#lnds zayne x reader

[dearieshima]

blue

feat. lovely banter with zayne in the morning

c.w. should I label this as improper use of medicine? 💀, very suggestive, fluffy, MDNI, 1k+ words, fem reader

In the softest hour before dawn, when the town of Linkon lay wrapped in the hush of a blue so tender it felt almost sacred, Zayne sat at the edge of your bed, the early light casting his form in gentle shades of indigo and sapphire. Shadows stretched long as as he carefully buttoned his shirt, his fingers moving with a deliberate rhythm, hoping not to disturb you.

In that quiet intimacy, your arms, weighted with sleep, reached for him. He startled, the tension in his shoulders easing when he turned to find you awake, your eyes carrying the gentleness of lingering dreams. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered, his voice a lullaby. His hand slid softly over your hair, and then he gently adjusted the blanket around your frame.

"Mmm, so you're the type of guy to see yourself out after spending the night with a woman?" you murmured, a playful edge laced with drowsiness.

Zayne let out a soft hmph, the sound warm and tinged with a hint of amusement. "I'm the type of man who has a very busy day ahead of him," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

His hands moved to work on his tie, his fingers maneuvering the silk with skilled efficiency. "You," he added, pausing for a moment to look down at his work, "have the luxury of staying in bed, asleep, for another couple of hours."

You raised, the blanket slipping and pooling at your waist and exposing the erotic canvas of your skin in the hues of healing.

Mauve hickies adorned the column of your neck like a necklace. Plum love bites, puffy and tender, marred the smooth swells of your breasts, peeking out from your white lace bra. On your waist, a ghostly imprint of a possessive hand lingered.

Zayne froze, his hands clutching his loosened tie as his jaw tensed almost unseen. His eyes, however, remained thawed and warm to shift with such frequentness to drink you in.

He blinked rapidly before resuming his motion, loosening the tie around his throat as if it was the reason behind his loss of breath. He inhaled before he gently beckoned you to lay back down and attempted to tuck the covers back over you.

"Don't sit up. You need your sleep," he said softly, his voice slightly deeper than usual. Despite his words, there was a hint of guilt and tenderness in his tone, betraying his concern.

You pushed aside the covers and leaned into his shoulder, your fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. “Lemme... Lemme iron your shirt.”

Zayne’s resolve faltered as you pressed closer, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his sleeve. The scent of your love making still lingered on you.

“You expect me to think you can hold an iron when you can barely hold your eyes open," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His hand found your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You'll have me hurrying up the process so I could rush you to the ER.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes heavy but earnest. “Can I have some water?”

He sighed but rose without complaint, returning moments later with a glass of cold water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other. Setting the water on the nightstand, he sank back onto the edge of the bed. His gaze swept over you, taking in the exhaustion etched across your features—the faint lines of fatigue, the dark shadows under your eyes. He knew how much your work as a hunter drained you, though he also knew now wasn’t the time for a lecture.

Which, of course, didn’t stop him.

"The first one is ibuprofen for pain relief," his eyes flickering to the bruise blooming on your throat, "and the other one is a multivitamin, which, by the looks of the full capsule in your medicine cabinet, is one you should've been taking daily, prescribed by your doctor."

You pouted, your voice soft. “I just forgot. And they taste weird.”

"You forget a lot of things," he said, his tone half-chiding, half-concerned. His fingers deftly cracked open the vitamin capsule, holding the pill up between you. "They're medicine, not candy. They're not supposed to taste delicious."

“What are you—?”

“Making sure you actually take it.” His hand tipped your chin upward, thumb and forefinger firm but careful. His voice dipped into something commanding. “Open.”

Your lips parted, your eyes meeting his as he leaned closer. He placed the pill on your tongue, but the flick of your it against his fingertip drew an audible hitch from him.

Zayne froze for a heartbeat, his eyes darkening with something unreadable, something heated. His thumb lingered on your lower lip, tracing its curve as his gaze held yours.

“Swallow,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, his breath brushing against your skin.

You obeyed, your throat working as the pill went down. His eyes tracked the movement, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. His thumb stayed at your lip a moment longer before he pulled back and handed you the water.

“Good girl,” he said softly, the words laced with a low, almost teasing warmth.

You drained the glass in one go, setting it back on the nightstand with a faint clink. Your eyes met his again, the weariness in them replaced with a spark of something else entirely.

“Now I’m really not tired,” you said, your voice breaking the quiet tension in the room.

Zayne leaned back, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He was aware of the drowsiness that was about to settle in soon, thanks to the ingredient in the pills named Diphenhydramine.

Zayne pulled the covers up to your chin, his fingers gently tucking the fabric around you. He took a moment to admire the sight of you, wrapped up in your nest of warmth, the faint warm light of the early morning seeping through the windows, clearing the chillness of the blue. He should have left a while ago.

"It'll hit you soon," he said. "You'll be dozing off before you know it."

"Rest," he murmured. His hand lingered, squeezing your shoulder gently before pulling away. "I have to go."

"Wait," you said, tugging lightly on his sleeve. "Have a nice day at work."

"I will."

"And don’t eat too many sweets. Remember, your dentist said sugar-free," you added, smiling softly.

"I’m sure one pastry won’t hurt," he teased.

"Your lunch is in the fridge... don’t forget it," you murmured through a yawn. Zayne has been deliberately leaving his lunch behind for weeks now, a thin excuse for you to stop by later and see you again.

"I won’t," he lied smoothly.

Your breathing slowed, the weight of sleep pulling you under.

Zayne feigned a glance at his watch --and God, he really should've left by now-- pretending he had important duties that needed tending to, but secretly reveled in the extra few minutes of banter and banter with you.

Then it happened.

"I love you," you whispered, the words tumbling out mid-yawn, the 'you' stretching softly as your eyelids drifted shut. It was the first time you’d said it, the confession slipping free without a second thought.

Zayne froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. For a moment, he just stood there, watching you as you surrendered to sleep. It's the medication talking, he silently told himself, even as the words echoed in his mind, sending a warmth spreading through his veins.

He gently placed his hand on your head, his fingers carding through your hair in a soothing manner as he watched your eyes flutter closed.

Zayne watched as your breathing slowed into the soft, even rhythm of sleep, your face relaxed and peaceful. He lingered for a few more seconds, his gaze tracing the lines of your face, committing them to memory. He bent down to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too. I'll see you in the afternoon."

As gently as possible, Zayne removed his hand from your head, the touch light as he slowly made his way to the door.

[connorsui]

Every time I do my skincare or I'm putting on some lipstick It makes me imagine either of the lads men watching you from your vanity with great admiration and love in their eyes

It don't matter what you are putting on that makes you look ten times more beautiful than what you already are

They are still going to continue to admire you

Like, I bet Sylus would buy you a better, well lit vanity mirror with different light settings

Or zayne watching you in silence as you continue to touch up on your last bits of foundation

Rafayel would definitely join you in your little skin care routine. Matching head bands? Absolutely.

Xavier? ...tell me why I see this man watching you apply lipstick over and over again as he. Himself is covered in lipstick kisses all over his face and neck?...he don't care tho ..he just waiting for another lipstick color to go on your lips so it goes on his neck next

It's so blantly cute, I adore it

Consui unedited thoughts

[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

[teewritessmth]

Love and Deepspace men when you text them "Alright he's gone, come over"

Warnings : diva raf, sad xav

Zayne

Xavier

Rafayel

Sylus

[zayneism]

zayne: random boyfriend texts !

: sometimes I write ooc things, forgive me if i do.

[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

[fortunekookie07]

I know I already posted this with a reblog, buuuuut it's gotten zero attention. I am aware that I am by far not the most popular writer, but I didn't think this story was awful either. I think maybe it's being blocked or something. Not sure. So take two! Please tell me your thoughts. They help me keep writing and improving.

Cereal IS a Soup

Zayne was still fast asleep by the time your eyes opened. His arm draped over your waist the comfort and safety you fell asleep to nearly every night. Carefully, you slowly roll over and watch his sleeping face. Ah, there it is, that little frown again. You reach up and smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

Moving closer, you kiss his nose before trying to leave his embrace. Now that you're awake, your bladder demands relief. As you try to move past his arm, it suddenly tightens, and he draws you closer into his chest. Then his morning groggy voice is in your ear. "Where do you think you're going?" He asks, voice deeper than usual, still rough from sleep.

"Bathroom", you say still trying to wiggle out of his arms. He holds you a moment longer and then finally releases you. You scramble out of bed, quickly untangling your legs from his and the mess you've made of the blankets.

After washing your hands you head to the kitchen to start some coffee. Glancing at the clock, you realize that it's late. Almost 10:30, Zayne hardly ever sleeps late. Usually he's up with the sun, not today. On his rare days off he does tend to sleep in. Just not this much. A few minutes later he's shuffling into the kitchen, looking more rested then usual.

He comes to stand beside you saying nothing as he waits for the coffee. Wordlessly you take his usual cup and pour the steaming liquid in and stir in cream and his four spoons of sugar. He likes his coffe sweet. As your handing him the cup he kisses your temple and then moves to the fridge. Having not been grocery shopping this week yet, choices are limited. It's definitely a cereal day.

You grab two bowls and spoons, and he grabs both kinds of cereal and milk. You grab the cheerios and pour some into your bowl, and wait for the milk. Zayne is just pouring the milk when he catches you staring at his bowl with that look on your face. He stops.

"Stop thinking whatever you're thinking." He says eyeing you like you're about to grow two heads. "Huh?" You say brilliantly not aware that, that tell tale silly look is on your face once again. Zayne has had many years to learn your expressions.

"You always have that look on your face when you're about to say something stupid just to annoy me. So cut it out..." You cut him off. "I love you." You say smiling innocently. He stares at you eyes narrowed as he pushes the milk towards you.

You grab it and start pouring before saying "Also, cereal qualifies as a soup." His spoon clatters on the table as he drops it and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I knew it." You giggle at him and start eating. "I mean think about it!" You start to elaborate on the qualifications of soup and the similarities of cereal. Zayne now has a full on face palm, his elbow on the table. "I married a five year old". He mutters earning more giggles from you as you finish off the rest of your bowl.

After setting your bowl in the sink you go over and poke his face, he looks up at you almost as if he expects something equally ridiculous to pop out of your mouth. Clearly he is regretting letting you get into that drunken, heated debate with a coworker the night before. How you got on the topic of soup is still a mystery to him.

You peck his cheek and say "cereal really should be considered soup. And I love you too." Zayne decides right then and there to never allow you to drink around anyone but him again. That should keep the shenanigans to a minimum. He pulls you down into his lap and says seriously, "cereal is not a soup and you're not allowed to drink with my coworkers anymore." He lightly pinches your lips together to keep you from protesting as he takes another sip of his coffee.

"No more silliness." He gives you that look before he releases your lips. You make a big show of rubbing your lips and pouting. "What do you want to do today?" He asks after a moment of silence. You think as you mind stars running with ideas, each one rejected the moment you realize you don't really want to leave the house today. "I just want to spend all day right by your side. I don't feel like going anywhere." He nods thoughtful as he considers the choices.

He wouldn't be opposed to just going right back to bed as long as you're right beside him. He always does sleep better with you tucked into his arms. He hooks his arm under your knees before standing. You look at him curiously as he makes his way back to the bedroom. "I wouldn't mind spending the day in bed. I just want to do nothing today." You smile perfectly content as he lays you down on the bed and then immediately follows.

After he's laying down and flipping the blankets back over you, he holds his arm out, and you immediately snuggle into his side, laying your head on his shoulder. After a few minutes of silence, you speak. "Zayne?" He hums in response. "I love you." His eyes open, and he looks down at you. "I love you too." He kisses your temple again and then squeezes you closer as you drift off to sleep. Content with your little slice of happiness.

****************************************************

This is what I came up with after reading a bit of dialog that love-and-deepspace-incorrect-quotes had thought up. As promised, it's packed with cheesyness. I hope you liked it!

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Twenty

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 2,626

Themes; isekai, slow burn (eventual smut), canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and mature themes

Notes; Hey guys! I'm just a tad bit late on posting but I'm sure it's alright! I tweaked the cover for the series, so I do hope you like the new additions to it (like the red strings I added). I'm working on a Rafayel one-shot that I'll post sometime soon...uh, and I think that's pretty much all I've got to say until after the chapter.

I'm sure yall are tired of the one character-centric chapters 😭 I'm gonna try to wrap it up as quickly as I can!

I hope you all enjoy the newest part to ToF!

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

During your stay at the Tower of Thorns, you were given a room. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call it a room since it felt more like an ancient prison cell with its dark stone walls and shoddy furniture.

There was an antique desk against one of the walls, a wooden chair placed in front of the table, and a tiny, twin candle set hung on the wall. While the room was scarcely decorated, at least you had a bed and a mirror.

As you got changed into some new attire, you pause for a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror. There on your bosom were blue markings engraved in your flesh, like cracks that would appear if someone wedged their blade into the frosted ground.

It was a clear symptom of Cryoriasis.

Cryoriasis was a rare and strange disease. Physicians have only recorded a few cases in old textbooks. The infected will eventually lose consciousness and be unable to move as if frozen solid.

Only the Creatio protocore from the Tower of Thorns can remove it.

“To make that peculiar jasmine bloom…” You murmur to yourself as you slide your dress on, clicking your tongue in annoyance. This is your only chance. You need to befriend the Foreseer so he lets down his guard. Then, you might be able to approach the Creatio protocore and take it for yourself.

Though you wonder…Why does the Foreseer care so much about that jasmine in the first place? It seems like you need to make your own investigation on why that is…

The following morning, you examine every inch of the Tower. Every decoration in this place is beautiful, but each one lacks character. They possess the same aloofness as the Foreseer himself. It appears they are trying to frighten strangers.

This place is huge…and almost lonely. It was too big of a place for just one person to live here.

Having found a silver bottle in one of the many rooms, you fill it with water and head back to the top of the Tower to take care of the jasmine. Once you reach the top of the steps, you see him.

The Foreseer.

His back is turned to you, but you still feel on edge as if you’re walking on thin ice just by being in the same vicinity as him. 

“You’re…not here to supervise me, right?” You ask him softly and he turns to face you with a raised brow before responding, “It appears your confidence is lacking.”

“It’s not like I had much confidence in the first place,” You murmur under your breath before you turn away from him to step toward the fragile little flower. 

A few prayers slip from your lips and you gently pour a few drops of water onto the plant. “‘O fairest jasmine, my life is in your petals. Don’t partake in the sweetness of Death,” You whisper your prayer to the little flower.

You knew that if the jasmine died, you would be joining it in the heavens shortly after.

From the pinnacle of the Tower, you spy a group of people walking along the mountain path. They resemble ants that fell into a desert of salt. If there are others here to distract the Foreseer, you could use it to your advantage.

You point toward the figures in the distance and turn your head to look at the dark haired man next to you, “Are they here to receive your prophecies?”

The Foreseer glances at them and with his right hand, he writes a series of silver symbols in the air. Suddenly, a blizzard befalls us. It swallows the mountain path, and the people disappear in the blanket of snow.

“Are you…trying to kill them?” You rest your hands on the stone that crowned the top of the Tower and squint your eyes, trying your damnedest to see any signs of life in the distance.

 “After getting lost in the snow, they’ll have no choice but to turn back. Their survival is but a guarantee.” The Foreseer says this as if it’s a fact, but humans are stubborn.

They might be desperate enough, like you, and try to fight their way through the snowstorm.

They could easily perish, even if the Foreseer thinks otherwise.

“Do you despise the requests for prophecies?” While you ask your question, you set the silver bottle down on the ground.

“Fate cannot be changed. Instead of acknowledging this truth, humans still fight against it. Especially when their future is not what they hoped it would be.” As he speaks, the Foreseer glances at you– almost as if he’s talking directly to you about wanting to change your fate. 

You clear your throat and lower your head, pretending to agree with him, “I understand…I will focus on tending to the jasmine and not ask about my future.”

Even if it’s utterly meaningless, you’re not going down without a fight. You just hope that your show of resignation will help you gain the Foreseer’s trust.

Several days have passed since then, you have once again forgotten that you were in a dream.

A memory.

This fragmented memory was beginning to feel more and more real. Why is it that you were recalling all of these pasts– futures?– now, of all times? For what reason did you need this information?

You fear how many more times you can take this.

Here, you have already memorized your daily routine for taking care of the jasmine. You could do it in your sleep– which is what you were technically doing in the first place.

In the morning, you hum as you take your silver bottle to the Tower’s pinnacle. There you see the Foreseer gazing at the bright, blue sky.

“Good morning, Foreseer,” You quickly greet him as you step past him and toward the jasmine, not expecting a response from him…and he doesn’t respond. You hesitate before looking up to see a sky free of clouds- serene azure reaching far and wide.

“Do you need someone to listen to your musings?” You continue with your attempt at small talk with the quiet, cold man.

“Silence.” He turns his body around to face you.

Well fuck you too then—

“Gardeners do not require mouths to work.”

You hold back the urge to spit curses at him and take a deep breath, biting down on your lower lip as you silently water the jasmine. Though you notice the Foreseer is acting a bit strange.

Suddenly, the sky is filled with the cries of birds and you’re shocked by what you see. Thousands and thousands of silvery white birds fly toward the Tower of Thorns. The sky is covered in a shroud of crystalline feathers– clear as frost in the morning sun.

They shimmer like a nebula within reach.

“What are they?” You breathe out in awe, forgetting about your anger for a moment.

“Arcticyons.” As he says this, he raises a hand. One of the birds lands on it, seemingly answering his summon, and happily chirps.

“Does it know you?” You question, looking from the bird to the Foreseer’s face.

“They pass the Tower every year when they migrate.” He responds and even though he sounds as monotone as ever, he looks at the little bird with an expression full of the warmth one would greet an old friend with. “Alas, that was eons ago..”

“I have never laid my eyes upon a creature as stunning as an arcticyon,” You muse, wanting nothing more than to hold the pretty bird in your hands. You’re sure its feathers felt like crushed snow, so soft, and you assumed it would probably feel cold to the touch.

“Your hand.” The Foreseer says and, while you’re confused, you reluctantly hold it out. He places his hand on top of yours and you panic, pulling back your hand.

“Don’t be afraid. Humans are the least of their concern.” It seems like the Foreseer is trying to comfort you?

You take a deep breath and hold your hand back out. His hand, warmer than you imagined it to be, gently grabs your palm. The silvery white bird hops from the Foreseer’s hand to yours. Its feathers reflect the colour of the sky, deceptively depicting a light, brilliant blue.

“It’s lovely…I guess you don’t just stay secluded indoors and read all the time.” Even though what you’re saying is a statement, it comes off a bit teasing.

“So that is the conclusion you arrived at while resting in ice.” He seems a bit miffed by your words.

“It’s because…I’m curious about the Foreseer. Your name appears in the Tome of the Foreseer, but the text only speaks of you as Astra’s tool…I don’t think its accounts are accurate.”

You should probably be a bit more careful with your words because to a follower of Astra, they could sound sacreligious. 

The Foreseer, however, remains expressionless. “Astra does not write His own story. The imagination of mortals is what remains in the sands of time.”

The Foreseer lets go of your hand, and the arcticyon returns to its flock. Quietly, he watches them fly away, bidding them farewell.

“I have to admit, you aren’t as merciless as winter. You care about the jasmine, and you remember to wait for the arcticyons once you’re able to move.” As you name each thing off on your fingers, you notice the coldness in the Foreseer’s gaze return.

“You are not here to study my behaviour. Your wild curiosity almost led to your demise.”

As the days continue to pass you by, you’ve grown used to this dream. If you were honest, you would have completely forgotten that this was a dream, if not for your memories of the other three men.

But while the Foreseer checks the jasmine every day, it’s not enough to get closer to him or the Creatio protocore. You realized that you need to spend more time with him.

Today, after watering the jasmine, you purposefully walk by the throne room. Your gaze being drawn to the narrow staircase and the pillars of ice that were formed behind and around the throne itself. And there the Foreseer sat, atop his throne, reading.

You clear your throat as you lightly step into the room, clasping your hands together. “It’s a wonderful morning, Foreseer. Have you paid a visit to the jasmine?” You have a small smile on your face, trying to appear as kind and unassuming as possible.

“What do you want?” He asks, coldly. His gaze never straying from the book in his lap.

“I-I don’t want anything. Why would I…” You sigh, dropping your hand so it hits your thigh.

Geez, you can’t do anything without it seeming suspicious to this man…

“You’ve never passed the throne room after watering the flower.” It’s a simple, yet effective response that leaves you stunned to silence.

You never realized he paid enough attention to you to memorize your routine... 

“Uh…” You were clearly grasping at straws, but you finally had an idea. “Did you know that today is Wisshen Day?”

“I have heard of it,” The Foreseer replies dryly, voice devoid of emotions.

“Where I come from, everyone prays to Astra by lighting sky candles. I made one with a few scraps of paper…so maybe tonight…” You trail off with your lips nervously pressed together in a thin line before the Foreseer finally looks up from his book.

“I don’t do such things.”

Ah…He is such a wet blanket.

He certainly knows how to silence you with a single sentence– and kill the mood.

As the day turns into night, you climb to the top of the Tower with your handmade sky candle. The night sky watching over you as you lean against the corners of the tower. A sigh escaping your lips as you waited…and waited, but the Foreseer has yet to reveal himself. 

“Of course he’s not going to join me…He’s the Foreseer. Why would he need to pray to Astra whenever he always has His blessing.” You speak to yourself in a low voice with a pout.

Then, you light your candle, watching as its weak flame shines– almost like a small shard from a star.

“‘O Omniscient Astra the Almighty, please don’t let me become like ice. There are so many places I wish to visit, things I want to do, so…please, allow me to live a little longer…” 

You’re not sure why it feels so…weird to pray to Astra. The you in this dream seems to be a devout believer in the God, but…You? Something feels off about it, but you can’t seem to place your finger on what exactly. 

After you whisper your wish, you let go of the sky candle. You watch as it floats into the air until it finally breaks. The pieces of paper scattering and falling to the ground at your feet, like cherry blossoms from a tree.

Wait…Does that mean Astra denied your wish? That little–

You let out a defeated sigh and kneel down to silently pick up the scattered pieces. You can’t help the tears that well up in your eyes. Terminally ill and denied salvation by a God?

This really…It makes you wonder what you did to deserve all of this.

Before you can wipe your tears, you hear footsteps approaching and you turn your head in the direction of the sound.

Under the cloudless sky, radiant moonlight illuminates a figure. It casts a glow as white as snow on those blue robes. You try to calm yourself down, knowing that the Foreseer would believe it to be stupid that you were crying over something like this, and force yourself to smile.

 “‘Tis…a good joke, for even Astra thinks my wish is ridiculous. It seems even He’s told me to give up…” 

“For Him to hear you, I suggest using a sturdier vessel.”

Was he…comforting you?

An iridescence glitters in your hand and materializes into a lantern of frost. “Is this…ice? You can set ice aflame?” You question after rubbing your eyes dry with your sleeve.

“That would be determined by your fervent hope.” He replies, looking away from you. A small smile tugs at your lips before you light the ice lantern.

The fire flickers before the lantern is engulfed, ice turning a warm orange. “How do I let the winds carry it?” You slowly rise to your feet, holding the lantern in front of you. The Foreseer’s face is lit by the flickering flame.

Fire has brought warmth to his frigid gaze.

He draws a few symbols in the air, and almost immediately the lantern in your hand comes to life. It floats to a greater height. An excited laugh escapes you and you turn to look at the seemingly cold man. “I’ve never seen a sky candle like this! I thought you didn’t celebrate Wisshen Day.”

“I wasn’t lying…However, it just so happens a few lights are needed for tonight.”

The symbols that the Foreseer has drawn begin to transform into ice lanterns that soar in the air. Above the Tower’s pinnacle, countless lit ice lanterns fill the silent night sky. You gawk at the spectacle right before your very eyes.

Did he…do all of this for you?

You glance over at the man who was taking over your thoughts. “It’s so beautiful…Will Astra hear my wish with so many lanterns?” 

“Only He knows.” The Foreseer turns around to head toward the stairs.

“You’re just going to leave? Why don’t you try making a wish?” You were beginning to feel like the two of you could get along. You didn’t want this to end so soon…

“There is nothing for me to wish from Astra.”

He almost sounded…resentful?

I added some verrrry subtle foreshadowing that wasn't in the original games! I wonder if you're able to tell just what part has foreshadowing in it? 🤔

As I said before Zayne's Foreseer chapters are still ongoing so I'll hopefully be done with him soon, so I can move on to one of the other guys. Since I'm skipping Abysswalker, Lightseeker will be next and I'll try not to go too into detail with the story like I am with this one since I'm sure it's not that interesting and yall probably want to be back in the present already— but either way, let me know how yall are feeling about these flashback/forward chapters and if you think I should keep most details of Lightseeker in this story!

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[jiosoull]

"Yep." MC replied without thinking as her eyes roamed over his muscular figure. The tight shirt protecting his torso and showing off the outlines of his muscles was a delicious sight!

Zayne stayed quiet at your obvious admiration towards him, and it coaxed a light, proud smirk on his lips.

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

Haven

In light of our newly showcased Love and Depression trailer, I couldn't help but write a quick little piece that's hopefully comforting amidst all the angst.

It's Zayne x MC/non-MC (unspecified), but I did use she/her pronouns.

Hope you enjoy, and if you did, please consider leaving a like or reblog. It lets me know people like my work and encourages me to write more!

❄️❄️❄️

His entire body aches.

Stumbling through the front door, it's only until after he's toed his shoes off that he realizes someone else is here.

There's a lamp left on in the living room, papers spread out across his coffee table. Underneath a thick, plush blanket is a sleeping form, her hair struggling to come loose from its braid.

Zayne sighs, achingly fond. He strips off his gloves, setting them on the table. There's a half-drunk cup of tea there. Jasmine.

He wonders if she drinks it because she likes the taste, or because he does.

A lock of hair falls into her face as she breathes slowly, lips parted temptingly.

He doesn't waste the opportunity to kiss her awake.

Stirring slowly, she sleepily responds, reaching forward to loop her arms around his neck. The patterned pajamas she wears are part of a matching set - one she gifted him gleefully on the holidays.

She's so warm.

“Let's go to bed,” he whispers against her lips, and she hums in agreement. “Hold on tight.”

Slipping an arm under her legs, Zayne picks her up, blanket and all. She instantly falls back asleep, her head tucked under his chin.

The warm light of the lamp illuminates every line and curve of her face, and for a moment, he's loath to turn it off.

Some things must come to an end, though, and he knows this well.

The lamp clicks, the light vanishing. He makes his way into the bedroom.

She doesn't wake even when he sets her down, just mumbles his name in her sleep.

It takes a bit for him to join her. Some things are not in the same place. This clothing is unfamiliar to him.

Yet, finally, he slips under the covers, smiling faintly as she reaches out for him, tangling the two of them so he can't escape.

Zayne presses his face into her hair, breathing her in. He tries not to squeeze too tightly.

It is a long time before he falls asleep. He fights against it, until her steady breaths become his siren’s song, luring him under the waves of exhaustion.

And then, he is home once again, in an empty bed.

[unyieldingmemory]

Before Autumn (Zayne x reader)

The time you wished him a happy birthday before he became "just Zayne" for you. Tags: sfw, unestablished relationship, early game

A few weeks after meeting your new primary doctor, you'd stumbled upon a small boutique during a mission. Among the nifty trinkets it displayed, a silver pin kept your attention. It reminded you of him.

Your phone vibrated.

A pop-up notification displayed your upcoming appointment with him, only 3 days from now. You smiled, realizing that his birthday was around this time too. This was your chance to finally wish him a happy birthday after all these years.

It was a regular physical exam.

While he explained the importance of staying on top of your cardiovascular health, your mind was elsewhere. Your eyes followed him idly as you admired his clinical confidence, and sharpness. But it made it impossible to mirror his calm.

Every time his hands touched you, you tensed, doing your best not to squirm. You felt so ticklish, and nervous. If he noticed, he didn't mention it.

Time flew in a blur, and before you knew it, it was time to go. You hopped off the examination table.

"Is there something troubling you?" his soft voice halted you, and you met his hazel eyes. They were as beautiful and kind as you remembered them.

"No," you answered faintly, feeling warm. Perhaps, your gaze was a little too intense because he looked away quickly and adjusted his tie.

"I see. Then that's it for today," he picked up his clipboard.

You walked towards the door, paused, and turned again. "It's your birthday today, isn't it?" you asked hesitantly.

He paused and looked up from his clipboard, "it is." A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips then, "I'm surprised you remember that."

You smiled. You remembered his birthday every year it came around, and every year you wondered what became of him. "I have something for you," you searched your pant pocket for the pin.

The pin you offered him had a pendant that was minimally designed, outlining the shape of a resting cat. He fought a big smile when he recognized its shape.

"I found this while on a mission, and thought you might like it. I hope it's okay if I give it to you," you explained, feeling a little nervous. You weren't close, but you wanted to be.

His cold fingers brushed your palm as he picked up the dainty pin. He met your earnest gaze, and felt like a little boy again, tongue tied and afraid to tell you what's on his mind. "Thank you," was all he managed to say.

You smiled brilliantly, happy that he accepted your gift. "Of course. Happy birthday, doctor Zayne," your voice was full of joy.

After you left, he released the breath he didn't realize he held. He stroked the pendant in his hand pensively, realizing he'd missed a perfect opportunity to invite you for dinner.

Then he remembered how packed his schedule was that week, and slid the pin in his pocket.

It was time to get back to work.

Happy birthday, doctor Zayne.

Thank you for reading, and enjoy your new memory with him! 🍁

[connorsui]

"So we’ve all seen the trend that goes: 'The plushie I gave her' vs. 'The plushie she gave me,' and it’s literally a baby, right?

I can’t help but imagine a little moment where all the special plushies you collected with them become part of your baby’s life. Like, just think for a second—what if you added those plushies to the nursery? Or gave your baby a small plushie to hold, like a teddy bear, and it became their favorite toy—their childhood toy they can’t grow apart from?"

That same plushie you got from the arcade from either of the lads men is now a special toy that your child takes with them everywhere: to bed ...outside ..to eat ..to play ..I mean hell that poor plushie has gone absolutely everywhere and it's dirtier than anything else.

But your baby loves them ..they adore them ..they even gave them a name ..they gave them a story..they have their own little adventures ..your baby doesn't know it was a gift from their father to you ..they just know it's their bestfriend that's been there since forever 🩷

[hitoshitoshi]

greyson walking by zayne's office to seeing you and zayne making out at night when the hospital's empty and greyson starts palming himself while hearing yours and zayne's moans, wishing that it was him that was making with you feel good instead of zayne. the next time greyson walks by you to give zayne some patient files, his face turns red as he looks away from you, trying to act like he didn't cum to the sounds of zayne railing you late at night when no one was there.

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.

Click here to Join Linkon Lounge!

[teewritessmth]

Love and Deepspace men when you ask them if they'd kiss you for a million dollars, or the most beautiful woman in the world for 10 million dollars.

Warnings : so far nothing, rafayel's part lowkey had me cringing and screaming

Y'all I got another math exam tomorrow and I'm posting these instead of studying. Anyways big love and prayers for me please. Exams are lowkey cooking me.

Zayne

Xavier

Rafayel

Sylus

[kazeniya]

i have been neutral bout the whole sylus scene since he came out but i have caught up with the story now and i would like to say

i should top up for his card now ^^

CAUSE THE WAY HE GREW UP ON ME HOLY SHIT.

[lyrisnightblood]

I'm sorry but I had to write for this 🙈

❗❗Mild Warning for swearing❗❗

BE FOREWARNED: THERE MIGHT BE SUBTLE HINTS OF RAFAYEL x ZAYNE (PLATONIC OR OTHERWISE I'LL LET YOU, THE READER, DECIDE) AND IF THIS IS NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA I UNDERSTAND KINDLY KEEP SCROLLING AND DO NOT INTERACT Tags: Safe for Work (SFW), Love and Deepspace, Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, ambiguous reader x lnds boys (it could be whoever the reader wishes), reader = mc, gender-neutral pronouns for reader, gender-neutral reader, possible ooc, Rafayel's canon fear of cats, Zayne's canon fondness of cats, cats' canon aversion to Zayne and affinity to Rafayel, crack, LNDS BOYS INTERACTING 🤩

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

Rafayel entered the restaurant and looked around. Maltosio. Sweet, he thought to himself, snickering at his own joke. The place looked neat and spacious, not unlike Destiny Café's Silverbay branch - his favourite haunting spot He decided to wait for his bodyguard before placing his order. In the meantime, he explored the restaurant's confectionary display - the taro ice cream looked so cute, he had to try it! Oh, and the grilled salmon sounded delicious too! Where were they anyway?

Getting impatient (not that he was a patient person to start with), Rafayel texted his bodyguard to make it fast, and put away his phone with a frown (no, it was not a pout, no matter what anyone else said about it! He'd spit bubbles on the next person who claims that he pouts 😤). It was then that he noticed that there was another section to the restaurant- the VIP section, Rafayel assumed. Immensely impressed, he entered the automated sliding doors, not reading the sign printed clear as day on the doors.

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

Zayne entered Maltosio with a faint smile. the last time was here, he shared a lovely lunch with his childhood friend. it was nice, and they promised to catch up at the same restaurant another day. He was excited. It definitely was not because of the cat he encountered last time. No. He was not there for the cats.

Good. That sounded more convincing than his past 27 attempts.

He was also looking forward to his friend's "surprise". unfortunately he couldn't pry more information about said surprise. Oh well. He was here, he'd find out soon enough. Zayne can wait a bit more.

...where were they anyway? Zayne hoped they were merely running late and not injured, and decided to send a text. There. now to wait... What was that door? Zayne did not remember seeing those colourful sliding doors last time. Such... bright decorations could not escape even a certain hypersomniac's attention (Zayne can't help but worry at times about Xavier's propensity to fall asleep at any given time, and the latter's ignorance to the possible risks of Hypersomnia. It was a good thing his friend brought the hunter to get proper medical attention).

curious, Zayne headed to the door, and his eyes brightened at the sign on the door. With a subtle kick in his step, he entered through the doors...

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

You groan as you slump on the desk, finally free after two grueling hours of the most boring meeting you've attended in your life. You were certain your soul had left your body. Tara was mimicking your position on her own desk next to you, whining about how unnecessary and useless the last-minute meeting was! You were just listening and nodding along to her rant, completely exhausted to the point where you couldn't rant yourself. Your phone buzzed with a calendar notification, which you open with bleary eyes, only for life to return in them as you remember what day it was.

Today was Zayne's day off, and you had invited him to Maltosio after finding out about the new feature they added - A special cat cafe area in one of the rooms which used to be the in-house veterinary clinic of the previously pet store. You had almost burst in excitement as you practically demanded Zayne to meet you at Maltosio. You had almost given the kittens a jump scare then when Zayne had replied with a "I will be there".

The calendar notification kept blinking, showing you the time of the event: 14:00. You look at the time on the upper corner of your phone and pale. 15:10. Crap, you were supposed to meet Zayne around 2:45 PM at the latest! You say a quick goodbye to Tara and rush out to the bathroom, quickly changing out of your hunter uniform into a casual outfit. You had just finished freshening up when your phone buzzed with an incoming message. You opened it to see Zayne inquiring about your wherabouts. After sending a quick text, you were about to put away your phone when you see you've gotten a bunch of texts from Rafayel. You groaned, praying it was not another gallery exhibition you had to visit as his bodyguard or worse, a silly errand that the artist could've very well done on his own but asked just to get some attention. You could just ask to hang out like a normal person, you think to yourself as you roll your eyes. however, you blanch at the messages and wish that it was actually some silly requests rather than:

You(01:44:23):

whatever you say 🙄

You(01:59:56):

(link) look at this 👀

TOMORROW. MALTOSIO. 2:30 PM. BE THERE OR ELSE

annoying fishboi 🙄💜(05:39:01):

geez so demanding 😒

fine fine ill be there

jerk (affectionate)

annoying fishboi 🙄💜(15:09:38):

yo

wru

planning on letting me wait for another 800 years🤨

meanie

c'mere soonnnnnn

....fuck.

You had accidentally texted Rafayel to come to Maltosio!

You knew how much Rafayel feared hated cats, and as much as you enjoy teasing him about it, you wouldn't dare invite him to a cat cafe knowing his ailurophobia.

Crap crap crap you were the worst friend ever no the worst bodyguard ever you have to go save him ASAP before it's too late!

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

Cats.

That was what the "Special Room" was.

It was a fucking Cat Café.

Inside a restaurant.

This couldn't possibly be sanitary. No. Anything involving those furry monsters could not be sanitary.

Are these humans fucking blind to how those bloodthirsty monsters tears into its prey while said prey is still alive?! Rafayel could hear the tortured screams of a thousand- nay, a million fishes as they were being torn up alive by cats!

He saw a customer pet a cat that was shamelessly sitting on her lap as she handfed - handfed, oh, the ancestors would cry blood at the sight! - some of her sugar cookies to the beast.

Yep, this was definitely not sanitary at all. New mission, he had to contact the food inspector. He had to do it, for the sake of Linkon!

But before he could take another step, a cat approached him. Rafayel froze, standing still as a statue. If he doesn't move the monster would not approach him.

The cat sniffed the air in front of it. Rafayel prayed he wasn't sweating.

The cat approached him slowly, followed by a dozen more.

Only the fact that he was in public, with people looking at him and recognizing him, deterred Rafayel from screaming bloody murder like a 21 year-old white woman in a horror movie. He could never let anyone, least of all strangers, know his weakness. He must stay strong. He must stand still, not moving a muscle.

A cat approached near his shoe and sniffed it, its nose almost touching the leather.

That's it. He was going to piss himself in three, two-

The sliding doors opened as a familiar person walked in.

"DR. ZAYNE!"

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

Zayne was not expecting to meet one of his patients as he entered the Cat Café. He certainly was not expecting for his name to be shrieked out so loudly that everyone turned to look at him. he pinched his nose bridge in frustration.

...can this man ever be normal for once in his life?!

He knew of Rafayel, the famous artist, but had met him in person at Akso hospital about a month ago. Apparently the man had admitted himself in due to a sprained ankle. He was discharged later that day but had refused to leave, citing he was "too injured to even sit". he had then proceeded to give Yvonne a hard time by sneaking out late at night, demanding the doctors to knock before entering "his room" - shocking - and whining the entire time he was in the hospital. He had to eventually recommend an Evol-based treatment procedure to cure muscular inflammation - specifically, the one that was still in its early stages of research and needed willing test subjects - to Rafayel, which succeeded in making the purple-haired man behave at last. Post his discharge, the two men had run into each other occasionally, usually greeting each other with nods and simple pleasantries before parting ways. Something told Zayne today would not be the same case.

"Dr. Zayne- please, you have to help me immediately or I will die for real!"

Zayne winced at the shrillness of the other man's voice, but maintained his composure as he greeted him.

"Hello Rafayel. Pleasure to meet you."

"I wish I could say the same doctor but right now I am in mortal danger and I really need your help please please please help me..."

Zayne sighed as he walked towards Rafayel, tuning out his whines and focused on checking his vitals. "You seem pale, I can see your hands shaking..." He took Rafayel's pulse, "...arrhythmia and shortness of breath, excessive sweating..."

Hmm. He did look like on the verge of a panic attack.

Zayne blinked as Rafayel grabbed his shoulders all of a sudden. "Doctor, you've gotta help me, save me from those beasts, they are looking at me like I'm freshly caught salmon, they are gonna eat me!" He jerked his chin at the cats surrounding them, eyes filled with hatred and fear.

...Rafayel was an ailurophobe.

His symptoms made more sense to Zayne, and he started working on calming his patient - an impossible task, but he had to try lest he enters a panic attack.

"Rafayel, breathe with me, you're gonna be alright-"

just then, a brave little kitten, tired from staring at the two men from afar, approached Rafayel with a tiny adorable "mew~"

Zayne found himself turned around to face the cat as a six-foot tall man clung to his leg like a - well, a cat. He could feel Rafayel trembling like a leaf in a breeze - his own right leg was wobbling violently from the other man's tremors.

The kitten took a moment to sniff at Zayne's general direction, before turning back and sprinting away. The other cats followed suit, and they all ran away from Zayne before he could blink.

Just now they looked ready to pounce on Rafayel. but the moment he was held as a shield between the man and the cats, they dispersed like snowflakes in a breeze. Zayne felt a tear leave his eye, and he hastily wiped it.

Curse his Ice Evol sometimes!

Meanwhile Rafayel, who had peeked a bit to check if the cats were still there, squealed in joy and jumped up, immediately grabbing one of Zayne's hands in both of it, shaking them vigorously.

"Thank you thank you thank you so much! I don't know what I would've done had you not been here! Thank you so much Zayne, you are my savior!"

Zayne almost rolled his eyes at Rafayel's antics, but his expression softened at the other man's relieved face. He looked happy, a far cry from how moments ago he was this close to losing it, and was radiant. he let himself smile softly as he replied, "Glad I was of help."

This time, he meant it.

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You look from a distance as Rafayel hugged Zayne's leg.

You had almost broken the traffic rules in your haste to rescue Rafayel, only to be too late as you see the cats surrounding him. Before you could head over to him, you see Zayne entering the café. Rafayel had too, evident from his call for help. You watched the entire incident, with bated breath, ready to intervene. Turns out you didn't have to, Zayne's presence driving the cats away from Rafayel.

You smile to yourself as Zayne smiled at a still thanking Rafayel. Turns out your boss had found himself a new bodyguard.

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zayne, hurting in so many levels x x