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Omg! I just read your Zayne fluffy oneshot "Lonely" AND IT'S SOOO GOOD!! Whoever request you is so genius! And your writing are good too!! I'm here to send a request... (Since I craving more of a pregnancy story with Zayne). Here's my idea : MC had a fake contraction when Zayne isn't around. She doesn't know it was a fake contraction, so she immediately called her husband in panic. After that he gave her a whole day lecture something like that. But then, MC protested that it was his fault for keep working late. The argument ended when Zayne got an emergency call so he had to leave immediately when MC was still pouting about it. Do you get it? I'm not good at words, hopefully you understand 😩😩
I'm hoping you also mean fluff because that's what I ended up with after all 😂 Well... I only write fluff, so I guess it was going to be fluff either way... 🫶🏻😩
And no worries, I gotchuuu! I'm also someone who has a difficult time with words. My writing is crisp because it went through A LOT of editing, research, and flipping through the dictionary 🥹🫶🏻 and I agree the first request is genius, hella cute and this add to it as well! (Also I'm sorry I change the after the call part but I thought this work well! Let me know what you think)
When an unexpected moment of unease catches you off guard, you do what you’ve been told to do—you call him. And even through the distance, his voice is steady, reassuring. But maybe… it’s not just comfort you’re searching for.
Maybe what you really need is for him to come home.
Ao3 link
My Masterlist ✨
Notes
Pairing: Zayne x MC/Reader
Technically, this could be a separate universe, but it also fits right in the middle of the rest as well! The parts link is at the end! Either way, Enjoy! 🥰
You’re just about to sit down when you feel it—a sudden jolt of discomfort deep in your stomach. It’s not exactly pain, not sharp enough to make you gasp, but enough to make you pause. Your hand instinctively comes to rest over your bump, thumb rubbing slow circles over the stretched fabric of your shirt.
Cramps aren’t unusual at this stage. You’re in your second trimester, and little aches and twinges come with the territory. So you shake it off, exhaling softly as you settle onto the couch, phone in hand.
You flip open the novel you were planning to read, but your attention drifts almost immediately. You could read, sure, but now you’re thinking about holding a real book in your hands. The way the pages feel under your fingers, the crisp scent of new paper. Maybe you should convince Zayne to take you to the bookstore soon—if he’s not too busy. Or maybe that grill place you've been craving since yesterday is open today.
You huff, tapping idly at your screen. It’s not like you don’t understand his job. He’s a doctor, a fantastic one at that, and you’re immensely proud of him. But knowing doesn’t stop you from wanting. From missing him.
It’s probably just the hormones talking. You try to shake off the thought and refocus on your book.
But just after you finish one page, you feel the aches again. Your stomach tightens—uncomfortably so. Not sharp, but deep. A pressure that lingers, almost taunting.
Your breath catches. That’s—that’s different. It doesn’t fade right away, and a strange sort of urgency prickles at the back of your mind. Your palm presses against the firmness of your belly, fingers twitching slightly.
It doesn’t go away.
Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’ll pass in a minute. But… what if it doesn’t?
"Okay..." you murmur to yourself. "Maybe... I should just..."
Your thumb hovers over your screen, another hesitation, before you press the emergency call button, your heartbeat suddenly loud in your ears.
The call barely finishes its second ring before a familiar voice answers.
"Yes?"
Just hearing Zayne’s voice eases some of your anxiety—but not all.
"Um..." You wince as the sensation moves lower, not increasing but persistent, refusing to be ignored.
"Darling?" His voice spikes slightly, alert. "Something wrong?"
"I—" You pause, trying to find the right words. "I don’t know. Something feels off."
There’s a brief silence. "Lower stomach? Upper? Or somewhere else?" Zayne asks, his voice steady.
You hesitate. "Lower stomach, I think? It’s not exactly pain—just an odd, lingering pressure." Taking another deep breath between your words.
"Sharp or dull?"
"...Dull."
"Alright. You’re already regulating your breath—that’s a good start." His voice is softer now, gentle but firm. A grounding force against the growing unease inside you. It's a good thing at this point, because you feel yourself panicking a little bit. The feeling still hasn’t faded. How long has it been? A minute? More?
You're still around six months at this point, and all you can think of is labor contractions. That is not a good outcome.
There’s a pause, then his tone softens slightly. "Try lying down—slowly. Tell me if it changes."
"Okay... Yeah..." You move to recline, but pause. "Wait—aren’t you supposed to walk around during contractions?"
"Don’t." His response is instant, clipped but controlled. You can almost hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You’re alone. I can’t, in good conscience, let you walk around while you’re in pain."
"Well, it’s not really pain—"
Your word gets cut off when you hear him saying your name. Not scolding, not impatient. Just firm. Steady.
Very him.
You shut your mouth, swallowing down the argument. It can wait.
Carefully, you ease yourself back against the couch cushions. You brace yourself on the backrest, moving in slow increments, exhaling with each adjustment.
The tightness begins to fade.
You hear a muffled voice in the background—someone asking Zayne a question. He must cover the receiver because you can’t make out the words, but when he returns, his voice is as steady as ever. "Darling? How is it?"
"Better," you admit, rubbing slow circles over your stomach.
"That’s good. When did the first one start?"
You hesitate.
"How do you know this wasn’t the first?"
There’s a pause. A knowing silence.
You huff. "Fair enough. I think about five minutes ago? Maybe longer. I wasn’t keeping track, I thought it was just cramps."
"Hmm. And now?"
You push yourself up slightly, careful not to move too fast. "It’s gone now."
You let out another slow breath, feeling a little ridiculous now. You just interrupted your husband at work for nothing. Maybe you should apologize—but then again, isn’t this what he always tells you to do? Call him if anything feels off?
There’s a slight exhale on the other end of the line—subtle relief. "That’s good. I think it’s safe to say it was false labor contractions."
Ah. Now you remember. Yes. You’d read about it before, but in the moment, all rational thinking had gone out the window.
"You don’t feel anything else?" Zayne asks.
"No," you murmur. Then, a little sheepishly, "Sorry. I completely forgot about false labor. What was it called again? We read about it, but I just... panicked."
"Braxton Hicks," he supplies easily. "And don’t apologize for being cautious. Precaution is never a bad thing."
There’s another muffled sound on his end, someone calling for him.
"Ah, right," you say, feeling a little guilty, but also a little bitter. But you shake the feeling away. "You should go, I’m fine now—"
"No," he cuts in, voice still soft. "I still have time."
You feel a warmth in your chest at that.
But then, his tone shifts, just a fraction firmer. "Now, did you overexert yourself? Or forget to drink water?"
"I drink my water!" you insist.
You don’t answer the other question.
Because, well... You may or may not have spent the morning rearranging the living room. Specifically the sofa.
The silence from the other end stretches for a beat too long. Then—
A sigh.
"If you need something, just tell me. I’ll do it for you."
The words are simple. No irritation, no exasperation. Just pure sincerity.
And somehow, that’s what makes the loneliness bubble up, unbidden.
You press your lips together, fingers tightening slightly around your phone. You’re fine. He’s busy. He’s saving lives, for God’s sake, and you’re sitting here whining about missing him?
The thought doesn’t help. The weight in your chest doesn’t go away.
You swallow hard, trying to push it down, barely more than a breath at first. "I was just—" You catch yourself too late, lips pressing together, but the words have already slipped out. "Lonely," you finish, softer this time, as if saying it quieter might make it less real.
And then, once it’s out, it won’t stop. “And then this happened, and you weren’t here, I mean you’re barely around and I just—I don’t know!”
The second the words leave your mouth, you slap a hand over it, eyes going wide.
Shit.
He doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a pause, just long enough that you wonder if the call dropped—then you hear his quiet inhale. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more careful. "I’m sorry."
Another pause. Then, just as gentle, "Today, I should be home on time."
You freeze, pulse jumping. That wasn’t supposed to come out. “I mean—” You force out a light laugh, waving a hand as if brushing it off. “Not like— I wasn’t upset or anything, just, you know… hormones?” You grasp at the excuse, but it’s a weak defense.
“Darling.”
His voice alone is enough to make your throat tighten. You shake your head quickly, as if he can see that too. “No, really, I mean yes, I miss you, of course. How could I not? But I don’t blame you, alright?”
A soft inhale on the other end of the line. “I miss you too. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you soon.”
His voice is steady, warm—so sincere it makes your chest ache.
"You don’t have to make up for anything," you murmur, though your throat feels tight.
"I do," he says simply. "I know I haven't been around as much as I'd want to. But that doesn't mean I don’t think about you all the time."
You sniffle. Oh, no. Here it comes. You are not about to cry over this.
Zayne hears it instantly. “Darling?”
“No, no, don’t—” You swipe a hand under your eyes. “You’re being too sweet, stop it.”
A quiet chuckle comes through the phone, warm and affectionate. “I’m just telling the truth.”
“Well, don’t.” You groan, tipping your head back against the couch.
His voice drops into something even softer, something almost intimate. “You know I’d rather be home with you, right? I’d rather be next to you right now, holding you, rubbing your back, listening to you rant about whatever new thing annoyed you today.”
You sniffle again, unable to stop yourself.
He sighs, indulgent. “Wipe your tears for me,” he murmurs. “I can’t do it right now.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. That is way too much. You cover your face with both hands, your phone barely on your grip, voice muffled when you groan, “Zayne.”
“Yes?”
“That’s too cute. Stop that.”
He hums, amused, like he’s not single-handedly making your heart explode. “I meant what I said,” he continues, like he’s speaking just for you. “I know it’s hard. And I know you’ve been lonely. But you’re not alone, alright? You never will be.”
A shaky breath escapes you. You can’t even answer that because you might actually start full-on sobbing.
Before you can pull yourself together, a voice calls his name in the background, sharp with urgency.
There’s a brief pause before he exhales. “Sorry, I have to go. Emergency.”
You sit up a little straighter, still trying to blink the tears away. “Don’t say sorry for doing your job,” you say quickly, before he even gets the chance.
A beat of silence. Then, quietly, “I love you.”
Your chest tightens again, but this time in the best way possible. “I love you too.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
And then the line clicks off, leaving you sitting there with a slightly damp face, fully in love, and no idea how you’re supposed to wait for him to come home after that.
By the time Zayne gets home, the house is quiet, the lights are dim. His footsteps are careful as he steps inside, taking in the familiar scent of home.
But something is off.
His gaze flickers toward the living room, and his brows knit slightly. The sofa—it's not where it usually is. Only slightly shifted, but enough for him to notice.
A quiet sigh leaves him. So that’s why. No wonder.
And there you are—curled up on the living room sofa, blanket draped haphazardly over you, lips slightly parted as you breathe in steady, even rhythms.
Shaking his head, he moves closer, reaching down to carefully lift you, but the moment his hands brush against you, your lashes flutter. You stir, and then, before he can even say anything, you immediately reach for him, fingers gripping weakly at his sleeve as your sleepy voice murmurs, “Welcome home.”
His expression softens instantly. He leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “I’m home.”
You hum, eyes barely open, still clinging to him. He pulls back slightly, studying your drowsy face, and his lips press into a thin line. “I told you not to sleep here anymore.”
You yawn, stretching lazily. “It just turned out that way.”
Zayne lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed. His fingers brush lightly against the armrest, confirming his suspicion. “…And moving the sofa helped with that?”
Your expression flickers—too quickly. Suspiciously. “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Zayne exhales sharply, almost a laugh, but doesn’t push. Instead, he watches you, unimpressed but fond.
Then, before you can argue further, your gaze flickers past him—and you gasp.
“Grill meat!”
Zayne barely has a second to react before you’re fully awake, scrambling up as you spot the takeout containers on the coffee table. You turn back to him with wide, excited eyes. “You got it! It's open today?!”
His lips twitch. “You’ve been talking about it for two days. I wasn’t about to come home empty-handed.”
You beam. Absolutely beam. It’s almost too much for him. Almost.
Zayne steps forward, already reaching for the bag to open it for you, but you immediately scold him, smacking his arm lightly. “No—go change first! You just got back, you should wash up or—whatever you need to do! I can wait.”
Zayne exhales, the sound a soft mixture of amusement and surrender. “You’re so impatient, but now you’re suddenly willing to wait?”
You huff. “Well, yeah! I’m feeling generous, so go now.”
He snorts, watches you for a second longer, as if considering pushing back, but then shakes his head. “Alright,” he says simply. “I’ll be quick.”
When he returns—now dressed in sweats and a plain tee—you’re already sitting cross-legged on the couch, takeout bag in front of you like it’s the most precious thing in the world.
“Finally,” you say, eagerly patting the space beside you. “Come on, doc, you deserve a break.”
With a quiet breath, Zayne settles beside you, reaching to open the containers. Warm, savory steam fills the air, and you practically melt.
“Oh my God,” you whisper reverently. “This is exactly what I needed.”
Zayne watches as you take your first bite, the way your eyes flutter shut in pure bliss.
His lips press together like he’s holding something back.
But then, instead of teasing you immediately, his gaze softens just a fraction. “I really do love seeing you happy,” he murmurs, voice softer than before.
You pause mid-chew. The warmth in his tone catches you off guard, settling somewhere deeper than just the comfort of food or his presence. Your lips part slightly, something unspoken lingering on your tongue—
“Didn’t you say you could wait?”
You blink, barely processing the shift before narrowing your eyes. “...That was before I smelled it.”
“Hm.” He picks up his chopsticks, eyes flicking between you and the food. “And here I thought your love for me was unwavering.”
“It is,” you say immediately. Then, with a dramatic sigh, “But love won’t fill my stomach, Zayne.”
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
“You married this, by the way,” you remind him, grinning. “Willfully.”
Zayne barely fights off the curve on his lips, eyes glinting with amusement. “...Unfortunately.”
You gasp. “Take it back!”
“Hmm. No.”
“Zayne!” You reach out to smack his arm.
He only chuckles, catching your wrist easily before letting his fingers slip between yours. The motion is effortless, natural. You don’t even think about it—you just hold on.
His hand is cool against your skin, but his presence is warm, grounding. The laughter, the quiet intimacy of shared meals, the way his fingers stay laced with yours—it settles something in your chest.
Summary: Zanye gets a late night visitor while on a shift. Now he just needs to not make much noise.
Note from the Writer: This was inspired by @leaderincrows 's art which you can see over HERE. (18+) It's been a very long time since I wrote an actual fic thing not weird prompts.
Tags: Blowjob (receiving), improper use of evol, gay things, no beta we yolo.
EDIT: Also now on ao3 !
It's as calm as it will get when it comes to facilities providing important medical care. However, it is a surprisingly serene moment for Akso Hospital, the hallways mostly silent except for the occasional beep of a machine, the scratching of pens and tap tap tap of the keyboards at nurses' stations. It should stay this way for another few hours; at least most of the staff felt this way.
Then there was the chief cardio surgeon.
Not because he was expecting a surgery in the middle of the night nor expecting a rush of patients to arrive in the ER but he wishes that it doesn't happen tonight. He already has enough paperwork to finish up before going home; not that he minded the work, quite the opposite. However, there were those who rather have him focus on something other than medical documents. Such as the one kneeling before him, face down and working on helping him relax.
Zanye wouldn't think so but it is rather hard to try and focus on his work when his love is working him so deep. He shouldn't want this and yet he was the one who kept his window cracked open for him to slip in for a visit. Lesson learned from an earlier time when he showed up with a stab wound as an excuse to see Zanye; he knew that bastard could heal himself quickly and yet decided that course of action? This is what he should have expected when getting involved with the Onichiynus leader but it still unnerved him at times. Now he was practically at his mercy with his legs resting on the other's shoulders, keeping him still by gripping onto one of them but his other hand moving forward to feel the smooth muscle of Zanye's abdomen, exposed only for him to see.
"Sylus…" breathy, low, almost a slight crack in the control Zanye tries to keep a hold of. Red eyes gaze up at him for a moment before the corners of his mouth turn up and bobs his head down further, moaning as he takes Zanye deeper. The other man couldn't help but slap a hand over his mouth, attempting to hold in a whine as his legs began to quiver as he restrained himself not to press them against Sylus's head or roll his hips to get a reaction. He shouldn't be worried about what would happen, this isn't the first time they had gotten intimate in his office and yet…
Zanye then spotted something from the corner of his eye, mist of red and black curling around his arm, gently pulling it away from his mouth. A suggestion that needed no words for Zanye knew the intent behind it: Sylus wanted to hear his voice. The tip of the energy vine rested below his chin, tilting it up as it slithers towards his lips but the doctor refused to open up. It was too quiet in the ward, Zanye knew that his Evol wasn't the only thing he couldn't control and getting questioned about loud moaning from his office was something he was not willing to answer.
He looked down to Sylus, his right hand reaching down and threading his fingers through those silvery locks of hair, only to hold onto them tight. "If I recall," Zanye whispered. "you had a choice between my lips or my cock. Don't tell me you regret it already."
Sylus's response? A long slow lick around Zanye's head, his way of telling him that he didn't. He couldn't help but be a bit more greedy tonight, perhaps it was because he really wanted to hear those heavenly moans knowing that the one who caused them was him. Only he could make the tightly controlled doctor fall apart with a gesture but it seemed that Zanye was still holding some wits about him. Cheeky bastard and he knew it, spotting the doctor giving a smirk despite taking a deep breath. Almost as if he was trying to challenge Sylus to dare to try.
He can accept it. Nay, he relishes in it, anticipating the moment the quiet night breaks and he being the one who causes it. Chuckling darkly, Sylus's gaze stays on Zanye and in one fell swoop, pushes himself further that his tip hit the back of his throat. His nose plastered within the fine hairs of Zanye's happy trail and smirking all the while. The widening of his love's eyes speaks all as Zanye bites down on his lower lip, keeping in the groan from the back of his throat. He will not give him the pleasure of seeing him struggle, not right now. Zanye's aware of what he can do, how he is when he and Sylus get intimate but tonight is different; it's too quiet. Any kind of noise not of clinical reports, IV machines or loudspeaker calls will make people curious and explaining what was happening and who is between his legs is something Zanye refuses to try and tell. However, there's one other reason and it's something he can admit but only if pressed:
Zanye can be loud.
It wasn't always the case but Sylus kept on encouraging him as time went on until it became second nature. But unlike the walls within some of the crime boss's abodes, his office in Akso was not one that could handle it if he got too riled up and Zanye is feeling it now, painfully as his hips bucked into Sylus's mouth. The heat from his core that pooled now slowly feeling itself move further down and he shut his eyes tight, knowing that he does not have much longer before-His throat chokes out a cry as Zanye bites down further on his lip, noticing that the familiar black and red energy tendril fondling his balls as Sylus picks up the pace. He knows it too as his vision goes white, mouth agape but no sound comes out while Sylus stills, letting Zanye spill into his throat and ride out his orgasm. He has to remind himself to not rush it, instead cleaning Zanye's softening cock as his lips relax and release with a small pop. Sylus swallows what is left, his throat moving as he tucks Zanye back into his trousers, pushing himself up to meet him face to face.
"Holding back on me, doctor?" He murmurs as he slots his lips with Zanye's, letting his tongue pry open the other's mouth for a taste.
"It's too quiet." Zanye answers in the same hushed tone when he pulls away, just enough to catch his breath. "We don't need anyone interrupting us." It came out as a shudder as Sylus let his fingers roam Zanye's still exposed chest. "So greedy." the words may sound biting but he's been with the silver haired man to know how it is when it comes to that certain vice. "You love it." Sylus answers back, whispering in Zanye's ear. "Hearing you sing my praises always gives me joy."
"When I can at least." Despite it all, letting himself hear the name of his love coming from his own mouth does make Zanye feel good. He chuckles softly and leans his cheek to rest against Sylus's. "How shall I make it up to you?" Sylus turns his head and presses his fingers to Zanye's chin, making him look at him. "You're off for the next few days after this." Spoken with certainty. "I might have some ideas."
This maybe potentially controversial, but I’m choosing not to take part in the Lnd boycott. My reason behind this is as a poc fan of the game with criticisms towards the very same game, whenever someone like me speaks out on this various issues regarding the fandom (the racism and colourism) and the company itself, we get ignored, blown over, pushed aside, told that it’s not that serious, and told that we’re lucky that we even get to PLAY the game.
Lnd is a game that’s accessible to EVERYONE. The very least they could is people of colour to be able to self-insert and immerse themselves fully. And Infold hasn’t even done that fully. It’s not right that you lot tell us that we should consider ourselves “lucky.”
Not only that, but I’ve also noticed the obvious difference in engagement between black/brown content and white content. For a fandom that claims to be lovely and peaceful you can tell there’s distain. We get a fraction of the engagement that white fans get and that much is obvious. With that being said you want us to support you with this boycott? Nope, count me out.
We’ve been pleading to have our, frankly , more serious issues acknowledged for aeons only to receive crumbs and you expect us to bend over backwards and help out? No.
Is the fact that it’s increasingly harder to be f2p? Sure. Is Sylus being tried unfairly? Potentially yes. Is the fact that there’s no option for curly coily hairstyles for poc to use horrible? Obviously. Does it suck that there’s only one body type? Also yes. Is it weird that there’s no diversity amongst the npcs in Lnd’s world? Definitely.
I’ll only consider it fair when ALL issues and acknowledged and acted upon. Not just some, just because it doesn’t affect YOU personally.
Edit- I’d also like to add that the guys who also play the game had a right to want a male MC. Again, they should be able to express themselves and their frustrations, without being told to “stop complaining” or to “not play the game.” The same issue occurs when some problems are acknowledged because it is convenient for a prominent group in the fandom and not everyone else when it should be everyone.
Edit 2 - I've also had another thought. I think the reason why people have been saying Westerners are entitled is because it comes from a mindset of having everything catered to them from baseline. Do you have white skin and straight hair? Well, you can find that in customisations in every game. You've never had to reach out or felt uncomfortable about being unable to express yourself in customisable games. However, if someone with coily hair comes along and asks for options to include them as well, it's now viewed as an entitlement. That we're suddenly demanding too much. I don't think asking a company that makes an obscene amount of money off of their audience and who's catering to the same audience, for additional hairstyles and body sizes. I think it's because those who are in the default category (except for a few) simply can't fathom not being included in things. They literally can't or refuse to even attempt to see things from another's perspective and likely don't care for those who are constantly excluded. Which is why they create excuses for these companies.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I'm really trying to ignore all the stuff happening right now. So can I just say I am really enjoying the little side stories in the Tour Memo. This event is so much fun!
But like Zayne is being extra flirty with his 🤭 "Zaynie the Coach" 🥰
