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thedeepspacecadet · 2 days ago

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your cheeks burn.

post after post flashes on your laptop, the screen’s light painting your frowning face in multicolored hues.

their technique? stronger than yours. their concepts? more creative. even their aesthetic is nauseatingly perfect.

your cheeks burn.

scorn. envy. embarrassment.

“why don’t you take a break?” zayne offers, face drawn in gentle concern.

you look at him. and then you burst out in laughter, the sound shrill and bordering on hysteric. “i don’t need a break,” you say as if it’s obvious. “i just need to get better.”

he hums contemplatively, taking in your hunched figure on the armchair you haven’t left in hours. “is ‘better’ something you can get?”

you’re already wound up—anxious and ready to strike. so his words hit like a drop of blood in the ocean.

“what?” you snap defensively. “you don’t think i can? you don’t think i’m good enough to?”

his eyes narrow. “i never said that. don’t put words in my mouth.”

the taut coil of your anger loosens at his sternness. chewing your lip, you look to the side and lower your laptop screen. “sorry.”

nodding his acceptance, he crosses one leg over the other. “you’ve been staring at your computer all evening. i’d be concerned about your eyes, but i’m more worried they’ll burn a hole through the screen before the night is over. what’s wrong?”

a heavy sigh deflates the rest of your body, and for the first time in what seems like forever, you set your laptop on the coffee table. battling the numbness in your folded legs, you pull your knees to your chest, shoving your chin between them with a thud that makes zayne wince.

“i feel…bad,” you begin, tired eyes trained on the carpet. “it feels like everyone is more talented than me. or more successful. and it makes me feel bad.”

when you look up, kind hazel eyes greet you, as if he expects you to keep going. but when all you do is fidget with your fingers, he knows you’ll need a bit of help.

“i feel bad sometimes, too. what happens when you feel bad?”

“i get stuck,” you mumble, cheeks squished between your kneecaps.

“stuck?”

“i can’t do anything when it happens. i just sit there and watch and think of what i don’t do well. and how i can do it differently—better. i just get stuck.”

he thinks for a moment. “dr. greyson is better at septal myectomies than i am.”

raising your head, you scan his face for signs of teasing and find none. “thanks…but i don't know what that means.”

his lips quirk. “it’s an open-heart procedure. greyson can remove the problematic tissue fairly quickly, whereas i take more time.”

“you know that’s not anywhere near the same thing,” you grumble, plopping your chin back down with a huff.

“but how is it different?”

you don’t answer.

zayne sighs. “come here,” he instructs simply.

sliding your gaze over to him, you see the expectant look on his face. with a sigh of your own, you untangle your limbs and pad over to his seat, where he pulls you into his lap.

“how is it different?” he repeats, splaying a soothing hand on your back.

you pluck at his shirt. “your whole job is being talented and successful. you’re a heart surgeon!”

“and even heart surgeons have weaknesses. everyone does. but if they strive to be someone else, they lose what makes them unique,” he murmurs, cupping your tender cheeks in his hands. “it’s alright to want to improve. i admire you for it. but if you spend your time wondering how to get better, i’ll be a very lonely man. do you want to know why?”

“why?” you whisper.

“because i’ll be here to celebrate your strengths, even when you can’t see them.”

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thedeepspacecadet · 2 days ago

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riding caleb's face ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 967

a/n: this was in my drafts. i feel like i should write more fluff. sorry i'm tweaking over lad boys guys

You could barely breathe, your thighs tensing around Caleb's ears, who was just lying there, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes.

"C'mon, Pips," he murmured, voice low and coaxing, like the space between your legs was the sweetest place he'd ever been.

You bit your lip, hard. "I just—what if I'm not—"

"You are," Caleb cut in gently, hands curling possessively around your thighs. "You're perfect.. Let me prove it. Please."

How could you say no when he sounded so pretty?

Slowly, you sank yourself, your hips jerking when you finally felt his mouth on you. It was warm. Already so eager, chasing after you when you gently pulled away again.

Caleb whined, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs as he fought every urge not to pull you down.

"Yes, baby. You're so closeee.." He rolled his hips up against nothing. “Please let me have it. Wanna make you feel good."

You took a shaky breath before nodding, and finally letting yourself sink all the way down.

"Oh God..! Caleb..!"

You clung to the headboard as he began licking at your slick mess like a man starved.

You were so sweet.

The sweetest, most addictive thing he'd ever had.

He ate you out. Completely possessed. Completely obsessed. This was only his first time having you like this, but he already knew he would never get enough. Would never get enough of the way your thighs felt around his head. Would never get enough of the way your cunt pressed down in his eager mouth.

"More," he managed against your slick flesh. You didn't get a chance to respond before the air around you shifted, forcing your full weight on him.

Heat pooled in your gut.

He was using his evol.

You felt a small tug of worry in your chest. "Wait—Ca–Caleb. Can you breathe?"

Caleb only groaned in response, his fingers flexing against your soft skin as he pulled you impossibly closer.

"Caleb—!" Your hand shot down to tangle in his hair, nails biting into his scalp painfully.

"I'm...—I'm serious..!"

Still no response. No little tap on your leg that told you he needed air. No hesitation. Nothing. He just eagerly lapped at your aching cunt like it was the only thing that would ever satisfy him.

You let out a breathless gasp, your eyes screwing shut. Caleb wasn't playing fair, using his evol to force you on his mouth like this.

But he felt so good.

Caleb made a stifled sound underneath you, gripping you tightly as he guided you against his mouth. You nearly cried, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Caleb's need, his confidence, his desperation—it was all making it too easy to lose yourself.

Slowly, you gave a small roll of your hips.

Heat licked up your spine. His tongue was doing absolutely filthy things to you, absolutely devouring you.

"Oh God..! Feels.. soo good."

Caleb's grip tightened, his fingers leaving dents in your skin. He couldn't believe you were finally letting him have you like this. Finally letting yourself go on his face.

It was his dream.

And when you moaned—a shameless, real moan of his name; not to ask him questions or protest—a real fucking moan, he was done.

Caleb growled, his brows furrowing as he slid his hands down to grope your ass and pull you against him even harder. He was wrecked. Absolutely ruined, and he loved every filthy drag of your cunt along his mouth.

He was so desperate now, bucking his hips in the air like that might ease the ache in his groin.

Your thighs trembled, the pleasure building too fast. You whined, squirming slightly. "I—F-fuck! Caleb…! Caleb, I'm—" He doubled down, tongue working sinfully against you. "Oh, God!"

The coil in your stomach unfurled, your limbs tingling as you jerked forward with your release, coating Caleb's face in your mess. A part of you was embarrassed. Another part of you was too fucked out to care.

Your body continued to shake, your heat gushing in his mouth and painting his skin. You wanted to get up, give him a second to breathe after he so diligently ate you out, but you couldn't move.

Could barely even think.

You blinked down, stars bursting behind your eyes. Then, when you could actually focus, you saw him. Felt him. He was pressing feverish kisses against your cunt. Soft and slow.

He was so sweet to you.

You reached your hand down and lazily ran your fingers through his hair. It was a quiet thank you. And Caleb somehow nuzzled into it, even as he pressed kisses to your fluttering heat.

"Cay.. I can't.. Hmnn. I don't want to move. Help me." Caleb let out a soft whine, pushing himself deeper into your cunt and giving it one last kiss before gently rolling you off of him and helping you onto the bed.

You lay limp, your body still tingling, hair mussed and sprawled out over the pillow, vision dancing ever so slightly.

Caleb grinned, leaning over you and peppering your face with kisses like he didn't just suffocate himself in your arousal.

"You tasted so good," he murmured between kisses. "I could eat you all day."

He pulled back to look at you, eyes still brimming with the pride of making you come undone on his mouth. "Would you let me?"

You barely registered his words, just smiled and gave him a lazy smile. "Mhmm.."

Caleb chuckled, leaning in to trap your lips in a slow kiss. "You're cute like this," he murmured.

You pouted, sluggishly wrapping your arm around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. "Stop it."

He kissed your head. "Nope. Told you you were perfect. Didn't I?"

"Mm."

—

@justwinginglife

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thedeepspacecadet · 2 days ago

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[Translated Comic] Arm

Original artist: Coins_the (RedNote: Coins)

Source ll Permission

❀ Please do not repost

#oh my god....

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thedeepspacecadet · 2 days ago

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It mostly brings joy and love and sunshine to one's existence, but the emotional pain is very real (Beyond Cloudfall, Timelock Key, his backstory as a whole, those moments in LAR, him still lacking base content, the fact that I won't ever get to touch him FR...). He's more than worth my therapy bills, though ♡

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thedeepspacecadet · 3 days ago

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just keep falling, part 6

⋆. 𐙚˚ you miss gideon and get a nightly visit from caleb

you went to work. you went home. you cried. you slept horribly. then it began again. work. home. crying. bad sleep.

you tried to reach gideon, but he didn’t pick up. he didn’t want anything to do with you – that was more than clear. it was as if someone put a knife directly through your chest. a feeling you were way too familiar with.

the next night, you were half asleep … when caleb returned. you didn’t know how he got into your apartment – but you heard his footsteps in the hallway. a noise you had known for years. there was a part of you that still hoped, this was a dream. the other part longed for him, missed him so much your soul was broken into pieces.

the door opened. you squeezed your eyes shut. the bedsheets rustled. he sat on the corner of the bed, reaching for you. a slight touch on your arm.

„don’t pretend you’re asleep, honey.“ his voice was hoarse as whiskey and melodic as ever. you couldn’t believe he was here. couldn’t believe he really was alive.

you jerked up – and there he was, violet gaze fixed on you. „I hate you“, you spit out. then you shoved him. „I hate you.“

he smiled at your words. „didn’t seem that way when you begged me for my cock.“

your body reacted on it’s own – your hand collided with his cheek. the echo of your slap and your breathing were the only noises in the room. you stared at each other, your chest heaving, his smile wiped from his lips.

„you left me for over a year. you let me believe you were dead. and then you played mind games with me and gideon to the point of us doubting reality. give me one reason … one reason not to pull my weapon right now and shoot you.“

there it was again, his slight smile. it was different than the one you were so familiar with. this smile had an edge to it. a different side to the caleb you once knew. „do it, honey. I invite you to.“ the smile faded slowly. his brows furrowed, the violet in his eyes turning cold. „because it wouldn’t hurt less than what you have done to me already.“

your cheeks flushed, angry heat creeping into them. „I thought you were dead!“

„you couldn’t wait for gideon to …“

you didn’t let him finish the sentence. in one swift movement, you grabbed your gun from the nightstand, then you were on him, straddling him, gun pointed right to his head. „one more word and I’ll make sure you die for real this time.“

caleb leaned back on his elbows, looking up at you. „are you sure you’re ready for that, little apple?“

„you have lost every permission to give me a petname“, you snarled, pushing the gun deeper into his skin.

caleb grabbed your wrist, holding you in place. „can gideon give you a petname?“, he sneered. „what does he call you, huh? baby?“ he laughed without any humor. „I heard him call lots of girls by that petname at the DAA, you know. we had fun times together. or rather gideon had a lot of fun. with a lot of girls. there were times where he fucked several in …“

without letting him finish that sentence, you yanked your hand back, ready to strike – but he was faster. in one swift motion, he spun you around until he was the one pinning you down, forcefully grabbing both of your wrists. you held on to your gun, grinding your teeth together.

„stop talking about him!“

„why? I thought you loved talking about him.“

you hooked your legs around his, shoved your elbow up, and managed to throw his weight off you. the two of you tumbled off the bed and hit the floor hard, but you had the upper hand again, with your arm pressed down his neck.

„you don’t even have the decency of telling me the truth. of explaining anything.“ your voice started to shake, so did your arm.

„I couldn’t come back to you.“ suddenly calebs voice was softer. „I wanted to, but I couldn’t. even now … being here is a safety risk for you.“

you tried to wrap your head around his words. „I … I don’t understand.“

„there’s so much I want to tell you, but I can’t. but trust me – if I would have had the choice, I would have never left you. never. I promise you that.“

your grip on him faltered. your shoulders started to shake. even though you weren’t sure this was enough, you started to question whether your anger was right. it was a start, at least.

you gulped. „I still want to kind of shoot you.“

„and I would like to shoot gideon. and you. sooo … we’re kind of in the same boat, right?“

you pressed your lips together, so the laugh didn’t slip out. then you sank on him, not being able to choke him anymore. caleb wrapped his arms around you. your bodies seemed to melt into one in one earth shattering, all consuming hug. it wasn’t like the last time, where you both claimed each other. it was like in the past – with him hugging you so tight as if you were his anchor and he yours. for a second, all of the horrible months of grief disappeared, all your anger, all the pain and you only felt him. the rise and fall of his chest. his heartbeat, steady and very much alive.

„I missed you“, he whispered.

You couldn’t answer. „I missed you, too“, didn’t even begin to cut it. but there was a little voice inside your head, whispering another name.

gideon.

„I’m not the only one you should explain yourself to, caleb“, you whispered.

suddenly he got stiff. „yes, you are.“

you pulled away slightly to look into his face. „gideon has a right to know, caleb.“

his jaw was tightened, his eyes dark. hurt crossed his face. „you were with him.“

„I was“, you replied. „and I don’t regret it.“

he avoided your gaze, but you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. „I love you. I have never stopped loving you. I’m angry, because you left me. I’m heartbroken that you kept these secrets from me. but I wouldn’t have survived the last year without gideon. I … he‘s important to me. and he was important to you once.“

„that was before he …“ he didn’t finish the sentence and it lingered between the two of you.

„gideon didn’t betray you. and I didn’t either. we didn’t plan for this to happen. I know it hurts you, and I understand … but please know that it would never had happened if you didn’t die. we grieved you, caleb. we bonded over that. and that bond … it won’t ever disappear.“

he cupped your cheek, his thumb softly stroking your cheek. „I hate that it had to come to this. but … I think, with time, I’ll be able to understand.“

you leaned your forehead against his, until you shared your breath, his hand never leaving your skin.

„you need to talk to him.“, you whispered.

caleb only answered with two soft spoken words.

„I do.“

#love as always

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thedeepspacecadet · 3 days ago

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you walk out on him

zayne x fem!reader

⭑.ᐟ part one of my 500 follower special

summary: after months of neglect from your boyfriend, zayne, you walk out on him

contains: angst, hurt no comfort, swearing, 2.6k words

from this poll + pt.2

For the past month, you’ve barely seen Zayne. He’s been waking up at god awful hours and coming home late at night, only to sleep for a few and then do it again the next day. And let’s be real, you’re missing him. A lot.

His good morning kisses pressed against your forehead before the sun rises are not enough to sustain you anymore. Nor are the quick texts he sends you on his break or murmured apologies as he climbs into bed with you.

You can’t take it anymore.

Putting your day off to good use, you bake some muffins. Their yummy scent disperses throughout your apartment, making you sigh as you touch up your lip gloss. After dressing in your shortest mini skirt and fixing your hair, you place a few warm muffins in a container and head down to Akso Hospital.

Rapping on his office door, you hear a quiet “Come in” from the other side.

You push the door open, chirping, “Surprise!”

Zayne gazes up at you before returning his attention to his computer, mumbling, “Hey.” Your mood dampens as the door thunks closed, and you come over to him. Retrieving the muffins from your bag, you set them down on his cluttered desk.

“Look, I baked muffins for you,” you say sweetly. He looks at the muffins and gives you that micro smile.

“Thanks.” You pop the sides and take off the lid; the delicious scent of baked goods fills the air.

You grin, “Do you wanna try them?” You watch him click away on his mouse before typing with fervour.

He murmurs, “Maybe later.”

“Oh, okay,” you nod. Your shoulders slump as you snap the lid back on. He hasn’t invited you to sit down. You glance back and forth between the doctor and the empty chair across from him, mentally screaming at him to just notice your uneasiness.

He doesn’t.

The clacking of his keyboard permeates the silence. You’re waiting for him to ask you how your day has been or comment on how pretty you look. But he just keeps typing away, as if his girlfriend, positively radiant in the afternoon light streaming through the windows, isn’t standing there.

“So,” you start. “Busy day or?”

“Mhmm.” His mouse clicks before he returns to smashing the white keys on his keyboard. The sound it makes begins to get on your nerves. Crossing your arms beneath your chest, you slowly walk around to his side of the desk and lean against it.

Gazing down at him, you say, “Aren’t you going to ask how my day’s been?”

Zayne responds robotically, “How was your day, honey?”

Clack! Clack! Clack!

You’re about to throw his keyboard out the window in your fury.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, mouth twisting as you sigh, “Fine.”

“Good,” he replies, his hazel eyes never leaving his screen. You push off his desk, your heels clicking as you grab your handbag.

“I’ll see you at home, okay?” You huff. He curtly nods, not even glancing up as you walk toward the door and inevitably shut it behind you.

That night, you planned to confront him. But lo and behold, you didn’t see him for the next few days. And when you finally did, it was a quick peck on the cheek as he grabbed the lunch you made him last night out of the fridge and left for work.

What had been a month of barely seeing each other spiralled into months of barely any contact. A few texts here and there. “Sorry, I’m so busy. I’ll be home early so we can chat.” You go to bed at 1am after waiting up for him (he fell asleep on his desk).

You feel like you’re going insane, more angsty than the day before last, every day, as work and poor communication drive a wedge between you two. You miss talking with Zayne. You miss getting brunch together on your off days and cuddling on the couch. You miss the little snow creations he would give to you after you’ve had a hard day at work. And of course, you miss being intimate with him.

After another gruelling day at the Association, you come home to an empty apartment. As always. Frustrated, you hit send on your phone, texting your boyfriend about having a date night. Within minutes, he responds, eager to see you, too. Stripping off your uniform, you two work out the details of your date over text.

This Friday, 7pm, that nice restaurant you’ve been eyeing for a while.

That’s what you repeat to yourself as you take a soothing, hot shower. It’s like a prayer, a chant, a mantra you say to yourself daily in the lead up to your date. You let Jenna know you’re taking the day off in advance; that’s how excited you are.

And finally, it’s Friday!

To start the day off, you sleep in till 11am. You wanna be well-rested for your date, especially since you’re hoping that Zayne will keep you up all night. To pamper yourself, you cook your favourite breakfast and enjoy it while watching your comfort film. Afterwards, you paint your finger and toenails, blowing on the wet coat as Netflix auto-plays the next episode of your current show.

And then somehow, it’s already 5pm?! You have a quick snack before hopping in the shower, exfoliating and then shaving. Drying yourself off, you do your face and body care routines. Next, you get dressed and then apply your makeup, finishing off with your hair.

It’s 6:15pm and Zayne isn’t back yet. You send him a quick text, and your phone pings instantly, saying that he’ll meet you at the restaurant. After drenching yourself in jewellery, you giggle to yourself about whether he’ll still be in his doctor’s coat when you see him. With one last glance in the mirror, you snag your shoulder bag and book it to the door. You make sure to lock up and turn all the lights off before catching the elevator down to your car.

You sigh, relieved that you made it in time, as you catch your breath at the restaurant’s door. Giving the waiter your name, they inform you that you’re the first to arrive. It’s no big deal, really. You brush it off as you’re seated at a cosy little booth toward the back. Low lighting, comfy cushions, and warm jazz overhead. The waiter couldn’t have picked a better spot.

You pull out your phone. 7:05. Okay, no reason to stress.

7:10. Alright, maybe he got stuck in traffic.

7:20. Whoa, the streets must be backed up for miles. Or maybe he got held up at work. You send him a quick message, about to rest your cheek on your palm before you remember that you’re wearing makeup.

7:30. No reply. The waiter asks if you’d like to order. You haven’t even looked at the menu.

7:35. You decide on the scallions for an appetiser and request some table water. Still, nothing from Zayne.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mumble beneath your breath. You text him again. He’s not about to stand you up, is he?

You wait until 8pm, sadly munching on your scallions before ordering dessert. The waiter apologises like it’s their fault your fuck ass boyfriend didn’t show up. You thank them for their kindness.

8:30. You pay the bill (a whopping $84) and leave. Sending one last message to Zayne, you drive home, talking to yourself animatedly about what the fuck just happened and what you’re going to do about it.

Past midnight, you finally hear the jingling of Zayne’s keys as he unlocks the front door. You sit on the couch, your presence only illuminated by a nearby lamp. He pushes the door open; you don’t move. It thuds shut, and he switches on the overhead light.

Seeing the top of your head poking over the back of the couch, Zayne sighs, “There you are.” He comes over to you, setting his bag down on the edge of the couch before sitting down on the coffee table, right in front of you. He grabs your hands, but you shrug him off and avoid his tired gaze.

“Honey,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You huff, eyes glued to the philodendron in the corner, “It was supposed to be our first date in months, Zayne.”

Turning to face him, you say sternly, “Where were you?”

He replies in that clinical tone, “I had an emergency surgery.” You scoff, shaking your head and looking away. Any other day, you’d be cuddling him and congratulating him on saving another life, but not tonight.

“Of course you did,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“Darling—”

“No, Zayne. I don’t wanna hear it.” You lean back, crossing your arms over your chest as you scrutinise him. Slightly dishevelled locks, like he’s been running his hands through his hair. Dark under eyes. He deserves it. Chapped lips. You hope his throat burns from dehydration.

“Four fucking months, Zayne. That’s how long it’s been since we’ve had a proper conversation. Four months?! Where have you been? “I had an emergency surgery” I don’t fucking care!” You spit out.

He pushes up his glasses, sighing, “Do we have to do this now, love?”

“Am I fuckin’ chore to you?! Is that what this is?!” You ramble. He places his cold hand on your knee, but you push it off.

“Don’t,” you say, seething with venom. You lick your lips, at a loss for words. So many things you’ve been meaning to say to him. So many times you’ve rehearsed this. But facing perfection, you forget. All of your witty comebacks and cutthroat lines dissolve into raw emotion. You can feel the tears clawing at your eyes, hounding to be released.

“Are you l-losing interest in me? Is that it?” You choke out, unable to look at him.

“No,” he remarks without hesitation. “No, I… I’ve been too ambitious, I’m afraid. And in doing so, I’ve neglected the most important person in my life.” The tears spill, streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. Zayne’s fingers twitch, the urge to wipe your eyes and kiss your sorrows better, overpowering. But he disciplines himself.

“I-I don’t—I don’t wa-wanna do this anym-more, Zayne,” you sob, bringing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around yourself. You lay your forehead against your knees, crying as the weight of these past few months crashes down on you.

“I know. And I’m sorry, darling. I should have realised how much I was hurting you much earlier. I wish you had told me sooner how you felt.” His words only make it worse.

“Told you?!” You cry out, lifting your head to gaze at him with glassy eyes.

“How-how c-could I have-have told you? Y-you didn’t ev-even look at me? In-in your office,” you explain through the shuddering sobs racking your chest. Zayne’s brow creases, unsure of what you’re referring to. You haven’t been in his office for months. Not since you dropped off those delicious muffins and—

Oh.

“How w-was I sup-supposed to t-talk to you?” You ask, trembling. Your lips curl as more tears spew from your eyes. Before he can see you crying all ugly, you dip your head back between your knees.

After a long pause, all he mutters is, “I see.” The sound of your sadness ripples throughout the quiet apartment. Once a home: wafting jasmine, gentle sunlight, and lazy mornings in bed on the weekend. Now, it’s like a cage, keeping you trapped in an unhappy relationship.

“I-I don’t wanna do-do this anymore,” you repeat.

He sighs, “I know. We’ll fix it, honey. I’ll fix this.” You shake your head, pulling back and meeting his mellow gaze once more.

“I-I wanna take a-a break,” you sniffle. His eyes widen, and his body goes rigid. Even you notice through your cloudy vision.

“A break?” He clarifies sternly. You nod, the emotions swelling in your throat becoming too much to bear.

Zayne’s pink tongue darts across his dry lips, wetting them as he sighs, “Look, I know that this has been quite hard for you—”

“For me?! Wh-what? This has-hasn’t been h-hard for you either?” You retort. His brow furrows as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“No. That’s not what I meant. This has been difficult for both of us. But, I don’t think taking a break will solve anything,” he explains. You shake your head as you sniffle. God, your nose is so fucking runny right now it’s embarrassing.

He goes on, “More space will not bring us closer, love.”

You choke out, “B-but I nee-need m-more space to c-come back t-t’you.”

After a moment, Zayne huffs, “Generally, partners take breaks to see other people or to compose themselves before ending the relationship. I know that I’ve hurt you, but I believe that we’re strong enough to move through this. Don’t you agree?” Your sobs intensify tenfold. You curl back into a ball, rocking gently as you grapple with his words.

Are you about to do this? Are you about to break up with your boyfriend? Akso’s most handsome, young, and successful cardiologist. The man you’ve been with for almost two years. The man you love so much it eats away at you when he’s not close.

I guess you are.

Rational thinking has gone out the window as you stand up. Wiping your snotty nose and puffy eyes on your sleeve, you grab the bag you spent the last two hours packing. The one Zayne didn’t even notice sitting close by on the couch.

You murmur, “’M going,” as you head for the door. Panicking, Zayne grabs your wrist. You whirl around, gazing up at him while traitorous tears run down your cheeks.

“Sleep on it. Please,” he mumbles. His thumb caresses your wrist, feeling your rapidly beating pulse. You shake your head and tug your wrist back, but he catches your forearm.

“I love you,” he blurts out. Little whines escape your lips as you stare at him. Oh, how soft his black locks look in the warm light. You want to reach out and mess them up even more, but you stop yourself before you even move.

Your lips tremble as you deliver the finishing blow: “It’s not enough.” Yanking your hand back, you turn around and open the front door. It slams shut behind you. And you don’t even look back until you’re in the elevator.

An empty hallway. The grey doors close.

As you cry in your car for the next half hour, quietening down to text Tara and then bursting back into tears waiting for her reply, Zayne stands there. Right where you left him. In the living room, gazing between the closed door and his hand, the hand that still feels your lingering warmth.

After getting the a-okay from Tara, you pat your eyes dry and breathe deeply before setting off for her place. When you arrive, she invites you in with a warm hug and pats your back knowingly. You two chat into the early hours of the morning, until you eventually clean up and head to bed. Exhausted, you doze off into a dreamless sleep.

Zayne, meanwhile, doesn’t sleep at all. Your words play on loop in his mind, repeating until it drives him up the wall. As he lies in his empty bed, your scent still soaking the sheets, he thinks of all the ways to mend your broken heart.

Because you didn’t officially break up with him, right? You’re just taking a break. Like you wanted to. Like he didn’t want to. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he cuddles your pillow.

masterlist

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love!! this fic is not exactly an original idea, but i wanted to have a crack at it. lmk if you'd like a part two.

here are a couple similar fics:

you try to break up with them (zayne/sylus) by @heartyluv you ask him for a divorce mid-argument by @kaiist

#ok ouch

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thedeepspacecadet · 3 days ago

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i only really tolerate being touched by certain people and i’m projecting onto zayne and thinking he’s the same way.

too-friendly patients clasp his hand as they thank him, and he’s bristling so much he barely processes their gratitude. he takes a step back, gentle but firm, and sends them on their way, trying to look past the confusion on their faces.

the only intern who doesn’t fear him aces an assessment one day. but when she bounds up to him and asks for a high-five, he can only spare her a curt nod. her dejected flush replays in his mind when she shrinks away from him in the hallway.

he questions his personhood when he retreats from the pediatric patients’ eager touches, their tiny hands reaching up to grab at his stethoscope. shouldn’t he like this? shouldn’t he chuckle and beckon them forward? shouldn’t his heart fill with warmth? that’s how he hears greyson describe it. that’s how he sees the nurses act. so why can’t he do the same?

it’s only when you touch him—when you hold his face, kiss his nose, or wrap your arms around his waist—that his worries fade away. your touch is good. safe. familiar. he craves it, he seeks it, he leans into it instead of shying away. in your arms, he doesn’t bristle. doesn’t wonder if he was meant to be a recluse, never to be touched by another hand. in your arms, he feels a little more human.

#yes!!#youre so right

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thedeepspacecadet · 3 days ago

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soft, slow mornings with caleb... ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

—slight nsfw, fluff drabble

based on these CalebWeek prompts 🍎

You blink slowly at the red digits on the alarm clock: 5:47 am. A little too early for his alarm to have gone off. A little too early to be awake. And yet, his arm is heavy over your waist, holding you close.

It’s rare being up before Caleb, rarer even that you get to see him like this, so unguarded. You shift slightly, stretching your arms above your head in a lazy arch before rolling over, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt as you go, until you're tucked against his bare chest, limbs tangled under the blanket, face to face with the man beside you.

“Mmh, warm.” You nuzzle into his chest like he’s your personal radiator, staying there until his alarm finally goes off.

He didn’t make a move for the clock—just held you close, like he wasn’t ready to let go. In his half-asleep voice, he murmured, “As much as I’d love to keep you like this, I’ve got a meeting with the fleet first thing this morning.”

You just tightened your arms around his chest.

“Five more minutes,” you mumbled.

He let out a soft breath as his head sank back into the pillow. He was too tired to push back. He just dropped his hand to the back of your head, stroking slowly under his shirt.

“Alright, five more minutes.”

That was enough. You nestled your face into the warm curve of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like comfort, like the smell of freshly washed laundry.

His hand slid down the length of your back, resting securely at your hip. His skin was soft and warm. You let your hands wander, knowing exactly where to touch, where he tensed when you dragged your fingers over his pressure points. He twitched slightly, betraying just how well you knew him.

“You enjoying yourself?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling.

Your fingers moved slowly over the ridges of his chest, then your lips followed. You kissed the same path, planting feather-light kisses along his skin. His breath hitched just enough for you to hear. That soft reaction made your stomach flutter. It made you want more. Made you want to see what else you could get out of him.

You kept going, brushing your mouth along his skin, slipping under the neckline of his shirt. Kisses pressed against the base of his neck, creeping up under his jaw. His eyes were still shut, soaking in every second, either unaware of what you were doing—or pretending to be.

Your hips shifted under his, slow and deliberate. So slow it could’ve passed as innocent. But the way his breath caught again said otherwise. The quiet grind of your body against his was doing exactly what you hoped it would.

He groaned, low in your ear.

“Is this your plan for keeping me in bed?” One eye cracked open, watching you now.

“Maybe,” you teased, mouth tracing along his jaw until you hovered just above his ear. Your hands trail down his chest, palming the growing bulge pressing up against your hips.

“It’s not like they can’t start without you,” you whispered, nipping at his earlobe. You rub him slowly through his pants, savouring the way he writhes under your touch, hips bucking ever so slightly toward you. It was almost too agonising for him to bear.

“I wish I could just stay here with you.”

“So stay,” you murmured, pressing your hips down harder. “Or do I need to convince you a little more?”

His hands gripped your hips tight, stopping your movement. That alone told you how close he was to caving in. His voice came out strained, hanging by a thread, “Not right now.”

It almost hurt him to say it.

If he let you keep going, he’d have flipped you onto your back already and let everyone in that meeting wonder his whereabouts.

“If you keep doing that,” he muttered, “I don’t think I’ll ever leave.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“It’s your day off, isn’t it?” he said. “How about I make you breakfast in bed. You rest. And when I get back…” He tugs you out from under his shirt, then shifts you beneath him, pinning you down with a hungry look.“Maybe I’ll let you finish what you started.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“Trust me,” he said. He slides his knee between your thighs, slowly easing them apart until he’s pressed against your warmth. A low groan slips from him the moment he feels the damp spot waiting for him.“I’ll make it—even if I have to break every traffic law out there. It’ll be worth it if it means I get to come home to you.”

He finally pulls away, but not before capturing your moan in a slow, lingering kiss—like he needed to take a piece of you with him. Then he groans, dragging himself out of bed for a cold shower, the only thing that might help ease the massive hard-on you left behind.

#love

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thedeepspacecadet · 3 days ago

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you've started something of a mischievous habit.

caleb prides himself in being as useful to you as possible. reaching higher cabinets, opening tight lids, lifting heavy things around without breaking a sweat. and he expects little to nothing in return. just a smile and a puffed out chest with the words 'that's just what boyfriends do!' never failing to leave his lips when you thank him. so you begin to collect data.

kisses and hugs are more than okay. he's eager to receive as many as you're willing to give with flushed ears and sparkling eyes. sometimes it leads to a little more than planned—but when have you ever complained?

small gifts do vary. he will accept handmade ones the most, like bracelets and small charms for his bags and jackets, if you pout hard enough. snacks almost always work. anything expensive makes him kiss your cheek before gently probing you to return it, but not without stating how grateful he was for your love. he didn't need anything physical from you to prove how much you did.

'letting me help you is more than enough for me, okay? i'm supposed to be spending money on you, not the other way around.'

you can't even be mad at him. earnest and wide eyed and cute enough to eat. but what happened next isn't your fault. mostly, anyway.

a little game of sorts forms in the wake of his near refusal to accept anything from you. calling him ridiculous pet names when he does boyfriend-worthy things, ranging from cute—baby, sweetheart, lover—to gag-worthy—hot stuff, snuggle bug, and sergeant sexy—the last of which made him laugh so hard he almost cried.

you're glad he's getting a kick out of it. if finding random things to do for you just to see what awful nickname you come up with next makes him happy, then so be it. but you don't expect the next one to affect him so much.

the action was innocent. he'd noticed your laces were untied while the two of you were out shopping, dropping to his knees the same moment before you could even look down. it makes you smile, reaching down a bit to ruffle his hair a bit, and the way he leans into your touch reminds you of something.

"thank you, puppy," you tease with a laugh, running your hands through his hair before patting his head. you then look up, a snack stand catching your attention, but nearly trip over your boyfriend still rooted to the floor.

"shit, i'm so so—caleb?"

his head is lowered so you can't see his face, but you do see his ears. bright red. his shoulders are bunched up nervously as if he'd short circuited and forgotten how to stand up.

you call his name again, brows furrowed. had he hurt himself? you tentatively crouch down to his level and tilt his head upwards, only to be greeted with a flushed face and shifting eyes.

"do you really see me like that?" he murmurs, nerves radiating off of him in waves. it takes you a while to realize he's not actually upset despite the pout working around his words. "like a dog?"

ohhh. you just barely fight off a laugh and his eyes narrow in comical fashion.

"really? puppy is what got you? not even sergeant sexy?" caleb manages to turn even redder and you can't help your laugh this time, giggling as you cup his face in your hands. his cheeks are warm to the touch. cute.

"it's not a bad thing. you're very dependable and sweet and you look out for me. and you love attention." a kiss to his forehead, then his nose, then both cheeks. he emits a pleased sound, basking in the glow of your attention and immediately puckering out his lips for a kiss there. "seeeee?"

"whatever you say." caleb smiles, happy when he gets the kiss he asked for. "if being a dog lets me be closer to you for the rest of our lives then. i dunno. woof."

that gets another laugh from you, finally standing up as he follows suit. "good boy."

caleb chokes.

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