thecoolestastrophile

[thecoolestastrophile]

I LOVE DOMESTIC LDS YALL THEYRE SO CUTE

21:41

Rafayel drabble

Your boyfriend opened the door to your apartment and toed off his shoes at the door.

“Hey love.” You greeted as you sat on the couch, phone in your hand. You looked up at Rafayel, he looked tired. He let out a sigh as he ran his hand through his violet locks.

Walking over to you, he had a pout on his lips. Suddenly, he dove onto the couch and face planted into your lap.

‘Oof! Raf, a little warning next time.”

Rafayel groaned as he rubbed his face in your lap.

“What’s wrong you big baby?” You ran your fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp as he laid on you. You were able to see him physically relax at your touch. You heard him mumble and you felt his warm breath on your legs.

You let out a soft giggle, “Love I can’t hear you when you’re face down in my lap.”

He groaned loudly.

“Turn over, then I could hear you.”

He spun around dramatically, once again plopping his head onto your lap. This time he was looking up at you with a pout as you continued to pet his head. “So, what’s wrong?”

“I’m experiencing art block. I want to paint but absolutely nothing is speaking to me right now.”

Your hand settled on his cheek, your thumb moved up and down to sooth him. He placed his hand on top of yours.

“My poor dear. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” The painter whined.

You sat in silence for a moment as you thunk. “How about this weekend we out and do a bunch of stuff. We can go to some cafes in the area, go for a walk on the beach, go to an amusement park or anything else you want to do. Maybe that’ll get your creative juices flowing, hm?”

Rafayels dull expression suddenly became a lot brighter. “How’d I get so lucky with the best girlfriend?”

He reached his hand up to softly grab your face. He brought you down to his level in order to place a peck on your lips. You pulled away with a giggle.

“You are luckily aren’t you? Now, get up love. It’s time to cook some dinner.”

He jumped up, “Oh can we have pasta?” He looked at you with doe eyes and batted his eyelashes at you.

“Fine, but you’re helping me.”

Reaching out, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off of the couch with a smile.

Off to the kitchen you both went, hand in hand with each other.

[thecoolestastrophile]

HWAT GHE FUCK

Everyone wished they had a relationship like yours and Zayne’s.

You were the kind of couple people watched with faint fond smiles, whispering to each other on how deeply in love you two looked.

The way Zayne’s steady calmness balanced with your playful energy, and how he’d give you soft smiles whenever you teased him, made nearby people admire you both dearly.

What was there not to like?

With what is said on opposites attracting? You were the perfect example because the two of you effortlessly made the impossible look easy wherever you went.

Zayne’s coworkers had noticed the change first—the way he’d started smiling more when his phone buzzed, or how he didn’t mind when they teased him about whatever text you’d sent that left him blushing.

He hadn’t been like that before. You didn’t know how much you’d pulled him out of a shell most people assumed he’d never leave. You could say you had some idea but not the full extent.

Whenever you would come visit, his coworkers would joke in a quiet, almost reverent way, about how different Zayne had become since he started dating you. At work, he’d always been that quiet guy who only spoke when he was spoken to. But after you? He was different. He smiled and even laughed more, even at jokes he would never. Genuine, full laughs that were so warm and inviting, prior to his cold and stoic reactions — until one got to know him at least.

Hanging out with both you and Zayne always felt like something also worth remembering.

There was a time at your favorite ice cream shop, you’d invited Greyson and Yvonne to tag along with you both. It was supposed to be a casual quick dessert hangout after work, but you thought it would be one of those moments that would be better shared with others.

Zayne had just finished a quick call that cut through your light conversation a bit, and you’d barely waited for him to put his phone back in his pocket before you sneaked your spoon toward his ice cream dish. With an instinctive and quite effortless flick, he caught you in the act, his spoon blocking yours.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think I would catch that?” Zayne narrowed his eyes at you, as he was watching your face shift into a shocked expression with a small smirk.

You’d almost forgotten that your boyfriend had such a sweet tooth and you were playing a dangerous game.

“Hey, I was testing the quality control!”

“Oh, really?” While you were distracted by looking at him, he took advantage of the opening and scooped a generous bite from your bowl instead. “How’s this for quality?”

You watched, even more amused, as he took a chunk of your ice cream with a tiny victorious smile. “You did not.”

As his smile grew, he shrugged innocently, the spoon sliding back into his mouth before you decided to go for an even bigger scoop from his. But he caught you again, once more blocking your move with such swiftness.

“No, you are so gonna pay for that,” You laughed as you basically just declared a dessert war on him, making everyone at your table laugh along.

What followed was a tiny duel of clinking spoons, your mock battle ever so intense, that your friends couldn’t help but watch with endearing smiles. It didn’t matter if their own desserts would melt because they didn’t mind. They loved seeing Zayne like that.

They loved seeing you both like that.

｡𖦹 ° . ⋆

Zayne glanced down at his phone on the same restaurant’s table, the lock screen lighting up with a picture of you lovingly pressing a kiss to his cheek, staring back at him. A notification buzzed through—perhaps something mundane—but he couldn’t bring himself to open it.

It’d been a year.

Nothing could ever be as important.

Even though the ice cream didn’t taste the same anymore since he lost you, he finished it in silence anyway. Before leaving, he left a generous tip on the table, then stepped out into the autumn drizzle.

The air was crisp, cool against his face, and tinged with rain.

This was the exact kind of weather you used to love.

The kind you would’ve shared a kiss in, or maybe even played around together with him in, until you caught a cold when it started raining and he had to take care of you, despite his warnings about how terrible of an idea it would be.

At the thought, the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips before it slowly vanished again.

As Zayne slipped into his car, the rain began to pick up, hitting the windshield in a familiar, rhythmic pattern. He glanced at the passenger seat, the space you used to occupy still empty, making him look ahead once more as he started the car.

He drove aimlessly for a while, the streets blurring in the rain. He passed the street where you’d first bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his jacket in the most chaotic yet loveable way. He remembered how embarrassed you were, how quickly you apologized, how beautiful you were when flustered.

How he…

He trailed off in his thoughts. Then he let out a shaky exhale before swallowing hard, trying to think of any other thing. He couldn’t help himself as he looked outside the window.

You really would’ve loved the weather today.

Gloomy yet soft, with just the right amount of rain to make you sigh contentedly and lean into his warmth.

He knows you would have.

He would’ve also loved the chance to experience that moment with you.

At work, his coworkers had long noticed it. They’d started whispering again too. They’d noticed how he’d stopped smiling again, how the sharpness in his eyes had returned, how he barely spoke unless absolutely necessary. How he was here but not really here.

It was now like every part of him had locked up.

For good this time.

They had never seen him like this before—not even before you. He’d really shut himself off completely, the only thing left of him being the rigid, distant exterior he had perfected in the years before you ever came into his life.

“Dr. Zayne?”

Greyson’s voice pulled him back to the present as he held the coffee cup he got him. Greyson’s eyes searched his face for a sign of recognition, but all he found again was the same cold, empty look Zayne had been wearing for months now.

“Oh, thank you,” he accepted the drink, stiffly, then gently settled it down on his desk, never meeting Greyson’s worried gaze.

Greyson watched him for a beat too long, waiting for something — maybe a sign that Zayne was still in there somewhere. But Zayne didn’t meet his eyes. He couldn’t.

If he looked… if he acknowledged the concern there, it might break him.

So instead, he focused on the screen in front of him, typing mechanically, anything to drown out the silence between them. Taking that as a cue to leave, Greyson softly nodded and did so, knowing that any attempt to try to talk would once again be a fail.

When Greyson walked outside, he met the eyes of the hospital coworkers gathered outside Zayne’s door. They shook their heads, exchanging sad, disappointed glances.

Another day without a full conversation with Zayne.

Another day of keeping everyone out.

Another day without you.

Zayne knew it all and it hurt him.

But he also knew that it was easier this way. Easier to keep everything locked down. Easier to pretend he didn’t feel the ache in his chest every time he thought of you, especially after they asked how he was.

Easier to be the Zayne everyone used to know, the one who never showed any sign of vulnerability.

And yet, he also knew that you wouldn’t have wanted this for him. You wouldn’t have wanted him to shut the world out. Not for you.

You always believed in him, knew how strong he was. How mentally stronger than he thought he was. You’d never quit reminding him in all your moments together.

But now, as he sat there in the silence, it felt impossible to hold onto any of that.

The truth was he didn’t know how to do this — all this anymore.

He didn’t know how to keep pretending.

The moon was out again tonight, the same one you used to talk to him under, on those long, quiet summer nights when you two would lie on a blanket in the grass in your backyard, your head resting on his chest.

He hated how it felt to look at it now.

So far away, so unreachable.

He remembered how you used to compare him to the moon, even though he felt otherwise. He always thought of you as his light in the dark, which made him start calling you his moonlight too.

At the memory, he stared into the serene night sky as the moon cast a pure pale glow, his eyes glimmering, holding back the storm of emotion within.

“I miss you,” he managed to whisper, his voice breaking on the words. “So much.”

But the moon didn’t respond.

And for the first time in a long time, Zayne wasn’t sure he could keep going without you.

It’d been a year, after all.

A year since he lost his moon.

©2024 ERENSFEED. all rights reserved

[thecoolestastrophile]

@lunariadew asked: 'Can you write a poly fic maby like a feel good fic or date night or something with all the boys! I’m greedy and I think there’s not enough poly fics as there should be'

Nothing profound this time around! Just some good old-fashioned shenanigans. I've wanted to do a fic with all the boys for SO long (Infold, hire me to write a sitcom-style show for the guys, PLEASE) I've kept it platonic since it's early stages; it's open to interpretation about how many sparks are flying and between whom exactly..... 👀 But if ppl want more of this, I'm all over it. Platonic or romantic? I'll play it by ear!

Game Night

L&DS Boys X Reader

Summary: The most important men in your life can manage one evening together, right? For you? Please? Pretty please?

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: f!reader, some swearing, a lil conflict, non-canon (I know some of the guys probably know each-other but we're pretending they don't 😇)

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel… what do you think this is?”

The artist stands at your open door, wearing a self-assured smile and one of the flashier outfits you’ve seen him in, and that’s really saying something. Between you is a bouquet of lilies, petals curled like frozen licks of fire that compliment— deliberately, if you had to guess— the warmer fires within his eyes. Those eyes narrow at your question.

“What do you think it is?” he says suspiciously, lowering the flowers.

“…Game night?”

You’re not sure why you phrase it so tentatively. You know what it is; you’re the host. You open your door wider, stepping aside to give Rafayel a better view of the apartment behind you, and the remainder of his smile sinks.

“Hi,” Xavier calls out, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s giving a wholesome sort of wave.

“Hi…” Rafayel answers, barely more than a whisper as his eyes flit between everyone else in the room, because he’s the last to arrive. “Game night, yeah,” he nods assertively, “I knew that.” Then a deep breath: “Can I, like, put these somewhere—”

“Kitchen counter,” you gesture.

“Got it.” He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Closing the door behind him, you watch as he skirts past the lounge and makes for your kitchen, where another bouquet already lies waiting. He zeroes in on it. “Looks like mine’s not the only heart you’re breaking tonight, huh, cutie? What are these—” he pokes at a petal— “daturas?”

“They’re her favourite,” speaks a distinctly low voice.

Rafayel doesn’t look up. He plonks his bouquet on top of the other and winces: “They’re really not, though.”

“He’s right,” you chip in, giving Sylus a sheepish smile, and now Rafayel looks up, beaming.

“She likes roses,” Zayne says, with the calm confidence he’d quote a medical journal. On the sofa beside him, Xavier nods, and you grin at them both.

“Noted,” Sylus chuckles.

Rafayel’s less convinced. “Since when?!”

“Since forever, Raf. I like lilies too, so I didn’t say anything, ‘kay?” You beckon him back to the lounge, ignoring his splutters of disbelief. “C’mere, let me introduce you to everyone.”

The man slinks to your side like a reluctant shadow, and your hands find your hips. “This is Zayne. Xavier,” you point out, putting faces to names; Rafayel’s heard stories about each. Then you nod towards Sylus. “Over there’s Skye.”

From his place by the window, Sylus lifts a hand in greeting.

“So… yeah,” you finish. Oh, wait! “Guys, this is—”

“They know who I am,” Rafayel shrugs, his fame apparently heavy on his shoulders. He glances around the room for validation, but he gets none, so he tries again. “You do know who I am, right?”

“Sorry,” Xavier admits with an awkward smile, glancing back at Sylus: you?

The man has to think about it. You know for a fact he’s traded more than one of Rafayel’s paintings for a profit, but he smirks and gives an even more exaggerated shrug than the artist himself.

Really?

“You’re Rafayel,” Zayne states plainly.

“Yeah! See, I told you, cutie—”

“You slipped on a paintbrush and checked yourself into Akso, right? The nurses still talk about it.”

Rafayel’s enthusiasm drains. He looks conflicted as he mulls over the additional information. “In, like, a good way?” he hazards.

Zayne stares back at him, wielding silence like a scalpel before cutting deeper with a: “…sure.”

You bite back a smile. Leaving the two to discuss the finer details of Rafayel’s notoriety at the hospital, you wander over to the kitchen, where you fish out a vase from the back of a cupboard. You fill it, set it down on the counter, then reach for Sylus’s bouquet. There’s a black satin ribbon; you untie it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetie?” asks the man himself, joining you discreetly.

The others can’t really hear you— they’re still talking. “What,” you smirk, retrieving your scissors from a drawer, “you worried Xavier’s gonna arrest you?”

Sylus laughs lowly, quietly. “That’s adorable.”

“Good.” You pick up a flower and trim a leaf from the stem. “Because even if he wanted to—” you wave it, just short of his face— “I’d protect you, ok?”

He regards the flower beneath his nose. Smiles smugly. “These can be toxic, sweetie.”

“Really? Whoops.” You put it down, then snatch up a lily from Rafayel’s bouquet. “En Garde!”

“These too.”

“What the hell?”

The flame-red flower drops from your fingers, and Sylus laughs more sincerely. “Stick to roses, kitten. Or…” He moves his hand over his deconstructed bouquet, his Evol pruning the rest of the leaves from the stems. A tendril of it gathers the flowers, delivering them to him so he can hold them out to you with a flourish. “Live dangerously. Who am I to judge?”

You take them, then plop them into the vase. “Cute.”

“I’m here all week,” he grins. “You’d better wash your hands, hmm?”

With a hmph of agreement, you turn to the sink. You spend half a minute, rubbing soap and warm water over your hands, and when you turn back around— still drying them— something is different. The lilies are gone. Sylus is looking at you, innocuous.

“Real mature, Skye.”

He makes no effort to defend himself. You’re about to tell him that his magic better extend to making flowers reappear when your attention is whipped back to the lounge. The voices from that side have raised, so you lean forward on your kitchen island, watching their owners in a sort of stakeout.

“I take it you have a plan,” Sylus whispers, leaning with you.        

You look at him. He looks back. “The plan is for hosts,” you scold, “not guests.” He’s much too close so you step away, reaching for the vase of daturas and holding them threateningly out, like you’re not afraid to use them. “Go back to the guests, deserter.”

Sylus lifts his hands in surrender, smirking in a way that says he knows he’s met his match. You shoo him further, back into enemy lines, then resume your stakeout. Xavier is sharing his own “embarrassing” medical story— talking about a time where he once passed out from exhaustion while fighting at your side, and you think it’s supposed to make Rafayel feel better.

It doesn’t, of course, and even Zayne is gazing down at the floor, self-conscious.

Sylus meets your eyes across the room, signals with a tip of his head: now's a good time for that master plan, sweetie.

Right. Your plan. Your master plan, yeah.

…

“You should have picked the doctor.”

Sylus’s words are near-silent: for you, not anyone else, and you pretend you don’t hear them. “But no,” he carries on, because he knows you can, “you just had to have the artist.”

“It’s Pictionary!” you snap, drawing all eyes in the room.

Lounging beside you, Sylus feigns an amused surprise, as though he hasn’t just been trying to illicit that exact reaction. On the other sofa, Zayne and Xavier stare, taken more genuinely aback. You give a smile of apology.

“Guys, concentrate!” Rafayel clicks his fingers at you. He’s stood in the centre of the space by a large drawing pad, and he goes back to frantically sketching on it. The drawing is… interesting. Abstract. Maybe even beautiful? But you don’t have a clue what it is.

“Thirty seconds,” warns Zayne, studying the little egg-timer he’s guarding.

You tilt your head at the drawing. There’s maybe a— wait, where did those extra colours come from? Where did he even get those pens? Anyway… there’s a circle. “A globe?” you guess. “Earth! No? Umm… oh! The sun! The moon!”

Rafayel shakes his head with every suggestion, adding even more intricate, unhelpful scribbles. Is that a fifth pen?! You nudge your other teammate, calling for back-up.

Sylus regards the drawing listlessly. “A unicorn.”

“What?!” Rafayel’s tone has reached a pitch that almost makes you wince. “No! C’mon, are you even trying?”

“No,” Sylus lilts with a pleasant smile, lifting the drink he’s been nursing to his lips.

You kick his foot. “A bowl of fruit!” you exclaim, determined to make up for the lack of enthusiasm. “A plate? A plate with food? Breakfast! Lunch! Dinner!”

“Time’s up,” Zayne interrupts, and it’s a mercy, really; you deflate with a sigh.

Rafayel puts his hands on his hips as he takes a step back to observe his work. He tucks four fine-liners back into his pocket— purses his lips as though he really can’t see a problem— and he’s keeping you all in suspense.

Sylus is up in an instant, stealing a card from where it’s been discarded on the coffee table. He reads the answer, then rolls his eyes. The original pen was also abandoned, so he plucks it up, then strides to the drawing pad.

He draws an oval. Then a triangle.

“A fish! A fish!” you cry out.

“You’re good at this, sweetie,” Sylus grins. He puts the lid on the pen with a click before dropping it into Rafayel’s hand.

“Is it my turn?” Xavier asks, trying to relieve the tension of the room. He gets up and smiles as Rafayel passes him the pen. “Your drawing is pretty. The composition is really—”

“Don’t,” Rafayel says. “Like, thanks? But don’t.”

“Fair enough,” Xavier chuckles.

You all prepare for the next round: Zayne handing you the egg-timer, Xavier re-organising the stack of prompt cards. Sylus takes a photo of the drawing pad before ambling back over— a moping Rafayel in tow— and they both sink down either side of you. You glance at the latter, giggling. “A fish, Raf? Really?”

“So I didn’t just wanna draw you some basic fish, ok?” The artist crosses his arms with a pout. “But fine, enjoy mediocrity, I guess.”

To your left, Sylus raises his glass in toast to the notion. There’s a noise: Xavier tearing the used page from the pad. You look up. “Xavier, can I have that?”

“Sure.” He brings it over to you.

You look at the drawing again, holding it at arm’s length and rotating it experimentally. You’re seeing a lot, but nothing that screams ‘fish’. There’s a circle, still. Oh! “It’s a fish bowl! Wait, wait, wait— is that Reddie?”

“Yeah!” Rafayel beams.

“Aww!”

The renewed team spirit drops off with Sylus; he’s on his phone, not paying attention. He seems to sense your scrutiny because he peers up, gives a ghost of a smile, then returns to whatever he’s doing. Meanwhile, Xavier is ready for his turn, so he signals for you to start the timer. You give him a thumbs up as you turn it over. “Go!”

He starts drawing.

“A car,” Zayne guesses after all of five seconds. Correct. Next. “A river? No. Oh. A snake.” Yes. “A cupcake?” Also yes. (In fairness, he was never going to struggle with that one.) “A person? Ok. Oh, a scientist, no? Ah, a doctor.” Yes again, and really— what?

Zayne continues to list correct answers, though thankfully, that’s the last of the coincidences. You watch on, vaguely in awe, until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You check it casually, aware that Sylus is next to you, looking down at it too.

It’s a text from him: The drawing… Can I have it?

You glance up at him subtly, meeting his eyes and giving a discreet yet firm shake of your head. He frowns. You’re not having this debate here, now, so you let your gaze return to the drawing pad while idly retrieving your drink.

A few seconds later, there’s another text: Found buyer

Then another: Quarter of a mil

You almost choke on that drink.

“Umm… cutie?” Rafayel asks, poking you. He points at the timer you’ve left on the coffee table, and the top half is empty.

“Shit, yeah. That’s time!” you call.

Xavier stops drawing. The small, crude sketches behind him have reached double digits. He looks really proud. “Great! How many was that?”

His eyes find you. Zayne and Rafayel’s, too. Were you supposed to be counting? Uh—

“Eleven,” says Sylus, and it’s way too smug to be a lie.

“Awesome!” Xavier flips the drawing pad over to where you’ve been tallying point totals. He adds eleven marks to one side. “That’s—” he counts both— “ah, thirty-three to nine.”

A silence falls over the room. Unsure of what else to do, you give a half-hearted round of applause and Xavier laughs awkwardly, still humble, despite it all. “I think we’re kinda done with Pictionary, yeah?” you suggest, rising from your seat. “I should probably get started on food, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.”

The insistence came from Xavier, and you freeze suspiciously; he’s never turned down free food.

“You’ve already done so much,” he explains, “setting this all up for us. You should relax, really! Leave it to me.”

The word ‘relax’ is not synonymous with the image of Xavier anywhere near your kitchen, but he’s looking at you so earnestly, blue eyes brimming with warmth, and what are you supposed to say? No thanks, Xavier— I value my life? Everyone’s watching you. Gods help you. “That’s really sweet, Xavier. Thanks.”

Your fellow Hunter’s smile widens even more. He heads off to the kitchen, a spring to his step that makes your heart sink with dread. “Actually—” you glance at your ex-teammates— “could you two go help him? Zayne and I’ll tidy up over here.”

Rafayel and Sylus do as they’re asked, even though their expressions remind you that cooking is not, typically, a three-man job. It’s tactical, though. You wanted a moment alone with Zayne. “Are you ok?” you ask, once the others are out of earshot. “I know this must all be a lot. The guys can be, well… yeah.”

He knows what you mean, right?

Zayne has slipped away from the couch; he’s crouched on the floor, collecting a few prompt cards that have wandered astray. He glances up at you, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “I’m ok,” he assures with a fond smile. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.” He hands you the cards and you slot them back into their deck. Then you turn to the drawing pad. “You and Xavier make a good team, huh?”

The doctor straightens to his full height. “Mmm. It helped that we didn’t spend the entire game comparing the size of our… drawing abilities.” 

You laugh unashamedly. The pen’s still at-hand, so you pick it up— reward another point.

Zayne chuckles.

“Food’s gonna be a while.”

You both turn, following the voice back to Sylus, who has apparently decided he’s had his fill of kitchen duty. What was that— a minute? He seems to have anticipated your dissatisfaction, because he’s brought a bribe with him: the box of chocolates that had come with his bouquet. It’s already open and he holds it out, tempting you.

He’s right— you don’t know when you’ll next be eating— so you select a heart-shaped chocolate, popping it into your mouth with a smile and a muffled: “thanks.”

Sylus smiles back. Then he holds the box out to Zayne. “Doctor?”

It takes a nod of encouragement from you to prompt Zayne into taking something. He chooses a white chocolate truffle, mumbles his own thanks, but Sylus doesn’t relent— not yet. He shakes the box slightly, incitingly, and he doesn’t move it away until Zayne takes two more.

Your physician shoots you a surreptitious smile as Sylus falls back onto the couch, content he’s won your hearts, and that he won’t be sent back to the kitchen anytime soon. His long fingers lift another chocolate from the box, and he meets your eyes as he slips it slowly past his lips, humming likes he’s enjoying himself.

You cross your arms, unimpressed. He gives you the least convincing look of innocence you’ve ever seen.

There’s an exclamation from the kitchen: “Hey, where did my flowers go!?” 

Shit. You hastily push the drawing pad aside then scurry over to assist Rafayel. You don’t have a plan, exactly; it’s not like you can help him look for them. “Umm… they’re around, Raf. I moved them somewhere safer, that’s all.”

“Where?”

“Uh—”

“Does it matter?” Sylus speaks from behind you, because he and Zayne are close at your heels. “She said they’re somewhere safe.” He leans on the kitchen island. “Don’t you trust her?”

Rafayel scoffs. “I trust her plenty.”

“So prove it. Drop it.”

“Skye,” you caution, “stop.”

Sylus does stop, but not because you asked. He’s done enough already, hasn’t he? Rafayel is bristling with indignance— a lit fuse— and behind him, Xavier sneakily checks the trash can, looking relieved at what he doesn’t find. He gives you a subtle glance: Where actually are the flowers?

You lift a shoulder an inch: Beats me!

There’s a soft, almost imperceptible crackle, and it draws your eyes to the vase of daturas between you all. They’ve caught light— their petals twisting, darkening, within larger flowers of fire.

“Rafayel!” you gasp. “No, no, no, the fire alarm!”

The torched flowers are encased, all of a sudden, in a fine layer of shimmering frost. Sylus blinks down at them, unmoved by their destruction. Zayne’s hand is still outstretched, snowflakes etched over his palm. Then something… odd happens. The ice doesn’t stop. It spreads over the rest of the kitchen island, to all of your bewilderment.

“Zayne?” Your voice is fraught with worry, but you don’t give a damn about your kitchen.

The man winces, and you so rarely see him out of control. The silver-white patterns have crawled up his wrist, and the ice continues to spread; even Sylus steps back. Sharp, jagged crystals start to form— inching out towards everyone.

“Zayne!” you try again.

His chest rises as he drags air through his teeth; it looks like it hurts, but the ice does stop. The others are still, suspended by momentary uncertainty, and you rush to Zayne’s side, taking his hand.

“What the hell was that?” Rafayel remarks, shaking away his surprise and thawing an icicle that’s way too close for comfort.

“He wouldn’t have needed to use his Evol if you hadn’t used yours.”

It’s Xavier, strangely— you would have expected Sylus. The Hunter’s tone is gentle as always, but there’s something behind it, this time: a frustration that lends an edge.

Rafayel hears it too. “Hey, I’m not the one who started this!” He points to Sylus. “He—”

“Has been lighting fires all evening,” Xavier finishes. “But at least his were only figurative.”

Sylus laughs, and it’s the kind of laugh where you just know he’s vying to make things worse. “Look at that,” he says, “the boy next door can bite.”

Xavier’s eyes sharpen. Beside you, Zayne slips his hand from yours. It’s an instinct you know well. This moment is volatile, and you have to be ready. It could go a dozen different ways; it’s just waiting for a spark.

“Guys,” you manage to get out, “please, just… everyone, take a breath, ok? Everything’s fine, we just have to—”

A spark.

There’s smoke. Actual smoke. “Xavier, behind you!” Zayne alerts.

It’s creeping out of the oven and Xavier turns— eyes wide— to open its door before any of you can stop him. Thicker smoke billows out, filling the air, and you all scramble away from it. The fire alarm triggers. You think Rafayel’s shouting something, but you can’t really hear him. Then Sylus is shouting. Maybe even Zayne. The alarm is piercing your ears and making you dizzy— or is it the smoke?

You feel a hand on your shoulder and suddenly everything changes.

There’s cool air, brushing over your skin, and it’s dark; you’re outside the building. You can still hear the alarm, shrill but further away, and your window is easy to spot: there’s a red light flashing behind it. Sylus leans into your vision, saying your name.

“Stay here,” he tells you, “alright?”

He’s gone in another moment, lost to a flicker of crimson-black darkness.

Gods, you’re so stupid.

…

You sit on a short wall outside of your building, and the street is full of people. You recognise most of them: neighbours. Every single one is mad at you. You’re all waiting for the alarm to cut out— for the all-clear to be given. The fire wasn’t that serious in the end, but there’s still a procedure. You would know; this isn’t exactly your first evacuation.

The guys are safe, which is good, because it means you can kill them later. They’ve all gotten lost in the throng, and your neighbours can keep them. Maybe they’ll kill them for you.  

“Hey, cutie.”

You were staring down at your feet, but you look up at Rafayel’s voice. He’s coming towards you, evoking a sense of déjà vu, because he’s clutching a bouquet of flame lilies. That’s… the bouquet of flame lilies. How?

“Skye gave ‘em back to me,” he explains, chuckling at your expression, and he’s close enough now to hold the flowers out to you. “I don’t know where he was keeping them. His Evol’s weird, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say timidly, taking the bouquet and gazing down into the petals; they still smell sweet.

Rafayel sits next to you, shuffling close, and he leans his head on your shoulder with a tired sigh. You want to be mad at him. You really, really do— but you’re suddenly not.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel.” The admission barely makes it out of your throat.

You feel his head lift. “You’re sorry?”

“I know it was just a misunderstanding,” you speak into the flowers, “but tonight… wasn’t what you were expecting, I get it. I mean, I kinda threw you into the deep end with all this. You didn’t know you were gonna be around other people, and I—”

“Whoa— cut that out, yeah? You’re killing me, cutie. I spend the whole evening causing trouble, and you’re gonna take all the blame? Nope. Not happening. It was a collaborative effort at least, ok?”

You giggle. “Ok.”  

“Good.” His head slumps back down on your shoulder, and yours tilts to rest against it. “Thanks, though. Really,” he whispers, so quiet you almost don’t notice.

Footsteps and familiar voices draw you from the intimacy of the moment. The others are wandering back to you, having finally escaped the veritable mob of your neighbours. They all look tired.

Xavier settles down on the other side of you, and Zayne sits beside him. Sylus takes a seat next to Rafayel with a huff, but he’s not half as unhappy as he’s pretending to be.

All of you sit in silence, gazes flitting between your window— where there are still glimpses of moving figures— and everyone else who’s been evacuated. For the first time all evening, the quiet isn’t tense. It’s peaceful. Easy.

“We’ll do better next time,” Zayne speaks softly.

Next time? You scoff. “Do any of you actually want there to be a next time?”

“I had fun,” Sylus chuckles. He’s taken his coin from his pocket, and he flips it, amusing himself.

“I had fun too,” Xavier grins.

“Cooking again, Xavier?” quips one of your neighbours, as they happen to pass by.

The man beside you laughs, but you can tell it’s forced. Your hand finds his; you give it a little squeeze, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault. His heart was in the right place. It’s always in the right place.

You nudge Rafayel away from you so you can sit up straighter, your free hand rubbing your arm, caressing prickled skin. You’re about to ask for a jacket when something heavy drapes over your shoulders. It’s a coat— still warm— and its owner is stood behind you; you didn’t even notice him get up.

“Thanks, Sylus,” you smile.

All eyes turn to you. What are they—?

Oh.

[thecoolestastrophile]

GUYS IT FINALLY CLICKED WTF

THIS WILL ALWAYS BE MY FAVOURITE LOA SUCCESS STORY

divider creds:

[thecoolestastrophile]

You are afraid of success

Because failure is much more validating. Failure will pat you on the back and say, "maybe next time, hun", it will feed you anticipation and that flutter of trepidation in your chest when you think of success, it will make you feel comfortable in that bog you settled in.

The illusion of productivity keeps you in that mindset and prevents you from facing this fear. It keeps you feeling busy so you don't feel bad about being stagnant. It tells you you're walking in strides while you actually stand still, avoiding the discomfort of fully committing to success. Just like buying a dozen of fancy pens and notebooks instead of writing a book, you busy yourself with useless tasks that keep you from actually applying.

You can shift and manifest with just an intention and without any effort, but some of you are afraid of accepting even that. Just another script for my another DR, just another playlist with dozens of subliminals (do you even listen to them more than twice before creating a new one?), just another small "check" before a big manifestation, just another hour of reading through Tumblr/Pinterest/Reddit/TikTok posts and success stories, just another pile of photographed and screenshotted angel numbers. Are you not tired?

Shifting and manifesting are mundane and trivial to the point of being innate to you. If you have an apple in your hand, do you daydream about it? Do you create playlists named "🐁 🎀 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓁𝑒 🎀 🐁"? Do you buy a special knife that you proudly call "my apple knife"? Do you create moodboards for this apple? No, if you want an apple and you have it, you bite it.

You already have and know everything there is to know, and nothing will happen unless you actually start applying. You may know that only intention works, but did you internalize this knowledge? A lot of you throw fancy manifesting lingo while still persisting in the state of lack. Remembering and knowing is not the same as applying. Don't let this mistake keep you on Shiftblr until 2030.

[thecoolestastrophile]

Yeah I second that

Imagine being so touchstarved that you dream of being held, your head against their chest while their arms wrap around you, feeling the warmth of their breath fan out against your ear as they tell you "i'll never leave you again.". Bodies pressed so close together that you can hear their heart racing beneath their ribs. I just need a hug, man. A goddamn hug.

[thecoolestastrophile]

GUYS I NEED TO MARRY THEM RN WHAT

Hello, I love ur LADS works <3. Can i request the boys on the day of their and reader's wedding, their reaction to first seeing the dress and their vows in the current timeline. Tysm 🩷

i literally wrote this entire thing and then tumblr deleted it so im so MAD - wrote this w/ reader being g/n bc what if you wanna wear a sick pantsuit to your wedding, focues on the first look/vows!! but i dont write vows bc i dont know the touch of another human also very very slight references to myths you dont need to know them to read this/its not really a spoiler

Zayne took an active role in your wedding planning because you wanted him to. You know he's got his preferences and even though he bends to your will a majority of the time you know that you want as much of his input as possible.

A part of him honestly wanted to be there for you to pick out your clothes for the wedding. He wanted to spend the afternoon telling you how amazing you look and how excited he is to marry you but he knows it would make you much happier to surprise him on the day of. Besides, he has a reputation to maintain as a professional doctor - crying in the changing room is not conducive to such an image, you tease.

The day of the wedding he focuses on the empty space in front of him. He doesn't want to look at the walkway until he knows your day, knowing that the anticipation of your presence would just make him cry. Unfortunately for him when it's finally time for him to meet you at the alter he immediately starts crying. He doesn't even notice that tears are sliding down his face until the officiant hands him a tissue.

You can't help but tease him a little for his reaction but you're crying just as much, bringing a hand up to wipe away his tears as you laugh. He leans into your touch, the two of you sharing a quiet moment until it's time for the two of you to say your vows. His vows are concise yet affectionate, detailing the moment he knew he loved you. It's a day that's just out of your reach, one that you can't remember but one he clearly looks upon fondly.

When it's time for the two of you to kiss he steals the breath out of your lungs. He kisses you hard, passionately as a reminder of how much he loves you. You can't help but blush a little at how intense the kiss was but the way he looks at you is even more intense, thanking you for giving him the opportunity to be loved by you.

Xavier was always happy to give you his opinions for the wedding whenever you asked for them. He might not have a strong opinion but he does definitely have one, telling you that he wants but that he's also happy to just go along with whatever you want. All he cares about is that he's marrying you.

When you come down the aisle he can't take his eyes off of you. He's had a determined look throughout a majority of the ceremony, one you recognise from moments of intense focus whenever he's working. It's his default for trying to stay calm throughout the day, waiting anxiously for you at the alter. Now that you're finally here the look on his face softens, smiling at you as he watches every step you take to him carefully.

His vows are simple, swearing to protect you for the rest of his life. Somehow, you get the sense that he's spent a lot of time working on the words, his speech more formal and elegant than you're used to but it's still perfectly him. He smiles at you softly the entire time, his absolute adoration for you obvious as you listen.

When he kisses you it feels like the first time. He holds you delicately, hands cupping your face as he whispers another "I love you" against your lips. He tells you how excited he is to finally be your husband, promising you again that he'll always be by your side.

Rafayel went all out for your wedding. Anything you wanted he got for you, no questions asked. Surprisingly, he actually didn't have very many wants for the ceremony himself, constantly telling you that as long as you're happy he's happy. The only thing was he really wanted to design your wedding attire, wanting it to perfectly match is. You had to fight him for it, telling him it'd defeat the purpose of it all being a surprise. You end up compromising by allowing him to pick the fabric and pattern - that way you two could still match but he doesn't know what the final product looks like. Besides, he already designed the wedding bands so he wasn't too upset about losing this battle.

His eyes are glued to the head of the aisle, waiting for you to come down it. The second you appear his eyes start watering just the slightest, wiping his tears as he waits for you to come to him. His breath feels like it's been stolen out of his lugs, taking your hands in his when you finally stand across from him. His vows are memorised so he doesn't bother to reach for any notecards.

He promises you the world, telling you that he'll be waiting for you until all the seas in the world dry up and even past then. His words are ardent, almost feverish as he devotes his entire being to you, reminding you time and time again that as far as he's concerned, his life means nothing to you.

After the two of you kiss he buries his face into your neck, holding you tightly as his vows continue. They're simple yet just as devoted, Rafayel telling you that right now, his words are just for you.

Sylus, like Rafayel, spared no expense for your wedding. He has less opinions about the whole ceremony and tells you that whatever you need to make you happy then you have to get it. As long as you want it, you'll have it.

When he sees you for the first time he's rendered speechless. He's got a good poker face though so to everybody else, they just think that the smirk on his face is a warning to you of what's to come but you can see the softened arch in his brows, the way his lips are just the slightest bit downturned in anxiety. You reach out of his hands, laughing softly at the fact that they're shaking. Nobody can tell but you, keeping your hands in his so he has something to ground himself to.

His vows for you are hushed, barely heard by the audience since as far as he's concerned, they're promises that are only for you. He loves you more than anything, and he swears that he'd never do anything to hurt you for as long as he lives. He promises that he'll go along with all your schemes and love you with all of his heart - even though that comes to him as naturally as breathing.

The audience is surprised to see such a soft version of him come out in public, the look in his eyes when he sees you making them all melt. He kisses you softly, holding your face in his hand as he makes sure you understand the depth of his feelings for you while he swears his life to you.

[thecoolestastrophile]

I NEED HIM SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTAND

hello! can i request zayne with reader who shows up at his doorstep really badly injured and just passes out against him when he opens the door?

i really love how you write zayne in your fics and i've been thinking about this idea for awhile..

// Safe Haven

"You're not fighting alone this time..."

// summary: your assignment was taking a turn for the worse and out of desperation and panic, you turned to the one person you know will always be there for you...

// content warnings: injuries, blood, angst, fluff. IT'S SOFT BOI HOURS, OKAY?

// a/n: hope I did your idea justice anon! something about the idea of seeing Zayne's all possessive and protective makes my chest ache!

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

Zayne couldn't place his finger on the feeling, but something had him full of restless energy despite the late hour. He'd decided the only course of action was to burn it off, so he put on his sweats and headed out into his quiet leafy suburb for a late night jog. He used it as an opportunity to clear his thoughts and mentally debrief himself about the surgery he had completed earlier, about his to-do lists and then his thoughts drifted as they always do, to you.

He hadn't heard from you for a few hours, which wasn't unusual for you two, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing that he hadn't seen a goodnight text or voice note from you, hoping that it meant maybe you had conked out on the couch and were getting some rest. As he walked the last block back towards his house, relaxing on his cooldown he takes a photo of the full moon in the sky and sends it over to you along with a "the moon looks beautiful tonight" note.

DING.

Zayne approaches his driveway and your notification sound rings out, echoing in the silent night. He shakes his head, a smile touching the corner of his lips as he realizes you're nearby but his brow knits in confusion when he doesn't see your ride parked nearby. She probably got dropped off by Tara or that partner Xavier, he thinks to himself with a shrug. The cool night air was trapping the sweat in against his compression shirt, making him shiver as he walked up the steps to his front door. Something was off, he realized suddenly; one of his ambient security lights that normally cast a soft glow up his front steps was dimmed and bent at an odd angle, like something had fallen on it.

He leans over, attempting to make out in the dark what landed on top of it to break it when he hears it again and sees the flash.

DING.

Blood turns to ice in his veins as your notification tone sounds from beside the broken garden lighting, the flash of your phone camera strobing in the darkness for a split second in tandem with the sound. Delicately picking up your phone in his left hand, his heart catches in his chest as he sees bloody fingerprints on the screen. Zayne's mind surges with all sorts of worst-case fears as his eyes desperately scan the yard for any sign of you, but you're nowhere to be found.

Wary now and knowing you're hurt, he carefully calls forth shards of ice to his fingertips of his right hand, holding them tensely, ready to jump to action if he needs to defend himself too. Punching in the code for his electronic front door lock, he lets the door swing open as he steps inside cautiously, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary inside. Zayne moves room to room silently looking for anything out of place, any sign of you, without success.

He's just about to shut the front door and start making calls to your boss Jenna and emergency services when your hand slams against the closing door, jolting him as he stares at you. "Zayne..." you squeak out, using all your strength to prop yourself up on his doorframe.

"I'm so gla-" you don't even get a chance to finish before your body is in freefall towards him and his eyes widen in panic, the phone and the ice shards both clattering loudly on the entryway tiles as he scrambles to catch you before you hit the floor. "My hero..." you joke weakly, face pallid as you slip out of consciousness in his arms.

Cradling you gently, kneeling on the cold tiles beside you his combat medic instinct overtakes his fears and he begins to perform some cursory checks, noting how pale your lips are, how shallow your breathing is, and that's when he sees it; your right arm is dangling limply, seemingly dislocated from the socket and the sleeve has been ripped to shreds, your bicep showing a deep, angry wound. You've lost a lot of blood and you're in shock, so Zayne knows he needs to act swiftly.

"I'm so sorry, this is not going to be enjoyable for either of us." he murmurs to your unconscious body gently as he takes hold of your dislocated shoulder, feeling for the socket before firmly and skillfully setting it back into place. You cry out a whimper of pain as it temporarily wakes you and he brushes your hair away from your forehead with a bloody hand, stroking the backs of his fingers tenderly across your brow with a trembling touch. "Shhhh my love, I'm sorry, I know it hurt but I had no choice, it couldn't stay that way, you're okay, I've got you. You're okay."

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused, but you look up at him like he's an angel, the ceiling down light cascading around his dark hair above you like a halo; that handsome face stroking your brow lovingly with gentle sweeps, trying so hard to hide from you how scared he is as he smiles down at you trying to reassure you both with his soft whispers. As your eyes begin to flutter shut again and unconsciousness swallows you, you see him pulling his compression shirt off up over his head, his bare chest sucking in deep shuddering breaths that betray his smile and measured tone.

Zayne ties a sleeve of the compression shirt around your bicep wound like a tourniquet and loops the other sleeve around your neck, creating a very crude home made sling for your badly damaged arm. If he thought he had more time, he'd run to the bathroom for medical supplies but you were too pale and he was terrified to let you out of his sight so he made do as best he could. Swallowing down all sorts of insidious memories and fears from his time on the front lines, he works to stabilize you so that you'll be safe to move.

Grabbing the throw blanket off the couch and draping it over you, he scoops you up into his arms, pressing you tightly into his body as he carries you to his car, delicately lowering you into the passenger side and locking the seatbelt over you. You flit in and out of consciousness under the bright streetlights as he drives you to Akso Hospital, the steady weight of his large hand cradled behind your head, pressing and stroking tenderly on the nape of your neck the only constant feeling other than pain.

"Dr. Zayne, didn't you finish a couple of hours ago? Did you forget something in your office?" The tired but friendly voice of Dr. Greyson rings out over the car's Bluetooth speakers as Zayne's call to the nurses station connects. "Go cuddle with your Lady paperwork can wait!" Yvonne laughs in the background and Zayne realizes he's on speakerphone.

"I'm just about to hit the exit ramp. I'm 2 minutes away, prep a bay in Emergency Greyson...it's y/n." Zayne says with a harsher, colder tone than he intended, fear for your wellbeing getting the better of him.

Silence hangs on the line for a moment before someone sniffs awkwardly and a cacophony of chairs scraping and shuffling flares to life as the nurses scramble.

"How bad?" Comes the soft reply and Zayne can hear the concern in his colleague and friend's tone.

Zayne squeezes the nape of your neck reassuringly, but whether it's to reassure you or himself, he can't tell; "she's lost a lot of blood, it's hard to say. I have her stable but we don't have much time," he responds, his voice breaking slightly.

"We'll be waiting for you at the front doors." Greyson says confidently as he disconnects the call. Zayne's golden-green gaze flits across to your lips, checking on your shallow breathing as he pulls his car into the ambulance bay. Just as promised, Greyson, Yvonne and the other nurses pull up a stretcher to the passenger side of the car and open the door, looking across from you to Zayne and giving him a solemn nod.

Zayne gives your neck one last squeeze and lets them take you from the car, watching critically as they lift you gently onto the stretcher and rush you into the waiting Emergency bay. He shivers as the shock starts to wear off and the cold silence of the middle of the night settles in. Looking down at himself, realizing that he's half-naked and covered in smears of your blood, he grabs his coat out of the back of his car and jogs in after them.

He's about to follow them into the Emergency bay when Greyson puts a firm hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. "Are you trying to come in as her Doctor, because you don't trust us to work on her, or her lover because you need to know she's okay?" He asks pointedly.

Zayne snarls out a frustrated sigh, but Greyson continues.

"The code of conduct is there for her interests as the patient, you know that. I'll call you in as soon as we're done. You look like hell, go clean yourself up."

Zayne nods his resignation with a scowl, knowing Greyson was right. He wasn't happy to be called out on it, but Zayne couldn't maintain his objectiveness and professionalism, not when you were involved. The Akso Hospital board might turn a blind eye to him being your General Practitioner while dating you, but they would not stand for him being part of a surgical team.

He showered in the Doctor's suites and grabbed a spare shirt from his office before settling into the visitor's seating in the hallway outside Emergency. Zayne was lying back in the armchair, his head tilted back as he rubbed slow circles on his temples when Greyson finally come out to get him a couple of hours later.

"She's got a fractured humerus and she needed almost a litre of blood, but she's out of the woods now. Pulse is strong again, color has returned and we've stitched up the wound in her bicep. She's asking for you." Greyson said with a smile, giving Zayne a pat on the shoulder as he walked off towards the Doctor's suites.

"She's awake?"

He calls back over his shoulder with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Go to your woman, Zayne!"

Zayne slips in through the door to see the nurses packing up the crash cart and various other Emergency supplies and they give him a knowing smile as they make way for him. Yvonne hands him the pillow she was about to put behind your head and says with a smile "we should leave you two lovebirds alone, you've been through a lot tonight."

"You look..." Zayne begins, pushing the pillow in behind your head.

"Terrible?"

"A sight for sore eyes. For a minute there I was scared I was going to lose you."

You chuckled weakly, color rising in your cheeks. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, Handsome." You reached for his hand, wincing as your stitches pulled and Zayne slipped his hand over yours, gently snuggling himself onto the bed beside you. "I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there..." you began, emotions spilling over and you choke back a sob. He presses you into his chest, hushing you and peppering kisses into your hair.

"Don't think about it Darling, don't upset yourself with what ifs and scenarios." He murmured. "I was there, you're safe now. I've got you and that's all that matters."

As he let you cry softly against his warm chest, he rubbed slow circles on your back, squeezing you tightly, pecking little soothing kisses onto your head. Zayne gently brushed your tears from your cheeks, gazing down at you lovingly, the pad of his thumb feeling so comforting as you stared up at him.

Zayne released you and reached over to read your chart, his brows knitting and his eyes narrowing as he scans through your status and treatment observations. Giving you a gentle peck on the cheek, he tells you he'll be right back and slips from the room.

He's gone for a few minutes and when the door to your room opens, he's carrying the powder blue baby blanket you bought him when he was struggling with nightmares and sitting on top of the bundle were a couple of his always on hand mint candies. Climbing back onto the bed beside you, pulling you onto his chest so he can support your wounded arm he spreads the blanket out over the two of you.

Zayne unwraps a mint candy and holds it out for you.

"Open." He commands gently and you part your lips to let him pop it into your mouth, before he takes the other one himself, tossing the wrappers into the little trashcan beside your bed. "They're keeping you in for observation overnight, so lets do our best to get a good night of sleep, my love." Zayne explains to you in a soft, whispered tone, pulling your head down to rest underneath his chin. As you both chew your candies and cuddle into each other's warmth, he strokes your hair until after a few minutes he feels your breathing settle and you relax, falling asleep against him.

The door opens with a soft click, Greyson poking his head in silently to check on you before he ends his shift, changed out of his scrubs and now in his casual wear. He gives Zayne a small nod and Zayne nods back at him solemnly in thanks, the two men exchanging a whole conversation unspoken in their gestures. The whole time Zayne is squeezing his arm tightly around you, cradling you to his chest as you sleep, his heartbeat lulling you into gentle dreams.

[thecoolestastrophile]

yall revise with me and be cool…don’t accept this, he didn’t win, REVISE THAT SHIT, NEVER HAPPENED, SHE WON‼️

[thecoolestastrophile]

CUTIES ONG

Meow's Time with them

∧,,,∧ (  ̳• · • ̳) /    づ♡ I love you

They are so cute... I wanna adopt them all! o(TヘTo)

[thecoolestastrophile]

Literally me rn

i am so So Tired (been doing this for Days and now, i just have 1 stamina left)

[thecoolestastrophile]

As an American recently devastated by the election, this is the election I wish we had

AYYYY RAFAYEL IS THE NEW PRESIDENT 🇺🇲🇺🇲

[thecoolestastrophile]

━ "some people can make others blush and their heart rate soar by just lifting a finger. it's impressive."

[thecoolestastrophile]

Dare I say Rafayel

Hear me out! Merman who’s obsessed with thighs bc his people dont really have them

thanks for requesting bae<3 sorry this took so long!!

Two words: thigh fucking.

Nudging his cockhead in between your thighs, asking you to keep them pressed together as he brings himself to climax.

He would be obsessed with eating you out, forcing your to wrap your thighs around his head, lightly nipping your clit while he’s at it.

But teasing is something he loves too. Softly peppering kisses on your things that transition into love bites and marks on your thighs.

Would love fucking you in a position that requires you to wrap your thighs around his waist.

His hands would ALWAYS be on your thighs.

He loves how vibrators make you squirm, your thighs pressing together and all. He had to find another way of making you squirm in public too.

He fucks you right before going where you needed to go, pulls off your panties and keeps them with him. He watches you press your thighs together so as to prevent his cum from leaking out of you.

Overall he is a menace.

[thecoolestastrophile]

Carrot Cake Zayne + Son | 1257 words | Masterlist | AO3 Zayne and his son are identical in appearance, personality, and mannerism, but there is one thing that baffles Zayne about his son. A/N: Needed a smile today, so I finished a wip that’s been sitting around. ❤️ Another part of my LNDS Men + Their Child series, but circling back to Zayne again. 🥹

“Well, doctor, did we forget anything else?”

Zayne looked down at the little three-year-old boy sitting in the shopping cart. The toddler’s appearance was practically identical to his father minus the hair color. The boy grinned at his father.

“Cake!”

Zayne laughed. The little boy was definitely a mini-him.

“You’re right,” Zayne said thoughtfully, “We shouldn’t forget the cake.”

The boy’s smile slowly disappeared, almost as if he remembered something very important. He furrowed his brows in contemplation, speaking softly, “But Mommy said no cakes…”

Zayne leaned down, his face in front of his son, his smile gentle with a touch of mischievousness.

“Mommy is not here. Daddy is in charge,” Zayne said, his smile widening when his son grinned again. “Now what kind of cake should we get?”

“Carrot cake!”

“Denied.”

He pinched his son’s cheek when the little boy pouted. He sighed with mock-exasperation. “I swear you and your mother are always messing with me.”

“But Daddy…carrot cakes are yummy…”

Zayne raised a brow, feeling doubtful. “Who in their right mind would think to use such an ingredient in a dessert…”

“Mommy likes carrot cakes!” the boy said suddenly, hoping this little tidbit of information could persuade his father to change his mind.

“Does she now?” Zayne smiled in amusement, seeing the boy’s earnest look. He casually resumed pushing the shopping cart through the aisle, absently looking at items after items on the shelves with faux interest.

“Yes!”

“She…or you, doctor?” Zayne paused in front of the condiment aisle and grabbed a bottle of soy sauce. As he turned to put the item into the cart, he met his son’s shy smile.

The boy looked bashful, almost embarrassed, as he answered quietly, “…both?”

Zayne laughed. “Maybe there is some truth in that conclusion,” he murmured, his next comment spoken lower and more to himself, “Your mother did eat a lot of carrots while pregnant with you…”

He continued to push the cart through the grocery store. “I don’t know, doctor, you haven’t been able to convince me why we should buy something so terrible.”

The boy frowned, his face scrunching up thoughtfully as he tried to think of a new convincing argument. He looked absolutely determined in his goal to persuade his father to change his mind about carrot cakes.

Zayne chuckled and continued to move through the aisles casually, taking his leisure time. He absently hummed along to the music playing overhead, occasionally sneaking glances at the quiet toddler. He could see his son was still thinking deeply, his only objective was his pursuit of the elusive carrot cake his father was denying him.

“Ah,” Zayne said suddenly, “Tofu is on sale. We can make mapo tofu tomorrow night for dinner.”

Zayne peeked at his son, still not hearing a response. He picked up two containers of silken tofu and placed them into the cart. He pinched his son’s cheek again. “Are you upset with Daddy now?”

The boy pouted. “…No…”

“That did not sound convincing.” Zayne leaned his face down closer again. “We can get a chocolate cake, a castella cake, strawberry, tiramisu…”

“…Carrot cake…”

Zayne playfully pretended he didn’t hear, and pushed the shopping cart through to the bakery department.

“We should get some sandwich bread for breakfast tomorrow,” Zayne said thoughtfully aloud as he examined the array of choices. “We still have that jar of raspberry jam you like…”

Zayne’s words fell on deaf ears. The little boy gasped, his green-yellow eyes catching sight of the cake display. He immediately zeroed in on the two-tiered carrot cakes. He reached out for his father, tapping Zayne’s hand impatiently.

“Daddy, Daddy, the cake, the cake!”

“Hmm?” Zayne continued to feign ignorance. “Oh, right, Mommy did ask us to pick up some steaks.”

He pushed the cart away, heading to the meat department. The little boy’s mouth hung wide open in shock as they walked further and further away from the bakery department. He looked up at his father, lips quivering, but Zayne continued to keep his sight ahead. The toddler slowly lowered his head, disappointed.

“Daddy…”

“Hmm?”

Zayne looked down, seeing his son was sulking. He smiled softly. “Do you want Daddy to hold you?”

The boy nodded and raised his arms up eagerly. Zayne chuckled. “Alright, alright, I will,” he said as he reached down to unbuckle the seatbelt. He lifted the boy out of his seat, and smiled as his son clung to him. He rubbed the toddler’s head gently. “Let’s hurry and finish shopping. Mommy’s waiting for these ingredients to make dinner.”

Zayne resumed shopping, one arm was carrying his son while his free hand pushed the cart and grabbed items from the shelves. When he was close to being done, he noticed his son had fallen asleep with his head resting on Zayne’s shoulder and his small fingers unconsciously rubbing at the material of his father’s coat. Smiling, Zayne, walked back over to the bakery department. He quietly motioned to the employee, pointing at the cake in the display.

He smiled gratefully as the employee handed him a small cakebox. He quickly finished shopping, paid for everything, and put them away in his car trunk.

Once he had returned the shopping cart to the store, he returned to his car, opening the back door and gently set his sleeping son in his car seat. As he buckled the toddler into his seat, Zayne quietly tapped his son’s shoulder.

“Wake up, sleepy head,” Zayne said softly, smiling at the little boy’s bleary eyes.

“Home?”

Zayne chuckled and shook his head. “Not yet,” he answered. He settled into the backseat and sat next to the child. The boy looked up confused.

“We can’t let Mommy know, alright?” Zayne said, pulling out a small cake box from a paper bag, his smile widening at his son’s bright eyes. “Our little secret, got it?”

The boy nodded eagerly. He gasped quietly when his father revealed the inside of the cake box. “Carrot cake!”

Zayne sighed in baffled amusement. “You look completely like me, but this…quirk…of yours…” He reached in and pulled out a small carrot cupcake, handing it to his son. He grabbed the other cupcake—a chai latte—and held the confection next to his son’s. They tapped the cupcakes together.

“Cheers!” both father and son said simultaneously.

The boy giggled and happily bit into his soft, sweet cupcake. Zayne smiled fondly, pleased to see his son’s smile again.

“You know, eating too many carrots will turn you orange,” Zayne warned teasingly.

“Like Windy Carrot?” the boy asked curiously, eyes growing wide.

“Almost,” Zayne said, laughing.

“Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“…Will you still love me if I turn into a carrot?”

Zayne laughed again. He leaned down, nuzzling his face against his son’s before kissing his cheek. “I will never stop loving you…even if you were a carrot.”

The boy giggled again and turned to kiss his father’s cheek in return.

“I am certain you will be the only carrot I love,” Zayne added as he wiped the cream cheese frosting off his son’s mouth with his thumb. “Can’t leave behind any evidence, remember?”

The boy took the last bite of his cupcake, showing his hands to his father with a wide smile. “All gone! No evidence!”

Zayne finished his own cupcake, laughing. “All gone,” he repeated, “Our little secret from Mommy.”

The boy motioned with his finger over his mouth, shushing quietly. “Secret!”

“Good boy,” Zayne said, kissing the top of his son’s head. “Now let’s get home and help Mommy with dinner.”

[thecoolestastrophile]

OH LORDY LORD

˚୨୧₊♱ study partners

Zayne is a brilliant and accomplished medical student, proficient in a number of fields such as cardio, neuro, trauma, pediatrics, ortho, and a lot more. However, an upcoming exam in his area of weakness, obstetrics, has him feeling anxious and unprepared. who's more qualified to help him study than you, his pretty childhood friend and roommate? ♡

♱ med student! zayne x afab!reader

♱ content/warnings: slowburn, friends to lovers, fingering, cunnilingus, piv sex (cowgirl), soft dom, switch, virgin zayne, virginity loss, you teach zayne the female anatomy, body worshipping, possessive zayne, soft sex ♡

♱ tags: @enchantedforest-network @crisae

♱ 5k

You woke up late in the evening in a panic, startled to find that it was already dark and cold outside. You had spent the entire afternoon sleeping after an intense training session, and had begun to worry that you had missed the day entirely and that it was time to get ready for another day. Your heart was pounding with trepidation as you left your room.

However, you discovered Zayne seated in the living room, still engrossed in his study materials that took up the entire coffee table. Realizing you had only been asleep for 8 hours, you felt both embarrassed and relieved— Embarrassed that you had woken up so late in the evening, and relieved that you had not missed an entire night after all.

“Look who's up... Good morning,” Zayne spoke when he heard your door open, still engrossed in the study material he was reading. His eyes remained firmly fixed on the highlighted texts and diagrams in front of him, not even looking up to glance at you.

“Hey, Zayne,” you chuckled softly, heading towards the kitchen to help yourself with a glass of water. He seemed thoroughly absorbed in his studying and appeared to have been extremely immersed in his studies. “Pulling an all-nighter?” you asked, tone light and pleasant despite the fact that you had gotten a late start to the day yourself.

“Staying up late to intake information impairs one's cognitive functioning,” Zayne explained rationally, looking through the pages of his book as he spoke. “It's not worth it,” His tone was calm and practical, as if he was stating a fact rather than expressing a personal thought. He didn't appear to be tired at all, seemingly not bothered by the fact that he had been studying for so many hours. “I’ll call it a day in a while.” He added to answer your question.

You nodded in response, quietly looking around the cupboards for something to eat. Your stomach growling reminded you that you hadn't eaten anything yet. Just then, Zayne spoke up again, “I made vegetable frittatas for dinner. I already put your portion aside in the microwave, so just heat it up yourself.”

“Thanks, Zayne.” you smiled as you looked inside the microwave and saw the beautifully plated vegetable frittatas that Zayne had prepared for you. You pressed the buttons and the dish began to spin slowly. The light inside gave you a good view of the dish that Zayne had so meticulously prepared. As you waited for your food to heat up, your stomach rumbled louder, reminding you that you were indeed very hungry and had not eaten anything yet.

Zayne yawned as he turned the page in his study material, noticing that you had been quiet for a while. His gaze drifted to you as you ate the dinner he had made, the smile on your face as you tasted the delicious flavors making his body feel warm. The hour he had spent preparing the dish paid off, as he could see how happy and appreciative you were of the effort he had put in.

"Did the ice bath work?" Zayne asked, recalling his previous advice and wanting to see if you had followed it. "Yes, it works like a charm," you smiled as you continued to eat, your tone light and cheerful. You were pleasantly surprised that the ice bath had worked so well, and was grateful to have a roommate who is a med student.

You couldn't help but notice how effortlessly attractive Zayne was. His appearance was captivating, and his demeanor was effortlessly attractive. You thought about how even if he was having a breakdown right now, the way he carried himself suggested otherwise. You couldn't help but gaze at him again for a moment, appreciating his undeniable charisma and attractiveness.

You looked away when you realized that you had been staring at him for too long, feeling embarrassed by your gaze. You were aware that you had been staring for a while, and felt your face start to warm up. You kept your head lowered, focusing on your dinner as you tried to avoid looking at him.

"Thanks for the dinner, Zayne." You eventually finished the meal.

"You're welcome," Zayne responds politely, glad that you have enjoyed the dinner he cooked for you. He watches as you get up and heads towards the bathroom, noticing your head lowered as you did. He couldn't help but smile to himself for the fact that you liked his little gesture.

After spending some time in the bathroom, you emerge to your surprise finding Zayne in his place, his nose still buried in books. You were surprised that he was still studying despite the late time. You had thought that he would've already finished up and gone to bed by now; but it seemed like he was still dedicatedly studying.

"What happened to 'sleeping early to stay alert'?" you tease playfully, approaching him with a cup of green tea in hand. You gently place the cup on the desk, the steaming hot tea filling the nearby air with an aromatic scent. His stoic and practical approach to studying seems to have been abandoned in favor of continuing to ingest information even after an all-nighter.

"I may have underestimated this exam," Zayne answers, pushing his glasses up and adjusting his sitting position slightly. His eyes seem bleared, but his voice still remains calm and focused. He seems to have realized his mistake in overestimating his ability to study after an all-nighter, and is now recognizing how hard this examination will be.

“Take a break. I promised grandma to keep you alive this semester.” You pushed the cup of green tea closer to Zayne. You were aware that his study sessions were often intense and grueling, and would sometimes even include all-nighters.

Zayne sighed softly and sipped the tea, as it provided a much-needed warmth that softened his tense demeanor. The tea's warmth eased his tense muscles and made him feel slightly more relaxed, which was something he very much needed in the middle of a study session that felt like it would never end.

"That's the one I got at the train station when we first moved in here. I also added just a teaspoon of honey to really balance the flavors. What do you think?" you ask, sitting next to Zayne as you continue the conversation. Zayne noticed how you seem to be making an effort to keep the conversation going, wanting to engage with him more and to get his opinion on what you have done.

"It's really good. I can taste the difference between the usual and yours. The honey adds a nice subtle sweetness that really complements the flavors of the green tea.” She smiles in response to his compliment before peeking at the books on the desk, curious to see what he's currently studying. "What's got you so stressed anyways? Is it a certain subject?"

Zayne pauses for a moment, the steam from his cup of tea fogged up his glasses. Then, he finally replies, slowly and with a bit of hesitation in his voice, "Uh...yeah." You shrug, not particularly concerned about the situation at hand. You has faith in Zayne's abilities and intelligence, as you believe that he will eventually come around and figure it out. You spoke with a carefree and relaxed tone, as if the issue was trivial and not something to worry about. "You'll figure it out. You're smart, Zayne," you assured him, the last part of your statement being an expression of positivity.

Zayne appreciated the positivity from you, but he couldn't deny that he was not the best at the subject in question.

"Actually… I may not," he admits, his tone sounding slightly more genuine and honest. He was clearly not confident in his abilities, which was in contrast to your carefree and optimistic attitude.

Zayne took one particular book from his desk and handed it to you, as if surrendering. The title of the book caught your attention and sparked your curiosity, which read, "D.C Dutta's Textbook of Gynecology".

"I suppose I never really dabbled so much in this particular specialty," Zayne explained, still looking somewhat defeated and frustrated with himself. He was acknowledging that he had never really put much time and effort into studying this specific area of medicine.

He wasn't necessarily saying that he was completely unfamiliar with it, but he was admitting that he wasn't experienced enough to feel comfortable and confident with it. You chuckled, responding to his self-doubt and frustration. "Trust me, even us girls still figure it out as we get older."

Zayne tilts his head, “Are you suggesting that even from a female perspective, it is normal to not have everything completely figured out when it comes to this particular… specialty?”

“Oh yeah.”

“That’s even scarier.” Zayne comments, sipping his cup of tea and seeming to be slightly troubled by the revelation.

You lean forward to place the book back down the stack beside the table, and Zayne gently places his hand on the edge of the wooden surface to prevent you from knocking into it. When you got back up, the proximity in between you and Zayne flustered you; and the fact that his free arm was just on the couch behind you.

You felt your breath quicken and your cheeks start to warm, as if your body was involuntarily reacting to his subtle closeness.

"You know... since... I'm not sleepy anymore, maybe I can... help you out with that?" You ask, voice trembling slightly with shyness as you toy with the hem of your dress, a subtle gesture that added a flirtatious context.

Zayne's cheeks heated up when you made the flirty offer, as he was not expecting it. His breath catches in his throat, and he speaks in a breathy and slightly nervous tone, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

"Don't speak like that, Y/N..."

"Why~?" You ask innocently, in reply to his flustered reaction to the offer.

"Because...I won't say no. I won't hold back," He responds, voice now growing even more flustered as he acknowledges that he is vulnerable.

Zayne's breath increased slightly, but he kept his movements subtle and respectful of your personal space. But despite this outward appearance of behavior and restraint, his eyes revealed a much different story. The way he was looking at you, with such intensity and desire, was a clear indication that he was feeling increasingly attracted to you and was struggling to resist your advances.

"Where do you need help~?" You ask candidly, your finger lightly tracing the frame of his glasses and causing him to shudder. Zayne finally caught your hand and locked eyes with you, the heat between them growing more intense as his hand overlapped yours. “Do you really want to help me?”

You noticed the way Zayne's eyes kept wandering down your body, as if you were his focal point of attention. You nodded and placed his hand on your hip, giving him permission to touch you. “I’m a girl, and I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Your playful and mischievous actions made the situation even more titillating.

“I’ve already gone through everything but…” He said, his voice slowly growing more confident and bold, as he grabbed your face. "We can go off-textbook..." He suggested brushing her hair in a sensuous way. His tone and manner were becoming more confident and bold, implying that he was willing to take things to a different level.

He was giving a subtle hint that he wanted to take things further, that he was ready and willing to explore your connection in a different way.

You lean down to whisper into his ear, "Yes...way better than photos and texts on paper," sending a shiver down his spine. You weren't just giving a playful response, but actually agreeing with his suggestion, making you even more provocative and irresistible and made him feel overwhelmed with desire.

Zayne sat you on his lap and held your chin, making contact and bringing you even closer. “I need to hear it from you, is this okay?” He asks, first, to make sure that he had your full consent before proceeding. Second, as a verification that it wasn't a dream, confirming that he had successfully taken you down this path.

"Yes, Zayne. I want this. Do you?" You confirmed, letting him know that you were willing to explore this connection further. You placed your hand on his chest, trying to feel the rhythm of his heart.

“Yes, please… teach me.” He was surprised by his own outburst of desire and infatuation, completely overwhelmed by your beauty and allure.

After stealing glances and gazes from each other's lips, Zayne finally took the first move to kiss you. The moment of your first kiss, your lips finally touching, felt even more intense and exhilarating because of this buildup.

Zayne sighed as you kissed, lifting you in his arms so that they could move to the couch together, continuing this intimate moment. The feeling of his arms wrapped around you and the way he moved with ease was like heaven.

He was taking initiative and taking you to a place where you could be more comfortable and where they could explore your desires to the fullest extent, which turned you on even more.

"You're even more beautiful to me right now, [ Y / N ]...may I see all of your beauty?" He asks softly, his hands now gently stroking your hair and taking in your physical presence and warmth. He was slowly building up the anticipation, slowly moving his hands down to parts of your body that would reveal your beauty even farther.

You are seeing a completely different side of Zayne, one that was passionate and expressive rather than just reserved and focused on productivity. And you were more than willing to allow him to dictate the pace at which things progressed. “Yes, we can go at your pace, okay? I know you have been studying so hard.” You place a kiss on his cheek, giving him the space and freedom to explore this more intimate side of himself.

Zayne lifted your dress and gasped softly when he saw what was underneath, astonished by your beautiful body. He proceeded to start from your tummy, using his large hands to gently stroke your skin with delicate touches and soft kisses. Every touch, every stroke, every kiss that he placed on you felt like sanctuary, as you felt him enjoying and fully appreciating every inch of your physique.

Zayne stops just on your lower abdomen, and he looks up at her as he says, "I'm gonna examine the figure now, my dear tutor." Instead of immediately moving to the more intimate parts of her body, he deliberately pauses before moving on to the next step to pull your panties off.

Zayne is still in the process of studying and learning about the beauty of the female figure, so seeing your body for the very first time is quite an experience for him. He had seen pictures and read many things in books, but there is nothing like the real deal. He wants to explore and examine your body but doesn't know where to start and unsure of how to proceed.

You found his flustered reaction so adorable and sweet. “Why don't you… tell me what you know~?” You sit up slightly to stroke his cheek,

Zayne’s breath was hot against your soaked pussy, he brushed his thumb against your entrance, inspecting the sheen layer of arousal. “I see that this is the physiological activation response of the dopaminergic and serotonergic system to my… stimulation.” He made eye contact with you by the end of his sentence. All the scientific terms and smart talking was adding to your arousal.

Zayne took your wrist with his other hand and pressed his fingers against the side, feeling your pulse. “Increased heart rate, too. I'm flattered.” He chuckled softly and let go of your hand, his thumb still sliding against your entrance.

“Yes, I'm very turned on right now.” You sigh softly, pussy clenching around itself as he keeps teasing your entrance. “Good, good…” He whispered, now taking his index and middle finger to run up your labia. “Your skin here is sensitive, I shall be careful.” He spoke, leaning forward to get a better look. He adored the way your folds reacted to his fingers with every stroke and spread. “Zayne…” You sighed softly, your back falling back onto the throw pillows as his fingers explored your pussy. You were already struggling keeping your legs open and he was just barely getting started.

“H—ahhh—hhh” You let out your first moan of the night when his fingers come in contact with your clit. “Oh, did I find it right away?” His question laced with smugness to it. “Yes, you did.” Your eyes fluttered close when he established a slow rhythm circling it.

“This is the most erogenous area of the female anatomy, is it for you?” He asks, genuinely curious about your preferences. “Yes, I like being touched there.” Your legs tangled together on his back to pull him closer. “My, my…” Zayne’s breath started to uneven, his face heating up and glasses falling down his nose.

Zayne wants to forget his med school responsibilities for this moment, and he wants to simply enjoy the moment with you, focusing solely on you and your pleasure.

He wants to show his dedication to you in a tangible way. The medical studies and the test can wait, as he knows that he is currently with the girl he likes and he doesn't want to waste any time.

“Mmm— try to relax, dear… I’ll try to be thorough with you.” Zayne’s words made you quiver before you felt a finger slipping inside your pussy, making you gasp loudly. His fingers were long.

“Ah, yes, doctor… please…” You begged. All it would take from him was a little more of this and you would reach your peak. Almost immediately. But Zayne wants the moment to last longer. He used his finger just inside you to slide it around your opening and spread your arousal across your entire labia. Adding another finger, he penetrated even deeper and without warning, his digits crooked up and started to stroke your g-spot.

“Such a good study aid for me.” He sighed. “This soft spot here… it’s fascinating… does it feel good to you when I do this?” He made eye contact with you, your heart rate increasing rapidly. “Yes, when you do it, it feels so good.” You pant in between whimpers, subconsciously grinding your pussy on his hand. You find it so sweet and sexy of him to be checking and asking you these. He is reaching spots that you couldn’t with your own fingers.

“Ah— Zayne—” You almost screamed out when he placed a delicate kiss on your clit. You try to stifle a loud moan but it was too much to take. “May I try a more oral approach?” You stroke his hair and nod. Zayne’s cheeks flushed and attached his lips to your sensitive bud once more, closing his eyes as he sucked softly.

You tilt your head back, eyelids fluttering and trying to stay sane. Feeling it for the first time drives you to a new place; the sight of his head in between your legs, and the sounds from his lips truly sends you over.

He grips your thigh for support as he pushes his fingers deeper. He lifts one of your legs higher to slide more of his digits inside you, his mouth still latched on your clit and his tongue swiping your folds every now and then. You gasp and struggle against his strong arms.

“Mm—mmmh, you’re so good.” Zayne pulled away from your cunt and curled his digits on a different angle. His final touch sent you hurtling off the edge and your pussy erupted in a massive orgasm, your juices drenching his hand, making him gasp in response.

“I made you—”

“Yes, you did.” You whispered as your body kept quivering. He stepped back and you noticed the massive bulge straining in his trousers. “I think we need to do a more thorough internal exam, [ Y / N ]. Is that okay with you?” Zayne shyly pushed his glasses back up, a trace of your orgasm dropping down the lens.

You got up from the couch and held Zayne's hands, your bodies close together once more as you spoke. “From this point on, we have to learn together, because...it’ll be my first time doing this.,” You speak softly, looking into his eyes.

Zayne lightly stroked your cheek with confidence and certainty, his facial expression reflective of that. "Me too. Let's trust our feelings, okay?" He says. The mutual trust and willingness to follow your instincts is stronger now.

Zayne grabs her thighs and lifts her up in his arms, giving her a soft kiss. "Your room or mine?" He asks playfully, offering two choices. The ball is in Y/N's court, and he's giving her the chance to make the ultimate choice.

It doesn't matter. I want you. She answers confidently, making it clear that she's ready and willing to take things further and that she also wants him. Zayne nods and opts to bring it to your bedroom, giving you deep and slow kisses.

Zayne gently lays her down on the bed, kissing her gently and tenderly. Zayne keeps the kiss careful, as if he's being thoughtful and mindful of how delicate she might be feeling with what you are about to do.

"Do you...have protection?" You ask tentatively when you pull away, unsure of whether you should even say that out loud.

"Shit" He rarely curses, and that catches you off guard. He looks frustrated, and you can tell that he's annoyed by the situation. He says, "Well, since we're on the topic, I don't have any on me.."

"Don’t worry about that…I... have some." You shyly admit, letting him know that she does have protection, which puts his concerns to rest… for now.

A moment of relief for him as he took the box from your hand and saw that you had planned for protection. He took out his size, although he also questioned why you had these on hand.

Were you going to bring anyone else with you? An unusual sense of possessiveness surged to his neck, as though it were choking him. He fought out since he never wanted to think of you doing this with someone else but also didn't want to spoil the moment.

As if you had read his mind, you quickly tossed the box aside. “It’s not what you think!” you exclaimed, as you knew how this looked to him. “It’s a gag gift from Jenna for my last birthday.” You shyly admit.

You were cut off by Zayne's quiet laughter. “[ Y / N ], it’s okay, I believe you.” All traces of the dark possessiveness had vanished.

Zayne rises to his feet, his fingers making a descent down the front of his black shirt, slowly releasing each button as his eyes rake over your body. Parting your legs, you make space for him.

He removes the tie in the same unhurried fashion, seemingly content with his view of you. He shrugs out of the shirt sleeves, exposing curved biceps and defined pecs and abs. Then he crouches to remove his socks, never looking away.

You have such a keen sense of his proximity, the rhythm of his breaths, and the minute movements of his hands. It is rooted in the libido you get from being in his presence and is reinforced by the certainty that he will never let you down.

He moves as efficiently as possible, opening his slacks, releasing the belt, and shoving the remaining items of clothing onto the ground. His rock-hard body parts have been glimpsed in bits and pieces, but never all of him at once, fully nude.

His manhood lifts, protruding beyond the toned muscles on his v-line. He leans down with his eyes fixed on yours and an intense expression.

His eyes have a predatory look that makes you gasp. With his legs on the outside of yours, he crawls over you, straddling your thighs and prowling on hands and knees.

You were expecting him to pry open your legs and thrust between them, but he has consistently shown that he is not like the others.

With his mouth fused to yours, he hovers over you, caressing and fondling your thighs, chest, and hips with his hand. you can't breathe for how much his heavenly touches, heavy breathing, and passionate tongue drive you wild.

You tug at his shoulder, attempting to bring him closer. "Take off my dress, Zayne?"

Squeezing your thighs together, he uses both hands to remove the dress before lowering himself on top of you. His chest covers yours with muscle and heat while his eyes search your face as his weight presses you both into the mattress.

Your mouth opens to a delicious gasp, and he seizes it, his lips strong and aggressive, all his, his tongue sliding and claiming. His power acts as a shield, his large stature envelopes you, and his hands, seemingly in prayer, hold your face.

With your hips grinding greedily and your foreheads pressed together, you kiss through an infinite symphony of moans and heartbeats. Your bodies convulse in unison, holding the steely expanse of him in between you.

You squeeze your fingers around his cock, enjoying the sound of his strangled breath. His hips shift beneath you, his voice tortured. “Do you want to… top?” You nod without thinking twice.

In the next breath, he flips you, rolling you on top and folding your legs to straddle his hips. God, he's strong.

“I'll hold you. I'm going to lie and hold still until you tell me to move.” He softly strokes your hip. Until you gaze down at the huge, long cock rising up in front of you. Nervous energy trickles through your veins. You grip his shaft with both hands, stroking up and down, reacquainting yourself with his size. "Will it fit, Zayne?” Your breath rushes out.

“Mmhmm, we'll make it fit.” He chuckles softly and slides his palms up your torso, then plants a needy kiss on your lips.

You bend down and place a kiss over his temple, then you rise on your knees and help him put the condom on before positioning him between your legs.

True to his word, he doesn't thrust or move his hands. His eyes glow like a galaxy as he waits for you to draw him inside.

You lower onto him, inch by inch, marveling at the stretching sensation, the easy slide, the perfect fit. It's never this wet, this careful. You felt so full. Hungry. Relieved.

The sound of his guttural groan spurs you faster. When he's all the way in, you squeeze your inner muscles around him.

Zayne’s eyes clamped shut, muscles flexing in his jaw, his body relaxed beneath you. His eyes are shut. "Zayne?"

A throaty grunt is the only response he gives, charging your already overloaded senses with giddiness. And you haven't even moved yet.

You lean forward and press my lips to the ridge of his tense chest, then take off his glasses so he could be more comfortable. "This is it. We're doing it."

His eyes fly open, and he releases a satisfied chuckle. “Are we?” His hands tighten around your hips, his glare hard and demanding. "Fuck me, [ Y / N ]."

You were surprised by his sudden desperate and lewd display of affection. You roll your hips, testing the feel of him sliding against your insides and filling you with jolts of static.

His entire body trembles beneath you. “[ Y / N ]...” He wanted to move.

With your palms on his chest, you rotate along his shaft, lifting and rocking. The dragging, tickling strokes are unreal. The little shocks of electricity, the panting sounds of our breaths, everything centers around where you're joined.

You let loose, lifting your arms behind your head, closing your eyes, and circling your hips. When you bounce, your breasts press against his chest and the bed frame creaks. When you rock, your clit convulses.

“[ Y / N ]...” The headboard groans on his back.

You open your eyes and collide with his, a smile pulling at your cheeks. "You’re…good." You kiss his nose.

"God, [ Y / N ]." His biceps flex around your body, his thighs hardening beneath you. "I've never felt so…good."

“Move, Zayne. You can move…” You say and slide up his chest and thrust your hips, delighting in the feeling of the new angle. When you reach his lips, his tongue seeks yours, twirling and tasting.

If he wasn't your roommate and hadn't known him since childhood, you wouldn't believe that this is the first time he's felt the touch of a woman.

His kisses strengthen the brewing tide inside you. You sweep your hands over his biceps and cup his face. He deepens the kiss, the strong stretch of his jaw as erotic as the sinful way he glides his tongue.

With your hands on his face, you kiss him fiercely, passionately, while working your pussy up and down his length, while he dabbles with gentle thrusts.

"It's tight…" He grunts softly when you squeezed him with your pelvic muscles just to reinforce that side of things for him. It felt so naughty to be fucking your hot friend right in your bed. You could hear his cock sliding in and out of your slick tunnel with every thrust.

"I can make you feel better." You panted. Sliding a hand between your legs, you began to play with yourclit, knowing that it would make you squeeze and cum. The combination made your back arch hard and made you have to bite down on Zayne’s lips to stifle a loud moan.

"Come for me again..." He groaned softly, eyes fluttering close. And you did, your entire cunt contracting and you felt yourself squirt all over his cock, puddling out of your pussy and onto your bedsheets. He closed his eyes and you could feel your muscles milking his impressive dick into an orgasm.

When he opened then he met yours and it was almost primal the way he was looking at you— like you were the hottest woman he'd ever seen. His hips sped up and you feel yourself being pushed to another orgasm.

With one last thrust, his throbbing cock and fills up the condom, cock still balls deep inside you. The thick white stream kept coming as he gripped your hips and gasped silently.

"[ Y / N ]..." he gripped his cock and pulled out, stroking it, then pushing out the last few drops of his load.

“So Zayne, did you learn anything?" Your breath was coming in short pants. You let a finger trail down his abs while you both recovered from your highs. "I think you were quite thorough." His eyes followed your finger and you watched his muscles twitch before taking off the protection and tossing it to the trash can.

"I've learned a lot. Definitely." He gently lay you on his side and put your hair aside. He surprised you by grabbing your face and pulling you in for a soft kiss.

"Are you feeling okay?" Zayne asks, wanting to make sure that you are comfortable and pleased.

“Yes, you?”

"Yes, I am." You respond as he smiles down at you, adoring the way you brush the raven curtain from his face.

"Want me to change the sheets?" Zayne offered, wanting to make sure you had a comfortable sleeping environment. "No, stay, please..." The way you insisted him to stay, the way you wanted to not end the moment, made his stomach flutter in a different way entirely.

"But, can we sleep in your bed?" You look up at him with puppy eyes and he cannot resist that sight.

He smiles back and accepts your request, "Of course.” Zayne scoops you up in his arms and covers you with a blanket to keep you sheltered and warm from feeling exposed.

You lay together in bed and he holds you close against him, your head resting against his chest as your body lies next to his. "Comfy?" he says as he gently grabs your hand and kisses it.

"Very," He can feel your soft and sweet kisses on his neck, and he enjoys the warmth of your body as curled up next to him.

"Tomorrow... let me take you out for breakfast." Zayne says, kissing your forehead softly as he asks.

"How about your exam?" You ask, mentioning his test.

"It won't be until noon…” Zayne strokes your back. “Maybe we can squeeze in a last minute review too?"

[thecoolestastrophile]

The hell that is the us political landscape will NOT stop me from being a horny shit