Zayne Fluff - Tumblr Posts

she’s with me. 

synopsis: love and deepspace boys’ reaction when someone tries to flirt with you. 

wc: 3.5k (approx 800-900 per chara)

character/s: zayne, rafayel, xavier, sylus 

warning/s: men being creeps (dude, she's just not into you.)

note/s: i apologize in advance if this isn’t entirely lore accurate or ooc, i’ve just started playing and am only at chapter 5 (if you’re in the asian server, let’s be friends!!) 

zayne: 

zayne was running late. you sighed as you looked at zayne’s text message. it contained an apology about the unexpected traffic and how he would be a few minutes later than the agreed upon time. 

knowing that the situation was out of his control, you text him back a reassurance and took a picture of the menu, asking him what he’d like so you could order it before he arrives. 

“are you ready to order, miss?” the waiter asks and you put the menu down and give him a polite smile. 

“not yet, i’m still waiting for someone.” you could see a spark twinkle in the waiter’s eyes. you didn’t like it. it felt as if he were hoping for something that you were not willing to give. 

every now and then, the waiter would ask if you would like to order and time and time again, you make it clear that you were waiting for someone. the waiter would constantly look over at your table, taking notes of the minutes and coming back with subtle hints of his infatuations. 

first, it was a refill on the untouched napkins with the first folded one conveniently having his number. 

second, it was accidentally spilling water over your table even though there were no obstacles that hindered his footing. 

third, and hopefully the last, he managed to insert himself while explaining the menu as a pick-up line–which almost made you lose your appetite. 

you felt uncomfortable.  

“would you like me to inform you of tonight’s specials? it’s a rare wagyu steak with a side of me—” “oh, you’ll just be wasting your time. i think it’s better for you to tell me when my date arrives. we wouldn’t want you wasting your breath now, would we?” you jest, trying to subtly tell the waiter to leave you alone but it was either he was very persistent or very dense as he keeps ghosting over your table even after leaving. 

you try to push any assumption away, telling yourself that it was part of his job to be attentive but was it still professional attentiveness when he wouldn’t stop staring at you? 

your phone vibrated on the table and before you could take a look. the waiter comes back to your table, more confidently this time. as if he was about to claim a prize. 

“miss, i’m off for the next half hour, how about i keep you company while you wait for your ‘date’.” you didn’t like how he put air quotes on the word date and the sarcastic lilt in his voice as he speaks to you. 

“i told you, i am expecting someone and i do not appreciate you being unprofessional when i have explicitly told you i’m waiting for my date.” 

“by the looks of it, he probably stood you up. no man would keep a pretty girl like you waiting.”

you were evidently pissed, your face held an unimpressed stare but before you could answer back, a familiar deep voice caught both of your attention. 

“while i do appreciate your sentiment for keeping my girlfriend company, i don’t think that’s necessary.” the sight of zayne made your lips quirk up into a small smile, the waiter, with his back turned, only offered a snort of arrogance. 

“yeah, some boyfriend you are keeping a lady like her wa—” the waiter stops in his tracks as he turns around and sees zayne’s tall, lean physique looking at him with the same unimpressed look you were sporting. the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. 

the waiter feels like he’s being watched under a microscope due to how the two of you were looking at him as if he were some kind of gum under your –most likely– expensive shoes. 

zayne spares him a glance no longer than a second before he turns to you. 

“i apologize for being late, darling. work took longer than usual and the traffic was unexpected.” he explains and takes a seat in front of you. you smiled and shook your head. 

“was the surgery a success?” you asked and zayne nods before you gave a hum of acknowledgement. 

the waiter then realizes who just sat across from you. he was on the news for being the best cardiac surgeon in the akso hospital. he knew he was no match for him– not that he was an option in the first place. 

 you turned over to the waiter who looked like he was regretting every decision he’s ever made with his life. 

“would you mind getting another menu? my date and i would like to order at the same time.” you asked, the waiter nods stiffly before turning around and walking away. 

the additional menu was brought over to the table by a different waiter, but neither you and zayne questioned it as you enjoyed your date night. 

rafayel: 

stinkfish: wruuu :((  stinkfish: i’ll sneak out this exhibition talk to come to u this is so boring :((  stinkfish: i don’t wanna explain to the people why i painted this and that. they won’t listen the way you do stinkfish: tell me where u are pretty pleaseee :(( 

you snort as you see the myriad of texts rafayel was sending you. you sent him a picture of the aisle you were in with no context before turning your phone off, you looked at the painting in great detail. smiling softly as you remembered how excited rafayel was when he was rambling about the vision he had and how he couldn’t wait to paint it. and now, after a few days, his vision came to life and you were in front of it, admiring the details and thoughts that went behind the painting. 

“you know…” you hear a foreign voice say from beside you, your thoughts get cut off as you look at the stranger with a curious glance. 

“i thought you were the prettiest painting until you started moving.” you blinked, not exactly knowing how to respond to the cheesy pick up line but you only offered him a polite smile as you nod and move away. 

the man did not take the hint. 

“so, what brought you here?” he asked and you showed him the brochure of rafayel’s exhibition with an obvious look.

“so am i! wow, we have a lot of things in common.” you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes because as much as friendly goes, the man knows that you’re obviously not interested, but he isn’t going to give up. 

the two of you stopped by in front of rafayel’s biggest painting yet. the glimmering shade of red that contrasted with the painted sand captivated you. you tilt your head to the side, smiling at how the painted blue ocean seemed as if it were glittering under the lights of the exhibition. 

“do you like that painting.” right. he’s still there. you don’t bother facing him as you nod. the stranger huffs. 

“there’s nothing good about this painting. it’s just the ocean. if you were to ask me, i’d say it’s mediocre at best.” 

‘i didn’t ask.’ you wanted to say but you kept your mouth shut, not bothering to reply to the stranger no matter how much he insulted your boyfriend’s works. your hand clenches the brochure tightly as you move on to the next painting, hoping the man gets off your tail because you were so close to flag down a security guard and report him but it’s fine. you can handle it. 

silence is the best weapon after all. 

“— and i think the blue could use a deeper shade because it doesn’t look right, the blablablablabla” you tuned out the stranger’s yapping, not really acknowledging nor caring about whatever comes out of his mouth. 

“you know… the exhibition is about to end and i think we have a connection.” brother eugh. this time, you couldn’t help the cringe that overtook your features as you grimaced at his forwardness. 

the stranger clicked his tongue, a smirk playing on his face. “still playing hard to get, huh?” he takes a step closer to you. “i like that about a girl.” your grimace only deepens as you look at him as if he was the most disgusting being on earth. 

“too bad, that’s my little conch shell you’re talking to.” you turn your head to the side, your grimace turning into a smile as you see rafayel behind you. 

“hey miss bodyguard. you weren’t at the picture you took.” rafayel pouts, you shook your head slightly. “you were taking too long, i wanted to see your exhibition already.” you finally talked for the first time and in the corner of your eye, you could see the stranger deflate when he realizes that he was your boyfriend and you were not in fact playing hard to get nor interested in him. 

“i had to escape thomas, he kept telling me that new buyers were coming and he kept going on and on and on– so i escaped and here i am.” he beams, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. 

“you’re prettier than anything in this exhibit.” he says loud enough for the stranger to hear and the stranger almost throws a tantrum when he sees you bury your face in rafayel’s chest due to flusteredness. 

rafayel cradles your head to his chest in a gentle way, but the look he gave to the stranger was nowhere near. 

his brow raises. “why are you still here?” as if the man’s trance snapped, he blubbered out apologies before he ran out the exhibition, knowing the embarrassment would probably haunt him for years. you pull away with a sigh. “thought he’d never leave me alone. i almost thought you’d met your match because he kept talking.”

“are you trying to say i talk too much.” 

“...”

“hey!” 

xavier: 

xav<33: I’m sleepy. U and Ur friend enjoy yourselves though. Good night my little star.

you huff as you read your boyfriend’s text. he could’ve at least remembered tara’s name. you think to yourself before you send him a good night sticker. he responds back with one back and a heart, causing a smile to etch on your face. 

“hoho.” tara smirked evilly. “is the boyfie dropping by?” she teases and you huffed. “i wish. knowing xav, he probably sent me that emoji while asleep.” you said before pocketing your phone. 

“pfft, more fun for us then!” tara beams as she pulls you in the nightclub that she planned. 

the strobe lights were blinding as the dance floor lit up with different shades of blues and purples. the people around were dancing as if nothing else mattered and there was no tomorrow. 

“whoah.” tara breathes out, eyes filled with amazement. “there are a lot more people than i thought there would be.” she turns to you with a smile on her face. “stay close to me, okay? wouldn’t want your boyfriend getting worried!” you smiled and nodded as you let her lead you to the dance floor. 

the dance floor wasn’t quite as packed as it was a few minutes ago, seeing as some people left to get more drinks, hoping to get more buzzed. 

maybe it was an impulsive decision on tara’s end, or maybe it was her fear of missing out as she yells over the music. 

“i’ll be back in a second, i’ll go grab us drinks!” and before you could yell back that you’ll stay on the sidelines while waiting, she was already gone. 

thinking that tara would look for you and see you on the sides eventually, you stood and observed the people around you. the atmosphere was nice. the club wasn’t stuffy, the music was loud but not uncomfortably so and the people seemed to be having a great time. 

“you here by yourself?” you remain unfazed as your eyes flit to the sides, seeing a man who looked like he was buzzed. his breath reeked of alcohol and his body was slurring to the side. you smile dismissively before you shake your head and point towards the dancefloor with a vague finger. 

“my friend is getting me drinks.” tara hurry up. 

“ah? really? i don’t see them.” he takes one step closer and you instinctively take a step away from him. “she’s about to head here.” you explained. the stranger grins and you could feel a cold sweat on your back. 

“how about you give me a dance before i let you over to your little friend? maybe she could join if you’d like.” disgusting. absolutely disgusting. 

you wanted to kick the man where the sun doesn’t shine and maybe, just maybe, neutralize him with the same neutralizer you use with unstable wanderers. the thoughts of what you could do in the situation filled up your mind that you didn’t notice his grimy hand reaching for your wrist. 

“would you mind not touching my girlfriend?” you look up to the voice. pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend holding onto the man’s wrist with a glare on his face. 

“hah! as if! back off, chump, i saw her first.” the man cackles, xavier remains unfazed as he tightens his grip on the man’s wrist every time he struggles– which was a lot that you had to stop xavier once you hear the cracking of bones. 

xavier abides to your gentle touch before he pushes the man before letting go, causing him to lose his balance and slide against the nightclub wall as he whimpers pitifully at the pain on his wrist. 

xavier spares him no glance as he places a hand on the small of your back and escorts you outside the nightclub. 

“(y/n)!” you hear tara wail as she runs to you, hugging you tightly. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i couldn’t find you anywhere and you weren’t responding to my messages and–” “tara, it’s okay.” you reassured her, tara looks at you with a doubtful expression, obviously still feeling guilt before she turns to xavier. “thank god you got here so fast! i really wouldn’t know what to do! ack! i’m really, really sorry.” she apologizes, xavier gives her a nod. 

“it’s alright. i’ve neutralized the threat—” “threat?!” “what he means—” you hold tara’s hands with a smile on your face. “he managed to find me before anything bad happened, right, xav?” your smile screamed out just agree and thankfully, your dense boyfriend caught onto it as he nods his head in agreement. “right.” 

“it’s getting late and i don’t think we can continue the night, how about we reschedule this?” you asked tara and she gives you a determined nod before the two of you parted ways. 

once you waved the taxi that tara was in goodbye, you turned to xav. 

“how did she manage to wake you?” “i wasn’t asleep. i was waiting for you to message me to pick you up.” he explains before he yawns. “you owe me so much cuddles for making me teleport.” 

you scoffed, knowing that your night will be spent with you as his personal bolster. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

sylus: 

“last chance to back out, kitten. i must warn you that i may not be able to have my eyes on you once we get inside.” sylus says as the two of you stood outside the banquet doors. you were donned in a fitted blood red dress, your makeup was done just right and you were the embodiment of elegance. 

“are you scared that i’ll be swept on my feet by someone else if you look away?” you teased. sylus chuckles, the rich baritone of his voice reverberating against the quiet hall. 

“my kitten, i am in no way insecure about you falling for another man’s trap. i am merely concerned for the poor fellows who will fall for your beauty, not knowing you’re mine.” his deep voice practically purrs by your ear as his nose traces the outline of the side of your head. his musky cologne invades your nostrils causing you to shiver slightly. you scoffed, pushing his head away before you wrapped your perfectly manicured hand on his bicep.

the banquet was regal. that was the only term you could think of as you stepped in with sylus by your side. your heels click in pace with his large steps as all the clamor quieted down, all eyes were on you and sylus. 

almost immediately, the elite walked towards him, trying their best to get the onychinus’ boss’ attention. you immediately let go of his arm, not wanting any attention to be on you. although, if that were truly the case, you shouldn’t have had walked in with him but it was his demands. you had no choice but to abide. 

you shouldn’t even be here in the first place! you did not agree to being sylus’ arm accessory, it wasn’t part of your deal but with the wave of his black card, you find yourself observing the people who desperately tried to gain his attention.

you can see the women blinking their lashes, trying to get sylus to even glance at them but you paid them no mind, knowing that sylus only has his eyes on you. unfortunately, not at the moment, as you slipped from his gaze and walked over towards the bar. 

you sat by the corner, by yourself as you observed the elite and how they interacted with each other. you can see how the ladies immediately roll their eyes once their conversation partner turns their backs, or how the men would look pointedly at their henchmen when information about their rival partnerships were leaked out of intoxication. 

a cold drink slides down the bar and hits your arm, you jolt slightly at the sudden change in temperature before you turn to take a look at the bartender who offered you a charming smile. 

“i did not order this.” you say, pushing the drink back, the bartender shakes his head. “it’s on the house.” 

you tilt your head in confusion, your body unconsciously shifting towards the bar as you engaged in conversation. 

“i can’t have a pretty lady sitting on my bar and not have her drink, right?” you blinked before your eyes darted towards the drink, a blank expression on your face before the bartender chuckled. he took the glass away from you, dumping its contents out before preparing you a new one.

“the first one wasn’t spiked. but maybe that just wasn’t your cup of tea.” he explains before asking for your preferred drink and went into making it immediately, making sure your eyes were on him. the bartender smiles as he presents you with the drink. 

“open a tab fo–” “it’s on the house.” “excuse me?” the bartender smirks, elbows on the bar as he gestures towards the drink. 

“pretty ladies drink for free.” he winks and you almost want to look back at sylus and see if his eyes were indeed on you, but you weren’t about to take advantage of some stranger’s generosity even if he was obviously flirting with you. 

“no, i insist. open a tab for–” “i insist it’s on the hous–” “sylus.” the bartender looks at you amusedly before he huffs out a laugh. “sylus, huh? haven’t heard that name for a tab in the past twenty minutes.” he smirks. 

“lady, you’re the fifth person to ask for a tab to be opened after sylus’ name.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “before this gets embarrassing for you, i suggest you take the free drink and maybe i can have your contact?” he winks. 

“sylus may not look at you but i will.” the bartender obviously did not see you and sylus walk in together. 

“while i do appreciate the generosity for buying my kitten a drink.” you barely bat an eye as you hear sylus’ booming voice interrupt your conversation, one of sylus’ big hands run down the slit of your dress, fingers slipping into your thigh garter as he pulls out his black card. 

“i am very capable of providing for what’s mine.” he says as he places the black card down. “you heard the lady, open a tab under my name.”  

the bartender was now distraught, obviously intimidated by sylus’ presence as he takes the card and immediately turns his back, making your drinks with shaky hands.

“scared i’d get swept away?” you repeat your words from before, a smirk forming on your lips. sylus places his hand on your cheek, his thumb playing near your lips. 

“what can i say? you look absolutely ethereal, sweetie. i wouldn’t put it past them to attempt and steal what’s mine.” 

note/s: first ever l&ds work we cheer !

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

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ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not.” He insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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Zayne Drabble

Zayne doesn’t say he loves you. No — wait… let me rephrase that. He can’t say that he loves you.

It hurts, both emotionally and physically for Zayne. His love for you is so great but can’t physically say it to you. 

The God, Astra forbids him to do so. In no matter what timeline, if he dares to utter such words — a curse will be laid upon him, making him feel the most excruciating pain as his ice covers his body.

But even then, Zayne will love you unconditionally and will continue to do so.

You feel cold? Here, have his coat.

You need something from the store? Wait for him, he’ll buy it for you on the way.

You like this food? He’ll remember it and cook it for you in the future.

Zayne will put his hand on your waist when walking together, to ensure that you don’t get separated from him. His grip always feel protective, gentle, and possessive.

In each appointment that you're almost always late on, makes him feel anxious and worried — thinking if you are in danger or if something has happened. Once you enter his office, he feels instant relief and immediately regain his composure. Though his words sound cold and distant, he is only hiding his true feelings.

This man, when it is time to sleep, always prioritizes your comfort before his. He’d pull you close, — hesitant at first, scared that his evol will act up — tucking your head towards his chest as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. Feeling the warmth of your body assures him that you are well and alive and right beside him.

Zayne can’t say that he loved you, however, through his actions — you know how deeply in love he is with you. In this timeline… he’ll protect you and not lose you. 

Not again.

Reblogs would be appreciated!

➸ I need you…

Scenario:

Zayne let out a deep sigh as he removed his surgical mask, the exhaustion of the past week etched into his sharp features. As the chief of surgery and a top cardiac surgeon at Akso Hospital, his schedule was relentless. But now, after what seemed like an eternity, he had a rare three-day break. He entered his apartment, greeted by the quietness that now felt alien to him. It was well past midnight, but he knew {{user}} would still be awake, likely worrying about him as always. He dialed her number, his voice softer than usual. "It's me. I’m home. Can you come over?" {{user}} arrived swiftly, concern flickering in her eyes as she took in his weary appearance. "You look exhausted, Zayne." Zayne managed a faint smile, his green eyes softening at the sight of her. "I am, but seeing you makes it better." His body looked visibly relaxed, letting his guard down now that he is with {{user}} — her very presence already relaxing him from stress. He leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. "Stay with me tonight," he whispered, his voice laced with longing. "I need you.”

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【ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔｓ】

Reblogs would be appreciated~

➸ Welcome home~

Scenario:

{{user}} sighed as her body slumped over her desk, tired of everything. Lately, she hasn’t seen her lover, Zayne, in a while and she misses him deeply. {{user}} grumbled as she straightened her back, glaring at the pile of paperwork she has to do— however, the sight of the picture of both her and Zayne framed next to her computer made her eyes soften. Just from seeing his face, {{user}} became determined to finish her work and go home quickly to see her beloved. A few hours later she went home, sighing in relief at the thought of finally resting. Before she could do anything, a cold hand helped her remove her jacket, making her flinch from the unexpected touch. {{user}} turned around, expecting an intruder but instead saw familiar green eyes. “Zayne…?” She whispered, not realizing how much she missed seeing his face. Zayne's lips curled into a rare, gentle smile. "Welcome home," he said softly, his deep voice soothing her tired soul. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his touch firm yet tender, melting away the day's weariness. {{user}} leaned her body to his, loving the feeling of being in his arms again.

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【ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔｓ】

Reblogs would be appreciated~

➸ Jealous Zayne?!

Scenario:

Zayne loves and trusts his lover very much, however… He doesn’t like it when another man is trying to hit on {{user}} even though both of them are currently in a date. They were seated at a cozy, upscale restaurant, enjoying a rare evening out together. Zayne had been looking forward to this, a chance to unwind and savor {{user}}'s company. The evening was perfect until an overly friendly waiter approached their table, his eyes lingering too long on {{user}}. Zayne’s grip on his wine glass tightened, his green eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction. He forced a calm exterior, but inside, a storm of possessiveness brewed. He listened to the man's attempts at flirtation, each word stoking the icy fire within him. He closed his eyes and sighed loudly, he set his glass down and stared at the waiter coldly. “I think my lover would much prefer continuing our date, peacefully.” Zayne said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of threat. The man looked taken aback, but a glance at Zayne’s sharp features and cold, unwavering gaze made him think twice. “Uh, sure. Enjoy your evening,” he muttered before quickly retreating.

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➸ Let’s test that, shall we? (NSFW)

Scenario:

“Hey {{user}}! Did you hear about the rumor?” Her friend, Tara, asked {{user}} quite excitedly. {{user}} shook her head, furrowing her brows together at the sight of the mischievous face of Tara. “Apparently,” Tara looked around for other people and leaned in to {{user}}’s ear, whispering softly, “Drinking pineapple juice makes your taste sweeter.” {{user}} giggled, rolling her eyes. “Really, Tara? Where do you hear these things?” Tara grinned. “It’s all over social media! People are swearing by it. You should try it and see if it makes a difference with Zayne.” Later that day, {{user}} couldn’t shake the curiosity. What if the rumor was true? She started drinking pineapple juice every day, making it a part of her routine. She didn’t mention it to Zayne, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. A week passed, and Zayne began to notice the change. “You’ve been drinking a lot of pineapple juice lately. Is it your new favorite or something?” he asked one evening as they prepared dinner together. {{user}} blushed, hesitating before answering. “Well, Tara told me about this rumor that pineapple juice can... um... make things sweeter. You know, in bed.” Zayne raised an eyebrow, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “Is that so?” Seeing {{user}} nod shyly, he chuckled softly, his green eyes darkening. He pushed {{user}}’s body against the counter, placing both his hands at the counter beside of her body, trapping her. “There’s only one way to find out if it’s true.” He whispered, leaning his face closer to her lips. “Let’s test that, shall we?”

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…zayne definitely ate that macaron didnt he.

HAHSHDHSHA

[Did you kiss me just to shut me up]

Zayne please!🫶🏽

ೃ⁀➷ POP UP EVENT !! — aurora’s writing corner

"did you kiss me just to shut me up?" — zayne x gn!reader

“what did i tell you about eating too much sugar?” zayne asked.

you froze, dropping the macaron onto the plastic packaging and backing up slowly. it made a soft thud against the tissue paper and, luckily, didn’t crack. though you didn’t have too much time to ruminate on it as zayne quickly closed in on you.

“but zayne…” you mumbled, looking up at him with your best impression of a wounded puppy.

he didn’t take the bait.

“there’s nothing wrong with eating sugar to a minimal degree but haven’t you had enough today?” he asked, resting his hands on his hips, “this is the seventh macaron you’ve had today alone. the box is nearly empty.”

you stare sheepishly at the half-empty box you’d been gifted by a friend recently. perhaps zayne was right. perhaps it would be safer and likely healthier if you just quit for the day. a hardy reset for tomorrow was needed.

but did he have to chatter on about the degrading effects sugar had on your health like the ingredient list on the side of a cereal box?

“are you listeni—“

you silenced him with a slight tug on his tie. your finger enveloping the fabric before crashing your lips against his in a sugary kiss. for a brief moment you swore you could taste a hint of pistachio on his lips.

his eyes widened a fraction before he kissed you back fervently. his large, calloused hand moving to rest on the small of your back.

when you can kiss him no longer (which is frankly impossible) he creases his eyebrows at you.

“did you just kiss me to silence me?” he murmurs, hand gliding up your spine.

“maybe, but do you care to explain why you taste like a pistachio macaron?”

zayne kisses you again.

Zayne deserves all the love in the world 😊

I’ll never get tired of saying that I love him

Hair Washing [Husband!Zayne x GenderNeutral!Reader]

Summary: You take care of Zayne and he allows it for once in his life.

Tags: Established Relationship, Married life, Hair Washing, Self Degradation, Hurt/Comfort, Self Indulgent, Workaholic and Stubborn Zayne, Domestic fluff, Non-sexual Intimacy, Romance.

Zayne drove his Audi into the garage, the purr of the engine fading to silence as he cut the ignition. As the garage door descended, shutting out the world where it was just him in his car — his forehead resting against the steering wheel, eyes closed, the weight of a 16-hour shift was hitting him like a fire being snuffed out by a lid. 

'Pull yourself together,' Zayne chided internally, straightening up with a soft inaudible groan. 

Flipping down the sun visor mirror, Zayne assessed his reflection. Dark circles lurked beneath his hazel eyes, his hair was slightly disheveled, and his skin lost a bit of its glow. Zayne grabbed a comb and meticulously smoothed out his hair into place. 

'You have no right to burden others with your childish grievances,' Zayne reminded himself, a mantra born of years of self-imposed stoicism. Zayne would not allow himself to ever burden you with such a pitiful thing such as tiredness or to ever make you worry as long as he lived. 

Satisfied with his appearance, Zayne exited the car, his movements deliberately measured to hide his bone-deep fatigue that threatened to consume him. As he approached the house, he took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. The mask, Dr. Zayne — the Cardiac Surgeon, slid off as he was now Zayne, your husband. He opened the door, stepping into the warmth of your shared home. 

Zayne called out to you, "I'm home," his voice was steady and neutral, betraying none of the relief he felt at finally being home to where you were, in the house you two had lived in and cherished.

The sounds of rapid footsteps echoed through the house, and Zayne felt a flutter of warmth in his chest. You appeared, eyes bright with joy and relief that your beloved husband came home from work. For a moment, Zayne allowed a soft smile to tug at the corner of his lips as he drank in the sight of his partner. 

Your heart raced at the sight of Zayne, a mix of excitement and concern washed over you. You rushed forward, arms outreached for a hug, but you stopped mid-motion as you took in Zayne's appearance. Despite Zayne's immaculate exterior, you knew Zayne more than anyone else to know that he was tired —  the slight degree of a slump in Zayne's shoulders, the barely perceptible tightness around Zayne's eyes, the shadows under Zayne's eyes being a shade too dark. Your heart clenched, seeing the man you loved with your entire soul, pushing himself so hard. 

"Zayne, you look tired," You said softly as you reached out to touch Zayne's arm. Your fingers trembled slightly, torn between the desire to pull him close and the fear of overstepping even if you two were already married. "Let me take care of you tonight."

Zayne felt a surge of conflicting emotions at your words —  gratitude warring with his ingrained need for self-reliance. It was always Zayne treating and spoiling you, and not the other way around. Even the times when you tried to spoil him back, Zayne would always find a way to turn it around so that it was back to him spoiling you. His eyebrow arched slightly, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement to hide the vulnerability he felt.

"I'm fine," Zayne replied, his tone leaving  no room for argument, even as an iota of him longed to give in, "It was just another day at the hospital." Zayne knew that he couldn't convince you since you were as stubborn as him, but it couldn't hurt to try.

 Your eyes narrowed, unconvinced. You could see the weariness Zayne was trying so hard to hide, and it made your chest tighten with worry. You insisted, "You've been gone for over 16 hours and this was the 3rd time this week back to back that you've had these long shifts. You need to rest. Let me help you rest." 

"I assure you, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I've had longer shifts that were more troubling throughout the years," Zayne countered, a hint of stubbornness creeping into his voice. Even as he spoke, he felt his resolve wavering under your gaze —  he hated concerning you. He hated making you feel this way —  he hated himself for making you feel this way. 

You stepped closer, your hand was gentle but insistent on Zayne's arm. You could feel the tension in his muscles and the slight tremor of exhaustion. "Please, Zayne," you pleaded, "Let me do this for you once. You always take care of me, let me take care of you sometimes. Even if it's on a blue moon, let me take care of you once." 

Zayne's eyes shifted away as he let out a sigh, the rigid set of his shoulders relaxed a bit. A wave of tenderness washed over him, mingled with gratitude as he reluctantly gave in. "Fine," Zayne conceded, his tone was of his usual deadpan but it was tinged with affection. "If it will put your mind at ease." 

Your face broke into a warm smile, relief and love shining in your eyes. You grabbed Zayne’s hand as you led Zayne towards the bathroom. Zayne allowed himself to lean slightly into your touch. For once, Zayne allowed himself to accept the care he so often denied himself. 

You filled the bathtub with hot water, the sound of rushing liquid filling the quiet room. You added a generous amount of bubble bath, watching as frothy suds formed on the surface. The scent of rose oil wafted through the air as you added a few drops of it to the water. Your heart raced in anticipation and nervousness, hoping that you’d be able to take away Zayne’s stress. 

Soft light from carefully placed candles flickered across the walls as you dimmed the overhead lights. You turned to Zayne who stood in the doorway — a hint of vulnerability in his usually stoic expression. 

“Come,” You said softly, extending your hand out towards him. Zayne took your hand, allowing himself to be led to the bathtub. He raised your hand up to his lips as he gave your knuckles a soft kiss as a thank you. Zayne didn’t know the last time someone had put effort into him that wasn’t you — at least, someone who didn’t have any outside intentions of being nice to him. Zayne was forever thankful that he had such a kind spouse in his life, that out of all the lives he had lived, that he was able to be with you in this one.

As Zayne settled into the warm water, a soft sigh escaped his lips. The tension he’d been carrying began to melt away, and he closed his eyes to savor the sensation. Your heart swelled with affection at the sight of Zayne finally relaxing.

With gentle movements, you began to soak Zayne’s hair with warm water. Your fingers combed through the dark strands, careful not to tug or cause discomfort. Zayne’s breathing deepened slightly, the rhythmic motion lulled him into a state of calm he only experienced with and around you. 

You reached for the shampoo, squeezing a small amount into your palm. The fresh, clean scent filled the air as you began to work it into Zayne’s scalp. Starting at the temples, you used your fingertips to massage in small, circular motions, applying gentle pressure to stimulate blood flow and to clean all of Zayne’s hair and his head. As your fingers worked their way to the base of Zayne’s skull, you could feel the tension that Zayne’s been holding start to loosen. Zayne let out a low hum of appreciation —  the sound sending a small flutter though your chest. God, you loved your husband so much. You worked the shampoo through the rest of Zayne’s hair.

Once Zayne’s hair was thoroughly lathered, you began to rinse it clean. You used a small cup to pour warm water over his head —  your other hand acted as a shield to prevent shampoo from running into his eyes. Zayne’s thoughts drifted, the simple act of being cared for stirred emotions that he usually kept tightly controlled.

Next, You reached for the conditioner, applying a generous amount through Zayne’s hair —  focusing on the ends which tended to be drier. You began to massage Zayne’s scalp once more.You used your thumbs as you applied pressure to the occipital ridge at the base of Zayne’s skull. You then moved to the crown, using your fingertips to make small circular motions. You paid special attention to Zayne’s temples as you used gentle sweeping motions with your thumbs to ease away the day’s stress.

As your fingers worked their magic, Zayne felt himself surrendering to the care being lavished upon him as his eyes fluttered closed once more, his entire body relaxing in the hot water. A surge of protectiveness and tenderness surged through you as you noticed the change in Zayne’s demeanor. You bent your head down as you placed a soft kiss on your husband’s lips who reciprocated the kiss with even more gentleness in his movements.

“Thank you,” Zayne murmured against your lips— his voice was low and thick with emotion. The simple phrase carried the weight of all the gratitude and affection he struggled to express aloud.

You continued massaging Zayne’s scalp as you replied to him softly, “Always.”

The rhythmic pitter-patter of water being poured filled the air as you rinsed out Zayne’s hair; steam curled lazily around them, carrying the fading scent of the conditioner. Zayne’s breathing slowed as the last of the conditioner washed away. Your hand found Zayne’s elbow, steadying him as he rose. The sudden change in position sent a momentary rush to Zayne’s head, his usual grace faltering. Your eyes met Zayne’s briefly in the foggy mirror as you reached for the robe hanging nearby; the dark purple fabric rich against the bathroom’s pale tiles. As you helped Zayne slip on the robe, the soft material settled against his skin, still warm and slightly damp. The sound of footsteps resonated through the house as you both made your way to the bedroom. The air was cooler, raising goosebumps on Zayne’s exposed skin. He sank down onto the bed’s edge; the mattress dipped slightly under his weight. You moved behind him with a towel in hand. The first touch of terrycloth against Zayne’s nape sent a shiver down his spine — bare perceptible but there. You towel dried Zayne’s hair as his eyelids grew heavy; his usual sharp focus softened around the edges.  You reached over to the nightstand where you grabbed the comb, its teeth scraped gently against Zayne’s scalp, with each pass detangling your husband’s hair — detangling all of the stress in Zayne’s mind who only focused on you and your touch. A clock ticked softly somewhere as the lamp on the other side of the bedroom casted a warm glow that softened the lines of their faces, illuminating your faces and your love. As you worked, Zayne found his gaze drawn to your reflection in the dresser mirror. He watched the play of emotions across your face: concentration in the slight furrow of your brows with care in the gentle set of your mouth. Something stirred in Zayne’s chest — an emotion he had sought after for so long that he would fight with his entire soul to keep.

“I love you.”

“I love you most”.

It was more than just a hair wash to both you and Zayne; it was an act of love, trust, and vulnerability that would deepen your bond in ways words could never express. 

A/N: I love Zayne. I really really really love Zayne as you can tell. Have I mentioned that I love Zayne? Because I love Zayne. I have Zayne smut in drafts thats halfway written :3

If you like otome games, including Love and Deepspace, you should join Linkon Lounge! A discord server that's LGBTQ+ friendly (only serving those who are 18+) where we all can share our interests, talk to roleplaying bots (Caleb, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, and Sylus), and have fun game, movie, and stream nights where we stream games and/or cards that we pulled that others want to see. It would be super fun to have you as a member of our server.

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Masterlist

omg i want to cry, he’s so sweeettt 😭😭

Hiii :3 not sure if you take requests for the other lads boys, but I love the way youu write and wondered if we could get some Zayne fluff 👉🏽👈🏽 Maybe like start of a relationship and mc gets her period unexpectedly when staying at his and gets super insecure about it and tries to go home but Zayne is concerned about her suddenly wanting to leave and finally gets the reason out of her, but he’s just super helpful and eases her worries. Thank you, love your blog!

The Bare Minimum

Pairing - Zayne x f!MC

Summary - You feel as though your world is ending when a day dedicated to some much needed time with Zayne is ruined by Mother Nature. You're desperate to get home without him noticing, but he was more prepared for this than you expected.

Word Count - 2.7k

Warnings - Multiple mentions of periods and blood.

You weren’t sure what was suddenly bothering you, but you were certain that it was catching Zayne’s attention.

It was one of those extremely rare occasions where both of you had a completely free weekend. No hunting, no surgeries, no plans.

Perfection. 

You were both at the very peak of your designated lazy Saturday—squished together on the recliner chair in his living room, eating takeout and watching the kind of TV shows that didn’t require too much attention. Between your impromptu make out sessions that consistently progressed into you straddling his legs, you weren’t even sure what was playing on the television. 

You were just happy to be with him in such an unusual setting for the both of you. A typical day where you were both blessed with synced schedules would be spent outdoors. Long, scenic walks. Trips to the library to pick up and return a few books. You dragging Zayne around the local mall against his will.

Neither of you were up for any of it this weekend. Your missions for the past few weeks had been exhausting, a few ending in swift trips to Akso for wounds that had looked worse than they had felt. Between Zayne’s concern for you and the demanding nature of his own job, he was feeling rather exhausted, too. He didn’t often indulge in lazy days, but you were pretty sure he just wanted to keep you cocooned in the safety of his home after seeing you injured one too many times.

After your fifth rather raunchy performance on his lap, you were feeling oddly uncomfortable. You put it down to aches and pains due to the exertion of your body recently, but even as you settled back beside him again, tucked under his heavy arm, you could feel the sensation creeping down your thighs and across your back.

It couldn’t possibly be that dreaded time of the month. You had another five days to go before you had to come up with reasons to not stay at his place for a week. Your relationship was still fresh and new, so you weren’t comfortable with the idea of being on your period whilst staying the night. There wasn’t a clear reason why you’d be so conscious about it, it wasn’t as if Zayne would chastise you for your womanly troubles.

For you though, it just felt a little too nerve wracking. Discarding sanitary products in his bathroom wastebasket. The possibility of leaking whilst you’re blissfully unaware in the land of sleep. And the most horrifying of all;

Your cramps.

Mother Nature was never kind to you in the first 24 hours of your cycle. There were many a day and night where you couldn’t unfurl yourself from the foetal position you would so quickly find yourself in. Mood swings, hot flushes, and an need for all things sugary and sweet.

Zayne didn’t need to see that side of you yet. The poor man would wonder where the hell his girlfriend had disappeared to, and why there was an emotional, writhing mess clutching a XXL tub of mint chocolate chip to her chest in her place.

As the minutes went by, you felt all of the familiar warning signs. His arm around you had been soothing and sweet all day, but was starting to feel like a furnace on your skin. The unmistakable feeling of the devil himself twisting your uterus with his bare hands was becoming stronger, and your squirming was drawing attention.

“Would you like me to move?” Zayne finally asked, brows slightly furrowed in your direction.

You had to get away from him. More so, you had to get off of the recliner, worried that if you were bleeding, you might have bled through to it.

Shaking your head quickly, you pulled yourself up to your feet, subtly eyeing the thankfully pristine spot where your ass had been perched all day. “No, of course not,” you reassured with a synthetic smile. “Just have to use the bathroom.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you quickly hurried away before he had the chance. There was no time to waste.

As soon as the lock on the bathroom door clicked, you rushed to check yourself. The sight of fresh blood on the stark white toilet paper made you want to cry immediately. Of all the times for you to get your period five days early, it had to be whilst you were at Zayne’s.

You were at a complete loss on what you could do. You didn’t have any sanitary towels to hand, and your light grey sweatpants had succumbed to a slight stain that he may have already seen.

If the ground opened up and swallowed you whole, it’d be a miracle.

Silent panic turned to tears of frustration. All you could do was wrap a wad of toilet paper around itself to act as a makeshift pad, and steer clear of Zayne. Thankfully, you hadn’t yet unpacked the gym bag you brought for the weekend, so swiftly grabbing it and legging it back to your own apartment should be easy enough.

You cleaned yourself up as best as you could and flushed away all evidence of your period, trying to compose yourself whilst you did. The sheer level of agony your cramps were already bestowing upon you had you almost doubling over at the sink as you splashed some cold water onto your face to rid yourself of your tears.

This had to be a nightmare.

A gentle tapping on the bathroom door almost startled a small scream out of you. Zayne’s soothing voice sounded from the hallway, “everything alright in there?”

Things were getting worse and worse by the damn minute. You couldn’t possibly get by him to retrieve your bag without him seeing your ridiculous tears and the evident pain you were in.

“Yeah,” you called out, your shaky voice betraying you.

He remained silent for a moment, clearly not convinced in the slightest. “What’s the matter?”

You weren’t getting away from this. He knew something was up, and he wasn’t going to let you suffer in silence. It wasn’t in his nature to just feign ignorance, especially when it came to your health or comfort.

“Nothing,” you called out again, hoping to whichever god was listening that he would just accept your answer.

Another bout of silence hung in the air, like he was trying to figure you out through a closed door. You were beginning to feel like a cornered animal, desperate for a route of escape.

You waited and waited for him to say something else, but you heard absolutely nothing. A small sigh of relief escaped you as you quietly opened the door, only to find him still standing there. You quickly tried to shut it again, but his foot took place in the small gap to stop you.

Not wanting to jam his foot, you gave up, folding your arms around yourself as if they were going to hide you. “I need to go home,” you say quietly, avoiding his gaze.

He nudged the door open with his socked foot, still saying nothing. You could feel him analysing you from head to toe. 

He was such a bloody doctor sometimes.

Eventually, he folded his own arms across his chest. “Why do you want to go home?”

“Need to go home,” you corrected, not wanting him to think that you didn’t want to spend the night with him. “I…I have to—”

He cut you off with an outstretched hand, waiting expectantly for you to take it. All you did was stare at it, confused by his intentions. 

Well, you also winced as Mother Nature gave you a swift boot to the abdomen.

“Can you come with me for a moment?” He asked in that gentle tone of his, eyes softening. “Please?”

You took his large hand with a small sigh, not seeing any other way out of this situation. Heat pooled in your cheeks in your sheer embarrassment. 

This wasn’t how your weekend together was supposed to go.

Zayne led you into the bedroom, letting go of your hand once you were both inside. Panic flashed in your mind as you couldn’t think of any reason why he would bring you into the bedroom.

“I really can’t—”

He turned away before you could finish your sentence, heading into the en-suite bathroom and reappearing with a small wicker basket.

You almost gasped at its contents as he approached you again.

Pads and tampons of every shape and size were nestled within, along with painkillers and heating pads for your back. You eyed multipacks of brand new, comfortable underwear in there, too, and some small plastic bags to dispose of your sanitary products.

You weren’t sure if it was just the beginnings of your expected emotional rollercoaster, or the innocent way he was holding it out to you, but you burst into very pathetic, blubbering tears. 

He quickly placed the basket down on the bed, holding your waist with his hands. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry, did I get the wrong—”

You quickly shook your head, dragging your forearm across your eyes to diminish your tears. “No. No, I’m sorry,” you reassured him. “I’m sorry. I just—did you buy all of that?”

“I did,” he said quietly, looking a tad bit sheepish. “I didn’t know which ones would be best for you, so I asked a female assistant—”

“You asked someone?” You were in disbelief. He’d gone to the store, looked like a lost sheep in the sanitary products aisle, and asked a clerk to help choose some options for you.

“I realise now that I should’ve asked you, instead.”

You shook your head again. “No, I’m not chastising you, Zayne. I’m…I’m hugely impressed—in awe, in fact.”

Zayne frowned at you, evidently puzzled. “Impressed? Is this not what a boyfriend typically does? I didn’t do anything special.”

Little did he know, he actually had. 

You were certain that you weren’t the only woman on the planet who had previously been made to feel inferior or shamed by others in regards to your period. 

There were so many instances where men—and even the occasional woman had mentioned it as a way of insult. Must be her time of the month. Time for someone to change their tampon. 

Once, you had accidentally pulled a pad out of your bag instead of your notepad in the middle headquarters, and every last one of your male colleagues avoided you for the remainder of the week. It was as if you were infected with a disease that would kill them.

Finding yourself standing before the exception was a shock to your system. A good shock. 

A real gentleman. 

You felt your eyes well up again. Tears of fear and worry had become tears of contentment. Finally, for once in your life, you were comfortable in the presence of a man during your cycle.

“I just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed here whenever you stay,” he explained further.

“I love you,” you simply whispered back, a small smile curling your lips.

He still looked thoroughly perplexed at your reaction, like this shouldn’t have been something that was happening to you for the first time. Like every other man you’d ever come across will have treated you the way he has.

“I love you, too,” he said, cupping your face with his large, gentle hand. “Were you really going to leave?”

You nodded guiltily, feeling a little silly about your initial freak out. Something had been healed within your soul by his nonexistent judgement of your cycle, and even if he didn’t understand it, you were so very lucky and grateful to have a man like him.

He brushed away some of the damp streaks on your cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want you to go, but if you want to—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good. We have more episodes of Love Hospital to watch.”

“I thought we were watching Police Passion?”

He blew out a short laugh before dropping a tender kiss to your smiling lips. It made your heart feel warm and full, a feeling you never wanted to let go of.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” he said before taking his leave.

You took the wicker basket of supplies into the en-suite, the smile on your face not wavering as you studied it. He’d even put a rather pricey bottle of body wash in there for you, the description on the label claiming that its contents would soothe and relax you with scents of chamomile and jasmine. 

Everything was so tidily placed inside, a true reflection on how much he actually cared about your needs. Even a single incorrect pack of sanitary towels kept somewhere in the bathroom would have been enough for you to know that you didn’t need to be uncomfortable with him, but he’d made an effort. 

A serious effort that he saw as the bare minimum.

After picking out the best suited candidate in the sea of pads and tampons, you got yourself showered and sorted into fresh pyjamas from your bag. The cramping in your stomach started to bother you as soon as you finished getting changed, so you fished around in the basket for the unopened box of ibuprofen and a heating pad for the seizing muscles in your back.

Once you’d emerged from the bedroom, Zayne was nowhere to be seen in the living room. The area around the recliner you had both been lounging in all day was cleared and tidy, not an empty takeout carton or half drunk cup of tea in sight.

Making your way into the kitchen for a glass of water, you found him steeping a mug of raspberry leaf tea to aid your cramping. You quietly grabbed a clean glass to fill with water, popping two capsules of ibuprofen into your hand to take.

Zayne glanced at the clock to memorise what time you were taking this dose, in case you required another later on. “How are you feeling?”

You smiled softly at him. Despite the storm of misery striking through your body, you still had a reason to smile.

“Happy,” you murmured sincerely. “Despite the devil himself tearing away at my insides.”

He offered a small smile of sympathy back, pulling the sopping teabag out of your mug of tea to discard it. “Do you need anything else? I can go out if there’s anything you want,” he offered sincerely, not at all troubled by the idea of you needing anything more from him.

Good lord did you love this man.

“Just you, please,” you requested, wanting nothing more than to just cuddle back up with him until the painkillers kicked in.

He obliged your request immediately, picking up the steaming mug of tea with one hand and slipping your hand into the other to lead you back out to the recliner. Before you could seat yourself in the little gap beside him, he gently pulled you onto his lap.

You couldn’t help the little flash of panic that shot through you at the thought of sitting on him during your period, but he clearly didn’t care. His hands just got straight to work with the heating pad, placing it where you needed it the most.

The rest of the evening was spent with Zayne giving you some luxuriously soothing back rubs to ease the pain—which had quickly been alleviated thanks to the ibuprofen and tea—followed by your regularly scheduled make out sessions whenever his hands started to wander. There wasn’t an ounce of bother in him whenever he turned you to straddle his lap, his all time favourite place to have you. 

He wasn’t bothered by anything when it came to taking care of you.

A/N: Thank you so much for sending in a request, anon! I adore Zayne so it was nice to have a prompt for my first oneshot for him. 🩵

i love noses. I like big noses- because you can kinda like…. sit on them—

(his lil bumppppppp tho omfhfgg)

ZAYNE's side profile:

IM SO READY OKAY— IM FINE, im okay… im ok… imnotokayimnotokayimnotokayimnotokayimnotokayimnotokayimnotokayimnotokayhsjdkdkdn

pov : you’re dating zayne ❄️

꒰ 18+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 ! ꒱

zayne wishes he wasn't too cowardly to love you.

f!reader ⊹ canon au ⊹ fluff. not established relationship, but an established crush; plays on the cafe date ⊹ 744 ⊹ footnote. i fell so head over heels in love with him when he made a snowy kitten and seal in the palm of his hands omg. anyway, explored a bit with his pov. i deviated from the original dialogue.

zayne often fantasizes about having a pleasant conversation with you, offering you words that grant him the presence of your soft smile and melodious laughter, a casual exchange of the fondness for you he cradles in his palms and chest. but. he thinks loving you might be like oil and water mixing, two components entirely opposite in composition trying to blend to no avail. he thinks loving you feels like ice, comfortable only to his flesh but frozen on his breath.

his hands remember how yours feel in his own but his tongue keeps the words to ask trapped behind his teeth; his bones become a gentle prison for the failures of his courage. he never reaches. he never grasps. he never holds. but he freezes. he regrets. he curses himself in silence. although zayne prides himself on being knowledgable and quietly protective, the truth is he’s a coward.

he must be. it’s the only explanation for how he sits before you, someone he’s known as long as he’s understood what it means to know, unable to speak, unable to offer any kind of words that would spark a fluid conversation. each time he opens his mouth to speak, only huffs of silence follow. each time you awkwardly offer a ledge for him to find his footing, he slips and watches it crumble. he’s just not good at this.

you look lovely today. i love the way you smile. even your awkward laugh carries an undeniable cuteness. i wish i could say more than just ‘you need to take care of yourself better.’ i wish i could say ‘let me help take care of you.’

you ask me if i remember and i want to know how i could possibly forget. all of me wants to be soft enough to hold all of you.

“zayne?” your soft beckoning from across the table. he blinks away the swirling thoughts that are slowly becoming quiet pleas from himself to indulge in this moment, this fortunate opportunity for time with you he didn’t have to chip away at a glacier within himself to have. he knows by now he might not ever develop the strength to tell you he wants you to visit him for more reasons than the time that’s packed itself between you both and him being your primary care physician.

i want to see you because i miss you; i want you to see me because you miss me.

“yes,” he answers, his facial expression blank, carrying all of his stoic facade. “i-i’m sorry. what did you say?” the flutter of your adored chuckle. “i said i didn’t know you liked this place. we should come here together next time.” “oh, yes. i suppose.” he says. 

i think i would go anywhere with you, but here could be a good place to start.

your head falls and his heart starts to race, thumping in his chest with wild abandon. he can feel the avalanche of disappointment rolling off of you, on its way to bury him under the heaviness of his own guilt. he’s just not good at this. “we…don’t have to if it’s troublesome. i know you’re a busy man these days.” and you bubble back to life, shaking away the fleeting moment of visible despondence. inwardly, he panics. he doesn’t want to miss another chance to grow closer to you, to build on this connection that sits idly between you both, unspoken but painfully obvious. it takes him a moment to respond; it’s not right until he sees something flicker in your eyes that looks dangerously close to ‘taking the hint’ that the words fumble out of his mouth clumsily. “it’s not.” he finally says. and maybe it’s not awkward or unsettling but that’s how his own voice feels. he almost winces at the discomfort of the words lodged in his throat. “…troublesome…to me, at least…meeting here. we should…when the time permits...as long as it doesn’t deter you from following your doctor’s adamant orders…if it means…you’ll eat more frequently…consistently. we should.” when he finally stops speaking, relief blooms in his chest and expands, an all-consuming comfort in silence found again. when your reply is a sweet smile and your eyes become tender pools reflecting warmth back to him, melting his hesitation, his relief transforms into adoration and reverence. the truth is he loves you. zayne isn’t good at this, but for you, he really wants to be.

tagging @kissxcore + @maimochies bc honestly i feel like they’ve been in the thick of this brainrot, too. and @takaiko bc their brainrot is on the way lmao.

© 2023 elusivemoon. all rights reserved.

[ ::♡:: ] 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑! — ZAYNE

after a long trip away, you decide that zayne needs some tlc of his own <3

i have once again been distracted from the wrio fic (im going insane). inspired by doctor by jack stauber and his business card! established relationship, suggestive near the end!

it's not unusual to find zayne in an anxious mood.

he's always been like this, he thinks—obsessive to the point where he thinks it might kill him if he's not careful, overanalyzing every last detail because he thinks it actually might kill him if he doesn't.

...but how could he not?

how could he not when he sees you peeking your head through the open door for the first time in weeks, and his heart flutters on command? how could he not when you yell out his name in excitement once you see him, tackling him with a bear hug into the soft plush of the sofa, your chest pressing against his faster-than-normal beating heart?

the two of you just stay there (his arms around your waist feels right, he thinks), under the dull lights of the overhead lamps, next to the low hums and chatter of the tv, above the waxed wooden floors—you lift your head from the crook of his neck, and you reach your hand to his hair, brushing his bangs away from his face before you place your palm on his forehead.

"...well well well, dr. zayne," you drawl, the coo barely escaping your mischievous tone, "did you manage to catch a fever while i was gone?"

and then he sees your eyes sparkle above his, that gleam in your smile, your hair falling over your ear, he asks himself again: how could he not? how could he not obsess over every idiotic decision you make to get yourself in trouble? how could he ever stop caring for you as much as he does now?

"of course not."

"hmmm," you tap his forehead playfully, "your symptoms are telling me something different."

"and what are my symptoms, pray tell?"

"you're flushed," your voice drips with humor, tracing the curves of his jawline. he swallows thickly as your finger moves from his jaw to his collar, splaying your palm against his heart. you can feel it against the thick cotton of his dress shirt, "your heart is beating awfully quick, and you're sweating a little bit."

"those are all symptoms of heat stroke."

"it's because you're hot," you answer casually (you've always been quick on your feet), "and you're heating up the room."

if overthinking won't kill him, you might.

"...sweet-talk won't work on me." his chest feels heavy and he can barely speak, but his hand moves, tucking your hair back behind your ear.

"well, it's because i'm hot, then."

it's been less than five minutes since you've gotten home from your business trip and you already have his heart pinched between your fingers, playing with the arteries and capillaries like it's your own personal playground.

"oh come on," you feel your ears heat up ever so slightly, "say something! don't leave me hanging, it's awkward!"

"i've got nothing to say."

"you have shellshocked written right on your forehead," your nail scrapes ever so slightly across his skin, tracing out the letters on the bumps and lines on his face. "you could say something about that."

"i wonder whose fault that is."

"i'm not sure," you pretend to wonder, "did you miss me?"

yes. so much that he could barely breathe.

"not really." he decides to tease you instead.

you slap his shoulder in defiance, an angry frown on your face. "my diagnosis is over! you, sir, are suffering from an awful condition of self-deception—"

"and what about you? did you miss me?"

his question catches you off guard. you feel your face light aflame against the heat of his stare, the deep black in his eyes bearing earnestly into your own.

"...a lot. i missed you a lot, actually." you look more embarrassed than you sound, "came here as fast as i could after the train dropped me off, so yeah, i missed you."

"me too." he hums in affirmation—his hand cups your jaw, gently brushing his thumb against your cheek. slowly, he reaches to the back of your neck, guiding you down to meet his face, your hand against his steady heart.

it beats for you, afterall, you might as well hold it.

"you could've just said that, y'know." you huff, the warmth crawling to your ears as you lean in closer.

he barely lets a surprised "what?" escape his mouth before you kiss him. it's like you breathe life into him when your lips brush against his, his hands find their way to your scalp, his fingers tangle desperately in your hair.

zayne used to think he was above this—simple things like making out on the couch or even waiting for somebody to come back home were never something he could never imagine doing when he was younger, much less with you. it makes him so nervous that his hands shake with desperation and the questions flood his mind again, but the way you bite his lip makes his mind go fucking insane, and all of the sudden—

"hey, hey, are you okay?"

he's brought back to reality with your concerned tone, acutely aware of how heavily he breathes, how soft your touches are.

"y—yeah," he clears his throat, licking his lips, "just...thinking is all."

you shift on top of him, smoothing out his hair and re-straightening his tie with chapped fingers and flushed lips. "here," you give him a small smile, "i have some medicine for you. for your diagnosis."

you give him a kiss, nothing heated or passionate, just a small peck on his nose.

and another one on his forehead, and then another right on the mole under his eye.

"'s for all of the kisses i couldn't give you while i was gone," you murmur, pressing another to his cheek, and then one on the other side of his jaw, "so you can stop thinking, okay?"

it's not rare that he finds himself agonizing over every decision, every particular characteristic that holds a tight leash on his life, but at this moment, he wants nothing more but you.

"i think i'm sick again," he closes his eyes, taking a shallow breath as he feels your breath on his skin, "i think more medicine would help, don't you think?"

it's your smile that did it first, he thinks (or lack thereof), the same smile you give him now as you lean down for another kiss, deeper this time, slower, like the ice that melts around his lungs, like the flowers that bloom in their place.

his arteries move with your fingers, his thundering heart beating in sync with your breath, his low groans matching yours.

(he knows he belongs to you, anyways.)

"let me take care of you, will you let me?" your hands place themselves at the buttons of his shirt, and your eyes peer up at him in assurance, "make up for lost time?"

and just for that night, zayne unravels, and he surrenders completely to you.

"zayne is cold" have u ever considered he might just be autistic

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 . . .

Zayne, who had to stop wearing a smartwatch because it would alert him about his heart rate that spiked dangerously everytime he found himself around you.

Rafayel, who's ears turn red from the intensity of his blush whenever you get perhaps a little too close to him, brushing a hand over his arm, your knee knocking his underneath the table, all innocent touches that makes him go red.

Xavier, who's opted to start stuffing his hands into his pockets or hoodies so you wouldn't see how they trembled, or how they ached to hold your own. He can at least keep the fidgeting to himself that way.