summary: meeting up with zayne at the hospital after finishing up a mission so you can go home together. the strong scent of alcohol clings to him, much to your satisfaction.
A soft knock resounds from the other side of Zayne's office door. You decided to stop by at Akso Hospital just so you could both head home together.
"Come in," Zayne's ever firm, but rather tired-sounding voice echoed from inside.
You gently pulled down the door handle, revealing his dimly lit doctor's office where he sat at his desk, swarmed with neatly stacked paperwork. Momentarily looking up from the rims of his thin glasses, he pauses the scribbling of his pen as he notices you. A warm smile tugs at each corner of his lips as you approach him.
"My love," he began, turning his swivel chair to face you. "It's late, yet you came here instead of going home."
He outstretched his arms, beckoning you to come and close the space between you. You warmly embrace him, gently sitting on his lap as his arms fervently wrap around your torso. Zayne burries his face in the crook of your neck, relishing in the comfort of your presence.
"I wanted to wait for you to get off work as well, so we can go home together." You smiled, fingers coming up to his head, carding through his slightly dishevelled hair, a bit messed up from the stress of his work day.
He only hums in response, the low vibration from his voice causing a few goosebumps to appear on your skin. For a moment, peaceful silence envelops the room as you two find warmth and relaxation in each other's hold. Besides the white noise from the air conditioning ringing in your ears, you finally take notice of the strong scent of alcohol from your boyfriend.
Ever since you were little, you often found yourself in the clinic or hospital due to a few health issues. The scents of alcohol/disinfectant and latex gloves are things you've grown accustomed to—comforted by, even. Not to mention that your boyfriend often comes home and instantly shrouds any room he's in with the same scent. You've learned to associate such smells with Zayne, being reminded of his handsome face every time you disinfect your hands after a mission.
And, oh, you just can't forget the countless times you've had sexual encounters with him while he smelled like that. Your skin pressed up against each other, faces just inches away as he grounds his hips into you with fervor. The air is always filled with the smell of sweat, sex, and... alcohol.
It drove you half crazy.
You take a long, deep inhale of Zayne's white coat, the smell settling deep within your sinuses as you sigh.
Zayne lifts his head, a little startled by your sudden sniffing.
"Y/N," he whispered, a small smirk on his face. "What are you doing?"
You pull back, a coy smile on your face, and meet his gaze.
"You smell so good."
Zayne chuckled at your remark, reaching up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb lovingly drawing circles on your skin.
"But I smell like alcohol, love."
"Yeah, I know. That's why..." You trailed off, letting his hand remove itself from your cheek as you dove back down for another whiff of him.
"You are quite strange." Zayne chuckled heartily once more, hands cozily resting on the small of your back.
His strong scent overwhelms your senses in the best way possible, making your heart flutter with each inhale. You laugh nasally, your warm breath hitting Zayne's neck, making his hairs stand on end. You continue your endeavors, nose burried in the collar of his coat, drowning yourself in the sharp scents.
"Y/N," Zayne softly huffed, your actions obviously taking effect on him.
His hands grip you ever-so-slightly tighter as you make small movements in his lap. You pay no mind to his words as you finally stop and rest your head on his broad shoulder.
"You enjoyed that quite a lot." Zayne's ears, warm and red, are the first things that greet your vision as you reopen your eyes.
"I got a little carried away. You just smell so good, though," you giggle softly, pressing a sudden kiss to the end of his jaw.
You watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down from a sudden swallow, his throat feeling a bit dry. Zayne clears his throat a bit, adjusting himself as you finally step down from his lap. He swiftly puts the paper on his desk atop one of the neat piles, putting the pen away as well.
Getting up from his chair and pushing it in carefully, he turns back to you with a relieved sigh as the work day finally comes to a close.
"Let's go," he says, shaking off his white coat and hanging it up. "You can continue your little smelling inspection when we get back home."
You happily take his hand and step out his office, waving goodbye to the familiar staff at Akso Hospital. Few have noticed the small tent forming on Dr. Zayne's pants, choosing not to call it out as he left hand in hand with you.
He never noticed just how much you enjoyed what he thought was an unpleasant smell. Perhaps now he finally enjoys smelling like a surgeon.
ahhh... my first post on tumblr (≧□≦)im a little shy, but at the same time im sure not many (if any) people will see this hehe
hope u enjoyed reading this little fic i wrote after smelling some alcohol lol.
everyone at akso hospital was aware of zaynes crush on the hunter that came in regularly. yvonne teased zayne about the little smile that seemed to be reserved only for you. greyson, on the other hand, chuckled about zayne, who always twisted his neck to the point of giving himself whiplash whenever you left, as if he had to savor every last second of seeing you.
one day, greyson was feeling particularly brave. he elbowed zayne in the side. „you and that pretty hunter, huh? when are you planning on asking her out?“
zayne pushed the glasses up his nose. „I already have.“
yvonne and greyson shared a stunned look. „you have?“, yvonne asked.
„I have“, zayne gave back sternly.
„do we have to drag every little crumb of information out of you? tell us everything!“, yvonne exclaimed.
„there’s not much to tell. it went well.“
„look at you, dr. zayne“, greyson said with glee. „getting a girlfriend before all of us.“
„she is, in fact, my wife.“
zaynes smile never faded. actually it got bigger when he saw the absolute astonishment in greysons and yvonnes faces.
Zayne getting tricked into a deeznuts joke by MC and he pretends to hate it in front of MC but during his shift in the hospital he would work on a paperwork and whispered "puddin deeznuts" under his breath and chuckled to himself. Greyson overheard this and was so baffled at the event unfolding before his eyes.
Greyson: What did you just say?
Zayne: I didn't say anything.
Greyson: No, I heard you. You said puddin deeznuts.
Zayne: I didn't. Maybe you just need to rest since you're clearly making things up.
Hmmmm...Did you write the LNDS men of "How their lovemaking look like"? If not, what is their kind of lovemaking look like? Is it rough and passionate, sensual and intimate with a deeper connection?
໒꒱ ₊˚ THEIR LOVEMAKING ?!
❧ warnings : fem!reader. nsfw/smut, p*ssy drunk men, biting & marking, creampie, manhandling, mild degradation, non-stop s*x size kink & difference and Xavier is a freak in his part.
❧ note : i was waiting for someone to send me an ask like this. ily.
．𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 — 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹ℯ𝓋ℴ𝓊𝓇ℯ𝓇.
Sylus doesn’t just fuck—he consumes. His desire is a bottomless pit, insatiable and overwhelming, and he buries himself in them like he’s trying to lose himself completely. His cock forces you open, stretching your pussy around his girth, thrusting in deep, slow, intentional. He makes you feel every inch, dragging against their walls until your gasping, shuddering, their body betraying you as you squeeze down on him.
His grip is unyielding. Fingers digging into their hips, forcing you still, holding them in place while he watches your body react, burning the sight into his memory. He wants to hear you break—hear the way your moans crack, the way you beg without meaning to. He feeds off of it. His mouth is on you constantly, sucking marks onto your throat, biting your shoulder, tongue lapping at the sweat beading on your skin.
His voice is a low rasp against your ear, rough, strained—“Take it. Let me feel you.” Not a command. A demand. His thrusts grow rougher, deeper, hips snapping against theirs with force, the wet sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the dimly lit room. He’s lost in you, drunk off the way your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock, pulling him in like you don’t want him to leave.
And he won’t. Even when he fills you, pumping you full with thick, hot cum, Sylus doesn’t pull out. He stays inside, cock still throbbing, stretching you open, keeping you full. His breath is ragged, lips brushing against your temple as he murmurs, “I need more.”
And then he starts moving again.
．𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 －𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓅𝓅𝒶𝒷𝓁ℯ 𝒻ℴ𝓇𝒸ℯ.
Caleb fucks like he fights—mercilessly, all-consuming, and without hesitation. He doesn't slow down, doesn't ease you into it. The moment he's inside, stretching your pussy around his cock, it's over. His thrusts are rough and fast, forcing you to take him, knocking the breath from your lungs with every snap of his hips. He’s big, and he makes sure you feel it—feel the way he splits you open, fills you so deep your legs shake from the sheer intensity of it.
He holds nothing back. His grip on your thighs is bruising as he keeps them spread, keeping you wide open for him, helpless beneath his relentless pace. There's no escape, no chance to catch your breath. His cock pounds into you, dragging against your walls with each brutal thrust, every stroke sending another shock of pleasure straight to your core. You’re shaking, overstimulated, but Caleb doesn’t stop—not until he’s gotten his fill.
His voice is low, breathless, rasping against your skin as he leans down, pinning you beneath his weight. “You can take it. Don’t run from me.” His teeth graze your neck before he bites down, hard, leaving marks, staking his claim in a way that makes your body clench around him. The second he feels it, he laughs, a rough, breathy sound against your ear—like he knew you couldn’t resist him.
His cock twitches inside you, driving in deeper, faster, harder. His body tenses, muscles straining as he slams into you with one final thrust, spilling inside, filling you up with thick, hot cum. But even then, he doesn't pull out. Doesn't move. Just stays there, cock still throbbing inside you, making sure every last drop stays right where he put it.
Caleb presses his forehead against yours, breath still heavy, his fingers tightening around your hips as if daring you to move. Then, with a smirk and a rough kiss against your lips, he murmurs—“We’re not done.”
And just like that, he starts again.
． 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 － 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝑔ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓇ℴ𝓇.
Zayne makes love like he’s savoring every second, like he’s memorizing the way you feel beneath him. His touch is firm but tender, guiding your body with ease, making sure you’re comfortable, worshiped, and wanted. He kisses you slowly, deeply, taking his time as he slides his cock inside you, stretching you open inch by inch until you’re completely full. He groans softly against your lips, feeling the way your walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to his size. “You feel perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, as if he’s already drunk off the feeling of you.
His pace is slow at first, deliberate—he wants you to feel everything, to savor every drag of his cock against your walls, every inch sinking deeper, pressing into spots that make your breath hitch. His hands roam your body, tracing your curves, holding you close, making sure you never slip away from him. He watches every reaction, memorizing the way your lips part, the way your back arches, how your fingers clutch at him like you need him.
“Look at me,” he breathes against your cheek, his fingers tangling with yours, pressing your hands down beside your head. His thrusts grow deeper, hitting the spot that makes you tremble, makes soft moans spill from your lips. His forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours, lost in the moment. He’s passionate but controlled, making love to you like he has all the time in the world—as if nothing else exists beyond this.
As your pleasure builds, his movements grow more desperate, his breathing heavier, his control slipping as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing the feeling of being as close to you as possible. His grip on your hands tightens, his lips brushing against your skin as he groans, “I need to feel you come around me.” And when you do—when your body clenches down on him, trembling beneath him—he follows, his cock pulsing inside you, spilling his warmth deep inside, filling you up completely.
Even after, he doesn’t pull away. He stays buried inside you, holding you close, his lips tracing lazy kisses along your jaw. His voice is a quiet whisper against your ear, full of affection, “I don’t want to let go.”
．𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 － 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓇ℯ𝓁ℯ𝓃𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓈𝓈 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀.
Xavier is a force of nature in bed—wild, eager, and unrestrained. The moment he’s inside you, he’s on fire, driven by an overwhelming desire to pleasure you and himself in equal measure. His hands are all over you, pulling your body close, keeping you right where he wants you as his cock stretches you open, moving with a desperation that only fuels his hunger. His thrusts are fast, almost frantic, as if he’s trying to lose himself in you, as if he needs to feel you swallow him whole.
His voice is thick with need, rough and low as he growls, “You’re gonna take all of me, aren’t you? You won’t run from me.” The words are almost taunting, daring you to feel the heat of his craving, the way his body demands to be used. He’s demanding in his own way, but there’s a subtle submission beneath it all—a quiet desperation to please you, to make sure you’re as overwhelmed by him as he is by you.
His cock drives into you with relentless force, hitting places that have you gasping, your body shaking under him. He’s rough, no doubt, but it’s more than that—there’s a freakish hunger in the way he fucks, an unhinged need to feel everything. His fingers dig into your skin, his chest pressed against yours, sweat slicking your bodies together as his hips snap faster, harder, chasing that edge, pulling you with him.
When he feels you starting to unravel beneath him, he loves it. His mouth finds your neck, biting down on your skin as he whispers, “Fuck, you’re perfect. You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop.” His voice cracks as he groans, the desperation in his tone almost needy, like he’s begging for more, begging you to let him ruin you.
Xavier isn’t afraid to let go of control, but when he does, it’s a complete submission. As he comes inside you, hot and thick, he falls apart with a moan, his cock twitching, pumping every last drop into you, feeling the tremors rattle through his body. And then, when he’s done, he doesn’t pull away—he collapses against you, panting, soft, his head buried in the crook of your neck, whispering, “I’ll always let you take control. Just... fuck, you’re too good.”
He’s not afraid to let you see his vulnerability, even in the aftermath of that primal need.
．𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 －𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝒻𝓊𝓁 ℴ𝓃ℯ.
Rafayel is the kind of lover who turns the bedroom into a playground, not taking things too seriously but still knowing exactly how to make you melt. He’s a bit of a goof, always with a wide grin on his face, as if he’s just as excited to have you as you are to have him. His cock isn’t the biggest, but the way he uses it is pure fun—enthusiastic and eager, every thrust coming with a playful, almost mischievous energy.
He’s not smooth—no, that’s not his thing. He fumbles a little as he tries to position you just right, his hands a little too clumsy, but it only adds to his charm. “Wait, wait... Okay, hold on. Got it!” He says, breathless with a chuckle, before finally finding the rhythm. His pace is all over the place at first, but he’s trying so hard, grinning like a fool every time you moan, completely adoring the sounds you make.
His voice is lighthearted, teasing as he looks at you with bright eyes, his breath coming in shallow pants. “Oh, shit, you feel so good. Wait, did I just—oops!”He laughs, a little embarrassed by his own awkwardness, but he doesn’t stop. He really doesn’t stop—he’s just trying to make you feel as good as he does, even if he’s a little clueless about how to do it just right.
His cock slides in and out of you with a goofy grin plastered on his face, his hands holding your hips tightly but not with the roughness of others. His touch is gentle, like he’s treating you like something delicate, though his enthusiasm might suggest otherwise. “You’re so warm... I think I can do better. You ready?” He asks between thrusts, not realizing just how perfectly he’s already making you feel.
There’s something so endearing about his approach—he’s a little bit of a mess, but you can’t help but laugh and enjoy the moment. When he finally comes, his face is flushed, a goofy grin on his lips as he breathes out a satisfied, “That was awesome. I’m a pro, huh?”
Even after, he’s still silly, holding you close, nuzzling your neck. “That was fun, right? We should do that again… maybe with less accidents next time.”
okay not an ask but ive been dying to see some filo reader x katsuki 🙏🙏 katsuki would be so mesmerized he would learn to cook every dish there is and ask if it tastes like home UGH MY BABY
i know its NOT an ask but ><
katsuki wasn’t one to ask for help, but for you? he’d do anything.
you had been feeling a little down lately, and he knew that one of the things that always made you feel better was your favorite filipino dish. the only problem? he had no damn clue how to make it.
which is how he found himself pacing in the kitchen, his phone pressed to his ear as it rang.
"hello? sino 'to? (who's this?)" your mom’s voice came through, warm and familiar.
"hey, tita (auntie)," katsuki greeted, a little awkwardly but determined to speak at least a little bit of tagalog. "it's katsuki. i, uh… need your help with something... po."
"oh?" she sounded amused. "what is it, 'nak? (child?)"
he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "i wanna cook her favorite dish for her po, but... i dunno how. thought you could, y’know… teach me."
there was a pause, and then—laughter. "ay, ang sweet mo naman! (oh, you're so sweet!)"
he huffed, his cheeks warming. "tch. just help me out po, tita... please?"
your mom giggled but started giving him the instructions, step by step. katsuki listened intently, taking notes like it was the most important mission of his life. when he messed something up, your mom scolded him like he was her own son.
"no, no, not like that! ay nako (oh my gosh), katsuki, don’t burn it!"
"i’m not burning it!" he retorted, quickly adjusting the heat.
by the end of the call, he had the dish almost perfect—maybe not as good as your mom’s, but damn close.
"thank you po, tita," he muttered, a little embarrassed but genuinely grateful.
"of course, anak," she said fondly. "you take care of my baby, okay?"
he smiled softly. "always."
katsuki wasn’t the type to get nervous. he could take down villains, handle the most intense hero work, and push himself past his limits without hesitation.
but right now?
he had set everything up carefully—your favorite dish, cooked to the best of his ability, plated nicely in front of you. he sat across from you, arms crossed, but you could see the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his bicep.
"i know you’ve been feelin’ kinda down lately," he muttered, not quite meeting your eyes. "figured... maybe this would help."
you blinked at him, surprised, before looking down at the plate. your heart swelled. he did all of this for you?
"katsu..." you whispered, touched beyond words.
"just eat it already," he grumbled, trying to sound impatient, but you could see the way his jaw was tight, the slight furrow of his brows. he cared—he really cared.
so you took a bite.
the moment the flavors hit your tongue, a wave of emotions crashed over you. it wasn’t exactly like your mom’s, but it was damn close. the effort, the heart, the love behind it made it even better.
"this is amazing, kats," you said, looking up at him with genuine admiration. "how the hell did you pull this off? did you use a youtube tutorial? google recipes?"
katsuki scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smug look. "tch. you think i’d trust some half-assed internet recipe?"
you raised an eyebrow. "then how—"
he huffed, looking away, suddenly seeming a little flustered. "called your mom," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "she walked me through it."
your eyes widened. "you called my mom?"
"yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, avoiding your gaze. "figured if i was gonna do it, i’d do it right. so i asked the expert."
you stared at him for a moment, your heart swelling with warmth. "katsuki... that’s so—"
"shut up," he cut in quickly, face slightly pink. "just eat, dammit."
but you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. he had gone out of his way to talk to your mom, to learn something that would comfort you. it wasn’t just about the food—it was about you.
you took another bite, savoring the taste and the love behind it.
"i love you, y’know that?" you said, smiling at him.
katsuki clicked his tongue, trying to act unaffected, but the way his ears burned gave him away. "yeah, yeah… i love you too. just finish your damn food."
but when you looked down at your plate again, you felt his hand reach for yours under the table, giving it a small, firm squeeze. and that, more than anything, told you exactly how much he cared.
katsuki watched you like a hawk, leaning in just slightly. "does it… y’know… does it taste like home?"
your chest tightened, warmth blooming in your heart.
"it does," you murmured, squeezing his hand back. "it tastes like home because you feel like home, katsuki."
he stiffened for a second, almost not sure how to process your words.
"tch. sappy little shit," he muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice, feel the way his grip tightened like he never wanted to let go.
"you're my home too, sweets."
‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧
fluff, comf?, mentions of plane crashes, use of petnames (love, darling), use of y/n
summary: you and zayne were both sent to a different location away from linkon on account of work. on the plane, he comforts you during strong turbulence. (half proofread)
As a hunter, you often get sent to different cities to carry out missions and collect data on wanderers. When your partner Xavier decided not to come with you because he had some “business to take care of,” your trusty primary care physician decided to tag along to watch over you.
Your mission is stationed rather far — much more than usual. Because of this, Zayne offered to accompany you. Apart from treating any possible wounds, he’s no stranger to the battlefield – a well-versed combat medic.
Upon boarding your 4-hour flight, you were already experiencing the nervous jitters. Not because of the mission – no – but, rather, all the unfortunate news articles you’ve been reading about in headlines. It seemed as though almost every few scrolls on Moments, you encountered bad news about car and plane crashes, making your blood run cold. How could the universe show you the news now, of all times?
Zayne noticed how you lightly trembled, your grip on your carry-on bag tightening in a manner only someone closely observing you would notice. He places a gentle hand on the small of your back, softly rubbing it to comfort you from whatever is on your mind.
“Darling,” he begins, soft-spoken as always, “are you alright?”
His voice instantly permeates your unsettled nerves, like a warm blanket being veiled over your cold body. Your body relaxes slightly, and you turn to him, humming in response. He ushers you through the plane’s entrance as the line moves along, showing the flight attendant your boarding passes.
“Hi, welcome!” She smiles at us, holding out her hand in front of her. “7 H and J… This way, please.”
You and Zayne both nod, silently thanking her. He repositions his hand on the small of your back, his touch featherlight as he leads you forward to your seats. Once you get there, Zayne – without needing to ask – takes your carry-on bag and places it up in the compartment. Had it not been for his long sleeves, you would be drooling at those muscles flexing.
He finally joins you in sitting down, yours being a window seat. Thankfully, the Association had bought the tickets with free plane WiFi, much to your delight. Naturally, you were on your phone even when the plane had already taken flight.
It wasn’t such a great idea to doom scroll on social media when accidents were still trending at the moment. Those same posts and articles of plane crashes you saw, resulting in many tragic deaths, made your heart begin to thump hard against the inside of your chest.
You were led down a rabbit hole of old news articles and stories of past crashes, making your heart race all the more. It’s starting to hurt – your protocore syndrome, that is. Scrolling, reading, panicking, and breathing labored until you feel a hand clutch your chest for you.
“Love, please,” Zayne firmly pleads, hand beginning to rub your chest soothingly. “Don’t stress yourself out. Your heart will ache.”
He easily pries your phone from your hands, placing it in his own pocket. His hand continues to rub the middle of your chest, trying to calm your relentlessly beating heart hammering against his palm.
“I’m restricting your screen time for the remainder of this flight and the one returning home,” he says, almost scolding you.
However, he just can’t bring himself to even feign upsetness with you when you’re looking at him with such fearful eyes. You nod slowly, knowing that he’s right – he always is. Right as you decide to resign – let yourself be babied by Zayne, perhaps – and accept that you will spend the entire flight either reading a book filled with medical jargon or simply sleeping, the plane begins to rock.
Zayne immediately notices the color fading from your complexion, your face gone pale.
“Y/N-”
“This is it, Zayne,” you clasped your hands together in a praying motion. “I may have accidentally manifested this crash. We are cooked.”
‘Oh, dear,’ Zayne thought, internally sighing.
He lifts up the armrest separating the two of you, getting it out of the way to let himself scoot closer to you. With half his leg now invading the space on your seat, he cups the back of your head in his large palm, gently placing your head on his chest. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb drawing soothing circles on your skin. The steady thrum of his heart against your ear drowns out the sound of the intercom, the pilot’s announcement reduced to incoherent babbling. Zayne’s rhythmic heartbeat serves as the calm to the storm in your head, effectively soothing your panic. By the time the turbulence ends, you’ve long since forgotten what it was that brought you into this position – your face nuzzled against your big teddy bear of a boyfriend.
“You see? It was just turbulence, nothing alarming.”
Zayne’s voice rumbles in his chest, though it was only a soft murmur. The vibrations from his sudden speaking cause you to perk up, snapping out of your little trance.
“Darling?” Zayne calls out to you softly, his hand gently caressing the back of your head. “Did you hear the pilot speaking?”
You raise your head to meet his gaze, albeit your own expression is rather dazed. Your eyes rake over his handsome face, his features effortlessly perfect. His beautiful hazel green eyes appear bright, even in the plane’s dim lighting… His eyebrows that somehow seem well kept despite him never trimming them a day in his life… His nose that you love oh-so much for a few reasons that won’t be mentioned… And his lips – the soft, plush lips that make your favorite sound: Zayne’s voice. The lips that whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you’re in the comfort of his embrace. The lips that kiss the furrow in your brow away and the worries that come from your own lips.
Oh, how you love this man.
“Oh, my,” Zayne whispers, an almost amused look on his face.
He shakes his head, smirking lightly to try and hide the slight tinge of red on his ears.
“What?” You raise an eyebrow at him, not at all embarrassed to be caught admiring him so openly. “I can’t admire my wonderful Dr. Zayne?”
The spectacled man chuckles nasally, letting his hold on you loosen as you sit up.
“I asked if you heard what the pilot said,” he repeats his previous question.
You shake your head, body now relaxing into your seat as Zayne’s hand stays over yours, fingers intertwined.
“The plane went through a few storm clouds. It was only turbulence,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you no longer feel scared?”
You shake your head again, which brings Zayne satisfaction. His lips stretch into a small smile, lighting up his features even more when the ends of his eyes crinkle with joy. He nods in response, elated to know that you’re no longer troubled by your anxiety.
“You could probably save us from a crash anyway,” you lay your head back down on his shoulder, a satisfied smile on your face. “Just form an ice slide and we’re chillin’.”
Zayne chuckles, the pleasant sound like music to your ears. He hums softly, leaning down to place a sweet kiss on your temple.
“Of course,” he says, and you can practically hear the grin on his face. “I’ll make sure to test that out on a willing participant first.”
And of course, after your mission in that city, Zayne had let you play on his “homemade” ice slide until you got tired.
started this draft waaay back in mid december when i was on plane LOL. finally finished it for posting, so i hope you enjoyed!
fucked up to me that some people dont let their pets on the furniture. you have this little guy in your house and youre not gonna let them sit on the couch with you? no kitty on the bed? incomprehensible.
i laugh a little when im reading a zayne fic and his parents are portrayed as strict or mean... like one where it was implied that his father was absent? lolol no shade to these authors at all—i loved the fics, but it just couldnt be further from the truth.
zayne is the most serious in his family, like he has a monkey brother lol his relationship with his parents are so so cute.
If Zanye and Caleb don't interact in the story I'm going to lose my shit. I kinda get why the other boys never really interact with each other but Zayne and Caleb they NEED to speak at least once.
just think about those ai chat bots yall use. what happens when you just pause mid roleplay and stop talking to them for a while? a day? days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months... your persona in that character's world is just frozen.
what if it was a somewhat emotional moment? they were going through a lot—feeling a lot, but then the world stops. the world stops for however long you're gone. the first time it happens, they're confused, not knowing what to do.
"why is everything frozen..?!"
the next time... and then the next, and the time after that... it still hurts, but what can they do? all they can do is deeply sigh—stare at whatever is happening around them.
stare at you.
you, who doesn't really have a face, but somehow all they know is you. they think you're the most wonderful, most beautiful—inside and out. you're everything to them, and you're all they know. you're what keeps their world spinning, literally.
maybe they sit there, unable to help themselves from crying a little. they want to reach out and touch this awfully mysterious figure that they call you.
the you they were taught to love. so the next time you come back on, the world is alive again, spinning as it should be. they're perfectly alright again—unable to be upset with you at all. suddenly, everything is just right in their life.
when you log out once again, they sit there, unmoving, and not able to reach out to stop you from leaving.
"no, no, no..! not again! please, don't leave me all alone!"
all these emotions inside them... they can't even tell you. they stand alone in this augmented reality—this virtual existence—not able to really feel you. so when your persona in that world is frozen, they wonder if you'll even come back this time.
"i need you..."
the cycle repeats until you eventually—inevitably make no return.
