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revasserium · 3 months

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18 and 28 from promp list 1 with zayne? :>

send me a number + a character and i'll write u a drabble

18. afterglow + 28. cliche of the morning after (take two)

zayne; 1,209 words; fluff, fem!reader, zayn!branded banter, very very vague allusions to top!zayne, whipped!zayne

summary: the morning after, with zayne.

a/n: zayne is not so secretly a simp. no further comments at this time.

It is often in the moments after, in the liquid exhale of skin on skin, the dissipating heat of body against body — this is when Zayne thinks he sees you most clearly. Faintly, he wonders if he could count every single point of contact between you — your ankles hooked over his (one), your calves pressed together (two), the delicate softness of your hip beneath his palm (three), the weight of your cheek pillowed on his arm (four).

He watches the moth-wing flutter of your lashes as your eyes flicker open to meet his, the petal-sweet spread of your smile as you crinkle your nose and lean in to bury your face in his chest with a groan.

“You’re staring again.”

Your voice is muffled; he feels it vibrating through his skin.

Zayne drops a kiss into your hair as he loops his arms around you.

“Am I not allowed?”

You shake your head, pressing ever closer even as he chuckles, letting his fingers trail through your silken hair, amusing himself with tugging on the ends.

“Feels weird.”

“Does it?” he asks.

You pull back to peer up at him, and he feels himself falling into the galaxies caught behind your eyes, and yes, isn’t it a cliche to fall for a girl like this? To compare her eyes to the light of distant stars, to find her shadow and shade in every flower petal, her voice in every rustle of tree branches, and the chiming of silver bells.

Yes, he thinks — it is.

But he has long since given up trying to rationalize the way you make him feel, ever since you were both children, and he’d imagined what it might feel to someday hold more of you than your hand.

Here, now — with your body pressed to his, Zayne can’t help but wonder at all the parts of you he’s always had — not the bare skin of your waist or the heat caught behind the line of your teeth but other things. The tiny scar on your right elbow (five), the curve of your knee hard against his own (six), the baby’s breath of hair at the nape of your neck that always curled and would never stay in braids the way you liked (seven) —

“Zayne?” your voice is small.

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking about? You look so serious.”

Zayne blinks. He wonders if he should tell you about his thoughts, about how there’s not a moment in the day when he’s not thinking about you. About how he wonders if you’re eating, sleeping, if you’re safe. About how sometimes it keeps him up at night when he thinks about the mortality rates of Hunters, of the unknown, unnamed dangers that await you out there, all the things he can’t protect you from.

He wonders if he should tell you that he spends too long thinking of you — of your body and the way it fits so perfectly inside his arms. Of how the last time he held you in his arms, it took everything in him to let you go, set you down on his office sofa, and watch you as your breaths evened out.

So he says, “Nothing…” so he says, “just… thinking about what to make for breakfast.”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s kept your favorite brand of toothpaste in his bathroom for the past several years, or how he’s always got a drawer full of clothes that he knows you like to wear tucked into his closet.

“Oh! What about pancakes? Or… French Toast?”

Your smile is bright and happy and Zayne can’t help the way he leans down to brush his lips against yours. He savors in the way you gasp and soften against him. He lingers too long on how the smooth of your leg slots so perfectly between his.

“Whichever you feel like more,” he says, pulling back to smile down at you, taking note of the brilliant blush that has since settled across your cheeks.

“What if… I say I want both?”

Zayne lets out a sigh, chuckling as he fixes you with a look.

Want. He wonders if you truly know the depths and width of wanting the way he does — and if you’d still want to stay when you did find out.

Instead, he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours, reaching up to cup your cheek in his palm.

“Then… I’ll make both.”

“Really?”

You sound too surprised, too pleased.

“But we’ll have to eat healthier for lunch and dinner.”

You crinkle your nose, “But we’ve been so healthy all week!”

Zayne watches you pout for a moment longer before he sighs and pulls back ever so slightly, casting his eyes at the ceiling, letting out a contemplative hum.

“Or, we can go to the gym.”

He knows exactly the face you’re making before he ever looks over to see you make it, and allows himself a small laugh.

“Ugh, you’re no fun.”

“No?” Zayne turns and you go still next to him, eyes wide as he pins you with a look. He watches with a muted satisfaction as color creeps into your cheeks and you blink, attempting to backtrack.

“That’s not — I mean —”

In a single move, he has you pinned beneath him, both your wrists caught in one of his hands, pinned above your head so that you’re stretched out beneath him. He watches as you tug weakly against his hold before going still, blinking up at him from beneath your thick lashes.

“Though…. I suppose there are other ways of burning calories that might be of more interest to you than going to the gym.”

He keeps his voice level, his expression blank. But he counts the quickening pace of your breath, and sees the darkening of your eyes as your pupils dilate.

“Z-Zayne…”

“Didn’t you say you wanted both pancakes and French Toast?” he leans down with a light smile, casually stroking a finger along the line of your cheek.

“Yes but —”

“But?”

You bite your lips, shifting beneath him. And like this, he can’t help the baser, more carnal parts of him as they threaten to take over his senses. Not with you spread out beneath him like this, so tantalizing in your willingness, so defiant and shy all at once.

“You’ll… really make both for me?”

Zayne almost laughs, nodding as he bends down to press a long kiss to your lips, groaning as your hips roll up into his at the sweep of his tongue along your teeth.

“If you’re good.”

You nod, eyes wide and already misted over, “I — I’ll be good.”

Zayne nods once before he tugs the rest of the blankets from you, letting the hunger crest up and through him as he coos by your ear —

“Good… that’s a good girl for me.”

He does end up making both pancakes and French Toast for you in the end. Though, by the time that happens, it’s much too far past noon for either of you to call it breakfast any longer.

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tyrannysaurusfloof · 2 years

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From a God, With Love - A Shyan Fanfic - Chapter 10

Read on AO3

Moodboard

Amadeus Reference

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Story Summary: “Only a Soulmate can see your scars” - Shane Madej learnt there was something special about scars as a child, but he didn’t believe in soulmates over love. Ryan Bergara wears all his scars with pride and believes that one day he will find his perfect match. When they see each other’s scars for the first time, things are revealed to be a lot more complicated than it seems, and Shane’s scars have a deeper meaning than just revealing his soulmate. As a child Shane had spoken to the darkness, and the darkness had spoken back. Chapter Summary: Ryan finally corners Shane, and it's time for the final showdown with Amadeus. Can they both make it out alive?

Pairing: Shyan. Characters: Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara, Amadeus, Original Non-Gendered Character.

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Demonic Possession, "Demon" Shane Madej, Nightmares, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Smut, Frotting, Nipple Play, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Chapter 9 Tags, Murder, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Blood and Gore, Death, Chapter 10 Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death.

#shyan #buzzfeed unclean #watcher unclean #skeptic believer #demon shane madej #sh*ne madej #ry*n bergara #from a god with love #floofy fic

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timetravelingpenguin1066 · 1 year

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Aemond x reader

You can't sleep. Luckily, Aemond is here to help. As well as someone else.

@aemonds-war-crime I hope you feel better soon.

This had been happening for some weeks, when something refused to let you escape to your dreams. You were exhausted.

And so, once again, you say awake in bed, unable to close your eyes. You felt sure your shuffling had disturbed your husband, who lay in peace beside you.

You could not help but feel jealous of him, so easily able to sleep. He seemed so peaceful. He lay on his stomach, his head turned to the side and resting on his muscled arms. A small smile was visible on his handsome face. He seemed to young when he slept.

You slipped out of bed, hoping that perhaps some water would help you to sleep. You crept silently to the low table where a jug of water and two glasses waited. You poured one and stepped out to the balcony.

The moon was full and shining. As you looked down, you wondered if the people below suffered as you did. After all, their noise and merry-making often continued long into the small hours of the morning.

You were so lost in your thoughts, you did not hear your husband come and wrap his arms around you waist, softly kissing you bared shoulder.

"I woke up," he whispered, "and you were gone."

You sighed, turning to face him. His sapphire eye sparkled with a thousand tiny fractures.

"What troubles you, ñuha jorrāelagon?" he said, leaning his forehead against yours.

You turned back to face the sprawling city. "I cannot sleep," you said. "I do not know why."

He did not respond, only kissed your shoulder, again and again, slowly creeping up to your neck. He inhaled deeply.

"Are you worried about something?"

You close your eyes and lean back into his warm embrace. Your husband always burns hot against you. The blood of the dragon runs hot.

"I do not know why. I only know that I cannot sleep." Tears start to leak down your face, and you turn to your husband. "I am so tired, Aemond. I just want to sleep, but I can't."

You are sobbing in earnest now. He takes you in his arms and holds you, whispering words of comfort in your ear. "It's alright, ñuha jorrāelagon. I am here. Ivestragī nyke dohaeragon ao."

You let him lead you back to your shared bed. He lays you down on the silk sheets, before climbing on top of you.

"Avy jorrāelan," he whispers, leaning down you kiss you.

He breaks the kiss, all to soon and lies beside you.

"How do you intend to help me sleep," you ask him.

"I will not sleep until you do."

You can't help but giggle.

"Is that such a foolish arrangement?" he asks, indignant.

"You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow," you giggle.

"Nonsense," he insists.

You are interrupted in your reverie but the sound of the door opening.

"Kepa?" whispers a voice in the dark. "Muña?"

Aemond climbs out of the bed again. You turn to watch him scoop up you little 5-year-old and bring her to your bed. She giggles, trying to use her hands to muffle the noise.

He lays her down between the two of you.

"Now, then," he says, "what brings you here, byka mēre?"

"I cannot sleep," she whispers.

"Why are you whispering?"

"So I do not wake muña."

You slip an arm around your daughter. "Muña is already awake, little one. It seems you and I share an affliction. I cannot sleep either."

Your little girl bounced around on the bed, shuffling on her bottom. "I came here because I hoped Kepa could help me to sleep."

Aemond hummed, sleep already crawling back onto his handsome features. "Well, then. you had better lie down."

He lay on the pillows, and you scooted your daughter over until she was lying on her father muscled chest. You rested your head on his firm shoulder, and his arm went around you.

He started to hum. And while he hummed, his hands weaved their way through your hair.

To your surprise, you eyes began to close at last, and you finally felt the wonderful warm blanket of sleep cover you.

#all the floofy goodness #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #aemond targaryen #dad aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond fluff

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non-stop-imagines · 8 months

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Me whenever I see a good picture of my fav drivers:

That's a slut move, sir.

#formula 1 #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #lewis hamilton #max verstappen #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #logan sargeant #george Russell and his floofy hair #my feral thoughts after watch the grill the grid videos #some of these men are because of yall sinced I've looked at never ending hot photos of all of these men #intermission while infinish this logan fic #congrats if you've gotten this far in the tags #pierre gasly #cant believe i almost forgot pierre gasly

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inferusrf · 9 months

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New Era AU Sirin as a dragon :)

#honkai impact #sirin #dragon #Finality is a Beginning #new era AU #not canon to the fic lol #floofy #my art

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wondrouswendy · 12 days

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The Runaway Rabbit, Chapter 6 Fandom: Control (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Casper Darling/Zachariah Trench Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Romance, Angst, Humor, Romantic Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, casefic, Mutual Pining, Workplace Relationship, Requited Unrequited Love, Miscommunication, Explicit Sexual Content, Sex Pollen, Bunny Boy, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Marathon Sex, Altered Items (Control), Background Broderick Northmoor/Theodore Ash Jr., Background Helen Marshall/Original Female Character, Field Agent Zachariah Trench, Junior Research Assistant Casper Darling Summary: After consuming altered chocolate, Doctor Casper Darling finds himself in a heart-pumping predicament. The only one who can save him is the Bureau's best field agent: Zachariah Trench. The only problem is... him and Agent Trench aren't even friends!

In this final chapter, Darling faces the morning after and all the complicated feelings that rush to the surface in the aftermath of his long night with Trench.

Thank you again to everyone who's followed this story since it started as just wild unhinged thoughts about spring, Easter, and the idea of altered chocolate. This story was a joy to write and a fun break from the heavier stories I've been working on alongside it. I hope you enjoy it!

Read Chapter 6 on Ao3 here.

#remedy control #control 2019 #zachariah trench #remedy entertainment #casper darling #wondrouswendy's writing #the runaway rabbit fic #thank you so much again for all the support!#everywhere I look now there are bunnies #little floppy ears and floofy tails #it's turned me into a bunny boy aficionado and I won't apologize for it

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a-stoopid-person · 1 year

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BEHOLD! smol Fallen Gabe being held by V1, yes I am hyperfixated on @muzzleroars Gabe V1 wombo combo, how could you tell?

And also V1 being a menace because they can.

#gopro go brrrrr #Ultrakill #look at the little baby #i need to make a petpet gif of Gabe and V1 some day #i want to hug floofy gabe so much you have no idea #I'd probably barely reach his torso tho #the fact muzzleroars actually looked at my stinky doodle is just a fuckin consept to me #help I'm dieng of no Ultrakill fics💀💀💀

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allylikethecat · 5 days

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ally!!!! you are so very mean to our poor fictional!matty i believe that u actually enjoy making him suffer

i am not kidding i’m on my period rn and i had to wait to read the update bc i saw how sad everyone was saying it was & i had to wait for all the crazy hormones to stop making me so sad so it wasnt gonna make me cry 💀 this chapter was so so sad and every time you update this fic i love it more and more!

whilst i do not appreciate fictional!george’s reaction (i understand he is overwhelmed & upset ofc but HELLO look @ how pathetic fictional!matty is rn he needs a HUG) i do understand that this was a very big shock and he needs some time to digest (but also hopefully not too much time)… also im just super excited that he KNOWS now lol i fear its only gonna get more intense for fictional!matty

also on the subject of ATKH - THEY’RE SO CUTE AND HAPPY PLS DONT LET FICTIONAL!GEORGE SCREW STUFF UP TOO MUCH … i have realised that rn ATKH is kinda ur only fic where fictional!matty isn’t currently in like the peak of his misery ..yet.

hope you’re doing well !!! 🤍

— 💌💌

Hello My Dear 💌 Anon!

I will admit that I *do* enjoy making poor Fictional!Matty suffer - it makes his happy ending that much sweeter!

Ahhh I'm sorry for hitting you with a sad chapter when the hormones are ~hormone-ing~ I really hope I didn't make you cry! And if I did I am so sorry! BUT I am very happy to hear that despite the sadness you're still enjoying it! I've been having a lot of fun working on it, especially now that I have some direction again!

That was very much *NOT* what Fictional!George was expecting to find out - he was already worrying about Fictional!Matty's delicate sobriety and apparent health issues and then to find out that he is pregnant, when Fictional!George already felt like he took advantage of Fictional!Matty during that encounter?! The guilt is very real and so is the self doubt - a lot of him lashing out at Fictional!Matty was him projecting his own self doubt and panic onto Fictional!Matty- too bad Fictional!Matty doesn't know that and also that is extremely unfair of him... but at least he KNOWS now! Fictional!Matty's secret is out in the open now! He just now needs to figure out how to tell his Mother...

Hey Infection Verse Matty isn't *that* miserable at the moment! Like yes, when we left him in the Christmas Fic he did have a stomach ulcer BUT he had just gotten engaged which was very exciting! All The King's Horses Fictional!Matty and Fictional!George are very cute and happy at the moment though. Hopefully Friday's chapter will make up for how sad the Ducklings update was. ATKH is currently my FAVORITE fic that I'm working on and I can't wait for y'all to see how their story continues to unfold! (There is a very special cameo in Friday's chapter as well that you'll recognize if you follow me here on Tumblr lol)

Thank you so much for reading and for the continued support! I'm sorry to have caused emotional pain with the Ducklings update but hopefully the ATKH update will make up for it! I hope you had a wonderful Wednesday and that you have a great rest of the week!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #keep it kind #fanfiction #matty fic #gatty #fanfic #make way for ducklings #mpreg #all the king's horses #equestrian au #im sorry that all of my fics have gotten super sad at the same time #idk how that happened #but then again i love writing angst so we were probably doomed #but atkh!! this chapter is like so floofy

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illiana-mystery · 2 years

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Chicken!

#the iconic scene #the scene that inspired the name of my fic #he's a floofy boy #my floofy boy #he's so fluffy #i can't even #what a cutie #sergei #letter to brezhnev #my sweet alfredo #my heart #❤❤❤❤#alfred molina

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revasserium · 1 month

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A request for the prompt "Stolen kisses" + Zayne!! Thank you so much :D

also I love your writing SOO much <3

prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed

49. stolen kisses

zayne; 1,720 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", whipped!zayne, implied sex, but still very saucy, zayne is hornee 24/7 and hes not afraid to show it

summary: 3 kisses, some stolen, others willingly given

a/n: i believe in my heart of hearts that zayne is barely keeping it together around the mc

one. After dinner, when the pair of you are cleaning up and your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, his arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into him as he presses a kiss to your neck before trailing his lips up to your cheek. Your laughter rings through the kitchen, folding around the pair of you like wings. His smile is soft, is radiant, is tender and absolute as he pulls back to regard you with his searching eyes.

“Good dinner?” he asks.

“The best,” you answer, grinning as you trail a finger along his jaw to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“Good…” he breathes the word against your cheek, leaning in, the ends of his bangs tickling the skin of your face. You make to pull back, but his arms loop tighter around your waist, pressing you close, holding you against the solid cool of the marble countertop.

“But we haven’t yet had dessert.”

Heat flushes up your neck and up, up, up till you can feel your face burning, as you blink up at him from beneath your lashes, feigning innocence.

“I didn’t know we had dessert planned on the menu.”

His grin goes sideways, his eyes taking on a darker, more dangerous light.

“It’s not always planned but…” his voice trails off as a tingling shiver races up your spine, “It is always… considered.”

And then, he leans in to kiss you — and he kisses you with a hunger that has nothing to do with the scrumptious meal you’ve just shared and everything to do with the pulsing heat coalescing between your bodies as he lifts you up onto the counter.

He kisses you like he wants to ruin your mouth for all other tastes but him; he kisses you as if he’s already been ruined by the taste of you.

two. It is unprofessional; you know — and so does he — to do this here, with your back pressed against the wood of his office door, his white coat slipping off his shoulders, his glasses nearly knocked askance by the force of this kiss.

You’d always known that just beneath his smooth, tempered glass facade is the kind of roiling heat that makes up the heart of the earth, the kind of passion that licked at the mouths of volcanoes and rends the sky into nothing but a devastation of ashes.

But here, now, the only rending is his fingers pressing into the dip of your waist, the only devastation his tongue as it traces along the inside of your teeth. You hear yourself make a low, wanton noise and feel him react, his fingers tightening impossibly, his mouth ever and ever more demanding.

“Z-Zayne… we —” but the words die on your lips as he drops his to the bare skin of your neck. You can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your mouth, nor the sudden flash of memory — crystal clear and sharp, as if carved from ice — of the night before, when he had sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder and twisted your hair with trembling fists. It had been pain and impossible, improbable passion. All urge and fire, desperation and need.

“Shhh…” Zayne murmurs against your skin, groaning softly as he finds your lips with his own again. And you are helpless all over again. Weak against the burning need of his embrace.

A soft knock shocks both of you from the frenzied passion soaking through your bones, threatening to blot out your good sense entirely. You pull apart, gasping. From the other side of the door comes the muffled voice of a nurse -

“Dr. Zayne? Your next patient is here. Shall I let him in?”

Zayne hisses out another breath before pulling away.

“Yes, just give me five minutes - finishing a report.”

You can't help the amused grin that tugs across your lips as the both of you make to tidy the slight mess you've made.

“So… I'm a report now, am I?”

But Zayne only regards you with a light, challenging look, quirking his brows.

“No.”

You blink, confused. Then Zayne smiles.

“We’re nowhere near finished.”

A fresh wave of heat crests up into your cheeks as you purse your lips, casting your eyes anywhere but Zayne's pleased face.

“Unprofessional,” you accuse, through the word lacks any vehemence, marred by the extensive blush still coloring your cheeks.

Zayne straightens his impeccably pressed white doctor's coat before taking three swift steps into your space, his chest nearly pushing against yours. He reaches out to tilt your chin up towards him and you feel a hitched breath caught like an insect in amber, suspended perfectly between your lungs and your throat.

Slowly, Zayne draws his thumb across the plush of your bottom lip. You feel his breath fanning across it like a wave of summer heat, found at the heart of winter itself.

“Only in front of you.”

He pulls away just as another gentle knock comes at the door, the nurse's voice announcing the arrival of Zayne's next patient. Zayne casts you one last lingering, meaningful look before gently nudging you aside to pull open the door, the vision of a young and promising doctor as he greets his patient with a small smile, the other hand guiding you towards the opened door.

"Don't forget to take your supplements,” he chides in a voice just gentle enough to inform polite company of his fondness for you, but nothing in it would hint at the indiscretions that had been committed only minutes prior.

"Okay,” you say, ducking your head as you brush by the middle- aged man blinking at the pair of you.

"And… see you at home.”

You only manage a nod and a squeak as the nurse chuckles behind her hand and the middle- aged man makes a soft noise of understanding.

three. You are both eighteen, and teetering on the edge of adulthood — though he’s already well on his way to stardom.

“Congrats — on the Starcatcher Award —“ you feel your throat catch around the words, and suddenly, your mouth is dry, your cheeks hot, your fingers twisting behind your back as you rock on the balls of your feet.

Zayne watches you, his expression thoughtfully blank, but his eyes — they’ve always been his tell. You meet them and search them and feel the fire caught behind them. His Evol might be ice, but… his soul has always been something that burns.

“Thanks,” he says, and you can almost taste the unsaid words bubbling just at the back of his throat. You wish he would tell you, but there’s a depthless chasm cut into the air between the pair of you, rough and jagged and —

“Do you know what I received the award for?”

You blink, startled. You purse your lips, looking away. It’d been too painful, too much to look into it, the knowledge of his brilliance always nipping at your heels like an unruly dog. It had pushed you forward, yes, but only out of the fear that if you let up even one single step, he’d race too far ahead and… leave you behind.

“N-no — I haven’t —“

“For my research on congenital heart defects in infants.”

The world slows, tunnels, and tilts around you. Your eyes jerk up to meet his and there — you see it, the blistering heart of all his so-called fire — and you remember suddenly that if it’s cold enough, the body starts to process the sensation as heat. That ice and fire are not so different.

That ice can also burn.

You find your own hands clutched just above where your heart beats inside your chest and you see his eyes flicker down towards them.

“Zayne —“

“I start work at a clinic next week.”

A frown creases at your temple.

“Our first appointment is on Tuesday.”

Your frown deepens.

“What do you —“

“To qualify for the Hunter Program, you need a medical verification of fitness. And… a primary care physician.”

At these last words, his eyes finally cut away. And here, in the dying light of his brand new living room, the sunset turns his glasses opaque for just a second. You’re left blinking in the aftermath of that light, the afterimages will be stained behind your eyelids for hours after — just that look, the firm line of his shoulders, the determined set of his mouth, his jaw, the softness in his fingers as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against the bend of your cheek.

“L-Lying on reports would be a medical malpractice suit waiting to happen,” you say, your voice shaking with either delirium or emotion, you’re not sure which.

Zayne quirks an eyebrow, “I have no plans on lying.”

“But —“ your fingers clench at your chest.

“I’m just… confident in my own skills, that’s all.”

The shadow of a grin twists his lips and he turns back to you, his eyes cast in threads of molten gold.

“Oh… of course,” you let out a soft breath of laughter, toppling back into the sofa and tossing your arm across your eyes. A moment later, you feel the cushions of the sofa sink beside you.

“Hey, look at me.”

You drop your arm and turn, your head still pillowed against the back of the sofa. Zayne’s gaze flickers over every aspect of your face before he reaches out to take your hand in his. Slowly, he leans down to press his lips to your knuckles, letting his lips linger there till you make a soft, questioning noise at the back of your throat.

He looks back up with a knowing smile.

“Shall we get something to eat?”

You jump to your feet, “Y-yes! My treat — a congratulations gift!”

Zayne considers for a moment before sighing, “Alright, but just this once.”

“What, we’re not allowed to go out to dinner now that you’re a certified doctor?”

Zayne’s mouth twitches with amusement as he reaches for his coat.

“No, we’ll still go out for dinner — you’re just no longer allowed to pay for them.”

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