#li shen fluff

[lotusteabag]

the morning slips in without ceremony—a gentle light spilling across your shared sheets, touching the edge of zayne's jaw where the shadow of sleep still lingers. he doesn't move when you shift beside him. doesn't flinch when you lean up on one elbow and comb a hand through your own hair, already planning out the day. the world is quiet—no beeping pagers, no calls from the hospital, no alerts from the hunter's watch. just you, him, and a sunday soft enough to make even him linger.

you stretch. a satisfied sigh leaves your mouth as you sit uptight, reaching toward the drawer. "alright. i'm up."

a low hum answers you—not quite a word, more a vibration from the man still half-buried in your pillow. zayne turns his head, eyes cracked just enough to watch you through a slit of dark lashes.

he doesn't smile. not really. but there's that glint—a soft mockery wrapped in tenderness—as his hand snakes out from under the covers to curl around your wrist and pull you back into bed.

"ten more minutes," he murmurs, voice hoarse with sleep. his fingers slide down to interlace with yours against the sheets. "you owe me."

you scoff. "for what?"

"for waking up first every other day this week," he replies without hesitation, tugging you until your shoulder meets his chest. "before either of our alarms, i might add. and then for starting conversations before i've made peace with being conscious."

you laugh, helpless against the heat of him, the weight of his arm draped lazily over your waist now, holding you there like he's rescheduling the entire morning with that single action.

"and here i thought dr. li liked being up early."

"i like routines," he says, lips brushing against the top of your head. "doesn't mean i like getting out of bed. not when you're here."

there's a beat—just breath and heartbeat. a small sigh fans across your temple.

"i'll get up in ten."

"you said that ten minutes ago."

zayne lifts a brow, eyes now open properly. "exactly. i'm nothing if not consistent."

you roll your eyes. he kisses your cheek.

and you stay—partly because he asked, mostly because he's still got your hand and no plans of letting go.

[beneathashadytree]

ENAMORED - ZAYNE LI X READER

Warnings : chubby!reader, slightly suggestive at the start, making out, body image issues & insecurities, autistic!Zayne, mentions of sex, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Genre : hurt/comfort for the soul 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

Word count : 1.6K words

Additional notes : This was commissioned by one of my lovely mutuals, and I’m so thankful for the opportunity to discuss self-love and portray more diverse body types. As someone who’s on the heavier side, I’d always struggled with my own perception of my attractiveness, often stopping myself before anything because I worried too much what my partner would think. So writing this was pretty therapeutic🥹💗

Commissions are open here!

Tip jar!

Masterlist

It was impossible for her to think straight when Zayne’s all-consuming presence permeated all her senses. Not when she could smell his cologne and body wash all over her. Not when his hazy eyes, half-closed with pleasure as they met hers, drove her mad. Not when every single low sigh and impassioned whisper of her name was akin to casting a spell on her. And especially not when his soft lips were on hers, swallowing her every moan and tasting like sugar and every sweet thing she could’ve ever imagined, and yet something so distinctly him.

He was everywhere, his weight on top of her both reassuring and stimulating to the point of bringing her nerves to the fraught edge. Every inch of him that brushed up against her barely-clothed self warmed her skin and deepened her flush, and she was impossibly aware of how his calloused palms stroked her hip and her jaw like he couldn’t bear to be parted from her. And he kissed her like her absence was sin; like breaking apart for air would rob him of his own senses.

She’d never seen him so wound up and yet so molten. It was hard to believe that this was Zayne, the same man she’d once thought to be frigid. Now, when he was chasing her lips then nuzzling into her neck to sharply inhale with a rattling breath—as if she were his undoing—she knew that he was a raging inferno, and that she’d be the only one to see him like this, so rattled by how much he needed her.

“Zayne, closer,” she mumbled into his ear, her eyes hot with emotion. She craved him just as much, her hand reaching behind him to tug at the back of his shirt, pushing him closer and closer against her, crying out loud as his teeth grazed against her pulse point in her neck. Zayne’s tongue was quick to soothe that ache, though she wondered if he knew just how much he kindled the one between her thighs. Merely kissing was never enough; could never be enough when she desired him to the depths of her.

He pulled back momentarily to squeeze her hips, hungrily kissing her again and caressing his way back up her sides, deft fingers toying with the strap of her nightgown. She couldn’t hold back her shiver, his ghost of a touch more enticing than anything ever was. His tongue, twining with hers, spelled out her name, and she twirled the soft strands of hair at the back of his neck in an attempt to ground herself.

Then his finger had swiftly pulled the thin silk strap down to her arm, her heaving breasts beginning to spill out of the flimsy fabric, and with the slight chilliness of air on every inch of skin exposed, she quickly sobered up and stilled in place, her joints almost instantly locking. Zayne—sweet, observant Zayne who’d always had his eyes on her and knew her like he knew himself—frowned a little and broke their halted kiss, a look of concern washing over his face.

“Everything alright?” His voice was rougher than usual, and his face was a burning red she’d never get accustomed to, but the worry he’d always had for her was still there.

Stiffening at his question, she angled herself away from his gaze. After all, how does one explain that the whole idea of sex was still daunting? How do you voice something like that, without causing your partner to misunderstand it as rejection of their advances—or worse, a lack of attraction?

Because gods, did she find him otherworldly beautiful. How could she not, when she had eyes and a heart to see him with? How could she not, when he spoke her name like a prayer, and worshiped her at the altar like a goddess divine? How could she not, when his muscles rippled even beneath layers of clothing, and his eyes burned like they only ever saw her?

But then how could she explain how foreign the concept of sex was to her, not out of a lack of wanting—because she knew he was the one thing she’d ever wanted to fully claim, possess even with a maddening love—but out of a deeply-ingrained fear?

“Darling,” he called out to her in a voice ever-so-soft, and only then did she notice that she’d completely frozen up, and that he’d pulled back from on top of her, just one hand carefully brushing at her cheek as he regarded her with all the care in the world. “Is something wrong?” Pausing in his ministrations, a hesitant look made its way on his face. “Have I done something?”

Struggling to find her voice, she cleared her throat once, then twice. “No, no. Not you, honestly. Just… me. Something in my head, ‘s all.”

Again that uncertainty flashed in those hazel eyes, and he simply said, “If you don’t want this—”

“I do,” she breathed out, her voice a little reedier now. She didn’t want him to deny her love for him, the sheer need she’d always carried like a precious flame in her heart. Closing her eyes for a few seconds, she tried to silence the scattered noises in her head. “Stupid self-consciousness. That’s all.”

Zayne’s expression shifted to one of genuine confusion. “Of what? I’m not exactly experienced either, given that you’re the only person I’ve ever been with, or wanted, for that matter. I don’t expect things to be perfect.”

“Not that,” she whispered, discomfort tingling underneath her skin at the prospect of unpacking what she’d stowed away in a corner of her mind, hoping to will it away as time went on. “Just about my body, my appearance… things like that.”

Something akin to incredulity made Zayne’s eyes grow wide for a few seconds, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing; couldn’t imagine that she could have thoughts like these. His expression was then schooled to its placid calmness as he cupped her jaw. “I told you that I think you’re the most beautiful person in every room. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She chuckled weakly, her eyes refusing to meet his. If they did, she knew she’d lose all the courage she’d barely mustered in the first place. “It’s one thing to see me dressed up, another to see my stomach rolls and big thighs in person and still find me attractive.”

Zayne simply shook his head, and a lump formed in her throat at the affectionate look in his eyes and the slight upwards quirk of his kiss-swollen lips. “All the more to love, but no less beautiful.” Perhaps he was doing it subconsciously, but the way his thumb drifted to gently caress underneath her breasts—like even the folds and creases underneath the silk there were worthy of his reverence—made her feel so seen, wholeheartedly.

“Does it,” she faltered, then went on as she glanced at his hands tracing her curves with all the fondness in the world, her own resting on his chest over his racing heart, “Does it really not matter to you?”

“If it doesn’t matter, then I’m not acknowledging it in the first place.” Zayne huffed out a chuckle, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses to the exposed top of her breasts, humming into her skin and sending her brain into a frenzy with every searing kiss and every languid stroke of his palm against her tummy. “Which couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m too aware of your body. Just… for an entirely different reason.” His voice was barely more than muttering now, intense eyes like green aventurine seeing her right to her core that yearned for him. “Being that it makes me want you more, all the time. Does that upset you?”

Something ignited at his words, something long dormant that she’d almost given up on, and she rushed to shake her head. She couldn’t put a finger on what it was that made her heart swell to twice its size, nor could she name that feeling of being so utterly overwhelmed with the unconditional love she’d dreamed of at night, seeing his eyes and his precious smile all for her when she closed her eyes.

Whatever it was, Zayne read it in her vulnerable expression and her pliant softness in his hands. Humming contentedly, he pushed himself back up to press fleeting, impossibly tender kisses to her eyelids, thumbs swiping at the tears dotting her lash-line and leaving feather-light kisses there too. “Then I’ll prove it to you some other day. For now, let’s sleep.”

For a moment, her eyes flitted downwards, and she worriedly began to protest. “But Zayne, you’re still—!”

A chaste peck to her lips silenced her, and he shook his head before settling into the mattress beside her, his voice carrying the weight of an unspoken vow. “We’ve got the rest of our lives for that.” Zayne’s fingers found her brows, brushing them back to ease the frown off her face, and somehow—like his touch was magic ensnaring her—it melted away into what she knew was a lovesick expression. Her heart was hammering away in her ribcage, half disbelieving of how he’d managed to make her love him even more. “I won’t want you any less in eight hours, when I can indulge in you for a longer time.”

And though the night had ended with a layer of clothing between them, with significantly less escalation than she’d predicted as they curled into each other’s warmth under the sheets and their breaths evened out, this was perhaps the most intimate she’d ever been with another person. Slipping into a deep slumber, her fingers curling into his scarred palm, she felt beyond grateful for the idea that of all people, it was with Zayne she’d fallen hopelessly in love with.

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @lemurianmaster @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @ay-chuu @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth (more in replies!)

Sign up for my taglist here!

[shouyuus]

(from prev blog) anon asked: Happy bday!! This is my first time using tumblr so idek if this is the right place to ask or if it’s too late! But I was wondering if you could write a Zayne x reader drabble for your 30 event 🤍 I saw someone make a rose out of snow by pressing snow on a card and wrapping it around a stick; I think it’d be so cute for Zayne to do that for the reader while they’re walking back home or smthing (even tho he could use his evol this is cuter 😭)

一翦玫 (one cut rose)

zayne; fluff; i rly said fuck the word limit with this one whoops

─── 黎深 THE MORNING DAWNS in a painful, world-swallowing blue, not a wish or whisper of clouds in sight, and Zayne knows that it’ll be cold enough to blister. He can always feel the winter creeping into his bones, twining between his muscles till they ache for something, for anything.

You’re bleary in his arms when he shakes you awake, and the way you peer up at him through sleep-heavy lashes makes his entire world shimmer down to the size of this bedroom, of your tiny groan as you try to bury your face in his pillow and swat him away.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you,” he says, voice indulgent in the way it only is when he’s speaking to you.

The snow crunches fresh and true underfoot, and he watches as you bloom beneath the robin’s egg sky, head tilting back, your breath twisting up in a thin spiral of white mist as you let out a long breath.

“It’s so beautiful out!”

“Careful, or you’ll slip,” he admonishes, tugging you off a small snowbank back onto the sidewalk. You pout up at him even as he adjusts your scarf.

“Killjoy…” you mutter, and Zayne scoffs, tugging on his own turned up collar.

You pass by an old man selling flowers on the street corner, and you skip ahead to press a bill into his hand, telling him to keep warm even as he smiles and hands you a flower. Zayne watches, a tender happiness threading up his throat as you turn back to hand him the flower.

“For your desk,” you say, “to add some color, or else people are gonna think you’ve got no personality.”

Zayne takes the flower and studies it, a rose in shocking lemon-rind yellow. He brings it up to his nose.

“Thanks.”

You grin up at him, looking pleased and mischievous both.

“Now you owe me a flower too!” you say. Zayne regards you with a contemplative sort of look before turning and continuing down the street. You pout, jogging after him.

“Fine, fine — you don’t have to give me a flower — I was just —”

“You’ll get one,” he says, reaching into his pocket for a credit card. Stooping down towards a mound of untouched snow, he scoops up a thin layer on the card and begins his work, pressing each layer around the previous one, using the heat of his hand to melt the “petals” till they curl into one single snow-white rose.

You gasp as he finishes his work, dusting his hands off on his jacket.

“It’s… beautiful! But… how am I gonna carry if there’s no stem?”

At this, Zayne tsks, summoning his Evol, and you watch with bright eyes as a crystaline stem forms from the base of the rose, extending out, glimmering leaves unfurling in ice as he hands the flower to you. You take it between delicate fingers and smile as you lean in to take a whiff.

“It won’t smell like a rose,” Zayne says, tucking his hands back into his pockets, watching as you stare down at the miraculous flower, “that’s not something my Evol can do just yet.”

But your smile is brilliant as a winter’s morning as you turn back towards him, clutching the flower to your chest, “It’s okay — it smells like winter!”

“Does it now?” Zayne asks, amusement twinkling behind his eyes, “And what exactly does winter smell like?”

You twirl the white rose between careful fingers before shooting him a truly heart-stopping wink —

“It smells like you.”

final wc: 604 || be part of my taglist!

a/n: a few words of explanation -- the trend that anon is asking about can be see here, its rly very cute. also, the title of this fic is a "play" on the popular 一剪梅, aka the "xue hua piao piao" song LMFAO, where i changed the "梅" meaning "plum" from the song title to “玫" from '玫瑰" or "rose" since both 梅 and 玫 are pronounced "mei3". i thought it was a fun little thing to do and the actual song itself is about winter and snow so! :)

taglist: @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies

[erensfeed]

THE PARALLELS ARE INSANE.

I LOVE ME SOME OF WHATEVER THIS IS/WHATEVER CALEB AND ZAYNE ARE (GONNA BE) TO EACH OTHER

[cosmoszyn]

open arms | zayne.

synopsis: zayne picks you up at the bus station in a downpour, attempting to appease you after a small argument

content: zayne x reader, little hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, banters, reader is a lil stubborn and hard-headed

word count: 2,684

author's note: lol this is very self-indulgent and ... sawrry it took this long, i was swamped with work and several travels. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

cross posted in my ao3

“Care to explain what you are doing here in the rain?” 

“...No.”

Zayne nearly clicks his tongue at your stubbornness. Instead, he presses the hazard lights in his vehicle and darts his gaze at you again, “Come inside.”

You stare at him with furrowed brows, your arms wrapped around your shivering body with the tiny bus stop shed measly protecting you from the downpour. Zayne seems collected, looking at you expectantly through his glasses from his sleek black Audi, his one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the passenger seat with its windows rolled down. The offer is tempting enough, especially with the fact that Zayne has set the temperature just as toasty as you wish it would be. 

But the earlier argument from your shared space resurfaces in your brain. Which warrants you to take a step back and look to the other side of the road.

“Don’t wanna,” you persist, folding your arms across your chest.

Your lover swallows thickly at your words, body resuming to driving position and looking straight at the road,�� “Alright. Have it your way,” he says, rolling the windows back up.

And for a second, you feel panic rising in your stomach, knowing that you do want to get in the car and be comfortable! Not to mention that you don’t know what time the next bus will arrive as you’ve been stuck in the shed for almost thirty minutes now, so getting inside his car seemed to be the most reasonable option. But Zayne just pisses you off at the moment. 

Until you hear him adjusting the shift gear and the slamming of the car door. Your eyes followed the sound and your gaze was met with Zayne’s hunched back, his left hand doing nothing from shielding his body from the rain, walking around the vehicle. Your hands fall to your sides as he reaches you under the shed and before you can even get a word out, he already has you over his shoulders like a rag doll and within a minute, you were gently placed in the passenger seat of his car.

You couldn’t even protest when he leaned over your space, “You can roll your eyes at me later but I need you to behave now,” he explains, reaching out to the seatbelt and fastening it to your side. “Because if you think I’d let your idiocy and pride win tonight, you must have forgotten who you are dating.” 

You immediately roll your eyes at his words. In response, Zayne presses his two fingers in your forehead, gently pushing it backward, “I said, behave.” 

He didn’t even give you a chance to reply as he is already closing your door and walking to his side. You fold your arms across your chest again, huffing a breath as you look at your window, watching the raindrops patter on the glass.

Within seconds, Zayne settles beside you, his hair and clothes damp from the drizzle. You take a peek of him from your peripheral vision, watching water drip from the tips of hair to his shoulders. As he fastens his seatbelt, you reach out to the glove compartment of his car, and toss him the box of tissues he keeps religiously.

“You’ll get sick,” you mumble under your breath, avoiding his eyes, insisting on staring at the bus stop shed you were under just a couple of seconds ago. And you know for a fact that Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward in amusement at your attempts to care for him.

“Isn’t someone so caring?” He says, humor lacing his tone as he pulls the tissues, patting himself dry.

You let out a huff, almost sounding like a scoff, “Savor this moment, I guess. It won’t happen again.”

You hear Zayne tossing the tissues at his cup holders by his door, “And someone’s being a little moody too, huh?”

You ignore his comment, continuing to stare ahead at the window with your lips pressed into a thin line. Zayne, on the other hand, could still feel your frustrations and anger directed at him. He shifts the gear of the car and proceeds to accelerate slowly, deft hands carefully pulling away from the curb and driving through the familiar roads.

Minutes of silence engulfed in the vehicle, neither wanting to break the tension bubbling, afraid that it may lead into an argument again. But despite the uncertainty of the situation, Zayne could never seem to find himself staying in this predicament with you. And so, he softly exhales, “Would you like to explain why you were shivering in the rain earlier?” He almost whispers under his breath.

You huff, “I wasn’t in the rain. I was at the bus stop,” you mumble.

Semantics, he wants to say. But he holds off his tongue. “What made you decide to be sarcastic today?” He says playfully, which warrants another roll of your eyes, refusing to even face him.

“Because someone would rather defend an intern for unabashedly flirting with him than side with his girlfriend,” you grumble under your breath, enough for him to hear.

Your lover purses his lips, knowing only himself could be to blame for even trying to make the atmosphere lighter. He dug his own grave at that moment. His fingertips drumming onto the steering wheel as he recalls how the argument came about.

Earlier, Zayne just arrived from a gruelling 12-hour shift at the hospital, ranting about how he had sudden back-to-back emergency surgeries to take care of while he was pressing a kiss to your hair and simultaneously shrugging off his coat and lab gown. You hum in acknowledgment, telling him how you had already prepared him a nice warm bath in his stead. He sighs in appreciation, sluggishly dragging himself to the bathroom to submerge himself into the water.

And as he does so, you decide to clean up after him, picking up his coat and lab gown from the rack to toss into the laundry. However, the moment you sling his clothes in your arms, you manage to whiff a feminine scent deeply ingrained in your boyfriend’s lab coat. You were absolutely certain that it’s not one of your perfumes as you have never worn anything so powerful from the one that you caught and the fragrance seemed to be quite fresh, like it was sprayed prior to his clock-out at work.

Your mind spirals with all the possibilities. You were definite that Zayne would never… entertain another woman when he is in a committed relationship with you. You knew his character inside out and if he wishes to see other people, you knew deep in your soul that he’d rather tell you straight up than beat around the bush. 

You feel your surroundings spinning and your gut twisting at the thought that somebody is doing this to your lover. You take a moment to yourself, carefully sitting down at the couch as you continue to cling onto his clothes. As the seconds ticked into minutes, you barely heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and your boyfriend’s footsteps padding through the hallway of your shared apartment. 

“Darling? Why are you still not in bed?” He calls out, ruffling his hair with his towel.

“Zayne,” you say, and he visibly flinches at the tone of your voice and your lack of endearment. You refuse to look at him, your eyes staring straight ahead.

“Is something the matter, my love?” He asks, confusion written all over his face.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at him, “I need you to be honest with me, Zayne.”

His head slightly cocks to the side, “Is there a problem?”

“Your lab coat smells like a different woman,” you say straightforwardly, staring at him with a blank look that demands an explanation and almost begging that none of this is happening. Zayne scowls at your words, “What?” He muttered, taking the coat from yours and sniffing it. Once he caught a whiff of the familiar aroma, he visibly sighs, rubbing his temples and turning his heel away, “It must be that new intern in our department. She seems too eager to be working with me,” he explains in a flat tone, which would’ve been enough for you on a normal day. But for some reason, the gears in your head just turn. “You do not need to worry yourself over this. It’s nothing,” he continued as he placed his gown in the washing machine.

“Have you done anything to call her behavior out?” You ask, trailing behind him, the frown in your face deepening. Zayne clenches his jaw, pressing into the setting of the washing machine “Is it necessary?”

Suddenly, you felt the rage of all your female ancestors rising within you. “You’re asking me if it’s necessary?” You scoff, folding your arms across your chest, “You’re a smart guy, Zayne. What do you think?” You challenge.

Zayne exhales, “Darling, can I ask you to not do this right now?”

“I just need an answer,” you demand.

His face tightens and he sighs, “I do not think it’s necessary as she is just an intern–”

“Then what about me, Zayne?” You ask, cutting him off, “Are my feelings just… unimportant to you?”

You were certain that you were being a little too much right now, especially knowing that your boyfriend has fatigue creeping up on him after his shift. But there was something in you that felt the need to claw out answers from him, even if it’s in an unhealthy way possible.

“My love, I am serious. I would want to have this conversation another time, please,” Zayne calmly says, almost pleading, the weariness in his face growing evident. And instead of letting the subject go, you huff and walk away, “Fine. Have it your way.”

And being stubborn is one thing you know how to do. Because instead of wrapping yourself under the comforts of your duvet in your shared bed, you grab your blanket and pillow while Zayne is expectantly waiting for you to embrace him for the night and lull himself to sleep with your warmth beside him.

“Darling where are you going–?”

“I am not sleeping with you tonight. I am still upset that you did nothing to call her behavior out.”

You thought Zayne would actually trail behind you and ask you to stop being difficult, using his strength to force you back to bed. But he lets you grumble on the couch, settling yourself underneath the thin blanket that does nothing to warm you up. You toss and turn on the couch, desperate to catch some sleep and a comfortable position but to no avail.

Until you hear careful footsteps padding across the living which elicits a thought from you that maybe he will finally ask you to come back to bed.

You wait for his words as your eyes are screwed shut, pretending to be asleep. Instead, you just hear the front door of your apartment opening and closing.

And in your frustration and anger, instead of following him and asking him to come back home, knowing he just went to the hospital to continue working, you returned the favor. You decided to go to the Hunters Association and finish the paperwork you have been putting off since last week.

Which led you to your predicament of being stuck on the bus stop while the rain poured heavily from the skies.

The car was filled with another minute of silence and he’s finding the right words to say to his lover. In the first place, he was never good with verbalizing his feelings, so being in this dilemma makes him feel a little queasy, especially when this seemed to be the biggest problem you two have encountered as a couple so far.

As he continues to file through his brain on what to say, he decides on a simple thing, “I’m sorry.”

You ignore his words.

“You have every right to be mad at me tonight but all I ask of you is to sleep beside me later,” he said, carefully driving through the slippery streets.

“Bold of you to demand that when you just up and left without a word,” you grumble.

“I had to take care of things,” he replies calmly. And in your head, you were already screaming several sarcastic remarks and rolling your eyes until you were sure you could see your skull. But before you could settle in on a perfect comeback, he speaks up again, “It seems I wasn’t appreciating my girlfriend’s feelings enough that I had to let her go through that emotional turmoil.”

You bite your inner cheek, listening to his words. “And I hope she listens to me tonight and comes home because I have already dealt with a rather… nuisance of a trainee at the hospital. Only to find out from my lover’s colleague that she worked overtime and is shivering in the rain,” he says. 

Finally, you turn your head to meet his gaze, which has been glued the entire time on the road. “You did?” You ask, almost in a whisper.

He merely nods, “I could never live with the fact that you feel insecure in this relationship. It is my job to have you feel assured and safe. And if it meant driving back to the hospital to speak with the intern in the midst of her night shift, I would gladly do so.”

Your bottom lip juts out instinctively as you feel your heart swell in his words, “Zayne…” 

“Besides, I could also never stand living with someone so grumpy and hard-headed to the point where she’d let me sleep alone in the bed.”

“Hey!”

Zayne’s lips slightly twitch upward as he knows you only focused on the first words. The stoplight glows yellow then transitions into a bright red, opting your lover to pause his driving and turn to you, “Is the little grouchy girl finished with her tantrums?”

“I’m not grouchy! My feelings were valid, Zayne,” you huff.

Zayne suppresses his smile as he presses a hand to your cheek, “I know, my love. Your feelings were and are valid. I apologize if it seemed like I wasn’t prioritizing you.”

You release a small sigh, your lips slightly quivering upward at the feelings of his warm hands, “Okay. I’m sorry too, Zayne. I was being a little harsh and forceful.”

“Apology slightly accepted,” he replies, removing his hand from yours, placing it back on the steering wheel.

Your eyes fly open at his words, cocking your head sideways in confusion, “Slightly?”

“Well you do have to compensate me for spending the night chasing you instead of resting, dear,” he says, pushing his glasses upward. You narrow your eyes at him in suspicion as he slowly accelerates the vehicle again, “What kind of compensation?”

Instead of replying to you, his lips break out a wide smile and his right hand taps on his cheek twice while his eyes remain on the road, and his left hand maneuvering the steering wheel effortlessly (which makes you feel things but you ignore it). 

You raise a brow at him “Just a kiss on the cheek?”

Zayne remained silent. Thinking it was nothing, you shrugged and leaned forward, ready to press a kiss to his cheek. But before you can reach the skin of his cheek, he suddenly turns his head, urging you to plant your lips with his momentarily, causing your eyes to widen. He pulls away from the peck, catching a glimpse of your surprised expression with a smug smirk threatening to pull from the corners of his mouth. 

“Zayne, that was dangerous!” You exclaim, your fingertips ghosting over your lips while heat creeps up your cheeks. Instead of replying, your lover merely hums, continuing his drive like nothing happened, eyes glued to the road as he feels you beside him still recover from the fleeting kiss.

“At least I fully accepted your apology, did I not?”

“Even if it cost us our lives?” 

“Oh please my love, don’t be dramatic.”

[xinnn6]

ladies & gentlemen, he said it again ‼️

[espace--positif]

Mornings With Him

A collection of husband!Zayne x F!Reader domestic headcanons [Love and Deepspace]

Summary: Mornings are always better shared. Especially with the love of your life. A collection of fluffy snapshots of mornings spent with husband!Zayne. Pairing: Zayne x F!Reader WC: ~2.1K Content tags: Established relationship, Domestic fluff, Fluff, Romance, Mild suggestiveness Read on AO3 // My Masterlist

Ever since you married the love of your life and began living together, your mornings have changed for the better. But things haven’t always been so smooth, on account of a few differences in your lifestyle that made themselves glaringly obvious early on.

For one, Zayne is a morning person, and you’re regrettably not. Not to the extent that he is, anyway. You don’t ever clash on this, but it’s caused some… unforeseen difficulties in the past, especially for your husband.

He’s always been the type of person to be ready a full hour before he has to leave, whereas you’re more likely to be rushing out the door exactly on the dot, if not later. On top of that, he’s also a morning runner. So when he would try to quietly sneak out of bed to begin his rigorous routine every morning and you’d sleepily cling to him, coaxing him back to the warmth of your shared bed with an almost 100% success rate, to the point where he started regularly missing his morning runs, he figured something had to change.

His solution? He’d find a way for the two of you to spend your mornings together, outside of bed.

Thus, he carefully crafts a shared routine for the both of you, easing you into his way of life while easing himself out of the constancy of his own diligence, little by little.

One early morning, as Zayne woefully pulls himself away from your iron grip, he decides to venture towards the kitchen on a mission. He brews two large cups of coffee and returns to your shared bedroom, where he finds you sprawled on his side of the bed, trying to soak up any residual warmth. You lift your gaze, meeting his with sleepy eyes, and he instantly recognizes the look on your face - his betrayal will not be forgiven nor forgotten, especially this early in the morning when you’re less than agreeable on most things. Well, on all things, really.

He sits at the edge of the bed and silently offers a cup — your favorite cup — and you glare for a while before sitting up and grabbing it. It warms your hands, and you start to think about forgiving him for abandoning his duties as your personal heater.

Over the next week, Zayne gradually adds more layers to your shared routine, carving out a space for you in his little tasks. You’ve become less and less insistent on dragging him back to bed by force, knowing that you’ll be rewarded with a delicious coffee delivered straight to you within a few minutes of his departure. Once his peace offering is well received, he wraps your robe around you and takes you by the hand, leading you to sit by the patio window to enjoy your coffee - in the warmer months, you often sit on the porch — and only then does he take the opportunity to complete his run.

There, while listening to birdsong and being caressed by the gentle breeze, you’re thankful for the brief moment of tranquil solitude. Besides, you know that your husband will be back like clockwork, right as you’ve had your last sip. The corners of your lips inevitably tug upwards every time you see him rounding the bend, jogging back to you. It’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time all over again. You stand to meet him halfway through your yard, and he gently kisses your forehead. You wrap your arms around his warm chest, and his embrace feels as comforting as it has ever felt.

You wash your face and brush your teeth while he showers, and vice versa, both of you relishing in the proximity and safety of each others’ presence even while doing something as mundane as getting ready. While you complete the final touches of your routine in the mirror, Zayne works on a simple breakfast. You’ve never been a breakfast person, but after much insistence and lecturing about how it’s the most important meal of the day, you end up caving, graciously accepting anything he offers you in the morning. His prowess at cooking helps too, of course.

Once you’re ready, you sit across from each other at the dining table, where a helping of sometimes egg and toast, sometimes waffles, sometimes fancy greek yogurt, sits waiting for you. There’s often no need for very many words as you share breakfast together. Both of you sit in the solace of each other’s company for a while, comfortable silence occasionally truncated by a comment of yours on how good the food is, or a comment of his on the weather forecast. Eventually, your renewed energy causes conversation to naturally take off, and you end up rambling about mundanities while he listens attentively, as though it’s the most riveting thing in the world.

By the time you’re set to leave, your morning has already brightened, your smile shining brighter than the sun as you offer to tighten your husband’s tie, a ritual he never refuses even though his tie is already in perfect condition. He returns your beaming smile, and finds that his morning has brightened too, more than he ever could have imagined. For a moment, Zayne blissfully contemplates how he would gladly upend his entire mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights, all at once, in exchange for this view.

Not all mornings are so predictable. In fact, some morning are simply a continuation of a long, long night…

Zayne almost thinks his eyes are deceiving him when he sees your hunched-over form lit up by dancing blue light from the TV screen. When he awoke at four in the morning to an empty and cold bed, he assumed that you fell asleep in front of the lawyer drama you were so captivated with, but he didn’t imagine that you’d still be watching.

He gingerly comes down the steps, socks muffling his movement, and you’re so caught up in your show that you don’t hear him coming. He stands there, amused and baffled all at once, taking in the sight of you. Here sits his wife, normally a pinnacle of responsibility, huddled in a blanket with nothing but her face poking out, eyes bleary with tiredness, but burning with fervent focus at whatever ridiculous plotline is surely unfolding before her. He lets out an incredulous chuckle. The TV volume is almost too low to hear and you’re busy squinting at the subtitles; you’re considerate even in your most unreasonable moments.

“Honey,” he says, breaking the almost-silence.

You slowly turn to face him, a serious expression etched on your face.

“I think Jacob’s gonna cheat… with Anna-Maria,” you say gravely, as if the world hangs in balance.

He makes a mental note never to leave you to your own devices in front of these shows, even if you swear up and down you’ll only watch one more episode before you join him in bed. But for now, he figures you’ll need proper closure on whether Jacob truly plans to cheat on his wife with his legal assistant, and though he’s loath to admit, he’s curious himself, as Jacob always struck him as an honest enough man.

So he plops down next to you, reserving his lecture on your late-night escapade for another time. You unfurl yourself from your blanket-cocoon, wrap the blanket around you both, and snuggle up against him, thankful for the added warmth on this chilly winter morning.

You watch two and a half more episodes together, in which the Jacob storyline wraps up neatly with a bow on top - he was majorly guilty, of course. Zayne turns the TV off when all is said and done, and you sit in silence, processing the somewhat unsatisfying end to the plotline.

“Don’t you think he got off too easy?” you look up with half-lidded eyes and ask Zayne with genuine curiosity. At this point, the show has become entirely too real in your sleepy mind, and you seem to suddenly have a big problems with the gaps in realism. “His wife immediately went to ‘let’s try couples therapy’ and not ‘you’re an asshole and I’m divorcing you.’ She even put some of the blame on herself!”

Zayne can’t help but smile at how serious yet unserious you look right now - it’s frankly adorable.

“Well, Jacob seems to have something called plot armor, so that helped to lessen his sentence.”

You chortle at the clever wordplay, lightly tapping your husband on the chest. Lazily reaching over to pick up your phone, you check the time and let out a groan.

“Oh no. It’s almost six.”

“It sure is,” Zayne replies with a resigned smile.

“And now I’ve kept you up too,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m sorry. We should go get ready.”

But just as you’re about to drag yourself away from him, Zayne pulls you back into his chest.

“Call in.” It’s more of a gentle command than a suggestion.

You contemplate his words for a while, and he hopes that the warm comfort he feels right now, your body against snugly glued to his, will entice you to stay right where you are as much as it’s enticing him.

“I do have a lot of sick days saved up…” you ponder out loud. “Okay, fine, but under one condition.”

Zayne tilts his head at you inquisitively. Conditional capitulation being one of your specialties, he presumes you’re going to drag him through another one of these dramas that you enjoy so much, and that he’s grown to enjoy as well since meeting you (though he would never admit it).

“You call in too,” you say with a mischievous smile. “I stole two whole hours of your beauty sleep, and a certain someone once told me that any less than 8 hours is unhealthy. So let’s just stay right here and nap all day.”

Zayne leans over and plants a gentle kiss on your lips. You have a knack for saying exactly what he wants to hear — yet another one of your specialties.

“Deal.”

Even when you’re on vacation, hundreds of miles away from any and all possible responsibilities, Zayne doesn’t seem to have an off button. He’s up at seven thirty in the morning, and despite your countless nagging about how that’s too early, he’ll insist that it’s far later than his usual, and that it’s perfectly reasonable.

He’s seemingly impervious to jet lag - he’ll tell you all about how good sleep hygiene and optimal nap times contribute to mitigate its effects, though you’re convinced your husband must have some kind of genetic or occupational advantage over you.

Your mornings together begin almost two generous hours after he’s begun his own routine. His 6AM runs are replaced with what he calls a leisurely maintenance routine at the hotel gym. Then, he comes back upstairs to quietly shower off while you’re still dozing, but not before scouting the hotel buffet. This is a very crucial part of his plan for the two of you.

Zayne is thoughtful enough to let you sleep in on vacation, completing the rest of his morning routine as silently as possible, knowing how much you both need the time off. However, once his shower is completed, your time is up. By 9AM, the curtains are flying open, room service is already on the way with coffee, and he’s crawling into the bed you’ve now appropriated as your own, gently but firmly coaxing you awake as you try to cover your eyes in vain. You settle for gluing yourself to his body and using him as a makeshift shield against the bright sun filtering through the window.

“Mmh… ‘s too early,” you mumble into his chest. He smells of hotel soap, and hotel soap has never smelled so good.

“It’s nine in the morning, dear. You’ll stay jet lagged the whole time if we don’t fix that schedule of yours.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah - you’ve heard it all before. But staying right there, on soft plush covers, cuddling with your husband in the morning sun sounds like an awfully good deal in exchange for a little bit of jet lag.

“And the buffet closes at 10:30.”

He never tires of the way your entire body perks up at the magic word. You look up at him, blinking remnants of sleep away, and repeat his words, as if they’re too good to be true.

“Buffet?”

“That’s right.”

“What’s the pastry situation?”

Your suddenly stern face and steadfast determination sends a low rumble of laughter through his chest.

“Full spread. Salty and savoury. Heated on demand.”

You gulp.

“And eggs?”

“However you want them. Unlimited toppings and fillings.”

You practically shove him off and commando-roll out of the queen bed, scurrying around the room to start getting ready. Normally your not-so-gracious dismount from your impromptu cuddle session would’ve earned you a cheeky comment, but as he watches you discard your robe on the bathroom floor, then saunter over to your open luggage to find your “buffet-primed clothes”, as you like to call them, your bare curves basking in the sunlight, he finds that he doesn’t mind your enthusiasm at all.

Thank you for reading! I’ve been thinking about domestic Zayne nonstop so of course I had to write about it. He’s so husband-material coded it’s not even funny. I might write something like this again in the future if I think of more scenarios! 💜

[gattapotatta]

How do we deal with somebody who knowingly commits a crime?

Now he's going to wear this shirt even more often

[lemonlover1110]

𝐎𝐝𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x f!Reader

Summary: Zayne wants to fulfill your odd request.

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“I want a baby.” Is a request that makes Zayne’s eyebrows perk up. An odd request coming from you. To him, it feels out of nowhere since he’s never noticed you take interest in kids. 

Zayne is not the type of man to miss any details about you, so this is coming out of nowhere. He’s been caught up in the hospital lately, so perhaps something happened the past few days. It’s still a very big decision, one that he wants you to ponder on.

It’s a very big decision that he wants you to reflect on, after all, bringing a child into the world is no small feat. He doesn’t want you to change your mind once it’s too late… Perhaps that’s what he should’ve considered before letting you under him. He should’ve opened his mouth before letting you get too close. A simple look, one soft touch– That’s all he needs to do anything you want him to.

“It’s so fucking good!” You’re practically yelling as he thrusts in and out of you. Your back is on the bed, legs on his shoulders as he relentlessly fucks your cunt.

You’re stuffed with his cum, but Zayne needs to continue fucking you. He’s looking down at the way your pussy wraps around him, taking every inch like a good girl.

“You feel so good, baby.” He moans, holding on to your hips for support. He’s noticed that he can fuck you so deep in this position, and it’s easily become one of his favorites. He rarely curses, but he can’t help but mutter out a few curses from how good he feels around your cunt, “Fuck…”

Your hands grip the bed sheets, eyes rolling to the back of your head as pleasure runs through your body. You’ve always had great sexual chemistry with your husband, but the moment you asked for a baby something changed. It flipped a switch that you absolutely adore. He’s fucking you with a purpose.

“You’re gonna look so perfect carrying my baby.” Zayne mutters as one hand goes down to play with your clit. You loudly moan his name over and over again as he makes a mess out of you. “Please make me a daddy, baby. Please, please, please.”

You’ve never heard Zayne so needy before. The idea of getting you pregnant is clearly turning him on. The neighbors can surely hear how loud you’re being, but shame walked out of the door after the first round.

“Zayne–” You begin to squeeze around him as pleasure consumes you. The senseless talk that leaves his lips only works you up more. 

“Need to knock you up. You’re going to look so beautiful.” He’s groaning. He’s shutting his eyes, unable to bear the feeling. It’s too much for him to handle, you just feel so nice and tight around him, “Need to see you pregnant with my baby.”

Your back is arching as your climax approaches. Zayne is hitting all the right spots, which is driving you wild. He’s moaning your name over and over again.

Your breath gets caught up in your chest as your orgasm washes over you. His thrusts begin to get sloppy, knowing that he’s not going to last much longer.

“Fuck, I’m gonna knock you up.” He mutters. He throws his head back, his thrusts slowing down as he releases his seed inside you. He’s pumping you full of his cum, and your cunt milks him for every drop of it. Because it is a lot. Zayne comes so much inside of you.

It’s the third time in the night. Zayne pulls out of you, and lays down beside you. His fingers are pushing his cum back inside of you. You’re both panting, catching your breaths.

He’s already thinking about fucking you again, but before anything else he has the audacity to ask,

“Are you sure you want a baby?”

You chuckle.

“I’m sure I’m already pregnant.”

[kira-loves0905]

— Zayne has been tiptoeing around you, trying to find a hint that you like him back.

Through his frankly embarrassing attempts, this conversation with you one Thursday night changed everything.

; fluff, no warnings, probably an ooc zayne mb

"here, this shall do the trick of relaxing you."

Zayne gave you a bottle of your favorite drink before he sat down at the bench you were on. The weather was cold, faint wisps of breeze passing by— indicating the start of winter.

You nod to thank him, twisting the cap, and happily drank. The past week has been stressful indeed. Fighting of Wanderers was your job, but lately there has been surges of multiple S-Ranks around Linkon City. It added more work, papers to be signed, and your body sore way more than usual.

"How did you know this is my drink?" you questioned, tilting your head at him.

Zayne blinked, the faintest reddish hue surfacing at the tip of his ears – to which you hadn't noticed – due to the sudden inquiry.

"The nurses at the hospital gossip about how there's always a sold out beverage at the vending machine," he makes a flimsy excuse, clearing his throat, "I saw you buying it before your physical assessments. it's no brainer to connect the dots."

"oddly observant of you, Dr. Zayne." you teased, the cold drink half-finished.

"just making sure you don't over do it." he banters.

"you should say that to your sweet addiction."

"my appetite is fine, thank you very much-"

his sentence gets cut off by your merry laugh. something constricts at his throat, almost struggling to swallow down a smile at your cheery emotions. Zayne feels immense pride to be the cause of it, having made you relax amidst the draining hours of work.

after a while, there was quiet.

the bottle in your hands was now empty. tranquil silence binds you together in a relaxing atmosphere. the faint noises of crowd surrounds the park at night. for a moment, Zayne wrecks his brain to think of something— anything, to make you emit that heart-warming laughter again.

he glances back to you and saw your tired state. despite you trying to act nonchalant, he notices the subtle details of exhaustion. and so he decided to keep his mouth shut for now.

"I should probably go home," you say, standing up to throw the bottle on a nearby bin.

Zayne perked up at your words, standing alongside you. "I'll accompany you. it's late."

"I can manage just fine, Doc." you chuckled "my house isn't that far."

"I insist. you're evidently exhausted."

"I can still fight if anything arises."

"I want to." he argued, brows furrowed defiantly- which a expression you now noticed from him. "Just relax beside me, I'll watch over for you."

his words slipped before he can stop saying it outloud. he knows it was too late to backtrack, if your shocked face was anything to go by.

Zayne was about to make a dry joke— to drift things away from what he said.

but then.

but then he saw it.

the rosy hue in your cheeks, the stammer in your words as you try to form a coherent reply. clearly his words affected you as much as it did to him.

you had that expression, and he saw a chance. a chance to have you if he plays his cards right.

the walk to your home was tense. both your faces seemingly painted with a permanent blush. his hand twitches everytime it brushes against your knuckles. the yearning he felt was little in comparison from his determination to start taking things in the next level.

he knew you had that small, budding like for him. when by your apartment door, you placed a kiss on his cheek before running inside your home.

yeah, this thursday night is his favorite day of the year now.

[lads-ficrecs]

ᴛɪᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇꜱ ────୨ৎ────

✦ These are recommendation lists made by other users. Since I might not be able to find all the fics about lads, here's some lists made by other lads fans; you might find something new.

For more information, see the Pinned Post here! Check out the author list here! Check out series list here!

✦ Sylus fanfiction recommendations by @celestialgojo

✦ Wall of fame by @writingastory

✦ Sylus fic recommendations by @tsukimirecs

✦ Hybrid AU fanfic recommendations by @grabby-smitten

✦ Lads fic recs by @joy-laufeyson

✦ Sylus fic recommendations by @joy-laufeyson

✦ Love and Deepspace fic recs by @sylusdarling

✦ Love & Deepspace Masterlist by @solifloris

✦ Caleb fic recommendations by @joy-laufeyson

✦ AO3 lads Fic Recs Jan-Feb 2025 by @circecyerce

✦ LADS fic recs by @juiceeypeach

✦ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬 by @swissschees3

✦ Rafayel fic recs by @us3r999999

✦ Love and deepspace Rec list by @linkonlceleste

Credits to: -> @fic-dumpster -> @toastray

[shouyuus]

sfw; glasses!zayne bc fuck it we bawl

anyway, glasses!zayne who does not miss the fact that you stare at him for just a bit longer than usual the first time you see him wearing his glasses, who chuckles and shifts them up the bridge of his nose, if only to bask in the delicious, darling, darkening of your cheeks.

"have you finished staring?" he asks, his voice light to match his grin, "or would you like a pair as well?" he makes to take them off to offer them to you.

you sputter, shaking your head, "no! i just -- i didn't know you wore glasses."

"i usually don't," he admits, slowly taking them off to fold him onto the table. he closes his eyes for a brief count of three, just a little rest, before opening them again to find you still watching him. even like this, with the outline of you blurred slightly, he knows the precise shape and weight of your eyes, the curve of your lips, the bend of your cheek.

he picks up the glasses and slides them back on.

"usually, i wear contacts," he says, by way of an explanation to your unasked question.

glasses!zayne who polishes his glasses on the hem of his shirt, blasphemously unaware of how attractive he looks, that is, until he catches you staring as he's trying to go over his latest patient discharge chart. he meets your gaze with a sigh and you have the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"sorry..." you murmur, casting your eyes around his office, trying to look anywhere but at his face. it's unfair, you think, a bit childishly to yourself, that he looks so stupidly hot with glasses on. how're you supposed to sit here and wait patiently when he's sitting there, looking like a four-course meal?

"don't be," zayne says, the shadow of a grin teasing at his lips as he looks back down at the chart, "there's no part of me you're not allowed to look at."

glasses!zayne who had not realized what a hindrance it would be to kiss with glasses on, how they'd catch in the space between your faces where there's usually no obstacle. he pulls back, blinking down at you, his tongue tracing a thoughtful line over his own bottom lip as he reaches up to take them off.

"n-no --!" you say, a bit too quickly.

zayne freezes, his eyebrows pitching up.

you purse your lips, heat flooding your cheeks as your eyes cut away from his.

"i -- i mean... i don't mind if you keep them on..." you say, your voice trailing off, and something coils tight inside zayne's chest.

he grins, leaning down to coax your face back up towards his. it's late, and his office door is locked. still, for the sake of base restraint and propriety he shouldn't let things get too far.

there are rules, after all.

"i didn't know you'd like them so much," he says, ghosting his mouth along yours, savoring in your tiny gasp. but then again, he backtracks, rules were always made to be broken.

"i..." you swallow; zayne's eyes trace the delicate bob of your throat and barely fights back a groan. he tips forward, melding your mouths once more as you reach up to sink your fingers into his hair.

it's a heated kiss, open-mouthed and hungry; it's a greedy kiss, full of teeth and bite and numbly, zayne wonders just how much of this he can take before he cracks.

not much, seems to be the answer. because the next second, you let out a broken little moan and zayne feels himself pull back to yank the glasses from his nose, tossing them aside, before jerking you forward to kiss you again.

there, he thinks, that's better -- he holds your face in both his hands, your jaw cupped between his palms. like this, he thinks he can kiss you till there's no more air left in his lungs. like this, he thinks, he can kiss you till the light burns itself out over a million and one horizon-struck suns.

when the pair of you finally surface again for air, it's you who glances over and makes a small noise of protest, your eyes fixed on a point to the side. zayne turns to find what he assumes are his glasses, cracked, lying on the pristine white of his office floor.

he sighs, reaching down to pick them up, folding them delicately back into his coat pocket. he rounds his desk and pulls out a pair of contacts.

you watch him put them in with a muted sort of amusement.

"of course you'd have emergency contacts at work," you say, finally, after he's done, blinking a few times to adjust to them. he only adjusts his coat and makes for the door, unlocking it with a swift flick of his wrist.

"you should always have backup," he says, simply, as he holds the door for you to walk through.

halfway home, sitting in the passenger's seat of his car, you glance over at him with a playful smile, cocking your head.

"so..."

zayne casts you a glance before turning back to the road.

"so?" he prompts.

"so, when are you getting your glasses replaced?" you ask, nothing if not cheeky.

zayne makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh.

"soon. but i might have to up my eye-care insurance."

you blink at him, "why?"

his grin goes lopsided as he shoots you another sidelong look.

"because... if we're going to keep on feeding your glasses kink, i'm sure this won't be the only pair we break as collateral."

[hitoshitoshi]

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

Masterlist | TWITTER

[navydoves]

Cat!Zayne and his strange affectionate habits

you love your kitty boyfriend, but he does some strange things!

✎ᝰ a/n: highly requested kitty zayne is now part 4 of this series. im gonna do a "habits while in heat" sister series so if you wanna be tagged just tell me. caleb is gonna be the last one to complete the 5.

bunny xavier mermaid rafayel dragon sylus

⭐︎

❥ he’s likes waiting. kitty zayne is very patient. he’ll never whine or complain (too much) about how long you’ve been gone or how far away mealtime is. he’ll definitely miss you, yes, but he likes focusing on the fact that you’re with him now.

he’ll sit by you on the bed and wait for you to wake up, but he’ll do this for hours if he needs to. if he wants to play or spend time with you but you’re busy, he’s perched right beside you quietly just very patiently waiting. you feel a little bad sometimes, but zayne reassures you by telling you that he doesn’t mind waiting. that all he cares about is getting you as his reward.

❥ he holds you with his tail. zaynes favorite form of physical affection is gripping onto you for dear life with his tail. it’s very casual too. when you’re doing dishes he’ll come up behind you and peck your scalp while his tail wraps around your waist. he’ll wrap his tail around your wrist in public to guide you and show affection.

he especially loves wrapping his tail around you when you’re asleep with him. with his strong arms under your armpits and around your chest and his tail either wrapped on your thigh or midsection, zayne refuses to go to sleep any other way. it’s a bit suffocating but zayne is naturally cool-skinned so it doesn’t make you overheat.

❥ he has sensory issues. because of this zayne is very particular about what he sleeps on, the texture of his food, how his ears/tail/nails are trimmed, etc. you’ll see him on the bathroom very meticulously snipping away at his hair to ensure it’s always clean and neat because it’ll bother him if it’s any other way. it’s also a plus to know he’s very clean.

he’s usually adverse to getting too close to someone because he also very easily overheats. which is why when he cuddles you, you’ll see him use his evol on his skin. similarly he prefers wearing very light clothing or being just straight up naked in bed because it helps him with temperature and also, he likes you feeling his bare body <3.

❥ he’s subtly territorial. he likes to remind you and everyone else around you that you’re his and vice versa. he’s not the type to whine or pout about it, but he’ll do things like stare people down or wrap his tail around your ankle if they’re being too friendly with you.

he also likes scenting you in every way possible. you think his head nudges and rubs are purely affectionate, but he also does them to get his natural kitty scent on you. its not a once or twice thing, its constantly throughout the day. especially when your scent is gone after a shower he’ll take like 10 minutes just to cover you in his smell again.

❥ he massages (kneads) you a lot! it’s well known that cats like kneading when they’re happy, but zayne likes to call it “massages”. this is because he only ever kneads you. his favourite places are your tummy and your thighs, but he’ll take anywhere.

very firmly but still gentle, he cups your soft flesh and squeezes or rubs with his large palms. even kitty zayne knows anatomy pretty well, so he’ll target the areas where the biggest muscle groups are or where you complain about being achy. it’s very soothing and somewhat erotic at times because his attention is fully on you. likes it’s a job to him play with your chub and skin.

❥ he’s at your beck and call. if zayne is gonna do something its gonna be listen to you. zayne is not submissive by nature, but he enjoys taking care of you so much that he’ll let you boss him around. he’s not a dog, but he’ll fetch if you ask.

if you ask him to cook he’ll cook for the next few days and always serve you first. if you ask him to use his car he’ll drive you himself and give extra money. if you ask him to jump he might just ask how high. it’s not overbearing by any means, it’s actually rather domestic and husband-like. he does things for you silently but his tail wags always indicate how happy he is doing it. ⭐︎ hey frens tags : @otomegamesforlife , @chersyluvs

[himbo-kuto]

doctor!reader x doctor!zayne summary: zayne just loves u or sumn :p

“hmm.. that’s strange..” you mumbled to yourself as you looked at the chart that your husband just handed to you. zayne studied your confused expression as you flipped back and forth between pages. he came to your office with results that he couldn’t exactly connect all the dots on. you worked in orthopedics and in many instances you were able to fill in the blanks. 

“and you ran all the tests and they came back…” you looked back at his figure that was hovering over you– one hand on the back of your chair, one on your desk. 

“negative.” he confirmed. 

“mhmm…” you turned your attention back to the chart, your brows furrowing immediately as you now had to read every word on the page slowly, just to make sure you didn’t miss any important information. you took the glasses that were resting on the bridge of your nose and pushed them upward into your hair, now feeling like you were able to see the chart more clearly. 

zayne took a pause as he fully took in your appearance. your glasses perfectly pushed your hair back, giving him a clear view of your face– furrowed brows and pouty lips. he smiled unbeknownst to him as he was just filled with love and gratitude. the sun from the outside was hitting you perfectly, making you glow like an angel (his angel). 

“i think we should run a–” you looked over to find your husband with a soft expression that was oozing admiration and affection. it made you blush instantly. just how long had he been looking at you like that?

“why are you looking at me like that, dr. zayne?” he reached over and tucked a stray hair behind your ear as you tried to refocus on the task at hand, though failing miserably. 

“no reason in particular. you just look radiant, my love.” you whined as you kicked your feet under your desk, using the clipboard to hide your blushing cheeks.

“zayne, what did we say about compliments in the office!” he turned your chair around so you were fully facing him. he took said clipboard, placing it on your desk (now forgotten) and caged you into your chair. he leaned in further, now inches from your face. 

“i don’t remember anything about giving compliments, doctor. we agreed not to kiss in public and last time i checked..” you watched as his gaze flickered upward to view your empty office.

“...it was just you and me.” you bit back your smile as you shyly looked up at him, your cheeks deepening in color. he planted a kiss on your forehead before leaning down and capturing your lips. he stayed there for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your lips on his. 

“did you come in here to get a second opinion or to steal a kiss dr. zayne?” you whispered softly as he pulled back, as to not break the moment. 

“you can’t steal something that already belongs to you, dear.” in one fell swoop, he landed another kiss on your lips, grabbed the clipboard from your desk and headed toward the door. 

“i’ll run that test you suggested, thank you doctor.” and just like that he was gone from your office. you blinked a few times before shouting to his fleeting figure. 

“you didn’t even hear what test i wanted to run!” 

[lyn31]

It's just a cut

Summary:

A tiny cut, a huge overreaction—Zayne goes full doctor mode, and you can’t resist messing with him.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes:

Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader College AU, fluff, banter, silly.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Movie night has always been a thing you done together. A simple tradition, something to break up the chaos of classes, exams, and everything in between. You and Zayne don’t always have the time for it, but when you do, you go all in—blankets, dimmed lights, a ridiculous amount of snacks.

Tonight’s pick is still up for debate. You’re leaning toward something lighthearted, maybe so-bad-it’s-good, while Zayne just wants something quiet. Either way, you refuse to start without the essentials, which is how you end up in the kitchen, prepping snacks while Zayne makes himself comfortable on the couch.

You catch movement from the corner of your eye—he’s getting up.

“Oh no, you don’t,” you say, pointing a warning finger at him. “Sit your pretty butt down. I got this.”

Zayne pauses mid-motion, tilting his head. “Are you sure?”

“Zayne. This is not cooking. It’s snack prep. You don’t need to supervise me.”

He still doesn’t look convinced, but he humors you, settling back into the couch with an amused hum.

You return to your task, grabbing the knife to cut—wait, what were you doing again? Oh, right. Slicing.

Just as you start, something pops into your head—Oh, that reminds me! You turn mid-slice, already opening your mouth—

“Ow.”

You feel a sharp sting on your finger.

It’s not loud, not dramatic, just a quiet, reflexive noise—but it’s enough.

Zayne’s head snaps toward you. A beat. Then he’s there in an instant, moving so fast you barely have time to blink before he’s right beside you, reaching for your hand.

His fingers are cool against your skin as he takes your wrist, lifting your hand to inspect it. His brows furrow, lips pressing into a firm line as he studies the small cut on your fingertip.

It’s not even that bad—yeah, it stings a little, and yeah, it’s bleeding, but it’s not that deep. Nothing a quick rinse and a band-aid won’t fix.

Zayne, however, looks like you just suffered a grave injury.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, already guiding you toward the sink. His grip is gentle but firm, like he’s afraid you’ll resist, which is ridiculous because you’re not about to argue against basic first aid.

Still, the whole thing is kind of funny.

“Zayne, it’s—”

“You should be more careful.” His voice is low, bordering on reprimanding, but there’s something else underneath it—concern.

That’s when it hits you.

Ohhh. He’s in full doctor mode.

The realization makes you bite back a grin. He’s not just fussing. He’s serious.

You decide to play along.

When he turns the faucet on and holds your finger under the cool water, you let out a dramatic sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Is it bad, doc?”

His shoulders tense, just slightly. “It’s bleeding.”

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you cut yourself.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he turns off the water, grabs a clean towel, and carefully pats your finger dry.

You peek up at him through your lashes, catching the way his jaw is set, his eyes still locked on the minuscule injury like it’s something critical.

Oh, this is too good.

You sigh again, heavier this time. “I don’t know, Zayne. I feel kind of lightheaded…”

That makes him freeze for a second.

Then he actually looks at you, sharp eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress.

That’s when you lose it.

The giggle slips out before you can stop it, and when his expression shifts—realization dawning—you know you’re doomed.

Zayne just stares, eyes narrowing as realization sinks in.

You can practically see the moment he puts it together—that you’re not actually lightheaded, that you’re absolutely fine, and that you’re messing with him.

“…You’re enjoying this,” he states flatly.

You press your lips together, trying to stifle your grin. “I mean… maybe a little?”

His grip on your wrist tightens just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you aware that he’s not letting you go.

“Sit.”

You blink. “What?”

“Sit down,” he repeats, already steering you toward the couch. “I need to disinfect it.”

You laugh. “Zayne, come on. It’s tiny. It doesn’t even hurt that much—”

He doesn’t argue. He just looks at you.

That same impassive, unreadable stare.

You know what this means.

It means he’s unwavering. That no matter how much you argue, he’s not letting this go.

The funniest part? He’s not even being dramatic about it. He’s just… determined.

Which only makes it even more hilarious.

Still giggling, you let him push you onto the couch, watching as he disappears into his room. When he returns, he’s got a small first aid kit in hand, his movements precise as he kneels in front of you.

“Alright, doc,” you tease, wiggling your injured finger. “Give it to me straight. Am I gonna make it?”

Zayne doesn’t rise to the bait. He just grabs an antiseptic wipe, rips it open, and says, completely deadpan—

“You’ll live.”

You wheeze.

He doesn’t even blink.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

I am the type that laugh at their own joke but even so, this one legit just produce natural wheeze from me ahahahahaha so ofc I was like I need to share this :D