundred weights. But Kaiser makes it clear he has no plans of letting go when he refuses to budge his hold on yours. His eyes gleams with something you find, you are a stranger to. And the heat of summer seems to hit you the most as blood rushes to your cheeks and leaves it smothering.

"Pray, do tell, does your heart flutter when I hold your hand like this?" He asks, and your face forms an expression you think is one of scorn. The next, he's inching your hand closer to his face—too close to feel his breath, in fact, and the room grows hotter; despite the ac being turned on to the highest point, it's as hot as the desert's temperature—and maybe even hotter than that.

Your heart, the idiotic organ that pumps up blood, leaps and soars and has suddenly learned to do ballet when he presses his lips on your knuckles, eyes never leaving your face as he kisses it softly. It's similar to the hundreds of novels and movies your friends had forced you to watch alongside them—the way he looks at you, as if he's the main lead of a romance movie—and you, his love interest. "Or does it do leaps and twirls when I do this?"

By now, you're rendered speechless and immobile as Kaiser asks you questions you'd answer yes to. Lungs almost failing when he pulls you closer, the crowd gasps and cheers, but you pay them no mind. Your focus remains on Kaiser and how he looks so frustratingly beautiful wearing that suit and along with it, his hair tied up in a ponytail. 

"Well? Riddle me this, dearest, does my face without fail, pop up in your daydreams? Do I ever cross your mind, and do you wonder how do I do?" 

If you were to answer truthfully, you'd tell him yes. That his mind plagues you every waking moment, that you worry and wonder if the smile he makes whenever he's with you isn't exclusive only to you, that you wonder if his teasing remarks meant anything at all. You'd tell him you think of him too much; it's maddening and bothering. 

"What are you trying to say?" 

"I'm saying, are you sure it's hatred you feel for me rather than love?" 

"Interesting, where did you get the idea? Was I doing a bad job at not leading you on?"

"Certainly not, you've done too good of a job I almost got discouraged," he chuckles, "but I've read somewhere that love and hate are two sides of the same coin, and I'm just a hopeless fool who wishes you've mistaken the other for the truth."

Kaiser leans closer, and your breath hitches because of the proximity you share with him. "Won't you indulge this man in his foolishness, dearest?"

Your eyes lock onto his ocean blue eyes, and for a moment, you're stuck in a trance. "Why not? This ought to be fun," you say, and you almost fall to your knees when you find Kaiser smiling down at you. god, this stupid man and his stupid smile, you'll kill him someday, most probably.

"Splendid!" 

"Well, what do you have in mind?" 

He hums, and it's only then that you haven't released yourself from his hold yet. His face is close, so much so that you could count his eyelashes, and his breath tickles your skin, leaving goosebumps trailing over its place. His arms rests on your waist, holding it firmly yet loosely enough for you to move out if you wanted to. And maybe you should; it's the most genius idea you could come up with at the moment. But something in you refuses to let you move away, and rather makes you lean into his touch. And if Kaiser noticed—which he most definitely did—then he didn't say anything.

The priest continues his speech, and you notice him pausing from time to time to eavesdrop on your conversation. But it seems like Kaiser didn't mind, given the way he continues speaking despite the priest's obvious eavesdropping.

His eyes flickers to your lips for a split second, and had you blinked, you're sure it would have gone by unnoticed. But you noticed, and it sure didn't do well for your mental health.

"I've been thinking long and hard about it, and how about we kiss?" 

His blunt words leaves your mouth agape and your eyes looking at him with a silent question of "what?"

Laughter bubbles up from Kaiser's lips, and your stare turns into a glare, one sharp enough that should you not have an ego as large as Kaiser's, you'd be sure to cower away in fear. 

"Be serious"

"Oh, but I'am, darling dearest. I believe kissing is the best way to know if you love me or not."

Doubtful, those were the words that were imprinted in the way you stared at him. "Be for real, Kaiser. How are we supposed to know with that method?" 

"If we kiss and you feel something, then you're in love, simple as that." 

"How am I supposed to know if it's special?" 

"You'll know when you feel it. Experience is the best teacher above all else, after all." He pauses, giving you time to think. "Well, what do you say?"

You nod, and at that very moment, the priest finally gets to the part people seemed to be aniticipating from the start.

"You may now kiss the bride!" 

Kaiser moves his hand to rest on your shoulder, face moving closer until he's a breath away, and your hand trembles, whether from nervousness or excitement, you aren't sure. He connects his lips with yours, and you shut your eyes close.

Oh.

A firework is sparked, and it soars into the sky, exploding into thousands of pieces in the shape of a heart. The butterflies goes rampant, aggressively fluttering around, and it feels like you're riding a rollercoaster, your heart thumping so wildly it's almost concerning and inhuman. Your legs are weak, threatening to give up underneath you, and it's pathetic how you have to hold onto him for balance. 

His hand moves to caress your cheeks, and the simple gestures sends over a tsunami of emotions you don't know how to process. It gets your lips twitching, threatening to form a smile too dorky for your character, and you feel like melting into a puddle of nothing but the emotions the event makes you feel.

When Kaiser pulls away, he's grinning from ear to ear, and you think you'll faint with how unfairly pretty it is. 

"Well, what do you think?" he asks a minute later, but the smirk that rests on his face tells you he's already figured out the thoughts that courses through your head as you gasp for air.

"Do you think you've got it all sorted now? If you don't, we can always go for another one," he winks, and you think all the feelings you had for him had been washed away by the shore. It's funny how love comes and goes so fast. 

And oh, heavens no, you think it's returned—the feelings that the waves had taken away—happily returned on a silver platter when you spot him looking at you, so full of love it leaves you gagging. Why does love come and go so fast.

why yes sure, ty lola sana d ka mamatay <3

tired of seeing people constantly flirting on every discord server i join .... I GET IT WE GET IT YOU TWO LOVE EACH OTHER VERY MUCH

officially ended my enstars phase ,, 2021-2023 🙏

its my birthday oh my jesus what the flippy flop im still existing no way

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

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

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐗

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

summary. it's valentine's day and you're determined to tell rin about your feelings for him. however, that proves to be a little difficult after watching him reject everyone who beats you to it.

content warnings. 3.5k wc, college au, fluff, thoughts of unrequited feelings.

this is an unusual level of antsy. your leg doesn't usually bounce up and down so restlessly as you wait for your bus. you don't usually nervously nibble away at your nails. and your eyes don't usually dart over your shoulder in search of a certain someone. how silly, you think as you center your gaze ahead and tuck your hands under your thighs to resist ruining your nails any further. you're a jittery mess and all because it's valentine's day.

normally, that fact wouldn't mean much to you. in past years, you'd either let the day pass like any other or spend it with your partner if you had one at the time. but things in your life are different than they've been every other time the holiday came around—one of those things being a person. someone who isn't your boyfriend but you've started seeing as more than a friend. someone who, despite putting in no effort whatsoever, is wildly popular with everyone, especially the ladies, on your campus. someone whose name is itoshi rin.

every other day of the year, all three hundred and sixty-four of them, you're more than able to bury your feelings—ignore the crush and live life as though you aren't slowly falling for one of your closest friends. but you have a feeling doing that much will be difficult today.

after all, who would want to spend the day watching the guy they like get confessed to for hours on end?

you really have no right to be jealous—not when you still haven't found the courage to confess to him yourself. but the mere thought of idly standing by and watching these girls do something you can't has been making you feel a bit nauseous all morning. it's not as petty as it sounds, you're just not sure how confident you are in your abilities to keep your feelings hidden given the circumstances. the thought of slipping up and accidentally coming clean about your crush just to be thrown into the pile of everyone else he's rejected is a sickening one. you're just hoping that he doesn't see through you, that your mask can stay on long enough to keep him in the dark—at least until you're ready to tell him on your own terms.

your eyebrows furrow as you think about how long this day is going to be.

"hey." a voice from above you cuts through the air and pulls you out of your head. it's his voice.

"oh!" your shoulders jerk up in surprise as you turn to face the man. he's standing a foot away from you, hands stuffed in his pockets, strands of dark hair blown out of place by the wind. teal irises framed by thick lashes meet your gaze with an unwavering stare. you clear your throat and paint on a smile. "good morning, rin."

he hums, eyes dropping from your face to your leg that has yet to stop bouncing. "you okay?"

you frown in silent confusion at his question. he can read you perfectly and points to your leg to clarify.

you follow the path of his finger to the only physical sign of your jitters. you bite your cheek and consciously hold your foot against the sidewalk. so much for trying to hide your nerves. you spit out the first excuse that comes to mind. "i'm fine. just a little chilly, i guess."

"here." rin pulls his hand out of his pocket and holds out his arm, offering you the jacket hanging from it. it's the one he brings to class every day, one that everyone would recognize as his. that fact makes you hesitate taking it—people would get the wrong idea.

but, maybe that would deter those girls from approaching him...

you shake the selfish thought from your head. since when did you get so possessive—and over a man who isn't yours, at that? you're almost tempted to turn him down just to prove to yourself that you aren't some crazy jealous person, but you know that rin won't let you walk away without it. you stand up and take the zip up from him. "thank you."

setting your backpack in the seat you'd just abandoned, you shrug the sleeves over your shoulders. you were just trying to distract him when you said you were cold, but you'd be lying if you said being wrapped in his jacket didn't warm you up.

downplaying your feelings today is going to be easier said than done.

the nerves hit again when the two of you arrive on campus. there's a palpable aura surrounding the campus, one of hope and love and everything that embodies the holiday. if it were visible, the air around you would be tinted pink and red.

your uneasiness is only amplified when you catch sight of her—the girl approaching you, no, rin, with a box held carefully in her hands. there's a nervous skip in your heartbeat as you turn your eyes to the ground in an attempt to avoid the awkwardness. you focus on the footsteps and chatter of passersby to drown out the conversation taking place beside you, but you're still able to pick out some of the words; rin's gentle but firm rejection and the girl's disappointed and defeated goodbye.

you weren't rooting for her, but watching her walk away with her head hung makes you feel bad. that could just as easily have been you.

"forgot it was valentine's day," rin mumbles to himself. the day has never meant much to him in the past and in the interest of not leading anyone on, he's always declined the chocolates presented to him. most people don't think of him as the type to care about the feelings of others, but giving someone false hope is cruel. there's no reason this year should be any different.

he runs a hand through his windswept hair, though the strands just fall back onto his forehead. he turns to his right where you're standing, your fingers clumsily toying with the straps of your backpack, what he thinks is a pitiful smile tugging at your lips. "what?" he asks.

"i don't know." you shrug. "i guess i just feel sorry for her. no one wants to get turned down by the guy they like."

"yeah, well, there's no guarantee they'll feel the same way," rin counters, nodding his head in the direction of your class building. you're sure they aren't directed at you, but the words sting—enough to cement your feet to the ground as rin starts on the way to your first shared class. it takes you a moment to will yourself to move, to fall into step beside him. the statement is a little harsh, but he's right. you know he is because it's the exact reason you're so reluctant to tell him about your feelings.

what if he doesn't feel the same?

"hey." you turn to him with wide eyes. did he catch on? you're almost sure he's going to question you about your strange behavior when he speaks up but, thankfully, he doesn't. "if anyone asks you to play messenger, just tell them i'm not interested."

you're tempted to laugh at that. no girl is going to see you turning them away on rin's behalf as anything less than sabotage. despite your skepticism that any of those potential encounters will bode over well, you nod. "got it."

the next proclamation of love isn't as direct; when the two of you make it to your first class of the day, there's a box sitting on the table you and rin regularly sit at. the envelope stuck under the ribbon tied in a neat bow has his name written across the front. you take a seat and silently wonder what he'll do. it's not like he can turn them down like this.

you're proven wrong when rin picks up the box and walks it to the front of the room, dropping it in the trash can. the action stirs up murmurs of disbelief as rin makes his way back to your table. you keep your eyes down in hopes of not seeing the face of the girl whose heart just shattered.

you think about each unfavorable interaction as you aimlessly wander the expanse of the courtyard. the fresh air was supposed to keep you from dwelling on things but your mind isn't so keen on giving you a break. it has to be because you went into today determined to do the same. every rejection you witness makes you reconsider your decision but you know you have to tell him today. if you don't, you're not sure you'll ever tell rin how you feel.

a sigh that resembles more of a pained groan pushes past your lips as you run a hand over your hair. maybe you should have skipped class today. you'd still be a nervous mess when you finally presented rin with the dumb little heart-shaped box you bought, but at least you wouldn't be replaying the worst-case scenario in your head as you did so.

you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. time travel isn't possible and you can't change the past. the only thing you can do now is charge forward.

when you open your eyes, there's someone walking towards you. a girl. unsurprisingly, she's got a box in her hands. you bite the inside of your cheek. you were really hoping you wouldn't have to deal with this.

the girl stops a few steps in front of you. despite the boldness in her approach, one that told you she recognized you, she still asks, "you're friends with rin, right?"

"uh, yeah."

"could you give these to him for me?" she asks. you remember rin's words and are a second from repeating them when the girl all but shoves the box into your hands, turning on her heel and rushing back the way she came.

mouth agape and hands heavy, you watch as she leaves. her figure is out of sight when you force your gaze down to the box. you bet its contents are just like those of the ones you put in your fridge last night. what are you supposed to do? throw them away as carelessly as rin had earlier?

"hey there." a voice sounds from behind you. you look over your shoulder to see who's addressing you and you're met with a matching set of cyan hair and eyes—hiori.

"ooh, chocolates." he points to the box in your hands as he comes to stand in front of you. "confessing to someone? rin maybe?"

"what? how did you-" you stop yourself from finishing that question. there's no way he could know. you haven't spoken a word to him about your feelings for rin. he's just assuming, nothing more. "no! what makes you think that?"

he shrugs, eyebrows raised at your adamant denial. "you haven't told me about any other guys in your life. so it's either rin or... oh my god. are you planning on confessing to me?"

"real funny." you gently nudge his ribs with your elbow but you can't fight the smile making its way onto your face. hiori breathes out a laugh and lightheartedly pats the top of your head. he has no idea how much you appreciate the much-needed, albeit short distraction.

hiori's eyes look past you. "hey rin."

you turn at the mention of his name to find him standing not far behind you. you offer him a smile but he doesn't return it. instead, his gaze falls to the box in your hands before they drag up to hiori and finally turn to you.

"are you ready to go?" he asks.

"yeah," you draw out the vowel, surprised at rin's unusual coldness toward hiori. you turn to the latter to say goodbye. "see you tomorrow."

hiori sends you off with a wave. the blue-haired boy watches your retreating figures with a playful shake of his head. he clicks his tongue as he starts on his way to his next class. "idiots."

"didn't know you liked hiori," rin speaks up from beside you, his eyes never straying from their focus forward. he's not sure why it took him the entire walk to the bus stop to broach the subject. maybe the strained silence was finally getting to him.

"i don't," you tell him. is that why he was so short with hiori? he's one of the few people rin gets along with. to see him practically ignore him was strange, to say the least.

"actually, these were meant for you." you hold the box up in the space between the two of you. "she handed them to me before i could say anything."

rin takes the box from your hold and slips it through the slot of the nearby garbage can. hearing the chocolates hit the rest of the trash almost makes you flinch. you uncomfortably laugh before asking, "do you really have to throw them away? isn't that a little harsh?"

"what else am i supposed to do with them?" accepting them in any way is an acknowledgment of their feelings and regifting them is out of the question. he wants to ask why you care so much but he already has an idea. you've always been more sympathetic than him. "i told you, i can't help that i don't feel the same."

rin's right. he has as little control over his feelings as you do over yours. you can't expect him to reciprocate, not the feelings of those girls and not yours. it's a hard truth to accept but one you'll have to if you plan on going through tonight. the sooner you do, the easier it'll be.

"i get it," you breathe out and nod, more to convince yourself than anything. you're sure rin won't press the matter, but the arrival of the bus fills you with relief.

you spend the ride watching the passing scenery and steeling yourself for the evening to come.

there's a shared path you walk with rin until you branch off and go your separate ways. you usually wish him farewell there but today, rin lingers. you raise your eyebrows in a silent gesture that questions his change in routine. he answers your unspoken question with one of his own. "are you still coming over later?"

is the universe mocking you? the moment you've strengthened your resolve, it's giving you a way out. a few hours ago you would have contemplated taking it but since then, you've come to terms with the fact that this isn't a situation you can control the outcome of. it may not end the way you want it to, but you don't want to hide your feelings forever. so you smile and shoot him a thumbs up. "yeah. yeah, i'll see you in a bit."

your phone loudly buzzes against the table, a text notification lighting up the screen. it's a check-in from rin; you're late. you pick the device up and type out a quick reply letting him know that you're on your way before shoving the phone in your pocket. your eyes turn to the spot beside the space your phone had occupied, the one where your box of homemade chocolates sits atop rin's folded jacket.

you slap your hands against your cheeks, rubbing the skin up and down as you breathe out a deep breath. "you got this," you remind yourself as you gather the items against your chest and start your walk to rin's apartment.

your fist feels heavy as it knocks against his unit's door. it doesn't take long before it swings open, revealing rin on the other side. the outfit he had worn to campus is traded in for something comfier—sweatpants and a t-shirt. he steps aside to let you in and you enter, kicking your shoes off and sliding into a pair of slippers he leaves out for guests.

you follow rin to the couch and take a seat beside him, making sure to leave a good amount of space between you. his thumb presses down on the arrow keys of the remote as he navigates the streaming service's selection of films. "any requests?"

"no," you shake your head, "whatever you want is fine."

he hums and continues scrolling through the movies falling under the horror genre. your leg is bouncing again, just like this morning. you can't wait any longer.

"thanks for letting me borrow this." you set his hoodie on the cushion of the couch, the empty portion between you and him. your voice and the movement he catches out of the corner of his eye lead rin to pause his search, to turn and face you.

you feel small under his gaze but will yourself to place the box on top of the folded fabric. "and these... are for you, too."

teal irises scrutinize the box. your heartbeat is loud in your ears, the only thing you can hear in the silent room. rin's lack of a reaction has the palms of your hands sweating.

"they're from me if you're wondering why i didn't toss them out," you attempt to joke, but you don't laugh. and neither does rin.

he picks up the box and you swear your heart lurches up into your throat with the action. your mind is a mess of thoughts ricocheting off the surface of your skull. why is he so quiet? is he trying to figure out how to let you down easy? no—he's got to be thinking about how you crossed the line. there's no way the two of you can go back to normal after this. this was a bad, bad idea— "i thought you were mad because i was turning all those girls down."

you don't understand what his words mean but the simple sound of his voice draws you back to reality, pulls you out of your head and away from those thoughts. when you look at rin, his eyes are already on you.

"what?" you croak out.

"i thought you were cheering them on or hoping that i'd end up accepting one of them," rin admits. "that's why i kept saying i couldn't change how i feel."

he sees it now. those questions and your looks of pity—sure, you probably did feel bad for them but really, you were putting yourself in their shoes. "you thought i'd turn you down, too?"

"i don't know." you cross your arms to shield yourself from his possible reply to your question of, "are you going to?"

"i told you i wasn't interested in them," he repeats himself for what feels like the umpteenth time. though, the next part is new, something he has to turn his gaze down to get out. "i never said anything about not being interested in you."

his statement is vague and while you think you know what he’s trying to convey, you have to be sure. the weight won’t be lifted off of your shoulders until you know. swallowing thickly, you ask, "is that your way of saying you're interested in me?"

rin looks back up at you as if it’s obvious. "why else would i have rejected all those girls?"

"you not liking them isn’t really enough evidence for me to have made that connection, rin." you slap his shoulder for putting you through unnecessary mental gymnastics. “just say you like me.”

“aren’t you supposed to be the one saying that to me?” he asks, shaking the heart-shaped box in the air as though you had forgotten.

“hey! be careful with those, they took all night to make.” it’s a little embarrassing to admit, but you think you’re past the point of caring. “and i wouldn’t do that for someone i didn’t like.”

you scan his features for any signs of discomfort but everything about his countenance is normal—all but the flush of pink creeping up on his cheeks. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush before this moment. the sight makes you giddy but, more than anything, you feel like you can breathe normally for the first time today.

“well,” he looks down to avoid your gaze, carefully taking the lid off of the box, “i wouldn’t accept chocolates from someone i didn’t like either.”

the smile that graces your lips at his declaration is one of pure joy. you’d spent so much time analyzing and assessing the negatives all day that you didn’t even allow yourself to imagine how it would feel if rin felt the same. it's almost like a dream.

it's silly, you know, but you can't help but reach out and poke the flesh of his cheek with your index finger.

blue-green eyes flit up from the piece of candy held between his lithe fingers to meet yours. "what was that for?"

you grin. "just making sure this is all real."

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

the bllk boys in shibuya <3