☃

sucker for zayne being everything I want❄️ side blog✨️

[snowprincessnami]

abt me: I'm 25, zayne is my bias, downloaded lads in 2024 bcuz of some sylus reels lol but didn't really start playing until after caleb came out cuz of time & other things (the regret I went thru when finding out all those event cards were limited💀)

mostly here for the fics heh♡

(ps; this is a side blog😭)

[irandial]

All 6 of our little boys with their PJs 💖

Thanks to this twt user

[glitch-but-ya]

small cat, big cat. | girldad!sylus

"Look at this cat." 

Sylus furrowed his brows, staring at your phone in confusion. 

"Sweetie, that is a jaguar." 

You smiled. "Big cat." 

"An apex predator," he corrected, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

"Hm." You looked at your screen. The owner scratched the furry creature's chin, and in return, it rolled over and let out a deep meow. Unconvinced, you retorted, "If not friend, why friend shaped?" 

Speechless, Sylus's lips quirked to form a smile. "You pose a compelling argument."

"See?" You turned your phone back to him as the video switched to a baby leopard clinging to its keeper's neck. "They're all cats." 

"I guess so."  

Perhaps that would explain why, five years later, your daughter was absolutely spellbound by the fully grown black jaguar peering at her from its containment.  

Her little feet pattered, attempting to pull her behemoth of a father along to take a closer look. When he didn't budge, she puffed her chest, stomped her feet, and pointed at the aloof furry creature. Utilizing all the vocabulary stored in her three-year-old database, she confidently pointed at the jaguar and said, "Miau." 

"No, honey, that's not a c—" 

"Miau!" She insisted, stubbornly planting her hands on her hips. "Can pet miau?" 

Though bearing his likeness, Sylus could see that it was her mother's personality she'd borrowed. 

a/n: cat is cat. i love cats :3

[snowprincessnami]

Drabble - Sylus

Sylus proposes to you with a ring of the first bullet you ever shot, it broke open like a flower

Bonus, you shot it at him but missed (grazed him ever so slightly the blood stain coloured the ring you wear every day)

inspo:@/bulletbloom on IG

might get back into fic writing with this as my entryway into the lads space♥

[sugurusgetoo]

Girl Dad! Sylus who would trade late night bike rides for early morning cycle rides with the baby strapped to him and pointing at places around the N109 zone, telling her stories of how he became what he did and how he met her mother. He would even risk taking the baby on a bike ride through the city after a particularly tough night of wailing and just like her parents, the baby instantly falls asleep by the end of the night.

Girl Dad! Zayne whose baby girl only calm downs because of his voice and he walks around the nursery murmuring about the functions of heart as the baby get's sleepy. It works either way as well because whenever after a particularly tensed night at the hospital, he comes to sit by the nursery and mc often finds him asleep in the rocking chair with the baby.

Girl Dad! Xavier who would use his light to make little puppet show for his baby girl and teach her the history of philos through through his evol. Sometimes he would make silly little bunny ears on top of his head to make her laugh when she won't stop wailing. He would even make her a mini version of his sword once he noticed the baby staring at it whenever he came back from missions

Girl Dad! Caleb who has stopped going for late night missions now, the only late night mission he is available for is calming down his baby girl when she wakes up crying. He loves playing with her by lifting her in the air with his evol and having her sit in his lap to help him assemble old models of fighter planes.

Girl Dad! Rafayel who is inseparable from his baby girl, who gets anxious when she won't stop crying and who can't help but smile when she gurgles and laughs. He would paint her a picture every year for her birthday, just to keep a memory of her slowly growing and he would often take her to the beach as well teaching her to be familiar with the water like he once was. If the baby has the same leumerian features as him then you bet he would become even more fiercely protective of her.

[byallmeans1]

[byallmeans1]

[byallmeans1]

[byallmeans1]

[mwphisto]

"You're going to give her a heart attack at four months old."

It's pushing 11pm at this point, and your infant daughter is still wired from her last bottle. The complete opposite effect a bottle should have on a baby this young at this time of night.

"She's fine, it's just a new sensory experience for her." Zayne, who hasn't shaved since yesterday morning, has a decent amount of stubble along his jawline. Every time he drags her little face in for a kiss, she lets out a loud little screech at the sensation of his prickly skin.

"She hates it!" You snort as he does it again, laughter making his own chest jump beside you in bed as he brings her close with both hands just for her to shriek as his chin grazes her fat little cheek.

The look in her eyes - the eyes she inherited from you - shine with pure disbelief. Never in her four months...

"She'll get used to it... eventually." The amused smirk on his lips says otherwise, staring at the little infant in his hands and her bewildered look. "She already has your attitude."

"Serves you right, you're torturing her with your stubble!" The same stubble you whine about when he kisses your lips and neck, the way it scratches and tickles. You just know her cheeks are all tingly.

"Dada is very sorry, baby girl. He'll shave first thing tomorrow."

But the mischief shining in his eyes and the devious smile on his face as he draws her in close and her little legs immediately flail tells you he is anything but. "Maybe just one more kiss?"

[by-alnazar]

How to Soothe a Fussy Lemurian Baby: A Rafayel Qi Guide.

Tags: dad!rafayel, mom!reader/mc (whatever you prefer), fluff, just a late-night thought I turned into a drabble.

Thinking about newborn dad!rafayel getting inside the warm bathtub with his fussy baby lying against his chest. Yes, he's impatient and dramatic and whatnot, but he's actually super chill during stressful situations, especially when you are involved.

Rafayel was as lost as you were when your baby had been crying for forty minutes straight and she didn't seem to actually need anything. Not sleepy, not hungry, not dirty, not undercuddled, not overcuddled either. You were about to start crying with her. Not when your husband was there.

“Let me try something”, he said softly, lifting her up from your arms and heading upstairs. You didn't follow. Maybe you were a bad mom for it, but you just needed to give yourself a minute to breathe.

Rafayel ran the warm water and tested the temperature, your baby still crying like she was getting her limbs ripped off. He undressed her and swaddled her in a tiny blue towel. “It's okaaay, I know you wanted to have an experienced dad, and me is all you got. I'd be disappointed, too,” he sighed. “But you have to deal with me now, there's no choice. Here you go.”

He gently put her all swaddled into the water in a last attempt to calm her down, and froze a little when it actually worked. She stopped crying. Her features started to relax as he slowly rocked her inside the water. That's it. That's how you soothe a fussy Lemurian.

Didn't know exactly how he did it, but Rafayel managed to remove his clothes with one hand while keeping his daughter in the water with the other. He got inside the bathtub, lying her against his chest. He took a deep breath, accommodating to the surface, trying not to breathe too loudly, in an attempt to keep her still. Then smiled to himself, thinking about all the times he had dreamed about having his daughter in his arms just like this.

“What did you do?” you whispered, entering the bathroom in awe, squatting next to them.

“Just thought that she maybe needed to be in the water. That's what I need when I'm feeling moody.”

Your daughter looked up when she heard him talking, probably because of the sound vibrating underneath her little ear.

“You're the best dad she could ever ask for”, you praised him, kissing his hair.

“I hope so.”

He lifted his face up making a kissy face to ask you for a peck that you couldn't deny him.

“Go and enjoy some alone time, cutie. I have everything under control.”

a.n.2: working on the next SMAUs! One requested and one non-requested.

dividers by: @uzmacchiato

a.n.: I love writing about them being dads I can't they're so cute :(

Comments, reblogs and likes keep us writers creating.

Masterlist

[by-alnazar]

At first, Caleb thought that leaving you asleep for a night clean up mission was hard. That was nothing.

Leaving you, six months pregnant with your second child while your three-year-old slept on his side of the bed was probably the hardest move he had ever made. Walking out that bedroom door felt like leaving his beating heart inside it.

Caleb took your hand and tenderly took it to his face, its warmth tempting him to stay in bed with you both and send the fleet and the wanderers and everything else to hell. With a long sigh, he left a soft kiss and a gentle nuzzle.

“Just come back in one piece” you said, your voice loving yet commanding, lazily caressing his jaw.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, as you took the back of your fingers to his lips for him to kiss them once more.

“I’ll call you if we need you, don't need worry about that.”

In all those years, you never needed to call him, not even once, but it was better to reassure him as many times as necessary rather than having him worried while piloting.

Your son half murmured something in his sleep, rolling on to his side to snuggle up with you. You both gazed at him. Caleb had carried Logan from his bed to yours. He had started doing so when Logan was a baby, so you didn't have to get up to his crib if he needed you while he was at work and now, he felt like you wouldn't feel so alone with him by your side.

His messy, dark hair and red puffy cheeks could tell that he was having the best sleep ever. You carded his hair softly, its touch reminding you of Caleb’s hair. Logan was more than used to his father's midnight carries and kisses and back rubs when he left for work, so any of that really woke him up.

“He was sleep talking while you were getting ready”

“And what was he up to?”

“Pancakes” you huffed out a laugh. “He said yes, pancakes”

“Did Logan say that or did this baby say it?” He asked, rubbing your belly over your t-shirt.

You smiled, pulling the fabric up so he could feel the baby closer.

“Well, I think we three want daddy's pancakes for tomorrow afternoon. It’s been a while since the last ones.”

“That’s said and done”

You took his hand, guiding it slightly downwards to where your baby was kicking.

“See? We all agree.”

He smiled wide as he leaned in to kiss you, his free hand caressing your face as your tongue found his for a second. You felt the fresh flavor of mint mouthwash, as you pulled him closer from the nape of his neck.

“God, I can't wait to spend the night with you tomorrow” he breathed against your lips.

“I’ll be counting the seconds…”

He looked down, as the baby moved again again inside your womb. He lowered his face to kiss a few times next to your navel.

“Treat mama right tonight and go to sleep now”

After leaving a quick kiss on Logan's head and another one on your lips, he got up from the bed. He put his uniform cap on as he walked through the door and disappeared into the dark. You hugged Logan tightly as you closed your eyes, letting out a worried sigh. Just needed him to make it back home safe again.

Next morning, as daylight broke behind the blinds, Caleb let his aching muscles sink on the bed. He stretched his arm over Logan and to your lower back embracing you both, letting out a relieved sigh with his eyes closed.

“Are you hurt?” you whispered.

“Not even a scratch”

Logan rubbed his eye with his closed fist to look up to Caleb.

“Daddy is here” he pointed, just in case you hadn't noticed.

You nodded with a smile.

“Let's let him sleep, okay? He's tired”

“He's not leaving again” He said, half stating, half asking.

You looked back at your son, his face reminding you of that last message he sent you years ago right before the explosion happened. Now he was back here, next to you and your little boy who would soon become an older brother.

“No, love” you kissed his forehead. “Daddy's not leaving again.”

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

a/n.: Hey! First LaDs post. Seems like it got published mid-writing (it's been ages since I last posted here and forgot you never ever write in tumblr drafts) (especially if you write late at night and you're sleepy)

[sylus-beloved-wife]

Personal LI's icons 🌱

Drawn on request: @irandial

[f3v3rdr3am5]

feedback form ˖ᡣ𐭩°⟡.ೃ࿔

— in which you survey terrorize your husband by asking how much he'd rate your marriage

ft: all 6 LIs x reader content: fluff. raf's is kiiinda suggestive. xav and valko are sweethearts, zayne and sylus are menaces, caleb pulls an uno reverse. random mcdonalds mention? notes: 10th post! this is crazy, tysm for all the love <3

© f3v3rdr3eam5 — do not repost, copy or translate my works without permission.

[humanjarvis]

here with you always

synopsis: during a fruitless meeting, zayne gets a harrowing message: there’s been an emergency.

in which you wind up at your least favorite place, and zayne is the only one who can calm you down.

pairing: zayne x fem reader tags: angst, comfort, fluff, reader is injured in a car accident, reader has a fear of hospitals, mentions of blood and wounds, anxiety all around, reader is strongly attached to zayne, reader is somewhat dependent on zayne, reader is clingy as a result, reader cries, lots of skinship, zayne in scrubs, zayne reassures reader, he encourages her to prioritize herself, yvonne cameo, greyson mentions, i am not a doctor nor have i ever been to the emergency room word count: 3k

Giving his colleague time to respond, Zayne adjusts the placement of his watch on his wrist. Illuminated by the morning sun, the silver band catches on the lens of his glasses, reflecting a rhombus onto his black slacks. 

It’s the most stimulating thing about this meeting.

“I…” A swine-like wheeze reveals the hospital executive’s desperation as he turns to other stakeholders for support. “I don't love the idea of it either, Dr. Li. But what other choice is there? Akso’s profits are falling for the first time in years. Increasing the cost of care is the only way to keep up with the evolving economy!”

“And how do you suppose the hospital will operate when its clientele are priced out of our services?” 

Just as the executive’s flush turns from pink to red, the conference room door opens, saving him from what was sure to be a lackluster rebuttal. 

Dressed in her white scrubs and mask, Yvonne rushes in, frazzled and panting. Not one for impoliteness, she coughs out a hasty greeting before meeting Zayne’s gaze and making an urgent gesture.

“Excuse me,” he says, mildly disappointed to cut the debate short. He was just warming up.

Almost immediately, the tension in the air dissipates. A quiet sigh of relief slips from the executive’s mouth as the biggest adversary he’s faced since college plagiarism checkers steps into the hall. 

Several paces from the closed oak door, Yvonne turns to face Zayne, wringing her hands out with nerves. “I’m sorry to pull you away, but there’s been an emergency,” she whispers. 

Zayne squints slightly, dark eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Dr. Greyson should be available right now. Is there a reason wh—” 

“Your partner, Dr. Li.” It’s a rare interruption. “She was just in an accident.” 

The stairs are a blur as he rushes down them two at a time. Still, it isn't fast enough. 

“What’s happened?” Zayne demands. “Tell me everything.”

Yvonne follows closely behind him, her clogs hitting the floor on the offbeats of his heavy steps. “It was a collision with another vehicle. The other driver had only minor injuries, but hers are more serious.”

“How serious?” Careening around the corner, he nearly plows through a gaggle of interns heading toward the fifth floor. 

Typically, the sight of calm, collected Dr. Li is enough to make the younger staff gape in wonder. But frantic, distressed Dr. Li? That’s a new concept entirely.

However, as Zayne flattens his body to pass by them without hindrance, their gawking goes even less noticed than usual.

“They can’t tell the extent of the damage,” Yvonne explains. “We tried to evaluate upon arrival, but she won’t accept treatment until she sees you. When I left the ER, she was thrashing around and calling out for you.” 

“She’s afraid of hospitals,” he responds robotically.

Just a few steps farther.

The searing burn in his legs reminds him of the hike he’d gone on with you just a few days earlier. The way he tripped on a well-camouflaged branch, and you caught him with an ill-concealed snicker. The way you paused under a maple tree to catch your breath after, oblivious to the bustling beehive ten feet above you. 

“EEEEEEgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoff!”

As you permanently damage the hearing of the bee on your tank top, a retaliatory snicker escapes Zayne’s lips.

“You think this is funny?” you screech, holding deathly still lest you provoke the beast on your shoulder. “I’ve never been stung before! What if I'm allergic?”

“All right, all right.” He cautiously waves the insect off with his hand, and it flies onto a nearby flower. “See? You’re safe now.” 

While you catch your breath, a dramatic hand plastered to your chest, he curls an arm around your lower back and guides you away from danger. 

At the base of the mountain, you’d stopped at an ice cream truck, gifting each other compensatory snow cones for your troubles.

That memory of you, smiling in the sun with sweat-slicked skin and blue-stained lips, won’t leave his mind. What kind of state were you in right now? Would you be able to go out like that, to laugh like that again? Would you want to?

A chill creeps through the sterile air as he finally reaches the bottom of the stairwell. With an anxious breath, he bursts through the ER doors, eyes scanning with urgency unknown.

Zayne is used to seeing people bloodied and bruised—too used to it, if you and his parents had anything to say about it. After years of stitching the broken back up again, he's grown desensitized to the most off-putting aspects of the human body. When he sees blood, he can’t afford to panic. He's got a job to do.

Now, at perhaps the one moment he can afford it the least, there's a delay in his actions. It’s immoral for him to think this way, and he'd never say it out loud, but it's not a patient who's hurt. It's not just anyone. It’s you.

You, who demoted lonely from a frequent feeling to a foreign one. You, who showed him, for the first time, how to love and be loved.

So when he sees you frenzied and bleeding, swatting at several nurses’ hands like a cornered stray making its last stand, he freezes. And in that moment, your eyes meet.

Your tired, broken whimper is what finally springs him into action. 

He rushes to your side, forcing the metallic tang of your blood a step down from salience. The nurses clear a path for him immediately. 

He tries to examine the extent of your injuries, but your attempts to cling to him make it difficult. More than once, he has to beg you to stay still. 

“It hurts,” you mewl, weakly clutching his left arm.

“I know. I know. But I need you to stay still for me, all right? Just while we figure out what's wrong.” So much blood. “Here, give me your hand.”

Your palms meet with identical iron grips. You squeeze him in pain and fear, he squeezes you in simmering panic—as well as to keep you still.

Needing to be heard but not wanting to startle you, he calls out his observations with the steadiest voice he can. “I see abrasions on the right temple and significant bruising on the upper body. The arm and shoulder lacerations will likely need staples.” 

Slowly, he lifts your lolling head to examine your unfocused eyes. “What’s your full name, and where are we right now?” 

“We’re in…” Through slurred words, you blink slowly, pausing to take in your surroundings. It’s like you’re seeing it all for the first time—the somber staff, the sobbing families, the lifeless bodies on the beds—and your face is the picture of panic. “Why…why are we here? I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

Zayne grimaces, shushing you and smoothing your hair down. “She may have a concussion as well.”

Your swollen face contorts in panic. “I have what?” 

“Shh. I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable,” he whispers. Gathering you in his arms, he rises to full height and nods swiftly to the surrounding staff. “I’m going to set her down slowly. Ensure the gurney is stable.”

Your sense of smell is the first to return to you. 

At home, you keep diffusers scattered throughout the space; it brightens your day when your favorite fragrance fills the room. 

Here—wherever here is—a piercing sterile scent burns the inside of your nose. 

Bleach and artificial lemon.

Something is wrong.

In your ears, the high-pitched hum of equipment.

On your tongue, the aftertaste of iron.

When you finally manage to crack your eyes open, blinding light forces them shut. You try again a moment later, gradually processing the thin blue gown hanging loosely on your sore frame.

It all comes flooding back. 

A sickening crash. A crushing impact. Flashing lights, loud voices.

Screeching sirens. Fragments of motion sickness.  An abrupt stop. 

A big, bright Akso sign. Shining like a beacon.

Not here. Not here. Not all alone.

Your own voice, crying out for Zayne. 

Zayne.

Where is he now?

The hospital bed groans under your thrashing body. It hurts, but it won’t be for long. He’s here somewhere, and if you can just get to him, he’ll make it better like he always does. 

Zayne. Zayne. Zayne. 

As soon as you manage to plant one foot on the ground, the door to your room swings open. 

When Zayne steps through, face weary and teal scrubs more ruffled than he’d usually allow, your body melts in relief. 

His dim hazel eyes lighten a bit when he sees that you're awake. Then, they zero in on your injured form hanging precariously off the bed. 

“Going somewhere?” His voice is flat, unamused. He crosses the room in four long strides, gently lifts your errant leg, and repositions you properly on the mattress. All the while, he expertly dodges your weakened attempts to pull him down with you. “You need to stay here. Movement can exacerbate your injuries.”

“Okay.” You swallow thickly, eyes brimming with unshed tears. This time, when you reach for him, he wraps you into his warm embrace. 

Zayne shifts to hold you as best he can, avoiding the wounds and gauze on your head, arms, and shoulders. In the silence, your breaths and heartbeats slowly start to sync.

Clutching his shirt in your fingers, you speak softly into his skin. “You weren’t here when I woke up.” It’s not an accusation, but more a lamentation.

“I’d planned to stay with you, but a patient needed an emergency operation not long after they brought you here. I was in surgery for the last five hours. I came as soon as I could.”

You start to nod into his shoulder, but he stills your head to limit your movement. Instead, you give him something between a hum and a grunt. 

“What happened?” he asks after a moment.

“I tried to take the interstate on my way to work. The one we used to practice since I was so scared of all the traffic here. But when I went to merge…I barely even saw the other car. I just remember the crash, and the ambulance, and I knew they were taking me here—I saw the sign—and I panicked. I haven’t been in the hospital since I was a kid. Every time they’d let me out of bed to walk around, there was a new family crying in the halls. I didn’t ever want to go back.” Your voice is hoarse by the time you finish—barely more than a whisper. Pulling back slightly, Zayne cracks open the bottle of water on the bedside table and holds it to your lips. You drink gratefully, wrapping both hands around his wrist.

Once you’re done, he leans in close and presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re very brave for trying that by yourself. But should something like this happen again, you can't delay getting treatment because of me. Let them help you.” 

“You know I don’t—I’ve never felt comfortable in places like this. There’s so much pain and grief here. I don’t know how you handle it.” Your throat constricts, and his hold on you tightens as wetness seeps into his shirt. “I was so scared.”

“I know. But I was, too. Not knowing what I was walking into, what kind of state you’d be in when I arrived…I was terrified.”

You bite your lip, discovering an undetected cut at the top. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t. Just promise me that you'll always make your wellbeing a priority, whether or not I’m within reach.”

“I want to. But it’s hard,” you mumble. “You’re really responsible, you know. And kind. And nice. And smart. And—”

You’re ready to prattle on, but you cut the praise short once you spot his pink-tinged cheeks. “You’re a lot of good things,” you pivot. “Most of all, you make me feel safe. But…”

“But?” he echoes, threading a hand through your hair.

“I get anxious without you,” you admit. “When I’m with you, I feel like everything will be alright, but when I'm not…it feels like the world is ending sometimes. And I'm there in the thick of it, lost and alone.” Your self-deprecating laugh worsens the ache in your chest. “I just feel like I depend on you a lot. Maybe too much.” 

He’s quiet for a few beats, constructing his response with the utmost care. “You should be able to depend on me,” he begins softly. “That's my job as your partner. But you lived many years before we met. Your agency isn’t reliant upon my physical presence, though you may feel it is.” He clears his throat. “I’d never be opposed to spending every second by your side. But when I can’t, I hope you’ll still feel me right there with you. Cheering you on, supporting you. That’s when I feel most at home.

“I could never stray too far from the one I love. So, although I may not always be present, I’m in your heart, as well as your thoughts. Even if you have to ask yourself, ‘What would Zayne do?’ to find your way forward, I trust you can come to the right answer. He would do whatever he could to keep you safe and healthy.” 

If you weren’t certain he’d scold you for moving, you’d duck your head under your blanket in embarrassment. Instead, you simply whine and avert your gaze, heart fluttering at his words. 

“You understand, don’t you?” he coaxes. “Can you take care of yourself for me?”

You purse your lips, still clutching his scrubs tight despite his ask. When you answer, your voice wavers in uncertainty. 

“I’ll try.” 

For the first part of the afternoon, Zayne keeps you company. He reads to you from Yvonne’s romance novel, supervises while you switch between games on his phone, and opens the blinds so you can people-watch from the comfort of the seventh-floor window.

When boredom strikes, you put on a game show on the midsize TV, guessing most answers wrong while he gets them right. 

When a staff member brings you a snack, you urge Zayne onto the too-small bed with you and share a tapioca pudding cup, tactfully ignoring the healthy serving of carrots on the side.

Soothed by his warmth and steady heartbeat, you feel your eyelids grow heavy after a while. In his arms, the room’s oppressive white and whirring machinery become no more than a quelled threat. But when the shrill beep of his pager cuts through the quiet, your body goes rigid with fear forgotten.  

“There’s another operation soon. I'll have to leave in a moment.”

“A-Are you sure?” Your eyes widen in dismay. “Can’t Greyson—” 

Recalling your promise from earlier, you reel yourself in and take your bottom lip between your teeth. As you lower your head and prepare to apologize, Zayne cups your warming face in his hands. You nuzzle into him greedily. 

“Greyson has already done all he can. His selflessness this afternoon is the reason I’ve been able to stay with you for this long. I suppose I owe him a coffee for that.” He curves his lips upward slightly, hoping your frowning ones will follow. “On the bright side, it’s the last surgery of the day. I'll be back here to see you once it’s over.” 

“Okay,” you whisper. You know he hears your voice break. Even if he doesn’t, you can't blink fast enough to stop the first few drops from falling.

Regret quickly takes the place of his smile. His face contorts into a grimace as he racks his brain for a solution, eventually nodding to himself resolutely. “Wait just a moment, all right? I’ll be right back. There’s something I need to do.” He kisses your hair once more, then waits for you to nod your agreement. Then, he walks briskly out of the room. 

The temperature seems to plummet. 

You curl in on yourself as best you can, the last round of painkillers wearing off fast. But Zayne brings you a warmth that’s unreachable alone.

You try to wait for him, you really do. But maybe it’s a miracle that sleep tugs at you in a place like this. 

When you pry your heavy eyelids open, the sun is just beginning to set. You’re certain you were out cold whenever Zayne returned to your room earlier, and you can’t help but groan. From the looks of it, he’s still in surgery—no telling when he’ll be back to help you spend the night in your least favorite place. 

Desperate to pass the time, you start to reach for the TV remote, only to nudge something soft tucked into your side. Upon further inspection, you recognize the hospital’s gift shop logo stitched onto a black paw pad. 

Beside you is a grinning polar bear plush, a pair of lensless spectacles sitting on its short snout. On its blue bib sits a get well soon message; between its outstretched paws is a brief note. That paradoxically legible handwriting…you’d know it anywhere. 

I’m here with you always. Take care of yourself. 

Your Zayne

[flirtwithluck]

Ok imma need yall to hear me out on this. Lads men reacting to someone else paying for MC's stuff when she goes out shopping for clothes, getting her hair done, getting her nails done, etc. I can only imagine how ENRAGED they'd be like "excuse the actual fucketh bc WHY IS A MAN THING PAYING FOR YOUR THINGS?!?? I know that youve been blessed bu the goddesses but DAMN!!"

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request, anon! Thank you for trusting me - it was such a fun prompt to explore. I hope I captured what you were picturing. Happy reading! 💝

Summary: Different bills. Different strangers. Same reaction : "I've got her."

A collection of Love and Deepspace drabbles centered around jealousy, possessiveness, and the LIs absolutely refusing to let another man pay for you.

Pairing: all the LIs (separately), including Valko x Reader

Content : established relationship, romance, domestic fluff, protective LIs, jealous LIs

MINE TO SPOIL

XAVIER (word count : 346)

Today is not off to a good start.

You failed to wake up to your alarm, which meant getting ready was a frantic rush.

With no time to make breakfast, you stop by a bakery on your way to work. There’s no way you can survive on an empty stomach, especially without your usual cup of coffee.

After placing your order, you wait near the pickup counter.

“One cheese-and-ham sandwich and an Americano,” the server calls, setting the items down. “That’ll be €6.50.”

You fumble to retrieve your purse, but the zipper on your bag refuses to budge.

Tugging at it, you mutter a curse under your breath.

You don’t have time for this. You’re already running late.

“I’ve got it.”

A hand reaches past you and places a €10 bill on the counter.

You look up to see your neighbor, Charlie, smiling warmly.

“Charlie?!” you say, startled. “Thanks so much. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“No need,” he says with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Your eyes dart to the clock on the wall.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m really late for work.”

“I can give you a ride,” Charlie offers politely.

“That won’t be necessary.”

The familiar voice comes from behind you.

You turn just as Xavier steps forward, stopping quietly at your side. His expression is calm, though there’s a faint hint of irritation in his eyes.

“Xavier?” you blink in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

When you left earlier, he had still been fast asleep in bed.

“Xavier, good to see you,” Charlie says with a friendly smile.

“Please send me your account details. I’ll transfer the money back to you.”

“You’re in a hurry, right?” he says, turning his attention back to you. “Let’s get you to work first.”

Before you can react, he gently takes your hand and leads you out of the bakery.

As you walk down the street, Xavier speaks again, his voice quiet.

“Next time, wake me up. I can make you breakfast… or bring it to your workplace.”

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

ZAYNE (word count : 423)

Zayne and you aren’t really the type to dine at upscale restaurants.

Not because you can’t afford them, but because you both prefer smaller places - the kind that feel cozy, quiet, and warm, as if the meal had been prepared by a home cook.

Lately, though, people have been raving about a newly opened restaurant, and eventually curiosity gets the better of you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” the waiter asks.

“No, thank you,” you reply. “I’m so full I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“The food was excellent,” Zayne adds. “Please give my compliments to the chef.”

“Of course, sir,” the waiter says with a polite nod.

“And the bill, please.”

“Certainly. I’ll be right back.”

As the waiter walks away, Zayne glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“For someone who said the food looked too pretty to eat, you seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.”

Before you can defend yourself, a voice interrupts you.

“Good evening. I’m sorry to bother you.”

A man who looks vaguely familiar approaches your table.

He turns to you. “Do you remember me? You saved me from a Wanderer attack a few days ago.”

“Ah, yes. I’m glad to see you’re doing well,” you say with a small smile.

“Your partner is very brave,” the man says, glancing toward Zayne. “I’d like to pay for your meal as a token of my appreciation.”

Zayne stills, his gaze following the man’s hand as he places a credit card on the table.

Without a word, Zayne reaches into his wallet and takes out his own card. He hands it to the waiter.

Then he slides the stranger’s card back toward him.

“Your gratitude is appreciated,” Zayne says evenly, “but that won’t be necessary.”

“Her time - and her bill - are already accounted for tonight.”

His tone is polite, yet cool enough to leave little room for argument.

The man flushes slightly, retrieves his card, and quickly mutters an apology and another thank-you before excusing himself.

Once you’re back in the car, Zayne loosens his tie with a single practiced tug as he starts the engine.

After a moment, he speaks.

“Do you usually let strangers take care of you?”

Before you can answer, he reaches over and takes your hand.

“Let me take care of these things,” he says, eyes still on the road. “Always.”

You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face.

Zayne’s jealousy is rare, but you can always tell when it surfaces.

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

RAFAYEL (word count : 456)

You and Rafayel are attending a high-end charity art auction.

It was originally Thomas’s idea - a way for Rafayel to maintain his public image - but Rafayel immediately rejected the suggestion.

Naturally, Thomas turned to you for help.

You explained that you had never been to an art auction before and were curious about the experience. Besides, since it was a charity event, Rafayel would be contributing to a good cause and going together would undoubtedly make the evening more enjoyable.

Eventually, Rafayel agreed.

Of course, as a famous artist, it didn’t take long for the event organizers to pull him away, eager to introduce him to other guests and collectors.

Leaving you alone.

You stand in front of a sculpture when a bidder approaches.

“You have a good eye,” he says. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” you reply politely.

“You have good taste,” he continues, gesturing toward the sculpture.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you admit with a sheepish smile. “I’m not exactly an art connoisseur.”

“But I can appreciate its beauty.”

“If you were a sculpture, you’d certainly be worthy of praise and admiration.”

You let out an awkward laugh at the compliment.

It’s clear that this person is flirting with you.

A voice carries through the room, interrupting the conversation.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The auction is about to commence.”

The bidder gives you a small nod before walking away, and you release a quiet sigh of relief.

You weave your way through the rows of seats until you reach Rafayel. Taking the seat beside him, he offers you a smile and hands you a bidding paddle with the same number as his.

The first item up for auction is the very sculpture you were admiring moments ago.

The bidder from earlier raises his paddle.

“Fifty thousand euros.”

Murmurs and gasps spread through the room as people notice he has bid five times the starting price.

“Please put it under Miss Number 17.”

Number 17?

That’s your number.

Stunned, you look across the room and meet his gaze.

Then you turn back to Rafayel.

His expression is a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“Rafayel, this isn’t what you think…” you begin quickly.

Rafayel narrows his eyes.

“I leave your side for five minutes,” he says dramatically, “and instead of admiring the art, you’re out here collecting admirers?”

He pouts, clearly offended.

Before you can respond, Rafayel raises his paddle with exaggerated confidence.

“Fifty thousand?” he scoffs. “Pluuheese. Put her down for triple the price.”

Your eyes widen, and you completely forget how to speak.

Rafayel simply leans back, giving the bidder a smug, challenging look.

The room falls silent.

“Going once. Going twice. Sold to Mr. Rafayel.”

The clerk’s gavel strikes the podium.

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

SYLUS (word count : 397)

When Sylus invited you to join him at a casino, you were surprised.

Although you had always been curious about such places and had more than once thought about visiting one with your friends someday, your moral compass had always stopped you.

You were firmly against gambling, knowing how easily it can ruin lives.

Sylus explained he was only there to meet with a few business associates.

He made it clear that you were free to decline if the environment made you uncomfortable. However, if you decided to join him, you didn’t have to participate in any of the games. You could simply stay by his side, or use his card if curiosity got the better of you.

Upon arrival, Sylus was escorted to an exclusive private lounge, leaving you alone for the time being.

You wandered through the casino, observing the elegant tables and the players focused on their games. The more you look, the more you realize you don't even know how to play any of the games even if you wanted to participate.

Eventually, you stopped beside a roulette table, standing close enough to watch but far enough away that no one would mistake your curiosity for interest in joining.

Little did you know, you had already drawn the attention of a wealthy, arrogant high-roller.

While Sylus remained occupied with his business associates, the man casually placed a single €10,000 chip onto the betting square closest to you.

He smirks as he says, “Next round is on me, sweetheart.”

Before you could even process what is happening, a leather-gloved hand settles around your waist, pulling you flush against a broad chest.

Sylus towers behind you, his dangerous, crimson gaze locking onto the high-roller.

He doesn’t look angry.

He looks amused - in the most terrifying way possible.

With a lazy flick of his finger, Sylus sends the stranger’s expensive chip right off the table. It rolls across the casino floor like a cheap piece of plastic.

“You’re throwing pocket change at what belongs to me?” Sylus says, his voice deep. “Pitiful.”

The man’s cheek flushes - either from anger, embarrassment, or both, you can’t tell.

“She doesn’t play for pennies,” he adds.

“If you want to gamble your life away so badly, you can bet against me instead.”

The challenge in his voice is unmistakable.

The high-roller mutters something under his breath before storming off

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

CALEB (word count : 392)

Caleb is the type of person who spoils you relentlessly and pampers you without hesitation.

At first, it made you feel uncomfortable and uneasy. You weren’t used to being treated this way, and the last thing you wanted was for anyone to think you were taking advantage of him.

Over time, however, you slowly grew accustomed to it, realizing that this was simply Caleb’s way of showing you how much he loves and cares about you.

After complimenting one of your friend’s dresses, you ask where she bought it.

She tells you the name of a trendy boutique, and the moment you mention it to Caleb, he immediately insists that the two of you go together.

After spending a considerable amount of time browsing through countless options and trying on outfit after outfit in the fitting rooms, you are finally ready to check out.

Caleb places the clothes you have chosen on the counter before suddenly remembering one more thing he wants to pick up.

He dashes off.

The sales assistant begins scanning your items one by one, folding each piece and placing them neatly into shopping bags.

Then, out of nowhere, a flashy man in an expensive tailored suit approaches the counter.

You notice that he has been glancing your way throughout your shopping trip.

Before you can react, he places a sleek platinum card on the counter.

With a charming smile, he turns toward you.

“Put it all on mine. Beautiful clothes deserve to be worn by a beautiful woman.”

Before the sales assistant can even reach for the card, it suddenly becomes impossible to move.

The card remains pinned firmly against the marble counter, held in place by an invisible force.

Caleb’s Evol.

Caleb steps forward, his entire posture shifting into the disciplined stance of a soldier. His broad shoulders completely block you from the stranger.

He places a firm hand on the man’s shoulder. The pressure of his grip - amplified just slightly by his gravity Evol - enough to make the man’s posture buckle under the sudden weight.

“Look, buddy,” Caleb says, his voice taking on the same commanding tone he uses when addressing the fleet.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re going to pick up your card, take three steps back, and walk away.”

His gaze sharpens.

“I’m only going to ask nicely once.”

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

VALKO (word count : 440)

You have been snowed under with work for the past few weeks, and as a result, you’ve completely neglected yourself.

Your hair is a mess of split ends, and your fringe has grown so long you can barely see through it. And don’t even get started on your nails - broken, chipped, and covered in nail polish that is barely hanging on.

When you call your usual salon, they tell you that your stylist is on a two-week vacation and no one else is available to take you.

You try a few other salons, only to be met with the same problem: either their stylists are fully booked, or they can’t offer an appointment that fits your schedule.

Fortunately, you have an amazing boyfriend.

“I called your workplace to let them know you’re taking tomorrow off. Non-negotiable,” Valko tells you the moment you get home.

“I’ve booked you in for a hair appointment, a manicure, and a pedicure,” he adds.

“At least, I think that’s what those services are called.”

“I’ll drive you there tomorrow and pick you up when you’re done. Just call me.”

You immediately reward him with kisses all over his face, scratching affectionately behind his wolf ears.

The salon Valko takes you to the next day looks like the kind of place celebrities and the wives of wealthy businessmen frequent.

Several hours later - a much longer stretch of pampering than you have ever spent in a salon before - you finally emerge feeling presentable again.

The staff who took care of you were wonderful: friendly, attentive, and highly professional.

You make a mental note to leave a five-star review and a generous tip as you head toward the checkout counter.

No doubt this place is expensive, and the services you had done would probably cost an entire month’s salary, but Valko had assured you that he would cover everything.

Suddenly, a wealthy, slick businessman steps up to the counter beside you, drops a high-tier membership card, and flashes you a smarmy grin.

“Put the lady's bill on my VIP tab. A gorgeous face like yours shouldn't have to worry about the price of upkeep.”

Just then, a towering 6'2" muscular frame steps into the man’s personal space.

A low, rumbling growl vibrates from his chest, raising the hairs on the back of everyone's neck.

Valko’s stance is one of danger and predatory stillness.

His golden eyes flare with an intense, territorial heat.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“Upkeep? Her scent is already marked on my ledger. “I don’t let anyone else pay for the woman I intend to take care of for the rest of my life.”

Tag list : @cordidy @thehyperfixationgirly @pjselee

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to check out my other Love and Deepspace fanfiction.

[snowprincessnami]

another day of check-in and another glitch💀 and y'all STILL don't wanna bring back our wolfie

[miss-hunt3r]

So true..I just wanna shower him with kisses... everywhere...my beloved doc 😘

Cr: fvstn on X

[mysweetstrawbby]

soothing pains

╰─ ♡ dad!zayne x reader

˚₊ · »-♡→ ; fluffy headcanons

˚₊ · »-♡→ ; been a bit busy! buut i hope u enjoy this little thing i whipped up 𐔌՞꜆.  ̫.꜀՞𐦯 ྀིྀ

baby has a chewing problem.

her growing pains from teething can only be soothed when her gums are gnawing on something, and despite the numerous teething devices you and zayne have purchased, she has her personal favorites.

#1 zaynes badge/lanyard

anytime the two of you visit zayne for lunch, she reaches to be held by him immediately! there was one time zayne was still wearing his coat, and she grabbed the small badge out of curiosity..only then to chew on her fathers photo 3 seconds later. now anytime she sets her eyes on it she must chew!! he’s learned to sanitize it. it got to a point where you had to make a makeshift lanyard for her with trinkets on that are actually meant for teething. but she refused to use it until zayne added one of his older badges.

#2 zaynes cheek

it started when he was laying on the bed, watching her closely during tummy time. she was laying down on the u-shaped pillow while playing with her toy piano when zayne decided to slide himself closer. he looks up at her with fondness and caresses her cheek out of impulse. she stops and looks over at him, her eyelashes flutter softly- and now his face was getting squished with the surprisingly strong force of two small hands. not only that, she decided he would be the perfect snack! he chuckles as he gently moves his face away, not phased by the slobber. she definitely picked this up from you squishing and biting her and zaynes face out of cuteness aggression. but then her outstretched arms and grubby hands pull his face back closer, her gums meeting the plush of his cheek once again. he sighs and accepts his fate, “i’m being held hostage.”.

and yes she will occasionally chew on yours as well, though she has a preference for zayne. you can’t say you blame her…

#3 zaynes hands

she mostly does this when he’s somewhat distracted. he’ll be holding her on the couch, one hand wrapped around her middle and the other laying on the armrest. you’re showing him a clip from the new episode of a show you’ve binged when she suddenly leans over slightly to take ahold of his hand. at first she was just tracing his ring, the cold silver immediately catching her attention and- now she’s gnawing on it. sometimes when she’s particularly fussy and the pain is much more intense, he will use his evol. the coolness helps to soothe the numbness! though, zayne refrains himself for letting her chew on them too often. mostly worried his evol may one day become erratic or out of control.

[snowprincessnami]

FACE CHEWING🥹🥺😭