DO NOT COPY
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BACKGROUND
Ziv wasn’t the type to yell. He didn’t slam doors, didn’t throw words like knives when he was upset. No — Ziv withdrew. He shut down with the quiet precision of a man who had been hurt too many times to let his anger ruin anything he loved.
And right now, you were the one who hurt him.
It started as a small argument — stress, misunderstanding, and exhaustion all piling up. But then you snapped. You raised your voice. You cursed.
And the moment the word left your mouth, you saw it — the flicker in his eyes. Like something inside him shut off.
He didn’t shout back. He just turned away.
Since then, he hadn’t spoken a word to you. He didn’t sleep beside you. He didn’t reach for your hand like he always did in the mornings. And no matter how many times you whispered I’m sorry, all you got was silence.
It was driving you crazy.
You tried everything — soft pouts, lingering glances, brushing your fingers against his arm when you passed by — even sent him a voice note of you sniffling just to get a reaction. But Ziv wasn’t budging. Not even a glance.
It hurt more than you expected. Because this wasn’t just distance — it was punishment. And you deserved it.
But gods, if he wasn't going to melt for your apologies, then maybe he'd burn for your recklessness.
So you stormed into the room, heart pounding, reckless words on your tongue. He was sitting on the couch, calm and unreadable — like your absence hadn’t even left a mark.
You folded your arms and glared at him, the pout gone from your lips, fire in your chest. “You’re being a real ass right now, Ziv.”
That got his attention.
His jaw ticked. Slowly, he turned his head, brows low, lips drawn into that terrifyingly calm line. He stood up — slow and deliberate — like a storm unfolding one cloud at a time.
"“What did you just say?” His voice was deep, quiet, too composed.
You blinked innocently. “I said you’re a—”
He was in front of you before you could finish, gripping your jaw so gently it made your heart skip. Then—
He kissed you. Hard. A crash of lips and suppressed emotion. Punishing and claiming. And when he finally pulled back, his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them.
“I told you no swearing,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “Do it again.” His fingers traced your lips, possessive. “And the next thing coming out of your mouth—won’t be words. You'll be moaning. You hear me?”