"What if i were? What if i died right here of low blood sugar because my wife refused to let me have one macaron?” The seriousness in his voice might have fooled anyone but you.
"Stop being dramatic. You’re not going to die of hypoglycemia just by skipping one macaron right after your dental appointment.” With that said, you snatch the plate from his hands and head straight to the kitchen to hide them somewhere he can't find.
When you come back to the living room, you see Zayne lying on the couch with his eyes closed, body still. “Zayne, are you okay?”
A small smile appears on his face at your concerned voice and you roll your eyes. You can't believe what lengths this grown ass doctor with a prestigious medical degree could go for sweets.
You decide to play along and walk over to him, crouching down on the floor. "Oh no. Did the famous cardiac surgeon of Akso hospital dr Zayne Li die of hypoglycemia?” You fake mourn his pretend death. “What a tragedy! I have no choice but to check his heartbeat."
His smile grows bigger, awaiting your touch on his chest, instead he feels them on his crotch.
He grabs your hands off almost immediately and pulls you on top of him, looking equally amused as surprised. "Do you think my heart is located there?”
“It’s not my fault that they're both big and do a very good job in loving me. Anyone could be easily mistaken.” you say while tracing a huge penis on his chest.
He seemed pleased with your answer. “What if i propose a deal? You show me how much you love me by giving me one macaron and i dedicate both my big attributes to love you back?”
“You're trying to sell your body for one macaron?”
He innocently nods, and you giggle. "As tempting as your offer is, Zaynie." You pat his chest and climb off him. "I'm going to have to pass."
"So my wife would rather see me dead than let my teeth rot?”
You shake your head, he's acting like a man in withdrawal except his addiction is sweet and so is his suffering. You almost pity him, “Yes, no sweets for..... a month.”
His face falls comically and you turn away, already running before he becomes more dramatic.
being married to your childhood sweetheart should be the pinnacle of happiness in your life… but when he returns from the war, he is no longer the man you once knew—changed, distant, a stranger with familiar face. will you attain your true love in this lifetime?
genre/warnings:
18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage, jealousy, fluff, explicit smut, hurt/comfort, lady!reader and lord!zayne, based on zayne' card entwined kites
notes:
the allure of lord zayne... yeah, that, prince rafayel and some angsty dose is the plot <3 tagging @hachisenshi @cherrywinetuscany @rjreins @redrookrising as per request
Lady of Anlan.
For years, that title was not something you covet. When you were first promised to Zayne, he had neither titles or rank—just a humble son of a small lord with a big heart and shy smile.
But you fell in love with him with such ease, as he did too for you.
And yet, that honorable title fell into your hands the moment you married him, now better known as the Lord of Anlan—
A man who is not the gentle boy you once knew. He was now cold, detached, and unwilling to spare you even a trace of the warmth he once showed so freely.
It was such a stark contrast that you were left reeling. Six months into your marriage, reality bore little resemblance to the life you had once imagined.
You had once thought your home with Zayne would be warm with laughter, shared meals, and soft conversations lingering late into the night—a place that breathed with comfort simply because the two of you were in it together.
Instead, the halls of the grand mansion granted by the emperor were cold—spacious, immaculate, and lonely.
“My lady, here.”
The voice startled you out of your daydream, snapping you back to focus as your handmaiden, Yvonne, wrapped the shawl around you.
Oh, right. Today you were accompanying your lord husband for his audience with the emperor.
. . .
The journey to the palace was smooth. You sat demurely within your palanquin, lulled by the steady rhythm of the horses’ steps. Now and then, Zayne’s voice carried through the air as he issued clipped commands to his troops.
And before you knew it, your entourage had arrived at the royal palace. The palanquin doors swung open, and the first thing you saw was your husband’s stoic expression.
“My lady,” he muttered, grayish hazel eyes stern, offering his hand to you to assist you out.
Your heart pricked at the sight before you. Zayne had always been steadfast—but before all this, he was never rigidly formal with you like this.
“One day… I will become the greatest general in the land. Will you wait for me until then?”
The memory rose then: a younger Zayne, red-faced, thrusting a jasmine flower into your hands as he stumbled through his confession. It made your chest ache even more.
The things he saw in the wars turned him into this version before you, you believed. Maybe, to him now, the tenderness you once shared during your childhood no longer held any meaning at all.
You took his hand.
“Thank you, my lord,” you replied with equal stiffness, gripping his hand. You didn’t dare look at him while he led you forward.
Yet you still took comfort in one thing—his hold over your hand never wavered, not even as the two of you came to stand before the emperor himself. It was only when he had to let go of you that he did.
“What a pleasing sight it is to see you, Lord of Anlan!”
The emperor was headstrong yet a jolly individual. From his elevated dais, he greeted the two of you with open warmth. Zayne answered with a restrained bow, and you quickly followed his lead.
The emperor’s attention then shifted to you. “And I trust the Lady of Anlan has been well?”
“I am well, Your Majesty,” you replied, fixing a polite smile in place. “Thank you.”
However, you had a feeling that the emperor didn’t actually care about you at all, as the way his sharp gaze lingered on you sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine each time.
He soon turned his attention back to Zayne, and the two spoke at length about matters concerning the fief. Then—
“Is something troubling you, Your Majesty?” Zayne asked, putting on a mask of a concerned subject.
“Oh, yes—yes,” the emperor said with a faux chuckle. “There is something that has been bothering me...”
“And what might that be?”
“Well, the princess royal is still in search of a husband. It’s giving me a headache as she insists on someone just like you… It’s such a pity you turned down my proposal back then, Lord of Anlan...”
You could feel his hot stare on you, and he continued, “Had you accepted the princess’ hand, you would be part of the royal family by now.”
You clenched your fists. It was not the first time this had been mentioned, and each time it was brought up, it always left a bitter taste in your mouth. Zayne had indeed refused a royal marriage decree and chosen you instead—but did he somehow regret that choice that it left him cold and distant to you all this time?
If so… why hadn’t he broken off his betrothal with you back then?
. . .
By the emperor’s command, both you and Zayne were to remain in Yunshao for a time—residing within the imperial palace itself.
The two of you were showed to your temporary chambers, and the moment you stepped inside, you let out a sigh. Behind you, Zayne paused, noticing your weariness.
“Are you tired?” he asked.
You opened your mouth to answer, but the words halted. And in that hesitation, something in your expression must have betrayed you.
“You look unwell,” he observed, tone thoughtful. “If the travel has strained you, I will have the physician summoned.”
“That isn’t necessary,” you replied quickly. “I am fine.”
The silence stretched. He was watching you—not coldly, not warmly either, simply assessing. Then, as if deciding something, he spoke again.
“I will be entertaining the princess royal shortly,” Zayne said, his voice returning to that familiar, careful neutrality. “Her Highness has arranged for it. It would be improper to refuse.”
The princess, again. The woman who had once sought him as a husband never seemed to miss an opportunity to summon him whenever he was within palace walls. Lowering your gaze, you were silently irked.
“Do you… have to go?” You asked before you could stop yourself.
“Yes.”
A default, logical answer. You had expected this but somehow your heart still hurt regardless.
“I see,” you murmured, the words felt hollow even to your own ears.
Zayne didn't linger. As he turned and walked toward the door, his steps were quiet.
And the space between you suddenly felt wider than the vast halls outside your door.
The palace was a world of its own—lavish courtyards, lotus ponds glimmering beneath carved bridges. Servants moved like shadows, each bowing, each whispering, each watching.
Yet none of those gazes ever lingered on you for long.
You were the Lady of Anlan, yes—but not a lady of imperial blood. In a place where lineage was currency, you were a mere general’s wife. Polite smiles were given, greetings exchanged, but you passed through the palace halls like a quiet breeze.
Zayne, meanwhile, was constantly summoned—councils, briefings, private audiences. You saw him only at night, and even then not much that could be talked about.
And so, you learned to occupy yourself quietly. Reading beneath shaded pavilions. Feeding the koi in still waters. Watching the sky shift from pale gold to indigo behind tiled rooftops.
It was during one such day that the palace stirred with unusual excitement—an envoy had arrived from Zhaole.
It was Zhaole’s prince himself who had come to negotiate trade routes. You paid it little mind at first as foreign politics had nothing to do with you... until you were summoned to attend the audience.
You stood at your designated place within the grand hall, slightly behind and to the right of Zayne, when the doors opened.
“His Highness, Prince Rafayel of Zhaole, has arrived!”
Silk banners bearing unfamiliar insignias unfurled as the entourage entered. At its center walked a man whose presence seemed to bend the air around him.
Prince Rafayel was clad in white robes embroidered with cerulean and gold-threaded waves, the fabric flowing like water with every step. His long purple hair and porcelain-like skin were striking. Exceptionally refined and handsome. There was something artful about him, like a masterpiece aware of its own beauty.
His eyes swept across the hall lazily at first—measuring ministers, skimming over the servants—
And then they stopped. On you.
For a fleeting second, you wondered if you were mistaken. But no—his gaze sharpened, as though he had found something unexpectedly intriguing among a sea of expected faces.
And a second later, he smiled—at you, before he resumed his walk.
The prince came to a halt before the dais and offered a bow for the emperor.
“I bring greetings from Zhaole,” he said smoothly, his voice clear as a plucked string. “I am Rafayel. I trust Yunshao’s hospitality will not disappoint.”
The emperor responded with booming warmth, welcoming him to the court. Formalities were exchanged. Polite laughter followed.
But you would never expect what would he do next.
As the formal greetings concluded, Rafayel’s gaze suddenly shifted towards where you stood beside Zayne.
“My apologies,” Rafayel said lightly, tilting his head with deliberate curiosity. “I do not believe I have been introduced to the lady standing beside the esteemed Lord of Anlan.”
The hall grew quieter. You felt Zayne’s posture stiffen imperceptibly, and you—caught beneath the weight of the prince’s attention—found yourself momentarily at a loss.
The emperor chuckled. “Ah... that is the Lady of Anlan.”
Rafayel stepped forward, not too close to breach decorum, but close enough for both your and your husband’s discomfort.
Up close, his smile softened, eyes gleaming faintly.
“Oh, Lady of Anlan...” he repeated, as though tasting the title. Then, inclining his head toward you in a gesture that was respectful, yet strangely personal, he said, “It is a pleasure, madam.”
And that was how you went from being overlooked to the subject of every whisper within the imperial palace.
“Hey… did you see what happened earlier?”
That evening, the palace held a banquet in honor of Zhaole’s prince.
The grand hall was transformed beneath the glow of lanterns. Music drifted softly through the air, accompanied by the quiet murmur of noble voices and the occasional ripple of laughter.
“The imperial prince of Zhaole— he specifically greeted the Lady of Anlan!”
And yet, Zayne wasn’t amused in the slightest.
It was one thing for his wife to become the subject of palace whispers—that alone was enough to draw attention he did not welcome. But it was another thing entirely to realize that his wife had caught the interest of a royal prince.
Zayne didn’t show it openly. His expression remained as composed as ever, but throughout the night, the faint crease between his brows lingered longer than usual, and his gaze would settle on you often.
It was most probably nothing, he told himself. A passing curiosity. A prince’s fleeting amusement in a foreign court.
Across the hall, you stood beneath the lanternlight—radiant without trying. You, his childhood sweetheart, had always been a dear to him.
After he was done conversing with an official, he made his way towards you.
“My lady,” he greeted quietly. You jolted at the sound of his voice, turning to face him.
“My lord,” you replied.
Once, you had called his name freely, whenever you wanted. You would tug at his sleeve, demanded his attention, laughed without restraint. Zayne didn’t like this formality between you, honestly.
“Take a respite if you are tired,” he said then, mostly out of concern. “You have always disliked attending banquets.”
You let out a quiet sigh. “And you have always endured these far better than I ever could.”
When had your relationship become this strained? There had been no single argument that shattered everything. No cruel words spoken in anger that could not be taken back.
Only distance. Distance that crept in so quietly neither of you had noticed until it was already too late.
Zayne inhaled slowly. He didn’t want to say it, but he couldn’t remain silent either— and so he did:
“…Don’t get too close to the Prince of Zhaole.”
You frowned faintly, seemingly not taking his words well. “What are you implying?”
“I am saying,” he began slowly, “that you should not allow his attention to draw you in.”
However, contrary to your usually docile demeanor, your expression hardened immediately.
“I’m not so naive.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
For a moment, you simply stared at him. And then, you pulled back slightly, your chin lifting. “You speak as though I’m incapable of judging character for myself.”
That was not what Zayne was getting at at all, but you were already irate. “I don’t—”
“You entertain the princess, a woman who tried to make you her husband,” you went on, eyes sharp. “So tell me, why is it acceptable for you… but not me?”
Zayne held your gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The music swelled faintly around you, but the air around you felt cold.
There was a lot he wanted to say. That you were not meant for another man’s curiosity. That you are reserved for him only. That to him, you were precious more than anything.
But he knew better than to say it aloud, because you already looked at him with resentment.
“Take care of yourself.” He finally left you with those parting words.
He had never been a man of excessive affection or one to indulge in sweet words. Love, he believed, was best proven through stability, protection—through ensuring that you would never lack comfort nor security.
“Lord Zayne!”
But to give you everything, he was bound to give himself to his duties first.
Zayne held back a sigh and turned towards the voice—the princess royal, a vivacious woman trying to attract his attention, and forced a straight face.
“Your Highness,” he greeted evenly.
His fingers tightened around the stem of his cup, the cool porcelain grounding him.
. . .
While the banquet was lively, the laughter felt distant, the lanternlight a little too bright against your tired eyes. After the argument with your husband, you were honestly considering to retire for the night.
Your chest still felt tight.
It felt like an ache you could not soothe, because you honestly had enough of everything in this marriage. You wanted a husband who was present, not just dutiful— and Zayne wasn’t really fulfilling what you really desired.
You exhaled quietly, intent on leaving the grand hall behind. However—
“My lady.”
You were stopped in your tracks. The velvety voice came from your right. You turned.
Prince Rafayel stood nearby, dressed in darker robes of burgundy, the candlelight catching in the gold embroidery. Up close, his gaze was as intent as it had been earlier—unabashed in its attention.
He inclined his head politely, lips curved in a bright smile. “I trust the palace has been treating you well.”
You lowered your gaze in courtesy, once again bewildered by his presence before you. “His Majesty’s hospitality is generous. I lack for nothing.”
“Is that so?” he questioned lightly, “Is it just my imagination then... that you don’t seem particularly fond of it?”
The comment caught you off guard. You looked up at him, startled. His expression softened, as though aware he had stepped too close to something unheard of.
“Forgive me,” he said, lowering his tone. “It’s merely an observation. I suppose when one’s husband appears to be too close to a certain princess, you’re bound not to enjoy the evening.”
His gaze flickered across the hall, and you instinctively followed his line of sight only to see your husband with the no-nonsense princess, ever composed and attentive. You looked away.
“They say the Lord of Anlan is unmatched in the battlefield,” Rafayel began idly. “That he drove back the pirates without mercy and won the Emperor’s favor through sheer merit alone.”
“Yes,” you said softly. “He did.”
Rafayel glanced back at you, studying your expression.
“They also say,” he continued, “that he governs Anlan with fairness. That the people trust him. That he is a man who does not bend easily, nor does he offer himself cheaply to gain favor.”
Everything he said was true. Zayne was always steadfast. Honorable. Respectful. He had always been that way—even as a boy.
“Yes,” you admitted quietly, a smile slowly forming in your lips. “He is.”
Rafayel watched you for a moment longer, as though weighing something. Then, he reached for a nearby tray and lifted a cup of sweetened wine, offering it towards you.
“While all of them might be true, even the greatest man does not stand alone. Behind him is a woman just as remarkable. You must not diminish yourself beside him, my lady.”
Your breath stilled. An imperial prince was telling you that you were worth more than what you thought you were.
“You may not be a princess,” Rafayel continued, his voice warm but certain, “but you are in no way lesser. Everyone here knows it to be true—or at least, I do.”
Your cheeks flushed from the heat and flattery. “Your Highness... Thank you for your kind words.”
Prince Rafayel’s gaze held yours with quiet sincerity, still smiling. Your fingers closed around the cup before you could think better of it.
“And right now, you are far too lovely to spend the evening looking as though the world has wronged you.”
You let out a small breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and raised the cup to your lips.
The wine was sweet. Warmer than you expected, and the slight bitterness loosening something tight within you.
“Yes, just like that... chin up, my lady. The lanterns favor you better that way.”
You hadn’t realized how much you needed it.
Rafayel said nothing more, merely gesturing lightly when another tray passed. And when your cup emptied, another found its place in your hand.
And then another.
The warmth spread slowly through your limbs, softening the sharp edges of the evening. The distant laughter no longer felt so piercing. The ache in your chest dulled, and replaced by a fleeing sensation and your own laughter.
You drank, and drank... perhaps more than you should have.
But for the first time that night—
It became easier not to look across the hall.
At some point, Zayne realized he had not seen you in a while.
The moment he found a lull in his conversation with the princess, he excused himself at the first opportunity. His eyes swept the grand hall, but you were nowhere among them.
A faint unease settled into his chest, until he passed by his personal guard—
“My lord,” he bowed slightly.
“Did you see the lady?”
“I believe the Prince of Zhaole was seen escorting Her Ladyship out to the western terrace.”
Zayne’s eyes hardened. He immediately made his way towards the said terrace. He found you at last—
And Prince Rafayel stood beside you, too close for his liking.
“My lady, are you sure you’re fine?”
And you—
“Am fine! I’m fine!”
Your hand rested against the stone railing, posture swaying, your cheeks flushed and gaze watery. Flash of anger immediately filled Zayne’s sense at the sight.
Rafayel noticed him first and he turned to him courteously.
“Lord of Anlan,” the prince greeted smoothly, his expression calm. “I was merely keeping your lady company. It seemed the evening had become tiring for her.”
Zayne moved past the prince, taking big strides without acknowledging him.
“…My lord husband?” you murmured, voice soft when your eyes finally landed on him. Zayne immediately reached for you.
“Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, trying to ground you. But you staggered and crashed into his chest. His jaw tightened as he pulled you into his embrace.
That accursed prince had seen you like this.
“I shall take my wife back,” he said through gritted teeth.
Rafayel inclined his head with easy grace, putting on an easy smile. “Of course.”
Zayne put his arm around your shoulder, steadying you. You leaned into him instinctively as he led you through the quiet corridors, away from the prying eyes.
By the time you reached your chambers, your steps had grown even more unsteady. He guided you inside carefully, dismissing the servants with a glance before they could speak.
Your husband sat you gently on the edge of the bed, meanwhile you were still trying to get your bearings, blinking slowly.
“Are you alright? Do you feel dizzy?” Zayne asked, unable to conceal the worry in his voice. His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your warm skin, frowning deep. “I’ll get you some water.”
Your gaze followed his every movement as he crossed the room and poured water into a cup. He knelt before you again once he was done, holding the cup carefully toward your lips.
“Drink,” he coaxed gently.
You stared at cup of water. Then at his hand. Then at him.
Then, with clumsy defiance, you pushed the cup away. Splash!
Water sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his robe and the floor below. Zayne froze.
However, not caring about it at the slightest, you raised your hand abruptly, your finger pointing at him—
“You terrible, detestable, wicked—”
You might be slurring, but your eyes burned with clarity as you spew profanities at him:
“—husband!”
The last word left your lips and you slumped. Throughout the years you had been with him, Zayne had never seen you so openly wounded like this. He stared at you, at a loss of words.
You swayed where you sat, your arm falling limply back to your side.
“Yvonne said I’m pretty,” Your nose scrunched faintly as you sniffled. “My maids said I’m pretty too...”
Zayne tried to reach for you again, but you refuted his touch.
“And Prince Rafayel—” you continued, sounding borderline delirious, “He said I’m no less than a princess... So why—”
Your lashes were wet, tears blurring your vision, and your lips trembled as you glanced up at him:
“—am I not enough for you?”
The question pierced him cleanly. Zayne felt something twist inside his chest at the sight of you. He knew that with everything that had happened, you were bound to resent him. But he had loved you... still loved you even at right this moment.
He closed the distance between you then, gently and firmly taking your face in his hands before you could turn away again.
“Enough?” His voice dropped, dangerously close to breaking. His hazel eyes searched yours as if trying to carve the truth directly into your heart. “You are... You are more than enough.”
His thumb brushed away the tear that fell down your cheek. Something flickered across his expression— the hurt, but when his eyes shifted to your lips, it was replaced by something far more possessive.
“And you— must only look... at me.”
And then, Zayne crashed his lips into yours with fervor. One hand on your waist, he pulled you flush against him. The taste of salt lingered between you, your tears mingling with the heat of his mouth.
“Mmm...” You gasped into the kiss, fingers instinctively clutching at his robe—still damp from the water you had spilled.
He softened only slightly then, angling his head, kissing you slower but deeper. His thumb traced along your jaw, coaxing you to respond, to open for him. And when your lips parted for him, he groaned, before inserting his tongue to tangle with yours.
Each kiss lingered, pressed harder—until you melted into breathless sighs against his mouth.
When Zayne finally pulled back, his grayish hazel gaze held yours with such intensity that made it impossible to look away.
“You are more than enough,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “You undo me.”
His hand slid to your cheek again, gentler now, almost reverent.
“And if I have failed to show you that, then that’s my failing.”
You were half-conscious and all thoughts emptied from your head, spellbound by the restrained desire in your husband’s look.
His thumb traced your lower lip, swollen from his kisses. “Don’t measure yourself against another man’s gaze.”
He would show you how you meant to him, he vowed.
“For mine has never left you.”
. . .
Six months into marriage, and you had learnt that your husband wasn’t as gentle as he looked in marital bed.
With practiced fingers, he worked fast on the laces of your robes as he guided you to the said bed. He kissed the path from your lips to your throat, nipping at your skin— and at the same time, he palmed your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate circles until it tightened beneath his touch, sending a sharp, aching warmth through you.
“Zayne...” you gasped, arching to his touch.
“Tell me what you want, wife,” he growled against your ear, flicking your nipple in the process, making you squirm. “Tell me.”
Words failed you as his kisses grazed your collarbone, leaving love bites there. He followed the path from your shoulder— and you were in for a ride when he took your erect nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.
A cry slipped from your lips, your nails digging into his hair. The sensation was overwhelming—heat pooling low in your belly, your breath coming in uneven gasps as your husband shamelessly suckling you.
“Ahh, mmrgh…”
He held you firmly, feeling every tremor running through your body. But suddenly, he lifted his head, lips glistening and eyes dark with lust, gazing straight at you. “I want to hear you first.”
“I...” your breath hitched, swallowing the shame. “I want your... mouth.”
“Beg.”
You fingers curling weakly against the sheets. “Your mouth, please—” you breathed out, heat blazing on face, “all over me.”
His lips quirked into a satisfied smile. “As you wish, my lady.”
And with that, Zayne moved to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, his sinful tongue swirling before he bit down gently on the flesh.
“Mmngh!” you moaned, head falling to the pillows. His mouth was relentless, and true to his word to fulfill your desire, your husband made sure you were sated with his mouth first.
He rained hot, open-mouthed kisses throughout your chest and abdomen next, and stopped just below your navel, dark eyes clouded with predatory haze.
The thought that he very much could get you swollen with his child after this night was through made himself hard. If his seed were to take hold within you tonight— even Prince Rafayel would know better.
His hand tightened at your waist, his lips pressing into the softness of your folds—and a second later, lapping at it like a man in throes of hunger. You gasped, grasping his hair, as he devoured you down there.
And in no time at all, your lord husband made you come on his tongue.
“Ah—aaah...” Your thighs trembled around him as pleasure washed through you.
He is cruel... You were hazy with drunken lust and tears, but you no longer cared enough to resist.
“Stop…” you whimpered. “Just… make love to me already…”
Your husband’s stern, hazel eyes turned to you, slightly widened at your bold plea. “Is that truly what my lady wishes?”
You glared at him. “Yes.”
And he honored your wish without hesitation. Zayne rose, shedding his garments with swift movements. His magnificent length sprang free, thick and hard, his hand closing around it as he stroked himself slowly—his eyes never leaving yours.
Your lord husband is very, very tantalizing, indeed...
He moved over you, settling his hips between your thighs. One hand wrapped around himself as he dragged his length slowly through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. He pressed against your entrance, the tip nudging there before he stilled, dark eyes once again confirming yours.
“Are you ready to take me, wife?”
You wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him closer. “Please, Zayne— now.”
And with that, he pushed himself into you. You writhed, broken gasps spilling out of you—the way he stretched you was perfect, sinking into you slowly, making you feel every inch of himself.
Zayne grounded you by resting his forehead against yours, groaning into your mouth like a beast in heat. “Perfect,” he choked out.
When he began to move, you lost all your wits altogether. His thrusts were slow at first, each one reaching inside you impossibly deep— “Ah, ah...!”
But the rhythm did not stay gentle for long. It grew steadier, more insistent and faster. The lewd sound of skin slapping resounded in the room, your breathless moans mingled with his harsh grunts.
“Look at me,” Zayne commanded, voice rough. His hand came to your chin, turning your face toward him. “Look at your husband.”
You forced your eyes open, meeting his captivating gaze. In that fleeting instant, you thought you saw everything reflected there—lust, the aching need to be closer than flesh could allow, love.
He adjusted his angle, and suddenly struck that one spot that made you cry out. “T-there!”
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he aimed for that spot again, and again, relentless in his pursuit. Your vision blurred, your cries filling the room, clutching his shoulder helplessly as his unforgiving fingers found your clit—circling and rubbing it, driving you closer and closer to the brink.
And a second later, pleasure crashed through you without mercy. Your walls clenched around his girth, and the feeling of how you pulsed around him pulled a rough sound from his throat, making him lose his control at last.
He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself to the hilt as ropes of his cum filling your womb— sowing a part of himself in you.
The first thing you noticed when your eyes fluttered open was the warmth.
Soft, steady warmth wrapped around you, and golden sunlight filtered through the window, spilling across the bed in beams. For a moment, you simply lay there, suspended between sleep and waking, your body heavy.
Then you became aware of something else. An arm draped securely around your waist—
Your breath caught as the memories of the night before flickered faintly at the edges of your mind.
Last night, you and Zayne were...
You unwittingly let out a gasp, and your voice woke your husband.
Behind you, Zayne stirred. His hold tightened instinctively for a second, as though even half-asleep he refused to let you slip away. A low murmur brushed against your ear—
“…You’re awake.”
His thick voice sent a faint shiver down your spine. You slowly turned in his arms.
You were greeted with his beautiful face. The familiar line of his jaw. The faint crease between his brows as sleep gradually left him. The dark grayish hazel of his eyes as they focused fully on you.
It had been so long since he was in your bed. Long enough that waking up like this—tangled together, bare beneath the sheets, his warmth still wrapped around you—felt almost unreal.
Your lips parted, but no words came. Instead, your eyes grew glassy, emotion rising too quickly for you to contain. The sight of him made your chest ache.
“Y/N?” he asked quietly, catching your forlorn expression. A realization dawned on him—
His arm loosened at once, withdrawing from your waist as though your skin burned him. He shifted back, putting a small distance between your bodies.
“I won’t touch you again,” he said, voice steady, the spark in his eyes dimmed. “If last night was… a mistake in your eyes, then it will not happen again. I give you my word.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. After enduring days and nights of feeling unwanted, to experiencing the most exalting night in your life— only for him to spew this nonsense—
“You stupid, stupid lord!”
Before he could react, you seized the nearest bolster and smacked it against him. Zayne blinked, completely caught off guard as you struck him again.
He instinctively grabbed the sheets to cover himself, trying to shield his face from your assault. “Wife—”
“How dare you—!” you snapped, hitting him again. “You have ignored me for literal months, always busy with that damn princess, and then bedded me— only to say that?!”
Another blow landed against his shoulder.
For a man who commanded armies and terrified courtiers with a glance, Zayne looked utterly defenseless as you continued your attack, his hair disheveled, sheets barely clutched around his waist.
“You’re awful!” you continued, your voice trembling now for an entirely different reason. “I thought—”
Your arm faltered mid-swing, your grip on the bolster loosened. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” you choked out, the first of your tears falling.
The way you teared up made Zayne’s expression change instantly. He moved before you could turn away, his hands found your wrists, drawing you closer despite the awkward tangle of sheets between you.
“How could I not want you?” His thumb brushed beneath your eye, catching the tear there. “Marrying you… has been my goal from the very beginning.”
Your breath hitched. The memory of that spring replayed in your mind’s eye once again: “One day… I will become the greatest general in the land. Will you wait for me until then?”
Zayne’s jaw tightened in regret as he pulled you into his embrace.
“But apparently it was just the start, not the end. After our wedding, I thought that my duty next is to ensure you never have to want for anything. That if I build enough stability… enough wealth, then you would never feel lacking. And in doing so, I neglect something far more important.”
His other hand rose to cradle your cheek fully now. You found his steadfast gaze.
“You.”
Zayne leaned his forehead lightly against yours.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and this time there was no pride left in his voice. “I should have treated you better. I should have been beside you more. Not just as your husband in name—but in truth.”
“You’re so silly.” You stared at him through your tears, poking his chest. “All this time… you thought I only needed wealth? Security?” Your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of the sheets between you. “I was right here, and yet you strayed so far away.”
If being silly was what would get you with him, then so be it. Zayne’s eyes softened in a way few people would ever be allowed to see.
“The girl who chased fireflies with me in the jasmine fields…” he smiled despite himself, picturing the little you who were always full of laughter for him. “When I asked her to wait for me, I also vowed that I would never let her experience any hardships in life once she came to be with me...”
You shook your head immediately, your hand sliding higher, resting over his heart firmly.
“I wanted to marry Zayne,” you said, looking at him with a frown. “Not the Lord of Anlan.”
Something in his expression broke then—not painfully, but like frost melting beneath the first warmth of spring.
His forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes closing as though savoring the closeness he had denied himself for far too long. His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, and in that touch was his love for you.
“And you did,” he whispered. “You married a man who has loved you long before he ever became anything else.”
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I can’t prolong my stay within the imperial palace any further. My wife wishes to return home, and I don’t have it in me to deny her.”
Zayne’s voice was calm and unwavering as he stood before the throne, posture straight and expression composed, facing the ruler of the land himself.
“As for the princess… I am certain a worthy match will present himself in due time. So I humbly ask that Your Majesty refrain from summoning me again for this matter.”
The emperor scoffed, seeing the two of you off with thinly veiled exasperation, but this time, Zayne didn’t bend, nor did he seem troubled by the emperor’s displeasure.
He had chosen you, and from now on, he would continue to do so.
. . .
Preparations for your departure followed swiftly. Your servants and handmaidens moved with practiced efficiency, gathering belongings and readying the palanquin. Yet their eyes lingered, subtle curiosity passing between them as they noticed the unmistakable change.
“Have you seen them?”
“His Lordship hasn’t left her side once.”
“I’ve never seen him look at her like that before…”
Their voices carried in hushed murmurs, behind sleeves and lowered gazes, and you pretended not to hear, only greeted them with the brightest of smiles.
When the time came to board the palanquin, Zayne turned to you and offered his hand openly, a faint, reserved smile resting upon his lips—one meant only for you.
The servants fell into stunned silence as you placed your hand in his, in awe at the picturesque sight of their dashing lord and beautiful lady. It was a simple gesture, one they had witnessed countless times before.
But this time, there was clearly something different in the air.
He helped you into the palanquin carefully, his hold steady—as though you were something precious. And this time, he didn’t ride the horse, but went inside along with you.
“…I think they’ve reconciled, at last,” one handmaiden murmured softly.
“It’s about time,” the lord’s personal guard sighed.
A heartfelt smile appeared on Yvonne’s face. “Ohh, I’m glad!”
And truly, they all were.
They had always admired him—their stern, unyielding lord, a man of discipline and honor.
And they cherished you—the general’s lady, whose kindness had touched every corner of Anlan.
To see the two of you now, no longer separated by silence but standing side by side as husband and wife… It felt like watching the very first blossom of spring unfurl after winter.
And as the palanquin began to move—carrying you home, Zayne looked at you with the tenderest of smiles, never once letting go of your hand.
SYNOPSIS: in which the lads men hear you call them your soulmate for the first time
a/n: hi hi !! i hope you guys enjoy this :3 i had fun writing this i love the idea of soulmates hehe <3 please let me know what u guys think !!!
tags/warnings: ft. xavier zayne rafayel sylus caleb x reader (separate), fluff !!! allusions to sex (xaviers and sylus), consumption of alcohol / being drunk (zaynes and calebs), making out, fear of feelings not being reciprocated, caleb knows you too well, mephisto is a traitor, might be ooc for them sorry </3 let me know if i missed anything!
wordcount: ~1k for each love interest !
masterlist
XAVIER !
It’s not like Xavier had meant to eavesdrop. In his defense he’d planned on getting a snack from the kitchen and then turning on his heel and giving you privacy. But then you let out a giggle and he was all but forced to figure out who was on the other line making you laugh like that.
He makes it three steps down the hall after he realizes you were talking to your friend, your suddenly hushed tone makes him stop in his tracks. Xavier pauses for a moment, he shouldn't eavesdrop, he should go back to bed and wait for you there, you'd tell him everything eventually.
Xavier scurries back around the corner, ears fully engaged as you ramble aimlessly into your phone.
“God he's just so perfect, he remembers things about me that I don’t realize I do, and he's so sweet and thoughtful and hot as fuck,” you laugh. Xavier smirks at your words, crossing his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall.
“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, I don't wanna scare him away y’know? it took us so long to even start dating,” you sigh into your phone. It’s quiet as the person on the other line responds, he can’t quite make out what they’re saying, whatever it is makes you let out a breathy chuckle.
“I mean we already said ‘I love you’ and I do but I don't know this feels like it's more than love,” you chew on your bottom lip, heartpounding as the word sits on the tip of your tongue. You hesitate, playing with the strings of his hoodie you were wearing, smiling as you pictured your lover sleeping soundly in the bedroom.
“is it insane to say I feel like he’s my soulmate?” you smile, practically kicking your feet as you speak the words. Xavier feels his head spin, his mouth dries up as his heart beats harder against his chest.
Soulmate.
Xavier regains his bearings too late, a flash of light already making your head turn to where he was. His cheeks are flushed, ears red and hands shaking slightly as he tries to compose himself, puppy eyes ready to go in case you were mad at him for eavesdropping.
“Xavier? Is that you? Hold on, I think I left the kitchen light on,” you mumble, kicking the blanket off your legs before coming face to face with your glowing boyfriend, golden specks fluttering around him and encompassing the two of you.
His plan on fawning goes out the window when he sees you, dressed in his hoodie and your hair slightly messy from your actions with him before the phone call.
“My star please hang up,” Xavier breathes out, trying to steady his hands as he reaches out for your waist.
“I’ll call you later, bye,” you rush out, barely ending the call as Xavier’s lips meet yours. you can’t stop the smile on your lips as he deeps the kiss, pulling you closer to his body. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Do you mean it?” his voice is strained, grip tightening around you as you stare up at him in confusion. “What you said on the phone, were you talking about me?” the golden orbs around you flicker, their intensity lowering as you stare at your lover in silence.
it takes you a moment for everything to click in your mind, eavesdropping little-
“If it's not me then who? I promise I can be better, I’ll do anything-” he rambles, his grip on you tightening possessively. You cut him off with your lips on his, ignoring the way your teeth clash initially, smiling when he whines softly into the kiss. You relish in the way he holds you closer to him. When you pull away his eyes are dark and pupils wide, you giggle at the way his eyes flutter open.
“I was talking about you, you're the only one for me” you smile up at him, the lights in your apartment flicker, the love of your life glows brighter before you. Xavier pulls you closer to him, face buried in the crook of your neck, stomach flipping as the smell of his laundry detergent mixes with your perfume.
“Say it,” he breathes against your neck, “I wanna hear you say it.”
“You're my soulmate, Xavier," you whisper out, like it's a secret only meant to be heard between the two of you and the four walls of his apartment. “I only want you.”
His grip tightens around you for a second, his warm breath fans over your neck before he presses wet kisses to the skin, humming when he feels your knees buckle as he bites down softly.
“My star,” he mumbles between kisses, “you’re my everything,” he makes his way up your neck, "mine in every lifetime,” a kiss to your jaw. His lips hover over yours for a second, you can feel his breath fanning over you, eyes half lidded, you look at him through your lashes. “I’ll find you no matter what, it'll always be you, my soulmate.”
Xavier's words make your heart stutter and mind melt, closing the distance between you as your lips move passionately against his, hands grasping at the hair at the nape of his neck, smiling when he moans as you tug softly.
“I love you, starboy,” you mumble between messy kisses, "you're only mine, right?”
Xavier whimpers at your words, the sound of a lightbulb shattering makes you pull away. His calloused hand is quick to find your cheek, gently redirecting you back to him. “I’m all yours,” he breathes out, voice hoarse, “and you’re all mine starlight.”
“Don’t think you're off the hook for eavesdropping," you say against his lips, biting at his bottom lip softly before pulling away. Xavier immediately flashes you a small pout with wide eyes and angled brows. You force yourself to look away, feeling your resolve leave your body much too quickly. “Dont look at me like that,” you mumble.
“Can’t I look at my soulmate?” his voice is soft as ever, you can't stop your head from turning to look at him, wide sapphire eyes staring back at you.
You were a goner, and Xavier knew it, but he wasn’t much better.
ZAYNE !
“Jus’ one more drink!” you slur out, stumbling against your boyfriend and he leads you out of the bar, shaking his head at your feeble attempts to break free of his grasp.
“Darling, one more drink and you’ll throw up in my car like last time,” his voice is gentle, slowly leading you to his car as you wave goodbye to your friends reluctantly.
There’s a small pout on your lips as he buckled you in, kissing your temple before closing the door and sliding in the driver's seat. He'd already queue’d your playlist, a small smile on his lips as you sang your little heart out.
There's a pause before the next song blares through his car's speakers, you hum along before turning the volume down, suddenly turning to your lover and staring at him intently. Zayne glances at you a couple times, raising a brow as he bites back a smile at your attempt to look serious (your body sways back and forth and a small smile plays on your lips.)
“I have something like serious business I have to say to you,” you fumble out, watching as Zayne juggles glancing at you and the empty road ahead.
“Okay, go on my love,” he says, voice as steady as ever. It makes your knees weaker than they were already, your heart thumps loudly against your chest as you muster up the remaining liquid courage in your veins.
“Nevermind,” you chicken out, leaning into the plush passenger seat and staring at your boyfriend with half lidded eyes.
“What is it? You can tell me,” he pushes slightly, hazel eyes looking at you softly, it makes your stomach flutter.
“What if you don't feel the same?” you pout, eyes glossing over and bottom lip wobbling the tiniest bit.
The words have Zayne's grip on the steering wheel tightening, the brakes squealing as he comes to an abrupt halt on the side of the road, parking the car and turning his hazards on before looking at you with concerned eyes.
“Do you think I don't love you?” His words are frantic and desperate, your drunken mind misinterprets his tone, pouting as your shoulders deflate.
“No I know you love me it's just-” you mumble, already shifting your body to face the window. Zayne doesn’t let you, his usual composure falling to pieces as he reaches across the center console to have you face him, hazel eyes searching yours, pupils blown wide.
“You can tell me anything, darling,” he breathes out, “will you please tell me?”
The softness in his voice makes your inebriated resolve fall apart, your eyes stare at his lips for a moment before refocusing on your confession at hand.
“I feel like you're my soulmate” you mumble, eyes slowly focusing from his eyes back down to his pink lips.
Zayne feels his heart skip a beat, hat creeping up his cheeks as he catches the way you stare at him with pure want.
“Darling, I know you are my soulmate,” he confesses, memorizing the way your eyes widen and sparkle, the smallest gasp leaving your lips.
“Zayne-” your words are cut off by him pressing his lips to yours, ignoring the bitter taste of alcohol on your lips as his tongue swipes your bottom lip. A small whine leaves your lips as he pulls away, he has the slightest smirk on his lips when you pull him back by the collar of his button up. Your mouths move together in sync, you can taste the mint left behind from the gum he was chewing while he waited for you. Zayne lets his hands cup your cheeks, only pulling away when he feels your hand snaking to his thigh.
“Let's get home first, okay?” He offers, placing a gentle kiss to your nose when you reluctantly agree.
You're asleep by the time he parks the car in the garage, carrying you to bed and helping you out of your clothes, pressing soft kisses to your face as he does your skincare for you. He tries to ignore the blush on his cheeks as you compliment him between giggles.
“Do I tell you how hot you are? I need to tell you more,” you mumble, Zayne struggles to keep his composure, finishing the final step before finally carrying you to bed.
“Do I tell you how gorgeous you are? How stunning and brilliant you are?” He hums, turning the compliments on you, he smiles as you turn away in embarrassment. He gently repositions you so that you're facing him, “I need to tell my soulmate I love them more, don't I?” He pauses for a second, letting you try to push away from him, only to come back immediately. He presses a feathery kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.”
“You mean it?” you mumble against his chest, hands intertwined with his.
Zayne feels his heart clench at your vulnerable words, “I would never lie to you about this. You're the only one for me, we are meant to be together in this life and the next.” His serious tone is a contrast to the gentle look in his eyes.
You can’t stop the giggles leaving your mouth, nuzzling your warm face into his neck and placing a flurry of kisses on his neck.
“I love you,” you sigh out, eyelids heavy as the alcohol takes its toll on your body.
“I love you more,” Zayne whispers, a small smile on his lips as your breathing evens out. He smooths your hair down, arms holding you a little tighter, “my soulmate.”
RAFAYEL !
The thought occurred to you during a fleeting moment as he walked hand in hand with you from the beach, laughter being carried by the ocean breeze.
Your fond eyes took in his every feature, every mole and noise he made, your chest growing warm. My Rafayel. My boyfriend. My soulmate.
You falter slightly as the last word weighs heavy in your mind. There isn’t much of an opportunity for you to linger on the word, Rafayel is quick to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the house bridal style, smiling sweetly down at you before kissing your cheek.
“What does my darling lover wish to eat tonight?” His voice is airy and playful as he plops the two of you on the couch, brushing your hair behind your ear. He relishes in the way you squirm, the way you avert your gaze out of bashfulness.
“Whatever my handsome fishie desires” you reply back, wiggling out of his arms and standing, “I’m gonna go shower.”
Soulmate. The word rattles around in your head, a million thoughts racing in your mind as the water hits your skin. You stare at the ornate tile long enough for the design to be seared into your eyes.
A knock at the door makes you jump, soap effectively getting in your eye. “fuck,” you mumble softly, quickly rinsing the suds off your body, “what is it?” You call out, lowering the water pressure to hear better.
“You okay cutie? It’s been a while,” Rafayel's concern makes your stomach twist.
“I’ll be out in a minute!”
Rafayel notices your subtle change in attitude, watching the way you stare at him more intently, the way you hold back your affections for him. He frowns when he catches you stopping your arm from wrapping around his waist as he stands in the kitchen with you.
He doesn’t say anything, not yet.
That was two days ago, and now Rafayel feels like he’s going to die soon if he doesn’t feel the warmth of your skin on his. He’d gotten out of bed before you this morning, telling you he wouldn’t be back until early evening under the guise of buying new paints at the market. He tried his best to hide his frown when he saw how relieved you looked to be alone for the day.
You let out a sigh of relief when the front door clicked shut, giving it two minutes before dialing your best friend's number.
“I’m in a crisis and I need your help,” you rushed out as soon as she answered. You were too jittery to stay still, kicking off the blanket and pacing around the room.
“You know Rafayel? the handsome artist that I’m dating and am head over heels for?” you ramble, walking out of the room and into the hallway, staring at the art pieces for a second before continuing your panicked walk.
“Yeah so what do I do if I think he’s my soulmate?” the words leave your mouth conveniently as the front door opens, your wide eyes meet the shocked dual chrome ones of your boyfriend.
“- forgot my wallet,” the words die on his tongue as he processes the words he wasn't meant to hear. Neither of you move, staring at each other like fish out of water.
“Cutie please tell me you’re talking about me or this is going to get really awkward really fast,” he breaks the silence first, watching as you quickly hang up the phone.
“Did you hear that?” part of you hopes he didn’t, the other part of you wonders what he’ll say.
“Hear the love of my life call me their soulmate? Yeah I heard that part,” he says, closing the front door behind him, he takes two tentative steps towards you, gauging your reaction. Your face flushes at his words.
You take a step towards him, helping close the distance. Rafayel doesn’t hesitate to take a mile when you give him an inch, arm looping around your waist and pulling you against him.
“You were talking about me, right?” His voice is a lower octave and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.
“maybe,” you breathe out, eyes frantically searching his own, “do you feel the same?”
Rafayel feels his skin ignite as your hands brush over the skin of his cheek, his eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. “How could I not feel the same when you’re so perfect for me? of course I think you’re my soulmate. You're my muse and inspiration, the reason I live.” He punctuates each point with a kiss to your hand, then your wrist.
“My beautiful soulmate,” he smiles, watching as you break into a grin. He presses a kiss to your neck, breathy giggles between kisses up your neck and jaw before finally capturing your lips in his. “Is that why you’ve been distant? you were scared I didn’t feel the same?”
Rafayel feels you tense at his words, relaxing when he places another kiss on your cheek. “You noticed that?” You cringe, nose scrunching as he pulls away from you.
“I live to love you and you think I wouldn’t notice when you pulled away?” you laugh at the incredulous look on his face, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he carries you to the couch. He feels you mumble a ‘sorry’ against his skin, kissing him softly before looking up.
“Don't you have to go buy some paint?” you ask, running your fingers through his purple strands before focusing on his eyes again.
“Oh that was a lie,” he says plainly, “was gonna buy you that diamond bracelet you wanted because I thought you were mad at me.” Your jaw drops, he continues. “But now we can go pick something out together, to celebrate our soulmate-ism!” he grins.
Rafayel doesn’t let you protest, shutting you up with a kiss on the lips every time you try and argue. You give in eventually, with the two of you coming back with matching bracelets whose price tag made your vision blur (Rafayel didn’t bat an eye as he handed over his card).
SYLUS !
It was your fault for thinking Mephisto would actually keep a secret from his creator. You were too distracted by the prospect of finally catching up with friends as you hurriedly kissed Sylus goodbye while he was half asleep, hopping on your bike and heading towards Linkon. you hadn’t noticed the mechanical crow following you in plain sight, the flutter of his wings masked by your friends voices as you hugged them all.
The three of you sat at a table outside, making small talk before ordering and setting menus aside. You caught up on the usual, work, hobbies, gossip, the shows you all watched.
“Okay let’s cut to the chase, this Sylus guy,” your friend waggles her brows at you, you scoff, pushing her gently and hoping they think the flush on your cheeks is due to the sun and not because of the mention of your lover.
“No we’re really good,” you smile, biting your bottom lip, “I really, really love him and he’s the sweetest ever, i don’t know i think-” you cut yourself off, heart pounding as you stare at your friends expectant faces.
“Are you serious?”
“Oh my god!”
“I think he’s the one, I feel like he’s my soulmate,” you breathe out, laughing when your friends squeal in excitement.
Mephisto isn’t perfect, his feathers puff up at your confession and the poor bird can’t stop the squawk of excitement that leaves him. You whip your head around at the sound, jaw dropping when you see him perched on a branch of the tree besides you. Your narrowed eyes are enough to keep the crow grounded in place.
Two hours later you part ways with your friends, double checking they were out of sight before snatching Mephisto out of the tree he was in, a concerned ‘caw’ leaving his beak when you manhandle him.
“You can not tell Sylus what I said here today, okay?” your breathing is panicked as you look around, “the last thing I want is to scare him off because im in too deep too quickly or he doesn’t feel the same or-” your grip on the bird loosens, he doesn’t move, instead he nuzzles his head to your hand.
“I don't wanna mess this up, promise me you won’t tell him, promise me Mephie?” the bird lets out a soft ‘caw.’ You smile at him, placing a kiss to the top of his head before releasing him. “Okay, let’s go home then.”
Mephisto arrives at the base before you do, seeing as you stopped quickly at the grocery store, having misplaced your faith in the corvid; truly believing he would stay true to his caw and keep a secret from his father maker. You walk in the front door, with a smile on your face, skipping to the kitchen and setting down the snacks you’d bought.
“Did you have a good time, sweetie?” Sylus’ deep voice makes you turn with a smile, your eyes sparkling as you nod quickly. Sylus doesn’t waste time, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning on and snaking his arms around your waist. “Did you happen to talk about me?” There’s a lilt to his voice, you hum softly.
“Maybe, maybe not,” you scrunch your nose, kissing his lips before attempting to break free of his grasp, "I need to put the ice cream in the fridge before it melts!” you protest, barely putting an effort to leave his arms.
“I’m sure as soulmates we’ll have plenty more ice cream in our lives, no?” Your movements still as the words process in your mind, eyes going wide and stomach dropping.
“That fucking bird!” you gasp out, panic rising in your chest, “I’m sorry I just- we can take a step back if you want-” you ramble, not noticing Sylus’ brows furrowing at your words as you attempt to backtrack on the words you very obviously meant.
“Did you not mean it?” His deep voice is steady, his grip on you hasn’t faltered, still holding you close to him. Your eyes meet his, trying to clue yourself in on his emotions.
“I did- I do, but I don't wanna scare you off,” you admit. Your heart is racing, the sound of it beating loudly in your ears masks Sylus' heart beating just as loudly. You avert your gaze from his, focusing on the frayed edges of his old t-shirt.
“You couldn’t scare me off even if you tried, kitten,” he mumbles, a soft smile replacing his teasing smirk. He leans down, stopping inches from your lips before whispering, “for the record I told mephisto you were my soulmate the day I met you.”
His words make your eyes dart from his shirt to his eyes. Sylus forces himself to mask his amusement at your surprised look. You open your mouth to reply, but he doesn’t give you a chance to get a word out as he crashes his lips to yours, allowing you to lead the kiss. Your head spins as your lips move against his, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, leaning into him until the two of you are stumbling backwards.
Your lips only disconnect when you gasp for air, Sylus’ back pressed against the wall as he watches you fondly. “If I had known I was gonna get this reaction I would’ve told you I thought you were my soulmate sooner,” he teases, you squint your eyes at him, pouting slightly.
“Don't make fun of me, I was scared!” you press your forehead against his chest, eyes closing as you listen to his racing heart.
Sylus moves his hand to fix your hair, coming to rest on your cheek before snaking to your chin and gently lifting it so you face him.
“You don’t need to be scared to tell me anything, okay? our souls are made up of each other,” his gaze softens, your knees buckle.
“I love you,” you breathe out, pressing your lips to his once more.
“What about the ice cream?” he mumbles against your lips.
“Fuck the ice cream.”
Sylus doesn’t stop the rumble of laughter in his chest as he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the bedroom.
CALEB !
“I wanna try this” you tilt your screen to Caleb, he watches the video for a moment before turning to look at you.
“You don’t like that kind of food,” he says casually, turning back to the tv as you furrow your brows at him.
“How would you know? I’ve never even tried it,” you huff, tapping the post and checking where the store was located.
“Pips, trust me you won't like it, you're gonna complain about the texture of it,” the cocky smile on his face made you frown, shaking your head.
“Look! They have a place here in Skyhaven, let's go try it!”
One bite was all it took, your face falling after the first bite, entire body freezing.
“Does it taste good?” Caleb smiles, taking a sip from the broth of the ramen he got, your favorite kind.
“Mhm, yummy” you cringe, forcing yourself to chew and swallow harshly. You’d be damned if Caleb was right for the nth time about you.
“Can I try it? You can have some of mine too,” he smiles, you immediately nod at the opportunity. Caleb switches your plates quickly, shaking his head as he watches you hum happily at the first spoonful of noodles. You know what he’s doing, thankful as he spares your pride while he finishes off your food.
It happens again when you show him a t- shirt online you wanna order, “it's a limited time drop! I need to get this,” you muse, staring at the ‘add to cart’ button.
“Baby you don't even like any of those color ways, you're never gonna wear it,” he reasons, pulling you into his lap and kissing the pout on your lips.
“Yes I will,” you bite back.
“Using it as a sleeping shirt doesn't count.”
You order the shirt anyway, wearing out on a date out of spite. It turns into a sleeping shirt after that.
It’s not one way though, with you picking up any supplies or necessities for his house in Skyhaven, he catches you putting them away.
“I knew I was forgetting to do something, I’m sorry baby,” he sighs, placing a kiss on your cheek, his colonel uniform still on as he melts into your touch.
“It’s okay, I knew you’d forget,” you tease, “I also got you new socks, throw away those ripped ones you have.” Caleb lights up at your words, a flurry of wet kisses landing on your face before you can push him away.
Life felt easy with Caleb, the two of you moving in sync around the house, knowing exactly what the other needed without having to say a word.
You hand him the seasonings he needs as he looks around your kitchen, you rearrange it before he comes over the next time, mirroring the kitchen in skyhaven, he doesnt struggle to find the salt anymore.
Caleb gives you half of his closet and drawers, filling it with clothes you'd left behind previously, organizing it and folding your clothing in the way he knows you like. He buys the detergent and softener you like, throwing his away after you complained that it smelled weird.
It’s not in any grand gestures he does, not in the grand bouquet of flowers he brings you when he’s been gone on a mission for weeks. It’s not when he’s pressing you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head and making you writhe and come undone beneath him.
No, the realization comes to you in bits and pieces.
It comes to you when he hands you a dandelion as the two of you stroll through the city, “make a wish,” he grins, watching as you close your eyes and blow. He does the same with his, “I wished for us to always be together.” You roll your eyes at him, corny, “they say if you say your wish out loud it never comes true,” you laugh as his face falls, frantically searching for another dandelion.
It’s when he helps you brush your teeth after a night out, wiping your makeup off gently and acting as your jester when you're upset. It’s when you're whispering sweet nothings to each other in bed, hushed giggles as if you're scared of getting caught up past your bedtime. It's when he comes to you with wet lashes, baring his heart to you and confessing his insecurities, leaning into your touch as you kiss away his worries, your words wrapping around his heart in a comforting embrace.
Maybe you've always known, but could never place a word to it. As you sit under the stars, head on his chest as you listen to his heartbeat and the rumble of his deep voice as he rattles off constellations to you.
“Do you believe in soulmates, Caleb?” You cut him off, he doesn't mind. You hear his heartbeat increase, both of you still stare at the stars above you.
“I do, do you pips?” His voice wavers slightly, gaze focusing on you, he watches as your lips twitch into a smile. You take a deep breath before sitting up and moving next to him.
“I think I didn't at first, I always thought it was silly,” you laugh, eyes catching a moving star, you turn to Caleb and continue. “But I don't think there’s any other way to describe what you are to me,” you shrug, “I love you too much for it to not bleed into our destiny.”
Caleb feels the world around him stop, his mouth falls open slightly at your words. You smile at him sweetly, like you didn’t just put poets to shame.
“You’re the reason I believe in soulmates” he finally says, “from the moment we met I knew I was destined to be yours, and you mine.”
Your face flushes at his words, a small squeak leaves you when he pulls you onto his lap, staring at you for a second before pressing his lips to yours. Caleb’s grip on you is tight, fingers digging into the plush of your waist.
“I love you so much,” he mumbles between kisses. You hum in return, gasping when his grip tightens.
“I love you, Caleb.” You smile against his lips, laughing when he bursts into a fit of bashful giggles.
LIs react when you say their name, but not the one you usually call them by. (They love it. SO much.)
Genre: Fluff, TW: suggestiveness
(Note: HC all the LADS men are at least bilingual/trilingual for work purposes or just bc they've lived long enough)
SYLUS
The rain hits the glass panels like a scatter of beads, the curtains of dense raindrops draping over the N109 zone late at night.
Seeing that it is a slow night for Sylus, you decide to try your idea out.
His glass of whiskey pauses halfway to his lips when you pronounce "Qín Chè" with perfect inflection.
The ice cubes clink as he slowly sets it down.
"Now that," he purrs, rising from his chair with a predatory grace, "is a dangerous thing to know."
In your next breath, he appears in a cloud of black-red mist, leaning down to you with a hand in his pocket.
"Did you research me that thoroughly? Or..." His breath ghosts your ear, "have you been hiding secrets?"
When you admit to practicing, he chuckles. "Even more dangerous. Now I'll have to teach you all the ways I want to hear my name...in private."
And so you learn, saying his name like a prayer while his lips graze over your neck and his arms keep you pressed close to him. Soon, your attempts are swallowed by his hungry kisses, and lost between stuttered breaths.
The next night, he makes you do it all over again.
_____
XAVIER
The way back home is quiet, crowds dwindling quickly after dinner hours in the dreary weather. It's still drizzling, but you're under a covered walkway for this stretch of the walk.
There's a comfortable silence between you and Xavier, and you decide to test something out.
"Shěn Xīnghuí," you say softly, watching the light reflect in his widened eyes like stars.
"You...know." The way he says it makes you realize this isn't just about language- you've spoken a name he thought he'd never hear you say in this lifetime.
He takes both your hands, holding them delicately as he moves closer to you. "Say it again," he whispers.
You repeat his name, louder this time. The night suddenly feels sacred as the syllables hang between you.
He doesn't speak, only brushes his thumb lightly over your knuckles as he looks at you the way a stargazer would observe a meteor shower.
Then you feel the slightest squeeze on your hands.
“Let's head back quickly,” he says, moving to keep a hand on your waist on the way home. He turns to press a quick kiss to your temple. “Now that I know you can say my name this way… I won't let you stop at just saying it twice.”
_____
ZAYNE
When you pass by the reception desk at the cardiology ward, You wave to the nurses on your way in and greet Zayne in a sing-song voice.
It's a phrase you practiced, over and over in front of a mirror.
“Lí Shēn, I'm here~ I'll just leave your lunchbox on the table,”
His gaze snaps to you.
The receptionist nurse freezes as their usually unflappable chief surgeon stares at you like you've grown a second head.
"...That pronunciation is very precise," he finally says, clicking his pen shut and taking some charts from the shelf.
Later, in his office, he has you trapped against the table. He's careful not to make noise, his steps slow and deliberate until the back of your legs are pressed up against the cool wooden surface.
"Who taught you that?" He asks quietly.
You blink. He seems almost too calm- like he's trying hard not to let something irritate him. Something is simmering in his gaze, but it's one of those times where you can't quite place your finger on what it is.
“Well- I remember knowing you had a different name, but I just never actually asked you about it even after all this time-” You explain, “It came up when I went over the university alumnae list-”
“Are you a personal investigator now?” He says, inching even closer to you.
“I was just… sorry, I shouldn't have called you by another name in the hospital,”
He exhales, the hint of a smile gracing his sharp features. “No- don't apologize, my love. I have no reason to be unhappy-” When he wraps his arms around you, the tension in your cautious stance melts into familiar warmth.
The slightly coarse fabric of his doctor's coat rubs against your face, but you snuggle closer.
“-However,” he continues, voice low, “My private investigator, I can't let you leave just yet.”
He keeps you locked in place with a hand around your waist. “I have five minutes until my ward round. If you're ever going to say my name like that again..." His lips brush yours, "you'll do it where I can properly appreciate it."
_____
RAFAYEL
The name you learned isn't Lemurian- it's something you came across in a luxury-lifestyle magazine interview done years ago that lay forgotten inside one of his storage crates. You had gone to your friend and asked them to help with the pronunciation, and practiced till you could say it naturally within conversations.
"Qí Yù! Is this a new piece of artwork?" You call across the studio.
"Yeah it- WHAT DID YOU JUST-?!" He leaps over the couch.
"Say that again," he demands, gripping your shoulders.
When you repeat it with a grin, he gasps.
"You've been holding out on me! Oh, you say my name so wonderfully," He gushes with a smile so dazzling it would put the glittering sunset ocean to shame.
"Wait." He squints. "Did Thomas teach you? I'LL KILL HIM-"
You have to physically restrain him from storming off, and his arm almost slips between your grip.
“Rafayel! No, it's just me- I read in an old interview that you had a different name and-”
“So you've been reading about me- when you can just ask me anything?” He pouts.
You blink. “How would I even begin to know you have different names?”
He puts his hands on his hips, seemingly acknowledging an impasse.
Then he sighs and opens his arms wide. “Come here, cutie,”
His scent envelopes you as you sink into his embrace, and he rubs circles into your back.
His voice is lower when he speaks, “I will take a break now- I need some inspiration from you.”
_____
CALEB
It's rare that you ever tag along to Caleb's gym sessions. Aside from schedules never aligning, you always knew his workout routine was rigorous and intense, so you wouldn't want to distract him.
Apart from that, he is also a huge source of distraction to you.
Right now, he's doing shoulder presses while seated on the gym bench, looking absolutely distracting. The stair master machine faces the mirror, giving you a clear view of him.
There's no way you can complete your usual routine, so you approach him.
Time to call it a day at the gym.
"Xià Yǐzhòu," you call out.
His dumbbells wobble mid-air.
"Holy-" He braces himself and rights his grip, bringing the dumbbells back down to rest them on his knees.
When he looks up, his expression does something complicated. "...Haven't heard that in a while," he murmurs, placing the dumbbells on the floor and rubbing his neck.
There's a vulnerability in his eyes you rarely see. “What happened to ‘Caleb’?” he asks.
When you explain your practice sessions, his boyish grin returns.
"Well damn, pips."
He tackles you into a hug that nearly has you topple over- but he catches you. With the way he's looking at you now, you're glad the gym is quiet. Even after being with him, he never fails to get your pulse soaring with his stupid, rugged charm.
“Ew, Caleb your sweat-”
“I don't recall you having a problem with that last night,” he murmurs, holding you closer.
“Caleb, I swear-” You jab at his sides with your fingers, scrambling to find an excuse to get him to stop teasing, “I'm sweaty too, it's gross.”
It almost works. He squirms, but his grip doesn't loosen in the slightest.
“Xià Yǐzhòu-”
He hums contentedly, patting your hair to placate you, "Thaaaat's more like it. Now gotta hear that every morning."
His whisper turns teasing, "And every night. Especially when you're begging me to-" You clap a hand over his mouth.
“Caleb!”
He kisses your palm, then gently takes your hand from his face.
“Call me the other name again and I'll let you go,”
_____
Edit: (note: their chinese names are so beautiful and poetic and suits their characterisation/personalities so well I cant even begin to describe how much I love ! !! And especially the exact words/characters chosen for their names too where my multilingual stans at!!! OK incoherent vent over thank u all for reading <3)
you were sprawled on your stomach, one leg bent sharply out to the side, head resting on your pillow, scrolling through your phone after a long day absentmindedly.
the position had always felt comfortable... until your husband told you it wasn't good for you.
and now, he was standing by the door of your shared bedroom, frowning, arms crossed.
uh oh.
“sweetie,” he says, stepping closer, “you know i’ve told you not to lay like that.”
you flinch, pouting, like a child caught in the act. “i forgot,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.
he crouches beside the bed, hand resting gently on the edge of the mattress. “you know i don’t scold for fun,” he says quietly.“come on... let me help you before you get back pain again.”
you scrunch your nose and pout again. “but it’s comfy,” you protest, shifting slightly, trying to hold onto the position.
he sighs softly, brushing a hand over your shoulder. “i know,” he says gently, “but it’s not about comfort. your back is twisted and your hips are rotated. if you do this too often, your muscles tighten unevenly and your joints start complaining. eventually it’ll hurt. it’s easy to ignore now, but your body remembers.”
you groan, rolling your eyes and tugging at the hem of your pjs. he always gets medical. and you hate—absolutely hate—that part of you softens and gets turned on every time.
“ugh. zayne! you’re a heart doctor, not a hip doctor or whatever! i’m fine,” you snap instead, cheeks heating at his tone.
he tilts his head, that small, knowing smile tugging at his lips like he understands exactly why you’re flustered.
“right,” he says, soft and teasing. “because i definitely need to be a hip doctor to know that twisting your spine every night is a bad idea.”
before you can protest again, he shifts closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. the mattress dips under his weight. “tell you what,” he murmurs. “we’ll compromise.”
you watch interested as he eases himself down beside you. one arm slips around your waist. “you want comfy? we’ll do comfy without ruining your back.”
he gently guides your bent leg, lifting it just enough to rest it over his waist instead of having it twisted outward. his movements are unhurried, practiced, like he's done this a hundred times already.
“see? same idea. less strain.”
you gulp.
he was right. of course he was.
the subtle shift in your expression and the slight tension melting away from your frame, makes his smirk grow into a proper smile.
his hand is still on your leg, fingers tracing slow, absent paths along the underside of your thigh. the motion is soothing, almost absent minded.
“told you,” he murmurs. “you have to listen to me more, sweetie.”
you give in begrudgingly, “okay doctor zayne...”
he chuckles, low and warm, tugging you just a little closer.
“that’s better,” he teases, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“only took one lecture this time.”
you huff, but don't pull away. he knows it means you’re giving in.
he grins, lips grazing the top of your shoulder, as he adjusts your leg slightly, shifting it so it rests more comfortably over him. his other hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing gently into the tenser spots.
“see?” he hums softly, massaging the sore spots carefully. “much better.”
it’s easy to sink into the touch, his movements are familiar, his hands so warm that you close your eyes, a small noise escaping you.
“mmh... i won’t lay like that ever again if we can do this every night,” you say breathily.
the gentle kneading of his fingers on your back pauses just long enough for him to respond.
“oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. “i was planning on doing this anyway.”
he punctuates the remark by pressing firmer, his hand running along your spine, finding and relieving the most stubborn knots.
“that means we—ah—both need to get home early from work from now on.”
“mmm,” he hums in agreement, working his way down your back to the small of it. “which means,” he continues, voice low and teasing, “you might want to be a little less stubborn at the office.” he finds a particularly tense muscle and rubs it gently, drawing a small sign from you. “you know you can't keep working till midnight every day.”
you gasp dramatically, “says you, doctor zayne!”
he grins, unbothered, fingertips tracing lazy circles.
“exactly,” he says, more smug than he should be. “this doctor prescribes both of us earlier bedtimes.” leans down, lips brushing your shoulder again. “with benefits.”
“oh...” you breathe out against his shoulder. “and what do these benefits include other than laying like this and a massage?”
he chuckles again. the sound rumbles through his chest, sending tremors through you.
“you want a more benefits?” he murmurs, lips tracing along your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
his thumb slips under the hem of your top, tracing a slow, languid line against your bare skin.
you sigh shakily.
“stop teasing, husband.”
his hands continue moving slow, as if to spite your demand.
“oh sweetheart…” he hums, his touch trailing across your thigh now. his fingers dip lower, teasing the edge of your sleep shorts. “do you think i could ever resist teasing my stubborn little wife?”
you try not to let the words get a rise out of you because you want him.
and you want him now.
“is this position still good for my hip alignment?” you smile coyly.
his gaze darkens.
“oh hah. i’ll show you a position good for your hips.” your breath hitches as he shifts, above you, hooking both your legs around his waist. “this?” he murmurs, voice dropping low and rough. “spine and hips aligned and stable... very good for your body.”
and then he crashes his lips onto yours.
it’s hard and urgent, full of weeks of suppressed desire—the two of you hadn't been able to make love for weeks, after all. too tired after getting home from work, schedules unaligned.
you feel his grip tighten on your thighs as he drags you against him, his touch almost desperate. he kisses you like he needs to touch every part of you, to consume you completely.
your hands find their way into his hair, pulling just enough to earn a low growl from deep in his throat. “zayne-” you gasp out, breath mingling with his. “please.”
he groans, giving in completely—mouth trailing down your neck, hands sliding under your top to peel it off.
“god, i’ve missed this,” he mutters between kisses, skin now flush with heat.
he leans back just enough to pull his own shirt over his head, and when he lowers himself back over you, the warmth of his bare chest sealing any space between you.
“tell me what you want,” he whispers against your lips.
you groan, throwing your head back in frustration, gripping at his muscled back. “don't make be beg.”
you attempt to grind against his bulge, and he hisses.
he rolls his hips against you but he still wants to hear you say it—to admit how badly you've been craving this as much as he has.
his lips brush the sensitive skin below your ear, voice low and ragged.
“why not?” he teases. “you know how much i love it when you beg.”
“fine...” you whine, “please- please just fuck me—”
he grunts, the sound igniting a fire inside you. he leans forward, lips brushing your earlobe, his free hand drifting along your waist.
“there you go. that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
and then he's peeling off your sleep shorts.
the sound of the material hitting the floor seems far too loud in the quiet of the room, but it's a distant thought as he kisses his way down your body, taking his sweet, sweet time.
“missed this so much.” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin, fingers skimming across the sensitive flesh of your stomach.
he hooks your knees over his shoulders, lips curving up in a smile as he looks up at you. “missed you so much.”
“ngh—zayne...”
you watch with half lidded eyes as he presses a kiss to your soaked panties, making you jolt.
he grins up at you, enjoying the sight of you trembling.
“hmm… this position is even better for you.”
you can only moan softly.
“so beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes dark with desire. “all mine.” he slowly drags the fabric down your legs, watching your expressions, loving the way you squirm in anticipation. “don't worry,” he drawls, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your inner thighs. “i’ll take care of you first.”
a soft hum vibrates through you as he finally, finally tastes you. he goes slowly, as he tongues you like he’s savoring every second.
“zayne!” you cry out, back arching off the bed.
he doesn’t stop, doesn’t speed up. his tongue traces slow circles onto your throbbing clit, one hand pinning your hip down to keep you from bucking too much.
“shh,” he murmurs against your skin, voice thick, “let me love you properly.”
you want to respond that he always loves you properly anyway, but the retort dies when his tongue laps at you with maddening patience, each stroke drawing out a whimper.
“so sweet,” he breathes between kisses along your slick heat. “always so ready for me.” one hand slips up to pinch a nipple through your bra, making you gasp. “tell me how close you are already.”
“ahhn! so— so close! fuck-”
his eyes gleam with satisfaction. he loves getting you flustered, loves seeing you lose yourself like this.
he doesn’t say anything now, just focuses on you, making you come undone. his lips tease, tongue flicking over your sensitive nub before gently nipping it.
“want you to come for me, sweetheart.” he murmurs, his nose brushing against your clit as he laps at your entrance.
you can sense the urgency in his voice. he wants to please you, wants you to feel good. he wants it. needs it.
his tongue slides lower, swirling at your entrance before circling back to your clit—finally faster now.
“come for me,” he growls. “i wanna taste it.”
and when you do, it’s with a cry of his name and trembling legs he holds tight in his grasp.
he takes his time licking and kissing you through your orgasm, his movements gentling as he helps you ride it out.
only when you’re boneless and trembling does he pull back, lips glistening with you, a satisfied smile on his face.
“you okay?” he murmurs, fingers tracing along your flushed cheeks.
“mhm...” you nod vigorously, already aching for him all over again. “fuck me now, please...”
he chuckles.
the way you're looking at him—dazed, wanting, and needy—sends a pulse straight to his already hard cock.
“i believe the correct expression is make love, darling.”
you bite your lip and he licks his.
he leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him.
“you really can't wait, can you?” he murmurs against your mouth, pushing his bottoms down and already guiding himself to your slick entrance.
one slow thrust and he’s inside. deep, hot, and perfect.
you gasp his name like a prayer.
“that’s it,” he groans, burying his face in your neck.
you can feel him everywhere, every part of you connected. the stretch feels even bigger after the long weeks. your arms wrap around his neck, legs tightening around his hips as if you’re scared he’ll pull away.
“zayne,” you moan his name into his ear, nails digging into his back. you don’t usually ask, content with the pace he sets, but now, in this moment, you need him more than anything.
“harder. please.”
he complies immediately, each thrust driving you deeper into the mattress, your cries muffled against his shoulder.
“god—you feel so good,” he grits out, one hand sliding under you to lift your hips higher, taking him even deeper.
your body trembles, already coiling tight again, he's hitting your sweet spot just right like he’s never left it.
“zayne— i’m-” you start to warn him but he silences you with a kiss that steals your breath.
“come for me again,” he demands softly against your lips. “let go.”
you shatter around him, a silent scream on your lips as your body clenches tight, wave after wave crashing through you.
he holds you through it, his thrusts turning erratic, almost desperate.
“mgh— i can’t—” he chokes out, burying his face in your neck as he follows you over the edge, spilling deep inside with a low groan.
for a long moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and racing hearts.
then he rolls to the side gently, pulling you with him so you're tucked against his chest.
“i love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “don't ever forget that.”
“i love you, too,” you breathe. and then you smile, after a moment, still dazed but coming to your senses. “thank you for the corrections doctor.”
he snorts softly, actually snorts, burying his face in your hair.
“you’re insufferable.” he mutters, but there’s no real heat in his tone.
he pulls you closer, one arm wrapped around your waist, putting your leg over his waist the same way this began.
“anything for my favorite patient.”
masterlist | open taglist!
wrote this in the exact position i shouldn’t be. oh no zayne pls correct me :(
A few minutes ago, Zayne had just come home from his arduous fourteen-hour shift. Just as usual, you expected to chat with him a little before he headed straight to bed.
But surprisingly, this time, you were trapped tightly in his strong arms.
You were both on the sofa, and you were sitting on Zayne’s lap as he buried his face in the crook of your neck from behind, his arms enveloping your waist.
Zayne lifted his head a little and pressed a soft kiss to your neck, making your eyes widen slightly in surprise.
You rubbed his arm gently. “Zayne, do you want me to massage you to relax?”
Zayne gave a low hum in response. Then, his lips trailed along your jaw, planting tender, wet kisses there before moving up to your cheek. Your eyes blinked slowly as you felt his soft, warm lips linger against your cheek.
Your hand reached for his head, patting him softly. “You did well today, my love.”
After a few minutes of staying still, you felt his head rest comfortably against your neck, as if he were slowly drifting to sleep.
You tapped his cheek and touched his arm, gently removing it from your waist. “Love, let’s go to bed. I’ll make something warm for you to drink—”
However, as soon as he felt your body loosen from his, he immediately gripped your waist and pulled you closer.
“Zayne—?!”
The two of you fell, and your back hit the mattress. Zayne, on the other hand, lay comfortably on top of you with his eyes closed.
Seems like you can’t win against your clingy snowman.
STOOD UP! — LADS MEN
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ — staring across you was an empty seat, no boyfriend, no text, none at all. as you glance at your clock you realize it's been an hour and you've been stood up.
⋆˚꩜｡ cast — xavier, rafayel, zayne
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 sylus, caleb, valko ver here!
🔖 tags — lads x non mc reader! hurt, no comfort, mentions of injuries, wounds and blood
݁ ˖Ი𐑼˖⋆ XAVIER
You haven't stopped tapping your foot on the ground as you stare at the clock bolted on the wall of the restaurant. Two hours have passed and your boyfriend was nowhere in sight.
"Miss I'm so sorry but if you're not able to give us an order you would need to give up the table."
The waiter looked at you with pity on her face, she had checked on you three times now, and there's a line forming at the front of the restaurant, you don't really blame them—they could've gained profit instead of letting you stay for too long alone. Still you tried to save face.
"I swear he's going to be here any minute—"
"I'm so sorry Miss, but this goes past our guidelines."
Sighing you nod, gathering your things and muttering a quick apology to the waiter. You walked with your head held high as the customers sitting next to you gave you pity looks.
You checked your phone again, expecting an apology, a text to explain why he was late and what you get was
"Star, I'm staying up late tonight to help MC with her training. Don't wait up."
You chuckled bitterly. This was the third date he forgot, or he was too tired to go on—sighing you searched for your car, and driving in complete silence. As you push the door of your shared apartment; you left your heels haphazardly near the door and took off the jewelry you spent hours making sure it matches with your outfit.
You didn't bother eating and just immediately went to bed after tidying up, and then you heard the door open with two person laughing. You clutched the blanket tightly as you close your eyes as you mutter.
"At least they had fun."
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 RAFAYEL
You were pissed to say the least.
You stood there in the pouring rain, the small tree barely covering you even though you were already soaked, waiting for your boyfriend.
You and him already planned to go on a picnic date, you dressed up nice in all his favorite colors and jewelry that matches his eyes, laid out the food, and made sure everything was perfect to his artistic eye.
You waited.
Then an hour past by.
2 hours.
3 hours.
You kept spamming Rafayel with messages, first excited, then it turns to worry and now you were just not having it. As you pressed the send— a small water drop splashed on your phone, as you looked up it dawned on you that it was about to rain.
Muttering curses you immediately scrambled to pick up the things you brought but that proved to no use as the rain continued pouring harder by the second until you and everything you brought with you was soaked.
You tried to open your phone to no use, the water probably got inside. Sighing you left what was unsalvageable and walked, until a familiar car stopped and the driver immediately got out.
"Cutie I'm so so sorry, MC messaged me this morning asking for help—and I thought we would be fast but a problem happened and—"
"Save it."
"Y/N I really am sorry! please!" Rafayel begged as he took off his coat to put it around you
"Call me a cab, I don't want to face you right now Raf. Let's talk at home."
"Y/N please don't do this I'll make it up to you."
Sighing as you look up at him and you don't even know if it was water or your tears that was running down your face.
"I'll believe it when I see it."
⎚-⎚ ZAYNE
You were sitting in the ER of Akso Hospital.
You shouldn't have been here, you were supposed to go a nice place you and Zayne picked out but now you're clutching your bleeding elbow.
You look at your cream dress, the upper left part covered in blood and you were feeling a little dazed already—probably from the blood loss.
"Doctor Zayne! why are you still here? I thought you and Y/N are going on a date today?"
Greyson's voice rings out of your ear as you see two individuals in your peripheral vision.
You see Zayne with his brows furrowed, his white coat a mess and it looks like he couldn't even give a shit about what Greyson said.
"I'll deal with it later, MC's condition worsened—I can't leave her like this."
You felt a pang of hurt go through your spine. He should've left early and went to the restaurant, looking at the clock you assumed that he would've just left you waiting like a fool. Sighing, you joked that the revelation hurt more than your arm which is still bleeding by the way—
"Y/N?" Greyson asked his voice sounding more pitiful than surprised, well who wouldn't? your boyfriend of two years is literally treating another woman while you're stuck on a chair probably losing more blood than you ever donated in your whole life.
Blinking repeatedly, you started seeing double before whispering a quick 'hey' to Greyson.
"What do you mean hey? you're not looking good, I should grab Zayne—" with all your might you clutched his coat, muttering sorry for making his coat look like a ketchup packet exploded on one side.
"Don't. I-I'm fine." You said as you began seeing black spots in your vision, you were obviously not fine at all.
"Fine? you're literally about to pass out—Hey! Somebody grab Doctor Zayne!" Was the last thing you've heard until the world suddenly turned dim.
˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ A/N!...caleb, sylus, n valko coming soon,,im out of the trenches n i'm testing the waters....
cw jealousy, blowjobs, throat/face fucking 🍋🟩 disclaimer this is a tweaked repost from my old account :-) a warm-up for my upcoming @zaynezone workweek!
"D-darling—nnggh," Zayne whimpers as you take him deeper in your mouth, stretching your lips to accomodate his length.
You're knelt in front of him in his office, the doorknob frozen over with ice. He sits, flushed and chest heaving, while you hum around his cock, hollowing out your cheeks to give a harsh and illegally slow suck.
All Zayne wants to do is fuck your little throat until it holds him in place like a vice and see your expression choke up as you try to fit him entirely—he wants to watch you crumble, to grip your hair in his fingers and make you take it like the good girl you are.
But he doesn't. He doesn't.
Instead, he remembers your sultry words before you sunk down to your knees, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his leaky cockhead.
"No touching me," you had purred, lips vibrating against his slit. He had sucked in a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as he listened to what you had to say. "Or touching yourself, for that matter. Let me show you what your patients are capable of."
And so it had started: the teasing smear of his pre on your cheek, fat tip slapping along your bottom lip once, twice, before you took him into your mouth. Now, here you were, slippery fingers jerking what can't fit down your throat, the column constricting around him just right and making his legs shake violently until—
Pop!
You pull off, a glistening rope of saliva connecting your plump lips to vein on the underside of his dick. Zayne lets out a strangled, almost desperate groan.
"Sweetheart," he manages, voice raw with need. "Please. Enough. Let me touch you."
"Hmm…" You pretend to think, eyes flitting to the ceiling while you absentmindedly begin to give him shallow, breathless strokes that leave him heaving. "But, Dr. Zayne, I'm just your patient. Shouldn't we maintain a more… professional relationship?"
Gasping out a huff, Zayne shakes his head. "Says the one with my cock in their mouth," he chuckles darkly, having his fill of your silly games.
Your boyfriend grips the nape of your neck with a familiar force, guiding your lips to his weeping cock. You gag on his length but quickly comply, relaxing your jaw to let his tip prod at the back of your throat, and Zayne could cum right then and there with how fucking warm you feel wrapped around him.
"So perfect." He admires your watery eyes, wiping away a runaway tear with a calloused thumb. "Now sit back and relax, like a good patient does."
His thrusts are slow but strong, making you gulp down his cock like it would be your last meal. There's so much spit that oozes out of your mouth, dribbling down your chin and landing to form a tiny puddle on the floor.
He pulls back so just the head rests against your bottom lip. Tap, tap, tap. With each smack of his swollen, mushroom tip, more precum leaks out, and you lap it up with hungry eyes—something that he takes heavy pride in.
You give a kitten suckle to his cockhead and he suddenly groans. "I guess I will, as long as my doctor can take good care of me in return."
Zayne's so close—you can tell in the way his balls are tightening up, thigh muscles flexing with restraint, and you give him a ditzy, cockdrunk smile. "You are going to take care of me, right, Dr. Zayne?"
"Y-yes, yeees," he lets out a long, drawn out moan, forcing your head back down on him with barely contained control. "Fuck, take aaallll of me, darling, just like that—haaaahh!"
His hips jerk once, twice, and then he's shooting creamy loads of cum down your waiting throat, bucking up weakly into your mouth when you just don't stop sucking. It's like you're trying to milk him for all he's worth, not letting a drop go to waste even as you pull off of him with a satisfied lick to your lips.
He looks down at you with heavy, lidded eyes, thumb stroking your jaw so tenderly you nuzzle into his palm. You're still basking in the warmth of his sticky release down your throat that you aren't ready for his sudden manhandling of you—heaving you up, up, up in his arms and pushing his papers aside to make room for you on his desk.
"Now," Zayne whispers huskily, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss to taste himself on your tongue. "I believe it is time for your doctor to finally attend to your needs. Wouldn't you agree?"
