#l&d's

summary: "you are so loved"- the words slipped from her lips like a gentle whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping figure cradled in her arms.

tags: domestic fluff, domestic bliss, short and sweet, love confessions, call the dentist I'm sorry

words count: 1,267k

ao3 link 🔗

"You are so loved."

The words slipped from her lips like a gentle whisper, careful not to wake the sleeping figure cradled in her arms.

His head rested on her chest — because, as he always said, the sound of her heartbeat was his favorite sound in the world, the only way he could fall asleep peacefully when his mind was crowded with noisy thoughts.

Her fingers softly caressed his jet-black hair, thick and tousled as always when he slept.

She could feel his warm breath against the skin of her breasts, his favorite place to fall asleep.

They were enveloped in the silence of the room, while outside the window she could see golden and ruby leaves dancing gracefully in the night, lit by a few street lamps below, as the two of them sought warmth buried beneath the blankets, their bodies pressed close together.

Their sanctuary, their comfort.

Zayne’s face was relaxed — it always was when he slept curled up next to her — with an expression so serene, so at peace with himself and the world, like a child.

Smiling, she traced with her fingers the familiar lines of his face, now permanently etched in her mind.

His long eyelashes that had always framed his eyes, the cheeks that had grown fuller over the past few months, the curve of his nose and the little bump she loved to trace with her fingers, the small scar on his lip — always the first place she kissed.

She could have written pages and pages about how much that man in her arms meant to her, how every little thing he did — even the simplest — was just further proof of how worthy he was of all the love in the world.

He had always been.

Because Zayne was made of love — in every form and meaning of the word.

From the kindness he showed to every living thing, reflected in his golden-jade, cat-like eyes during the golden hour, sharp but tender when full of wonder, to his deeply selfless nature, never holding back when it came to others.

So mature in so many ways, yet also delightfully childish at times, as if he had preserved a part of his boyhood hidden all this time.

Despite his cold exterior, he could radiate so much warmth that it was almost a mystery how he could even possess his Evol — but then again, even the coldest ice can burn, and snow can bring warmth.

She remembered their first meeting as if it were yesterday, within the walls of Akso Hospital more than ten years ago, where his parents worked.

She had noticed him right away, even though he was half-hidden behind a tome almost bigger than he was, sitting at his father’s desk.

He was quiet, and yet he radiated a pleasant calm from his large eyes, hidden behind a pair of glasses.

He hadn’t smiled at first during that meeting—only when she offered him a crumpled piece of candy she’d kept in her pocket, as a gesture of friendship.

In that moment, his eyes had widened slightly, revealing the tiny golden flecks in his irises.

Then he had started telling her some medical facts he knew, and it was her turn to widen her eyes in wonder.

And when he created for her what looked like a cat made of snow, her eyes were filled with adoration and awe, exclaiming how incredible it was.

That was when she saw for the first time his cheeks and ears flush with embarrassment, his thin lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

And even now, she adored when that happened.

With every unexpected compliment, every stolen kiss in quiet moments, his expression became just the same as back then.

The tips of his ears would redden immediately, followed by his cheeks; his gaze would drop, and a gentle smile would bloom on his lips, followed by a soft scoff.

And she loved that.

The way he cared for things and people—from the patients who adored him deeply, to the little jasmine pot he kept by the window.

And of course, the way he cared for her.

Picking her up from work at any hour, on any day, always keeping her favorite drink and snack freshly bought in the car.

Those precious moments carved out with effort and love, just to spend even a few minutes together on the busiest days.

The long walks hand in hand, stargazing from the garden in summer, the list of breakfast spots to try together, or simply falling asleep in each other’s arms to end the day in the best way.

His patience.

His dedication.

His dry humor.

His gentleness.

She loved all of that about him, too.

But she also loved the things he thought were unworthy of love.

When they made love, she would always kiss gently the scars on his body—his arms, his hands—as if that could ease the pain they hid, giving them a new meaning.

She had learned to love even the silences, when the only thing she could do was stay beside him without saying a word.

Those were part of him, too.

Zayne Li, child prodigy of the Medical Academy, cardiac surgeon, an undisputed excellence in almost every field, admired by colleagues, patients, and the community.

But to her, he was just Zayne.

Her Zaynie.

She picked up her phone from the nightstand beside the bed, careful not to wake him. Once unlocked, she gazed, as always, at her wallpaper: Zayne with his surprised expression, caught mid-bite of cake, sitting across from her at their favorite café.

She smiled, as she always did when she looked at that photo. Then she opened the camera, turned off the shutter sound and flash, and quietly took a photo of his sleeping face resting on her—his thin lips slightly parted, part of his face comfortably pressed against her chest.

She would keep that photo in the dedicated folder in her gallery, hoping he wouldn’t discover it too soon.

Her Zaynie.

She put the phone back in its place again, returning to caress the nape of his neck and his bare back beneath the covers, occasionally running her fingers through his hair, just the way he liked it.

Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like if all this had become reality long ago.

What it would have been like if he hadn’t left, that autumn so many years before.

Maybe she would have discovered even more things she didn’t know about him—or learned sooner the ones she knew now.

They would have had even more “first times” than the ones they had already shared up to that moment.

Maybe this, maybe that…

But truth be told, this was enough.

After all, everything she had in that moment was all she needed, as she held in her arms the most precious thing she possessed.

Zayne murmured something against her skin, nuzzling gently against her, as if seeking her warmth and scent even in his sleep.

That alone was enough to fill her heart.

Zayne.

Her Zaynie.

On a night that felt like one from a long-past autumn, this time she wouldn’t have let him go for any reason.

He would never need to again, because someone loved him too much, to let him slip away like a leaf in the cold wind.

"Please, never forget me. Never forget that..."

She whispered, then lowered her head slightly, brushing the strands of jet-black hair from his forehead, and touched him softly with her lips.

“...you are so loved, Zayne.”

summary: after being apart for a week because of emergencies, perhaps a relaxing bathtub time was what could help them both.

tags: bathtub, longing, missing each other, suggestive, cuddles

words count: 2,465k

ao3 link 🔗

Wake up early.

Endless shifts.

Surgeries.

A short break.

More surgeries.

Emergencies.

As used as he was to that life, lately Zayne felt as though he were trapped in a loop.

In the past few weeks, because of the numerous Wanderer attacks in the outskirts of Linkon, on top of the usual daily emergencies, he had practically stopped leaving the hospital.

He tried to rest as best as he could on the small couch in his office, even though he had to curl up uncomfortably because of his height.

Still, his thoughts kept going back to her, hoping she was safe.

She had answered his messages, and he hadn’t seen her name on any of the admitted patients’ lists, which had greatly eased his heart.

And yet, all he truly wanted was for all that chaos to end, so he could finally return to her arms at home.

She, too, had been caught up for the same reason.

The surge of attacks in those days had kept her busier than expected, as was to be expected from that year’s Rookie Hunter.

Because of their respective duties, they hadn’t seen each other for almost a week.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time they had been apart for long stretches, but that week had been especially intense and exhausting for both of them.

Not even time for a proper call—just a few scattered messages in the rare quiet moments.

Fortunately, aside from a few bruises and shallow cuts, she hadn’t suffered any serious injuries, sparing her from taking up hospital resources needed by others.

Like him, all she wished for was to finally go home.

It was evening when Zayne finally returned. The lights were off, a sign that he was the first one back.

With a sigh, he glanced at his phone, rereading the last message they had exchanged:

[ The last Wanderer clearing operation is almost done. Just need to sign the report and I’ll be home. Drive safe, see you later ✌🏻🩵 ]

She should already have been home. Had some new emergency kept her again?

If so, he would make something for her to eat, in case they didn’t manage to have dinner together.

Opening the front door, he slipped off his shoes, put on his slippers, and hung his coat and work bag on the rack.

He was exhausted—more than he had been in a long time.

His back was wrecked from the hours spent standing, his head throbbed from lack of sleep, and his eyes were hollow, dark circles and bags under them.

He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble of his beard.

Maybe it was for the best she wasn’t home to see him like that.

He switched on the entryway light and, oly then, as he walked past the living room toward the stairs, did he notice a figure curled up on the couch.

Instantly his lips curved into a smile. Moving quietly, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

She stirred at the touch, her eyes fluttering open, mirroring the same exhaustion as his, before landing on him with a smile of her own.

“Sorry, I came home earlier. I wanted to wait for you but I crashed on the couch.”

“Glad at least one of us managed to get a bit of rest. Have you eaten yet?”

He finished putting his things away while she sat up straighter on the couch, though still dazed with sleep.

“No, I wanted to wait for you. Even if I’m so tired I’d go straight to bed.”

“You don’t look well. At least eat something light. Tea and cookies sound good? I’ll join you.”

“You’re the one who hasn’t been eating properly these days, without anyone packing you lunch for work.”

Zayne chuckled softly as he pulled out their favorite cookies from the pantry, then their mugs—one red, one white.

“I can’t say I haven’t missed your lunchboxes.”

She got up, still moving sluggishly, and wrapped her arms around him from behind as he prepared everything.

Feeling her embrace, he set everything down on the table and turned to hold her in his arms.

“But I think I missed this even more. It’s tough to get through a week of operations and emergencies without my daily dose of serotonin and oxytocin.”

She looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest, her expression tired but happy to finally be in her favorite place in the world.

“And how do you suggest we remedy this deficiency, doctor?”

Zayne pretended to think, hugging her closer, his hand absentmindedly caressing her back.

“Mmh. Maybe some daily supplements, even in small doses. We’ll need more frequent administrations over the next few days to fix the ongoing shortage.”

“In that case, I’ll be glad to help. We can start with small doses tonight…”

Rising a little on her toes, she looped her arms around his neck, lifting up her head to leave small kisses across his face—cheek, nose, jaw, lips…

As she peppered him with kisses, he couldn’t help but close his eyes, his ears and cheeks tinged with a soft pink hue, as always happened in those moments.

Pulling her closer, he felt the familiar texture of a bandage under her clothes and gently stopped her shower of affection.

“You’ve been treated.”

She lowered her gaze, trying to reassure him with her tone.

“I didn’t want you to worry, it’s nothing serious.”

“Can I take a look?”

“I’ll change it before bed, don’t worry…”

Her hands gently caressed his face, noticing the rough beard growth and the weariness in his eyes.

“You should take care of yourself too. You’re completely worn out—and you need a shave, if we want to continue this *conversation* later.”

With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the fatigue.

"I know, I know, you’re right. Unfortunately, I forgot to restock the spare razors I usually keep at the office."

"Even your clothes are begging for mercy, Dr. Zayne."

"The hospital laundry was busy providing clean clothes for patients, I didn’t have time—"

A playful tap on the cheek made him stop.

"I’m joking, don’t worry. My uniform and spare change are in urgent need of the washing machine too. How about we treat ourselves to a relaxing bath first? We both need it."

A bath together?

Actually, it sounded like a perfect idea. Just the thought of it made his muscles instantly loosen up.

It would also be a good chance to catch up on their recent hectic days.

And maybe even—

"Zayne?"

"Ah. Right, yes, that sounds perfect. I’ll shave first, then start filling up the tub, okay?"

"Sounds good."

She disappeared into the bedroom to grab the spare pajamas she kept at his place, while he dragged himself toward the bathroom.

As the hot water filled the tub, steam wrapped the room, carrying the fragrance of the jasmine and bergamot bath salts they usually saved for such occasions.

Meanwhile, the razor glided smoothly across his face, slowly clearing away the rough stubble that had started to grow.

Once he rinsed his face, he wiped the condensation off the mirror with the back of his hand and looked at himself.

His hair was still messy, his eyes tired, but at least his appearance was a little neater than before.

He loosened his belt, slipping off his pants and leaving them on the chair beside the sink, along with the shirt he had already removed.

That was when she joined him, already in a robe and carrying her pajamas, which she placed near his clothes.

"I’ve been waiting for this all week—my bones are begging for relief."

"That makes two of us, I guess. In sickness and in health, as they say, right?"

"I suppose so."

He slipped out of his underwear, and she hung her robe by the tub.

Offering her his hand, he stepped in first and sat at one end, helping her settle between his legs.

A sigh of pleasure for the hot water escaped both their lips, as they let themselves melt into its soothing warmth.

He made her lean back against his chest, crossing his arms around her waist, while he nuzzled gently at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

She hummed softly at the contact, reaching back with her hand to run her fingers through his messy hair.

"This was just what we needed."

He nodded, leaving soft kisses along her neck and shoulder.

She picked up a sponge from the edge of the tub, soaking it first in water and then with his favorite body wash.

"We’re almost out, I should go buy—"

"Bottom cabinet, left side. I grabbed three since they were on sale."

"My mistake for thinking you hadn’t already handled it, thanks."

He gently brushed her damp hair aside, tracing the nape of her neck and her upper back with his lips and nose.

That’s when he noticed more small cuts and bruises scattered across her body.

His fingers traced them gently, his expression suddenly darkening.

Sensing the change in his mood and guessing the reason, she took his hand softly in hers, interlacing their fingers and guiding it to rest against her stomach as she leaned back against him again.

"It’s all fine—you don’t need to stay in doctor mode right now. Not after this exhausting week, okay?"

"I was just thinking we should apply some ointment… maybe a few bandages."

"The field medics did a great job, they said everything’s fine. We’re here to relax, alright? Just you and me—no hospital, no Wanderers."

"...I’ll try."

"That’s more like it. Now, mind helping me out?"

She passed him the sponge, leaning forward a little to give him room.

He set to work immediately, scrubbing her back gently, careful to avoid the bruises and cuts.

His heart ached every time she came home looking like this, even if the injuries weren’t serious.

His hands slid down her back to the dimples of Venus, massaging the soap in with tenderness before rinsing it away with a gentle stream of warm water.

She, for her part, cherished these moments of everyday intimacy, when even the simplest gestures became a way to take care of each other after a hard week.

When he was done, she turned in the tub to face him, settling between his legs, her hands resting on his chest.

"Tell me how your days have been."

"We haven’t had such a major attack in Linkon for a long time. Luckily, a lot of staff joined in despite the workload, even those off shift. It was… intense."

"Mhm, I can imagine. Yvonne, Grayson… were they there too?"

He nodded, tucking back strands of her damp hair.

"We were all kept busy. Even though we’re used to grueling shifts, it’ll take some time to recover."

"I hope you’ll stay home for a few days."

"Not by choice, but… yes. Except for sudden emergencies, I’m on forced rest for two days."

"Wow, almost like a vacation, Dr. Zayne."

She replied with a gentle chuckle, tracing his face tenderly with her fingers.

"I’ll be off duty too, unless there’s an emergency. We could take advantage of it—go on a little getaway somewhere quiet… or just stay here, doing absolutely nothing."

"I have to admit, the second option sounds very tempting."

"Then it’s decided—home getaway it is. Tomorrow I’ll buy some things to stock up, and if we feel like it, we could bake a cake, cookies… or just enjoy some snacks, watch a movie, play board games…"

He kissed her forehead, then tucked his face back into the crook of her neck.

"Lovely."

"...or sleep in late."

He looked visibly exhausted—she could see it clearly—but at least this little moment together might help him relax, and finally get a peaceful night’s sleep.

He lifted his head, his eyes searching for hers as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

In return, she gently cupped his face in her hands, her thumb caressing his now clean-shaven cheeks, savoring the smooth skin.

"I missed you these past days."

"I know."

"Since when did you become so cheeky?"

"I just mean I know, because it was the same for me. I’m afraid we’re almost completely in sync by now, Doctor."

"Weren’t you the one who said no hospital talk or doctor talk here?"

"I thought you liked the nickname in other circumstances."

He let out a small scoff, his ears tinged pink again—but he silently blamed it on the hot, steamy water.

She shifted closer in the bath, their bare bodies pressing more firmly together as she leaned in, brushing a soft kiss at the corner of his lips.

The closeness made his heart pound faster, and he gently tilted his head to capture her lips with his.

His kiss was gentle, needy, yet delicate.

He had missed that touch in those days—going through everything without her, like he once did when he spent days and nights locked away in his hospital office, simply because he had no reason to go home.

But now he had one—and she was here, in his arms, safe and sound, holding the very same thought of him in her heart.

Work often kept them apart for days, but each time, he couldn’t escape that hollow ache near his chest, as if a piece of him were missing.

And every time they finally found themselves back in each other’s arms, he felt whole again.

Her fingers gently threaded through his soft raven hair, while her lips kept seeking his, deepening each kiss.

His steady hands held her close against his chest, his tender kisses pouring out all the longing and love he had bottled up over those past days.

His touch mapped her body with reverence, tracing from her back down to her waist, hips, then back up to softly caress her chest.

Soft sighs became the only symphony in the steam-filled bathroom, the water rippling quietly around them with each movement.

When the kiss finally broke, their eyes locked again, the exhaustion momentarily replaced by something sweeter, more urgent.

The question and the answer were already in their gaze. He pressed one last kiss to her cheek before reaching for her robe, setting it neatly on the edge of the tub.

"All things considered, I have to admit—being apart for a while has its advantages after all."

She followed his lead, their eyes still locked on one another, while a small smirk tugged at Zayne’s lips.

"But now that we have all the time… let me show you how much I missed you when we couldn’t see each other."

summary: it only takes a satin backless dress, to completely capture zayne's desires.

tags: back kink, scent kink, skin worship, back worship, zayne is basically obsessed with her back and her scent

words count: 1,734k

ao3 link 🔗

She could feel his eyes on her — an intense, almost burning sensation.

She had felt them on her all evening, during a formal business dinner like so many others, where she had accompanied Zayne.

He always looked at her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the room; nothing new, though always pleasant. But something about that night was different.

She had sensed it even earlier, as they were getting ready to go out, when she had asked him to help her fasten her dress.

He had been unusually slow as he pulled up the small zipper, one hand holding the fabric steady against her back while the other dealt with the zip, almost as if savoring the gesture.

Then, once done, his fingers had brushed her back delicately.

"I don’t remember ever seeing you wear this before — I take it it’s new?"

He had asked, running his fingertips over the fabric.

"Actually, I’ve had it for a while, but I never found the right occasion to wear it, so it ended up at the back of the closet. I came across it a few days ago while I was sorting clothes."

He nodded softly, tracing the lines of the dress.

"Silk?"

She shook her head with a smile, feeling his fingers follow her curves.

"Satin — a much cheaper alternative. But I think it works for tonight, don’t you?"

He couldn’t possibly have said otherwise, even if he’d wanted to.

She wore a long wine-colored satin gown — elegant yet simple, minimalist.

The front had a high square neckline and thin straps.

The material clung gently to her figure, accentuated by a golden chain worn as a low belt on her hips.

His gaze lingered on the back — a deep inverted V-neckline that reached the small of her back, with a soft drape.

He could see the delicate dip of her shoulder blades and spine — a perfect line.

Perfect.

She noticed his intense stare, as if he were lost somewhere far away, and looked at him with a playful laugh.

"Everything all right, Doctor?"

He cleared his throat immediately, regaining his usual stoic, composed expression — though his voice faltered for a second.

"Of course. Are you ready, or do you still need to fix something?"

She picked up the clutch she used for such elegant occasions, quickly adjusted her hair in the mirror, then took Zayne’s arm, ready to leave.

"I didn’t know you wanted to match my dress."

"I don’t, actually. If I’d known earlier what dress you were going to wear, I might have coordinated my outfit with yours."

"I wasn’t talking about your clothes."

"What do you mean?"

"I was talking about the color of your cheeks and the tips of your ears."

The rest of the evening went on as it usually did at those dinners — chatting with familiar faces, being introduced to new guests, making a toast with their wine glasses, sampling whatever delicacies the waiters brought around the room.

He wasn’t a fan of such events, but every now and then it was necessary for him to attend — especially when it came to charity evenings for associations affiliated with Akso Hospital, or when distinguished doctors visited from other parts of the continent.

And, more pleasantly, he got to see her in a new guise… quite literally.

She always chose dresses that were relatively simple yet elegant, that highlighted her figure in just the right places — but she had never worn one with such a daring backline.

He hadn’t known he needed to see it until that night.

During dinner, he looked for almost every excuse to touch her gently at that spot where her skin was bare, sometimes feeling her flinch slightly with a shiver.

He wondered if it was because of his “cold” touch, a side effect of his Evol — or if it was because it was his touch that made her react that way.

Any excuse was a good one to rest his hand there.

Did someone need to pass by?

He would guide her aside with a hand on her back.

Did he need to introduce her to someone?

He’d get her attention with a soft touch on her back.

Did he want to whisper something in her ear?

He would draw her close with a hand on her back.

For a few moments that evening, his mind wandered, even during conversations with other guests, wondering if he would be able to make it through the night without giving in to that warm feeling that lingered deep in his gut.

But he would wait—once they were back home.

A few hours later, after a short drive, they returned home, happy to finally enjoy a moment of peace.

With a sigh, she slipped off her shoes and sank into the living room couch.

"Good thing you brought a spare pair of shoes, I was going crazy with those heels."

"I always keep a pair in the car for emergencies, you know that. Do you need a band-aid?"

She shook her head, massaging the back of her ankle.

"No, it’s fine, it’s just a little sore. It’ll be gone by tomorrow."

Meanwhile, he loosened his tie and set water on the stove for tea, as was their ritual before bed.

"I’m going to get changed for a minute. Can you put the usual sugar in my cup?"

Zayne nodded, taking their matching mugs—hers red, his white—and putting two spoonfuls of sugar in hers.

After waiting a few minutes, just as the water began to boil, he turned off the heat and was about to pour it into the mugs when a voice called from the bedroom.

"Zayne…?"

He immediately looked up in her direction.

"What is it?"

"I think I need help with my dress zipper… it must have gotten stuck."

He left the pot on the stove and followed her voice into the bedroom, finding her standing near the bed, struggling to pull the zipper down.

"I thought I could manage on my own, but I think it’s caught on the fabric…"

He stepped toward her right away, gently moving her hand aside to get a closer look.

"Mhm… looks like it."

"Can you try to fix it?"

"Something tells me you only called me over to take advantage of my surgeon’s hands."

"You’re definitely more skilled than I am at handling small, delicate things without damaging them."

"In more ways than one, actually."

She smiled, catching the double meaning, and turned her back to him more fully.

Zayne focused on the zipper, leaning in slightly, carefully and precisely working to free the satin fabric without tearing it.

In doing so, he found himself just inches from her back, surrounded by the scent of jasmine and hints of date and pear—the perfume he had given her long ago—that still lingered on her skin.

The dim light in the room highlighted the silkiness of her skin, the small moles scattered across it like constellations.

He suddenly caught himself holding his breath, intoxicated by the sight of the part of her only he was allowed to touch.

As if his body had moved of its own accord, he bent closer to her nape, inhaling her scent softly.

She drew in a silent breath, surprised by the gesture, and glanced back over her shoulder.

"Zayne…"

He didn’t answer, instead tracing the beginning of her spine with his nose and lips, following her fragrance.

Her skin under his touch was soft and delicate, and with his fingers, he kept working at the zipper, stuck at the end of the neckline, just above her hips.

She let out another shuddering breath as she suddenly felt a small kiss on her spine, at the height of her shoulder blades.

"Did you… did you fix it?"

He replied with a simple "mh-h" while his lips continued tracing the dip of her back.

He had wanted to do that ever since before they left for the dinner—ever since he had helped her into that dress hours earlier.

But maybe he wouldn’t settle for just that.

He couldn’t… he didn’t want to.

With a gentle touch, he finally freed the zipper, pulling it down so that part of the dress loosened against her, ready to be removed.

"Thanks… I can take it from here."

She replied, trying to hide the flush rising to her cheeks, but he stopped her with a gentle yet firm motion.

"Let me handle this. Quitting halfway isn’t something I do."

Without protest, she turned her head forward again, leaving him before his blank canvas.

Delicately, he slipped the straps of the dress down her shoulders. His pupils widened slightly at the sight, and he swallowed to steady himself.

His lips returned softly to her back, continuing where he had left off.

The sweet scent she wore was almost hypnotic, intoxicating his mind—already slightly clouded by the suppressed desire from earlier that evening and by the sight before him.

Slowly, he let his tongue glide along the dip of her spine, while gently letting the dress fall to the floor, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her underwear before him.

He traced her shoulder blades with his fingertips, the muscles beneath flexing involuntarily at his touch as she sighed at the sensation.

He was always tender and physically affectionate with her, but something about that night felt different, as though something in him had shifted.

His fingers replaced his lips, slowly tracing down her spine to its base, while he gently nuzzled the crook of her neck and her nape, moving her hair aside to place a soft kiss there.

"I hope tonight’s dress won’t end up lost in the depths of your wardrobe again."

"Expecting more galas anytime soon?"

"Why wait, when we can have an elegant dinner right here, just the two of us?"

A playful nibble on her shoulder made her turn with a slight gasp, her eyes searching for his in the dim light.

"Zayne… the tea—"

He smiled, leaning in again to kiss her neck softly, while one hand gently gripped her waist and the other traced light patterns on the bare skin of her back.

"The tea can wait. We can always heat more water. But there are other matters… ones that have been waiting to be taken care of since beginning of this evening."

summary: a simple day, just the two of them, amidst their busy lives, that's all he really ever wanted.

tags: domestic fluff, normal life, slice of life, all caleb wants is happiness, what does it really mean being normal

words count: 3,948k

AO3 link 🔗 | masterlist 📝

It hadn’t been common lately for Caleb to be able to come to Linkon City often, so that day was almost like a special event for both of them.

Already that morning she had busied herself in the kitchen—apple peels, eggshells, flour everywhere—intent on preparing something for the day.

Knowing he was coming back from a long and rather demanding mission, she had decided that, just this once, she would be the one taking care of everything—cooking and all the rest.

After all, she was no longer the little girl who needed to be taken care of.

She took out from an old box the recipe for the apple pie Josephine used to bake so often at home, the one that had ended up becoming her, but especially Caleb’s favorite.

Fortunately, she had brought it to her apartment when she’d moved out on her own, and by doing so it hadn’t been destroyed in the explosion.

It had been months since she’d last eaten it; it would have been a nice surprise for him too, she thought.

She put on some music and, while she hummed quietly along with the tune, she began gathering and weighing the main ingredients.

Within an hour, an inviting scent had spread throughout the apartment, instantly bringing back memories of a not-too-distant but happy past.

Back then, Josephine would involve them while baking the pie; Caleb would take care of cutting the apples (being older, he’d taken on the responsibility so she wouldn’t cut herself), while she stirred the batter clumsily with a wooden spoon.

Once it was out of the oven, they’d dust it with powdered sugar, always making a mess—on their clothes, their faces, the kitchen table, the floor.

She had just finished decorating the pie when the intercom rang, revealing on the screen a figure waiting on the other side of the door.

She wiped the flour from her hands and hurried to open it, but before she could even mumble a greeting, she found herself holding a fragrant bouquet of lily-of-the-valley tied with an orange ribbon.

“...don’t you think it’s weird making me thank you before I even get to greet you and welcome you back?”

“Maaaybe you’re right. My bad, I guess I was too impatient to see your reaction, and my greeting was implied. But if we’re sticking to formalities, then…”

Holding the bouquet in one hand, she stood on tiptoe, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling herself against him with a smile.

“Welcome back, Caleb. And thank you...for both things.”

Entering the apartment, Caleb dropped his duffel bag on the couch, stretching slightly as if he’d just returned from a long journey—and judging by the darker-than-usual bags under his eyes, he had.

“You came straight from your mission…?”

Hearing the trace of worry in her voice, he smiled, clearly trying to reassure her immediately.

“Everything’s fine, I’m not that tired. I’ve had longer missions without sleep. It takes more than that to take me down, you know.”

She could only sigh, rolling her eyes slightly at his usual attempt to downplay things.

But this time she wouldn’t argue—not after all the time they’d spent apart.

Moments like this had become rare lately, and she certainly wasn’t going to waste it scolding him like an overprotective mother lecturing her reckless teenage son.

“…let’s forget it. Anyway…”

With a quick hop she positioned herself behind the kitchen table, pointing a spoon at him with a mischievous smile.

“…this time you get to taste my cooking. I did my best, so I hope the famous, multi-award-winning chef Caleb—awarded by yours truly—will be merciful with a beginner cook.”

Caleb laughed at the little scene, immediately playing along with the role of chef and food critic she’d assigned him.

“Well well, Miss Chef. I hope you’re ready for my completely honest and absolutely unbiased judgment then. I shall be very strict and direct.”

Lunch was simple—nothing impressive compared to the meals Caleb had spoiled her with ever since they were kids.

However, his very first cooking attempt had been far from a success, and even now she could taste the bitter flavor of the burnt eggs he had served her.

“Remember the first time you cooked for me?”

Caleb froze with his fork mid-air, sighing as soon as he realized she was bringing up *that* story again.

“You’re still bringing that up? How long do I have to pay for that crime and stain on my culinary résumé?”

She laughed as she kept eating, amused by his expression somewhere between offended and entertained.

“Sorry, I just can’t help thinking about it whenever I cook eggs. Are mine really that terrible too?”

Each of them had two fried eggs on their plates, with a simple side of seasonal vegetables—nothing fancy.

Caleb finally brought the fork to his mouth, biting into the egg.

“Actually, they’re not bad. You’d have to try really hard to do worse than I did back then.”

“I could’ve paid you homage… or taken revenge for that time, but I don’t think your stomach would’ve appreciated it.”

Smiling, he kept eating.

“You’ll have other chances to poison me. For today I’m happy staying alive and enjoying the day. Maybe next time, little chef.”

Once they finished the main course, she took the apple pie out of the oven and set it triumphantly on the table.

The mere appearance was exactly the ones Grandma used to make, and she couldn't help but grin happily at the view of it.

“It didn’t collapse! What do you think?”

Caleb leaned forward to inspect the pie and inhale the scent of the still-warm pastry.

“Not bad. I feel like I can even smell—”

“Cinnamon. I didn’t forget it.”

“Someone paid attention to my cooking lessons, I see. Or you’re a very good recipe thief.”

“Is that a complaint I hear?”

“Not at all. Now we just need to see if the student surpassed the master. Though seeing a pie that’s neither burnt nor raw is already a great start.”

“Apparently having you here brings luck to my cooking skills. You should come more often—for the sake of my desserts, I mean.”

“Got it. Relegated to the role of dessert protector. Copy that.”

Turning around, she grabbed a packet of powdered sugar and a sieve from the pantry.

“Remember? That was my favorite part when making the pie with you and Grandma.”

“You mean covering the kitchen in white powder and making a mess? Oh, I bet. You weren’t the one cleaning afterward.”

“That’s unfair, you used to make a mess too at first.”

“Only on my first attempts though, not every time like you.”

“Just eat!” she shot back, grabbing a warm slice of pie and pushing a piece into his mouth.

Caught slightly off guard, Caleb protested with his mouth full while she kept gently pushing more pieces in.

“Shtwop— it’s ghw-ood— it’s goo—!”

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you. You know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full? At least that’s what someone used to tell me constantly when I was a kid. Don’t you agree?”

“You mischievous—”

"Still can't hear you..."

"Oh cwh-ome owh-n-"

Realizing maybe she was overdoing it, she gave him an apologetic look, as she stepped a bit back.

“You’re right, sorry.” she said softly, clearing her voice then brushing crumbs from the corner of his lips with her thumb.

“First you cause trouble, then you try to fix it with that innocent face. Typical you.”

Caleb chuckled, poking her side playfully.

She squealed in surprise, flinching. That’s when he noticed her shirt was still lightly dusted with powdered sugar, just like years ago.

“Well, some things never change, it seems.”

Caleb brushed a bit of sugar off his shirt and dabbed it on the tip of her nose with his finger, then looked at her with a gentle smile.

“It feels like we’re back to those afternoons at home years ago. Thank you.”

Caleb's expression was warm, soft. It had been a while since she'd seen that look on him, and her heart couldn't help but feel the same warmth.

That soft look he had as a boy, when his purple eyes would narrow slightly, while his lips, dry even then, would curve upward, a hint of redness on his cheeks that highlighted his freckles.

It felt like she had before her not the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, but only Caleb.

Her Caleb.

If she could have frozen time, perhaps she would have done it in that moment, with the two of them in that kitchen, illuminated by the soft rays of the sun filtering through the windows, while he laughed carefree, as if nothing existed but the two of them within those four walls.

The rest of the afternoon passed in an ordinary, peaceful way, on a typical autumn day.

After a short walk through avenues lined with trees full of red and golden leaves, to pick up a few groceries for the evening, they had stopped by an old toy shop where Caleb had found a wooden model airplane to assemble.

Once they returned home, they prepared a quick snack, and sitting at the small table in the living room, they spent the afternoon putting the wooden model together while watching an old movie on TV that they had often seen when they were little.

It was the story of two friends who had grown up together through the adventures and struggles typical of youth, who then became adults with different dreams and ambitions, finding each other again once they were grown.

The boy in the movie had so many dreams, yet he gave up everything to be with her.

Was he happy with his choice? Or did he have some regrets for not following his dreams? Or had she always been his true dream?

Perhaps it was just the nostalgia stirred by the film, yet she felt as though it spoke to her in a more intimate way after all those years.

And as she watched Caleb, focused on his model while listening to the movie, she wondered if he felt the same.

That evening, Caleb insisted on taking the turn in the kitchen, using the excuse that he would cook her favorite dish to thank her for her hospitality.

“You had enough fun taking my place in the kitchen at lunch, now it’s time to restore order,” he had said, putting on an apron far too small for him, earning a few hidden giggles from her.

Not that she could complain—quite the opposite.

Eating his braised chicken wings was a bite of nostalgia mixed with happiness, a dive into the past that made her taste buds ecstatic.

Maybe she would leave the apron to him next time too.

With the table set for two in the cozy, intimate atmosphere of the kitchen, it looked like a normal evening between a long-time couple.

Was this how all those couples they had seen at the supermarket that afternoon felt?

Young and middle-aged couples shopping together as if it were more an opportunity to spend time together than a mere chore, or like a scene from the movie they had watched a few hours earlier.

In the last year, before his return, she had found herself eating alone in that kitchen, trying to recreate his dishes with fair success, yet always feeling like something was missing.

As they ate, she stole glances at him, watching his serene expression as he moved around the kitchen.

She wondered if he had felt the same, if he had longed for a day like this just as much as she had—full of domesticity and companionship.

Or perhaps his mind was elsewhere, on duties waiting for him miles above sea level, on that island among the clouds.

Caleb’s mind and his secrets were still a mystery to her.

When it was time to go to sleep, Caleb started getting ready to stay on the couch as he had on previous nights, but she grabbed the hem of his pajamas and dragged him toward the bedroom.

That man had suffered enough on her small couch; she wouldn’t be so cruel as to make him endure that torture again.

Besides, she needed to feel him close at least one more night, before their commitments could pull them apart again for who-knew-how-long.

In the darkness of the room, lying face-to-face, their hands searched for each other, eager to feel that familiar, reassuring warmth.

Gentle caresses, a few kisses, laughter as they rested in each other’s arms, talking about whatever came to mind.

And yet, despite the almost idyllic and peaceful atmosphere, her mind couldn’t stop circling back to the question that had been buzzing in her head all day.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly, brushing the arm she had wrapped around his waist.

Of course he had noticed—he knew her like the back of his hand. She could never hide anything from him, unlike him from her.

“Caleb?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever wondered what you really want in of your life?”

At the question, Caleb’s fingers stilled on her arm, as though she had asked him the most difficult and at the same time most obvious question of his life.

What did he really want in his life?

A strange question, considering that the answer was exactly in his arms at that very moment.

“Why that question?”

He asked in return, almost to buy time.

“Once you said your dream was to become a pilot, travel, see new places… discover the world. But time has passed; maybe your dreams have changed.

She wasn’t wrong—that had indeed been his dream for so long, and he had even managed to make it come true.

But now, in a way, that dream had become a bit of a prison, turned into something different and far less… free.

His DAA aircraft had turned into the one belonging to the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, and while anyone else might have seen that as an upgrade, to him that winged hunk of metal that had once symbolized freedom had turned into a birdcage.

“Yes, you’re right,”

he finally answered, his thumb gently stroking her arm again.

“No secrets, remember?” her voice reached his ears.

Caleb smiled at the conspiratorial tone and at the phrase that once belonged to their childhood, but had now turned into a more adult promise.

“No secrets. In fact, I thought I had been pretty clear.”

“Mmm… I don’t think so. Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Or maybe you already know and just want to hear me say it. What a sly pipsqueak.”

“Maybe. That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re not answering me.”

Caleb paused again, unconsciously taking in a deeper breath, then set his eyes on her.

“Nothing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean…?”

“What I want. Nothing. Nothing complicated, just…normality. To be normal people.”

She looked back at him, searching his eyes for a deeper meaning behind those words.

“We are not...?”

“Is that how you’d define a colonel with a bionic arm, a woman with Anhausen-Class Evol abilities and an Aether Core, two former esp—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Yes, you have a point, but… those things are part of us. Without them, we wouldn’t really be ‘us’.”

“I know, but I still can’t help thinking about it. I just want to know what it feels like to be what people consider normal. A simple life, maybe even a boring one. I just want to know what that feels like sometimes.”

"Like what?"

"How it feels like holding the person you love whenever you want. Being able to be with her without feeling scared, or guilty, without a gnawing feeling to the heart. To kiss her goodnight everyday, making love to her everyday, whispering her gentle words to help her fall asleep in my arms every night. To dream of a serene future together, without the fear of having her taken away from me."

Caleb fell silent once more, absent-mindedly stroking her arm again.

“Do you think somewhere in the cosmos… somewhere there’s a version of us that’s happy?”

“Aren’t you happy, Caleb?”

“Wait, that’s not what I meant…I guess I am, really. Since you found me again, I am. But… it’s like deep down I keep hoping there’s a version of us out there that doesn’t have to worry about anything. That can be… normal, however you define it.”

“Caleb.”

“Hm?”

Gently, she cupped his face between her fingers, turning him toward her as her eyes settled on him—the same warm, familiar color as always.

“I like not being "normal". I like it, as long as it means being it with you, as long as it means I can have you here with me."

Her tone was sure, as if she wanted him to believe the same.

"And if there’s some version of us out there in the cosmos, boring, perfect, and normal… maybe they’re wondering if there’s a version of them with a hectic life, always on edge and uncertain, but happy.”

Her hand slid from his cheek to his chest, pressing over his heart, the cool metal of his necklace between their skin.

“And the answer is yes. If we’re not the normal ones, we’ll make our own normal. As long as we’re together, we can do that, right?”

Caleb’s chapped lips curved into the faintest smile.

“I like it when you’re the optimistic one.”

They stayed silent for a moment, his fingers tenderly caressing her face.

“Caleb?”

“What is it?”

“And in your ‘normal’ life, what would you want to do?”

“You mean ideally?”

“Yes, I mean what a typical day would look like for you. I imagine you’ve thought about it.”

“Certainly.”

“Can you tell me?”

Caleb shifted slightly on the bed, holding her gently against him as he searched for her eyes in the darkness.

“Wellll...In the morning I’d leave the shutters open, so we could wake up with the sunlight whenever we feel like it. No alarms involved. I’d probably wake up first, while you’d still be asleep, mouth open, drooling between me and the pillow.”

“Hey, I don’t dro—”

“Then I’d try waking you softly, whispering, but that never worked, even when we were kids. So I’d have to resort to my old method—tickling you. You’d wake up startled and start protesting, trying to hit me and failing miserably.”

“I refuse to believe you’d be a terrible person even in your dreams.”

“I’m not done…”

“Ugh… go on.”

“Since your wake-up wouldn’t be very pleasant, I’d have to make up for it. So I’d try kissing you, but you’d turn your head back to the pillow to sleep. Soooo… I’d have to appeal to your stomach.”

“Pancakes?”

“Whatever you want. As long as it’s warm, freshly made, and—most importantly—made by me.”

“Then I’d smell it all the way to the bedroom and come to you in the kitchen.”

“I’d pretend not to hear you coming, just to feel your surprise attack from behind as you cling to me.”

“And I’d stay glued to you until you finish cooking, then I’d help set the table.”

“We’d have breakfast together while you tell me what you dreamed about. And if you had nightmares, I’d promise to hold you a little tighter the next night.”

As he said it, he instinctively pulled her a little closer.

“Then we’d get ready in the bathroom, arguing over who gets to shower first because you’re scared the hot water will run out. Then we’d go to work—whatever that may be, I don’t care. And afterward, I’d come pick you up, so we could go home together.”

“That’s it?”

“…but you’d complain you want to do something together after work. So we’d go to the movies, to the arcade, take a walk, get pizza and eat it sitting at the city overlook spot, or go to the amusement park. Or just stay at home and do something together. Wherever you want, I’d take you.”

“That’s better. And in the evening…”

“I’d cook your favorite dish, even if you’d already had those chicken wings multiple times that week, but the way your face lights up when you eat them would always be reason enough to make them again.”

“That sounds like a dream.”

“Afterwards, we’d get ready for bed. But first we’d stay there talking about whatever crosses your mind, like we always used to. Then you’d start getting sleepy, so I’d tuck you into my arms, as comfortable as possible, and I’d stroke your hair until you drift off. And once you’re asleep, I’d kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, very gently, and I’d wish you sweet dreams.”

In the dark, she smiled with deep affection, gently cupping his cheek.

“Dummy, did you notice you basically described today? Or was that intentional?”

“It was.”

“Then why—”

“I want a thousand days like this, normal, ‘boring’ but ours in our own way. I want to reset every night and relive a day like this, without thinking about anything else.”

She wanted that too, truly.

Maybe if they went somewhere else, far from everyone, finding a place just for them where nothing from their past and present could follow them, leaving behind the pain and every bitter memory, they could be happy.

“I want that too.”

But their tone, instead of being dreamy and carefree at the thought, was almost sad, resigned.

The tone of someone who wants to believe in a utopia, in a bright, happy world like children do, but knows reality is different.

The tone of someone who, even while longing for a happy ending, knows from experience that life isn’t always like that—yet still keeps, tucked somewhere safe inside, a little hope.

“One day.”

“One day. I want to believe that.”

“And what if that day comes when we’re older, when we have gray hair, when walking feels like a challenge?”

“You can always use your Evol as a cane, and I’ll keep you steady by holding your arm.”

“That sounds fun.”

“If you’re there, it definitely will be.”

They both smiled at the thought, their fingers intertwined against his cheek.

Maybe one day things would be that way.

Maybe far in the future, maybe not.

Maybe that desire for normalcy would become reality—but no one could say for sure.

The only certain thing was each other’s presence, anchoring them to that world and that life, however far from normal it might be.

And if fate had other plans for them, they would build their own future, rewriting what normal meant for them.

A gentle kiss landed on her forehead as Caleb’s fingers stroked her hair.

“Our day as normal people has come to an end.”

“And what if I don’t want it to end?”

“Every day must come to an end. But I hope that next time I’m here, we can live it all over again.”

“Same movie in the afternoon?”

“I think I already know it by heart, but yes… the same movie would be fine.”

Another kiss landed on the tip of her nose, making her smile as she closed her eyes halfway.

“Then… see you again, ‘normal’ Caleb.”

“Of course. Now...just rest, okay?”

She nodded, closing her eyes and resting her head beside his, their joined hands settling between them.

One last soft kiss brushed against her lips, reluctant to end—as if trying to stretch out the quiet magic of that day a little longer.

“Sweet dreams. Goodnight.”

summary: for the first time in centuries, the God of Annihilation was afraid. a sensation of cold clung to him, the fear of loss, the warmth of her body in his arms.

tags: gods!zaynemc, dreams and nightmares, fear of death, fear of loss, trauma, fate and destiny

words count: 1,800k

AO3 link 🔗

He was afraid.

For the first time in decades, centuries, the God of Annihilation was afraid.

It wasn’t a mere feeling of worry, the kind humans might feel about everyday matters, things that to divine eyes could seem trifles.

It was a visceral, primordial sensation, as if it were corroding him from within, like worms gnawing at a mortal body.

And in his visions, that was indeed what he saw.

For nights now the vision had repeated itself with precise cadence and in-loop scenes: a sensation of emptiness, the metallic smell of blood, and the feeling of something icy creeping into the palm of his hand—so much so that he would awaken convinced he was clutching something made of ice.

And yet, when he opened his eyes, the only thing he held tightly was anything but cold and rigid.

Her soft body was perfectly nestled against his, warmth radiating from her skin, dispelling that earlier sensation of chill upon his own.

Her naked figure hidden beneath the linen sheets was pressed against his, as if seeking that comforting, familiar contact.

Jewels and golden tattoos adorned her bronzed skin, which glowed with a golden shimmer under the soft candlelight filling their divine alcove.

Her breath was calm, steady, and warm upon his chest, her long lashes brushing the cheeks, soft lips slightly parted as if they were inviting him to reach them.

She was in his arms, real, tangible… alive.

Those dreams were tangled in his memory, more like a knot of sensations he struggled to unravel in search of a thread of logic.

And yet, he felt both a void and a heavy weight in his stomach, as if something from those dreams had managed to cling to reality, a parasite ready to nest within his thoughts.

Zayne traced the contours of her face with his fingers gently, careful not to wake her.

He had done it countless times, and yet each time he felt the need to imprint those cherished features in his memory through touch.

He had done it on many nights, in that canopy bed in the Divine Tower, or on the terrace under the full moon, beneath the gaze of the stars.

And also in a time long past, in a different world.

And so too in other times, in other worlds still.

Yet that gaze, that smile, and that voice remained a universal constant in every variant of existence.

So was the feeling of something cold.

Suddenly, his mind returned to that day he had tried to bury deep inside, pretending it had only been a nightmare, just like those that haunted his nights.

But it wasn’t.

That sensation of cold he had felt in his dreams—he knew he had already lived it.

As the utopian world that had become a dystopia collapsed around him, within the cold walls of a laboratory he clutched a lifeless body to himself, cold, stripped of the warmth and spark of life it had held only a short time before.

He still remembered her blurred figure through the tears, the pain of a heart that was no longer in its place and yet seemed to ache as never before.

Then came the determination, the awareness that there was still a way, the only way to bring her back to him—or rather, back to life.

He had literally given himself so that it could happen, and he would have done it hundreds of times over if he had to.

His heart would make hers beat again, and this time nothing would stop it.

Niava was wrapped in the night, the summer air scented with Nicotiana Alata and incense, while a breeze gently shifted the curtains of the room, revealing glimpses of the moonlit landscape.

For many nights had they spent their time sitting on the terrace, gazing at it all, losing themselves in the stars, hoping to catch a few falling ones.

She used to say how wonderful it was, how proud she was of what that world had become during those centuries under her guidance.

And it was—it was because of her… but above all, it was FOR her.

When he had created that world, he had shaped it so that it might be a nest, an ideal refuge to keep her safe while she lived a peaceful and fulfilling life.

He was not good at creating things—after all, it would have been a paradox for a God of Annihilation.

And yet, for her, he would have gone against himself, and indeed he had, even then.

But would it be enough?

He would have left soon. Even though it was the hardest decision to make, he would do it—for her.

He had calculated every possibility, spent centuries trying to understand what the variable was, that tiny crumb in the universe that could have changed that adverse fate so deeply tied to them.

He knew what he had to do; he had known for a long time.

She would continue to thrive alongside her Niava, she would be happy, but above all, she would be safe.

And if that meant having to give her up, he would do it.

Yet that part of him, that seemed to pulse in the space once occupied by his heart and his stomach, that desire… that selfish desire, was still there.

He looked at her again, as she had unconsciously nestled closer to him in her sleep, her head resting between his neck and chest—her refuge.

He knew what he had to do.

And yet, could a god feel a selfish desire?

He would go away, he would let her be happy even without him—but she would be alive, and she would be for a long time.

So why, as he held her in his arms, had his grip tightened without him meaning to?

Why did his eyes and nose suddenly sting at the thought that he would never hold her like this again?

He would never hear her voice again.

Her laughter.

Her singing.

Her adorable expressions she used to convince him to follow whatever idea came into her mind.

The softness of her skin beneath his hands.

Her caresses.

Her scent.

The centuries spent talking about anything and everything.

The long walks.

The nights spent watching the stars.

Seeing her sleep beside him.

Kissing her.

Making love to her.

Feeling his heart—no longer existing—still beating like a phantom organ, only for her.

Her.

He felt torn apart inside, as if being pulled in many directions by the doubts consuming him.

He had to let her go.

He had to.

But… perhaps he could wait.

One more night, he told himself. One more night, and then he would leave—that was how it had to be.

Everything would be fine, she would be safe, and that small chance would truly become real.

And yet, he couldn’t help but think of those visions.

The cold, the blood, the emptiness.

Were they shattered fragments of that past?

Perhaps his mind was only playing tricks on him, perhaps it was just his subconscious preparing for farewell.

It had to be so.

After all, once gone from her life, that disastrous variable would disappear.

He had calculated it, that was how it was.

That was how it was.

Surely so.

It couldn’t have been otherwise.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts, and widening his eyes in surprise, he noticed she was looking at him.

Her tousled hair spread across the pillow like a divine halo, her eyes reflected the glow of the candles, while her soft lips curved in a curious expression.

“Are you alright?”

Zayne did not answer right away. He merely shook his head, and a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“Everything’s fine, go back to sleep.”

“I can’t if you keep holding me this tight. Are you afraid I might run away?”

He sighed softly, loosening his grip on her side.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention.”

She shifted slightly on the bed, her gaze fixed on him, as if she was trying to grasp the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind at that very moment.

“...did you have a nightmare again?”

“Again? Strange, I could have sworn it was Niava’s goddess who was more familiar with nightmares. Don’t you remember the blow you gave me the other night?”

“From my experience, I think I know the signs, since it isn’t the first night I’ve seen you like this.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, brushing a lock of raven hair from his face, while looking at him with a softened expression.

“You've been holding me tighter than usual lately, not that I can complain too much. But whenever it happens...”

Her hand gently cupped his cheek, as she gazed deeply into his hazel-green eyes, where sparks of gold shimmered in the candlelight.

“...your breath is labored, and when I look at you, I see an anguished expression. I try calling your name, but you don’t wake up, as if you're frozen in place and can't hear me. Only when I hold you back and kiss you, do I feel your body begin to relax.”

He hadn’t thought she had noticed. The last thing he wanted was to alarm her with what he was going through.

“Forgive me, I’ll try drinking some herbal tea before sleeping. It will pass.”

“Zayne...”

“Besides, I see Niava’s goddess is very sneaky, she reserves her kisses only for the darkness of night and my unconsciousness.”

She smiled faintly, tapping his chest without force.

“If my lips cannot bring you comfort with words, it is my duty to try in another way. Haven’t I always told you that?”

“I suppose so.”

“Will you tell me about your nightmare now?”

Zayne stayed silent, then lowered his head to her, gently kissing her temple.

“No nightmare, nothing I remember.”

“We agreed, no secrets—”

“No secrets, I know. Now try to rest, Niava needs her goddess well-rested to prosper, don’t you think?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped, letting her hand fall onto his, guiding it back to her side.

“I never said you had to stop holding me. Just don’t squeeze me too much, I’m not some sort juicy fruit.”

“On that, we might have different opinions.”

Smiling, they pulled each other close again, nestled together among the delicate sheets.

With the warmth of her body in his arms, perhaps he would chase those feelings away once more.

The cold of the dream would vanish.

Everything would go as it should.

No variable would have changed her destiny.

Everything would be fine.

For Niava.

For her.

Just a few more days, only a few more days.

In the distance, somewhere, a snowflake fell silently to the ground.

Thanks for reading! Comments, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated 🤍

I apologize for any grammar/lexical mistakes ✨