Cleaning up the Timeline
{My contribution to the fandom. The obligatory "everyone lives together in one big house and they kiss kiss kiss, and they love love love each other.}
Read on ao3.
Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Maid AU, Eventual Smut. SFW (For now) Mentions of grief and severe depression.
Chapter 1: Suspended?
Sitting on a park bench in the middle of winter is not how you thought youâd be spending this afternoon. Though, you arenât sure where you would like to be at the momentâ shivering and sniffling as the wind whips at your face is not it.Â
Involuntary Leave. God, the sound of Jennaâs voice just wouldnât leave your mind. She had said it so softly, like speaking to a baby bird. Like the last vestiges of your sanity would crumble if she spoke above a whisper.Â
After the explosion that hadâ that hadâŚ.After the explosion, youâd had a hard time. You did your best. Getting up in the morning. Reporting for duty. Killing a wanderer here and there. But you must have gotten lost somewhere along the way. Because a week turned into a month and then suddenly, Captain Jenna is in front of you with a sad expression and a packet of papers neatly tucked into a folder.Â
Apparently, you hadnât shown up for work several times this month, and when you did you refused to go on patrols. Even your desk work was shoddy and riddled with obvious errors.
Tara had tried to cover for you on multiple occasions, but everyone at this point had noticed your zombie state. Though, Jenna had been kinder when she mentioned it.Â
âYouâre off your game.â She had said. âTake some time. Iâve found some counselors and put their information in the folder. When youâre ready, your position here will be waiting. I swear.â
The wind picks up, slapping your hair across your face and pulling you from your thoughts. The tips of your fingers had long since gone numb, and your feet feel like dead weights.Â
Now what? All the information in the packet, yet no one had told your landlord that it was temporary. That bald jerk had gotten the notification of a change in your employment, and the next day you received a message requesting the keys.
If you had a nickel for every time youâd lost everything. Youâd have two.
Snot drips down from your nose, the cold once again insisting on reminding you of its presence. Just as you go to wipe it away, your phone buzzes.Â
I just left the hospital. Iâll be there in ten.
-Zayne.
Thatâs right. You were supposed to have lunch today. Zayne had insisted at the last check-up on it. He wasnât very subtle in his worry for you, but a free lunch sounds like just what you need right now.Â
You had enough money left for a storage unit for your furniture, and had packed everything else in an oversized suitcase. The poor baby-pink luggage had only seen one other use before now, and it stands out against the snow thatâs beginning to stick to the ground.Â
You have to double check which restaurant youâre meeting at, the details escaping your already flighty mind. It isnât a far walk, which is good, because the double digit number in your bank account bars you against a hotel, let alone a taxi.Â
With your suitcase at your side, you make your way to the restaurant. The little blackboard sign out front displays an overly enthusiastic caricature of a mug, and advertises the new options for hot cocoa.Â
Of course Zayne would pick a place like this. You enter into the blissfully well-heated establishment and scan the room for a familiar mop of charcoal hair.Â
âWhat good timing.â A dulcet voice rumbles from behind you. With a slight jump, you turn, seeing the very man you were looking for enter. Speckles of snowflakes dot his hair and decorate the beige of his coat. He smiles gently and unwinds the scarf from around his neck. âShall we sit?â
You follow him to a corner seat next to a window and tuck your suitcase next to your chair. Now that youâre sitting in a climate controlled room, you release a bone-deep sigh.
âYou really should be wearing gloves.â Zayne notes as he finishes pushing in your chair and goes to sit across from you. âAnd a hat. The weather report called for more than four inches of snow tonight.â
âOh,â You say dreadfully. âIâŚI just forgot.âÂ
Zayneâs eyes narrow slightly as he slides one of the menus in front of you. âAre you traveling?â
âHuh?â You blurt, looking up from the pastel colors of the menu.Â
Zayne doesnât reply and simply nods towards the obnoxiously colored bag at your side.Â
Crap. You think as a flush blooms across your cheeks. You hadnât really thought about it, but what could you say? âOh no Zaynie! Iâm not traveling! I got kicked out of my apartment after I was pretty much fired from my job! I have enough in my bank account for a hotel, and that's only if I turn a trick on the way there!â
Zayne might have known you longer than anyone else alive at this point, but your pride prevents you from divulging your latest shame. Of everyone you know, Zayne has his shit together the most. How could you expose yourself for not only not having your shit together, but being so far up shitâs creek without a paddle youâre in the snow?
âOh um,â You stall as you try to think of an excuse, âYeah. A spontaneous trip, I guess.â
Zayne lifts his menu and begins to browse it, but youâre aware of the frequency with which he glances up at you. Suspicion swirling in his golden-green eyes.Â
A peppy waitress walks over and Zayne orders two waters and two hot chocolates. A salted caramel for him, and you pick out your choice from the dozen or so options.Â
The happy, young lady scurries away, and you feel a bitter pang of envy. She probably doesnât have a care in the world. She probably hasnât had to mourn anybodyâ while youâre stuck mourning two families now. Try as you might to fight it, youâre jealous of the peppy waitress and her simple, simple life.Â
âYouâre quieter than usual.â Zayne comments as he relaxes back in his seat. The snow outside has picked up now, casting a white haze over the street. The sidewalk has a good coating of it, and the people who walk by are hunched and hurrying.Â
Just your luck to be homeless during a blizzard.
âJust a lot on my mind, I guess.â You reply with as much cheer as you can manage. âHowâs work? You mentioned an uptick in trauma cases last time I saw you?â
The corners of Zayneâs mouth curl downwards. âFrom what I can gather, thereâs been more random Wanderer attacks. People being ambushed in places usually deemed secure. As a Hunter, youâve surely noticed the same?â
No, no you hadnât.Â
âRight. I-uhâ Iâve been doing more deskwork lately.â You say lamely, but suddenly remembering the frequency with which your Hunterâs watch has been going off lately, maybe that was it? Youâd thought you were just losing time in between notifications. âThere has been more commotion, though.â
The waitress returns with your glasses of water and oversized mugs of hot chocolate; a polite smile and pen at the ready for your food order. Zayne orders a honey glazed salmon dish, while you choose something as filling as you could. Who knew the next time youâd eat out?
Once again, the waitress leaves, and Zayne turns his pressurized attention back to you. It always felt like he was reading you somehow, like a poker player at a high-stakes table. You wonder if he could see your tells. If, somehow, heâd deduced your unfortunate circumstances from innocuous movements of your eyelashes.Â
His phone on the table buzzes a few times, long drawn out hums of a phone call that made his phone glide to the side. âForgive me, I need to take this.â
Always the gentleman. He lifts it, and with a sigh he answers.Â
Zayne didnât even get a chance to greet the other person before an angry voice was shouting belligerently through the receiver. Zayne pulls the phone away from his ear with a slight grimace.
You canât tell what the other person is shouting about, only that theyâre mad. Ranting pointedly at Zayne with no regard for the safety of his eardrums.
âCalmââ A sigh, âCalm down. I canât understand anything youâre saying.â
Another tirade of shouting sounds from the other end, muffled and garbled by the small speaker. Zayne flinches again and sighs, âAlright, alright. Iâll take care of it. I understandâ Huh? No, Iâll find someone new. â Well, you'll just have to deal with the mess until then.â
A more subdued response came from the phone, quiet enough you only heard the soft mumbles of their voice. Zayne nods along for a moment before mumbling out a gentle goodbye.Â
âI apologize.â Zayne says as he sits his phone back down. âMyâŚcolleagues are difficult at times.â
You chuckle softly, âThat didnât sound like Greyson or anyone else I know at the hospital. Sounded like they were raging. Everything okay?â
Zayne exhales heavily through his nose and rests his hand on the table, tapping his fingers a few timesâ a habit. You could see a few remnants of pale scars across his thumb and his knuckles, ghosts of run-ins with his unruly Evol.
âHe fired another housekeeper.â Zayne grumbles, âThatâs six now in two months. I fear weâll gain a reputation at this rate.â
âYou have a housekeeper?â You ask with a slight tilt of your head. You thought perfectly neat and tidy Zayne would have no need for a housekeeper.Â
âHad a housekeeper.â Zayne amended. The waitress returned and placed your plates in front of you, refilling your waters and skipping away.
âI wouldn't think you would need one. Is your apartment big?â You ask as you nudge at some vegetables on the plate with your fork.Â
âI moved last year. A house on the outskirts of the city.â Zayne replies, âItâs too big for me to take care of myself, and the others are less than helpful.â
âYou have roommates?âÂ
âThree.â Zayne finishes his hot chocolate before turning to his food, âThough, Iâm not sure how managing the house fell to me. I think the manager at the agency will throttle me if I try to go back again.â
You pause, âSo, you need a housekeeper? Isnât that expensive?â
Zayneâs expression hardens a bit. Youâd never discussed money before, nothing more than debating who would cover a bill at a restaurant.Â
âWe split the expenses.â Zayne offers with a small shrug. âWhy? Debating hiring one of your own?â
His joke doesnât register because your mind is cooking up a half-baked, under seasoned idea. You drop your fork and it clatters onto the table, âLet me do it.â
Zayne blinks, âWhat?â
Leaning forward in your seat, your heart is pounding in your ears. You feel like you just put every last dime on red twenty-three and the roulette wheel is spinning. âIâll do it. Iâll be your housekeeper.â
Zayne covers his mouth with the back of his hand in a soft airy laugh, but it quickly fades when he sees your expression. He clears his throat and assesses you with that cool, calculating stare, âWhy on earth would you want to do that? What aboutââ
âZayne, please.â You interrupt him, and the cold edge to his stare melts. He looks caught off-guard, and why wouldnât he be? You huff out a mirthless laugh, âLet me do it. Iâll cook and clean and whatever else.â
âAbsolutely not.â He rejects quickly, âThat feels wrong. Youâre my friend and thatâsââ
âI need the money.â You admit with a stone in your gut.Â
Zayne freezes, and you can see the wheels in his genius mind turning. He glances over to your suitcase, and you know youâre found out. âWhatâs happened?â
âI just need enough to get a cheap room.â You say instead of answering his question. âWe can make a contract, and Iâll pay you back, I swear.â
âWhat happened?â The tone in his voice is sharp and strikes you directly in the chest.
You stare down at your untouched food and blink away the stinging in your eyes, âThey put me on leave. The landlord kicked me out. IâŚIâm not traveling.â
The words leave you like vomit, stinging your tongue with the wretched taste of them.Â
âYou can just stay with me.â Zayneâs voice cuts through the growing haze in your mind. The cold fog that youâve been living in for months, brushed away at the warmth in his voice.Â
âNo, I canât do that.â You insist with a shake of your head. âI wonât take advantage of you. If Iâm not working elsewhere, then Iâll earn my keep.â
âThatâs really not necââ
âYes, it is.â You interrupt him again, voice trembling, and you realize how tightly you're gripping onto the tablecloth underneath the table because your fingers begin to ache.Â
You can tell Zayne wants to push it. To others it might look like heâs just irritated, but you can see the uncertainty there. Youâd known him long enough to know when he was silently debating something in his mind. You sit frozen, food growing cold, and wait for his answer. Teetering on a knifeâs edge.
When he sighs and shakes his head, you realize youâve won and some fraying knot in your gut unravels. You smile and try not to look too overjoyed, but the realization you wonât have to sleep on a park bench has just made your week.Â
âEat your food.â He says firmly as he lifts his utensils, âIâll take you to the house afterward.â
You smile and dig in, food tasting better than it has in months.
Your bike is currently in a parking garage at the mall near your old apartment, and so you climb into Zayneâs black sedan while heâ after pulling it from your handsâ puts your suitcase in the trunk.Â
Rubbing your hands together to fend off the leeching cold, you silently thank the gods for sending Zayne to you.Â
His car is nice, with leather seats and a fancy entertainment system, but not flashy. Trimmed with deep colored wood and elegant silver. Thereâs nothing sentimental in the carâ no kitchy trinket hanging from the mirror, or cute steering wheel cover. If you didnât know any better, you might think it was a rental.Â
As Zayne begins to drive in silence, you realize heâs not the type to leave traces behind. His office has a picture of his parents, and a few mementos from patients, but nothing to really mark it as his. His car is bare of him, and you wonder if his house is the same.Â
In your rush to vacate your apartment, you had been sure to keep some sentimental things. Pictures and plushies from your life that now feels a million miles away. Just as much space was dedicated to the keepsakes as it was clothes and necessities.Â
âFor the record,â Zayne says finally as he turns onto a highway. âI am not a fan of this. Your stubbornness is really unnecessary, and Iâd much prefer it if you just stayed as a guest.â
You bite at your lower lip, hating putting him in this uncomfortable position. âIâm sorry, but I canât stand the idea of taking advantage of your hospitality like that. I have no idea how long this will last. Please, let me do this.â
Silence answers but then, a soft laugh, âNever thought Iâd hear someone begging to clean my house.â
You look over at him with your mouth ajar and find that subtle gaiety dancing in his eyes. He could be downright playful when he wanted to be, but it was rare. It had taken you years to understand his dry humor, and to understand the difference between a jab and a jape.Â
âWe should set some expectations, I suppose.â Zayne says before you can retort. âThe house is rather large, and has multiple rooms. The main priority is the common spaces: the living room, kitchen, dining, room, etcetera.â
âI can handle that.â You say with a determined grin.
âThereâs also a gym. A studio. And a garage.â Zayne mentions, glancing at you to gauge your reaction, but you donât back down. âThe bedrooms are for the occupants to clean. They can handle their own laundry, for the most part.â
For lack of anything else, you stare at Zayneâs hands, watching as they flex against the smooth leather of the steering wheel. His scarred knuckles shift as he turns. You feel like you know him so well, able to read him and understand him, but you had no idea heâd moved and no clue how a man like Zayne ended up living with three roommates. It made you wonder how much you really know about him.Â
âGot it.â You affirm with a nod.Â
âCan I at least convince you to take a week before working?â He tries again.Â
The bustle of the city transitions to wide spread out buildings, but not a residential neighborhood like you expected. It feels like a commercial district with rows of tall, wide rectangular buildings and neatly trimmed ornamental gardens.Â
âIâll take a day to settle in.â You offer, and Zayne just sighs.Â
Zayne pulls up to a building that most certainly does not look like a house. It's a plain rectangular thing covered in windows on the second and third floors, but the bottom being plain concrete. He turns through an automatic gate and then down a ramp into a garage below.Â
The bright white of the snowy upper world gives way to the shadowy cavern, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Itâs almost like a parking garage with a series of spots filled with other cars and two bikes.Â
You keep your questions to yourself, though they buzz at the tip of your tongue as Zayne shifts the car into park and exits. You take a deep breath and unbuckle your seatbelt, and by the time you turn to exit, Zayne is opening your door.Â
You flush at the chivalrous treatment and take the hand he offers. Your hand is only mildly warmer than hisâ cool fingers holding your palm with a loose, chaste grip.Â
The air in the garage is cold, but not nearly as frigid as the outside. You fluster for words for a moment while Zayne goes to the trunk and retrieves your suitcase, sliding it out of your range when you try to take it from him.Â
The smirk on his face is equally flustering as it is frustrating. He leads you over to the far wall, and you realize thereâs an elevator.Â
You canât help the impressed whistle as he presses the call button, âAn elevator? Wowee, this is some place youâve got here.â
Zayne chuckles as the elevator door opens and he motions for you to enter first. He follows you and presses the star button for the main floor, âItâs more lavish than what I would have picked, but the others have their tastes.â
âYou havenât told me about your roommates yet.â You mention as the elevator ascends, a touch of nerves sparking in you at the realization that you'll be staying with more people than just Zayne.
âTheyâll likely keep to themselves.â Zayne assures. Another ding and the doors part, this time Zayne steps out first and holds a hand over the doors as you exit.Â
The elevator opens up into a tall foyer. Shiny wooden floors with a long carpet down the middle. The walls are decorated with art youâd think should be in a museum, and a heavy chandelier hangs over your heads.Â
Zayneâs hand ghosts across your lower back and pulls your attention away from admiring the decor, âThis way.â
Nearly boneless, you follow him. Turning around a corner and into a wide, open concept living space. A cozy area with three couches surrounding a large, square coffee table is the centerpiece of the room. A modern fireplace on one side, and TV above it. The windows completely line the opposite wall, with a picturesque view of a garden and the city beyond being pelted with bouts of snow.Â
The kitchen is to the left, separated from the living room by a long bar with square barstools lining it. A hanging light fixture illuminates the area, swirling organic metal holding several pendant lights.Â
Itâs massive. Itâs lavish. Itâs going to be hell to keep clean. This seems like too much house for even four people. Who lives like this?
More paintings fill spaces on the walls, plenty of greenery decorating the corners and surfaces, giving the space a more warm and cozy feel. Youâre certain this place would feel clinical without it.Â
âThis is the main area,â Zayne explains, âThe main kitchen is there, but thereâs a smaller one upstairs.â
Two kitchens? Your mind squawks, but you keep your lips sealed. Nodding with a tight smile when Zayne looks your way.
âThere are two bedrooms on this floor. Two on the next floor. And one below us.â Zayne continues as he turns towards the hall to the right. âThe spare bedroom is upstairs. Follow me.â
Zayne picks up your suitcase and leads you up a staircase and down another hall. He opens a door and lets you inside, setting your luggage on the settee at the end of the bed.Â
For guest bedrooms, this one is very cozy. Instead of sharp lines and modern finishes, itâs more plush. Wooden furniture and warm colored walls. The bedding is a soft cream and there's pastel blue, pink and purple pillows at the head. One of the walls is almost all windows again, but when you step close the cold barely leaks through.Â
Zayne walks to the other wall and opens a door, âHereâs the closet.â then over to the last wall, âAnd hereâs the ensuite bathroom.â
Your heart suddenly swells, feeling overwhelmed. âThis isâŚthank you, Zayne.â
A small smile appears on his face and he approaches youâ you think he might touch you. A gentle touch to your hair or even a hug. You feel yourself brace for it, not moving physically but opening up like a flower to his potential affection.Â
He doesnât touch you, but he does offer you one of those dazzling small but breathtaking grins that he does. The sweetness of his smile reaching the precious gems in his eyes, sparkling with something so genuine it makes your heart hurt.
âI have to return to the hospital.â Zanyne says, and your heart sinks. âFeel free to explore the place. Iâll send a message to the others about the circumstances.â
âIâll probably hide in here til you get back,â You admit with a laugh.Â
âDo you need anything while Iâm out?â He asks, âWere you able to get everything from your apartment?â
âI think so.â You take in a deep breath and let the relief settle in, âThank you again Zayne. We can discuss the specifics when you get home.â
His eyelashes flutter a bit as he reacts imperceptibly to your words, but his smile returns and he nods, âIâll see you then.â
Next->
{Writing Masterlist}
(Proofread Edits: 4/25/2025)














