Zayne - Blog Posts
I DREW YOU!
↳GN Reader: Their reaction to your drawing of him
A/N: I drew all the pics shown below so it goes without saying that I hope no one takes credit for them
#A very good day being love and deepspace stan (except for caleb's stan) 😭
Zayne HCs pt.2
I had to make a part two of his head cannons because I just watched his Eternal Attachment play through and AHHHHSKFHDJDHKSHFKSHFKSHFK
Anywayyys I wrote this after watching the Medical Rescue Memoria play through which is why they may seem a little bit angsty but overall FLUFF FOR THE WIN!!!
Enjoy!
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
-Zayne who calls you whenever he’s having a bad day, because your voice puts him at ease.
-Zayne who comes home more quiet than usual whenever a surgery was unsuccessful that day.
-Zayne who finds comfort in laying on your chest and having you brush your fingers through his hair.
-Zayne who is so scared of losing you that he always touches a pulse point whenever you two are close, just to remind himself that you’re there.
-Zayne who instantly relaxes as soon as he sees you, and has to hold himself back from wrapping you in his arms right there in public.
-Zayne who feels bad that his work hours don’t allow him to see you often enough, so he gives you a spare key to his home, hoping you’ll drop by more often.
-Zayne who daydreams about spending his life with you during unimportant moments of his day.
-Zayne who keeps any gifts you give him in a special drawer, so he can pull them out and appreciate them when you’re not there.
-Zayne who never corrects anyone who assumes you’re his partner, because he likes the way it sounds and hopes one day it’ll be true.
Let me Take Care of You
(Zayne x reader fluff)
Zayne rubbed his tired eyes as he leaned back in his office chair. It was nearly one in the morning and he was exhausted from the long day of work. As he stood up to begin packing his things from the day, he heard a knock at the door.
Before he could tell the person on the other side to enter, the door opened on its own.
“Doctor Zayne! Have time to squeeze in an extra appointment?” You playfully asked.
“Love? What are you doing here it’s late. Did something happen? Are you hurt?” Worry creeped into his tone as your abrupt visit had given him the impression that something was wrong.
“No I’m fine silly! I just thought I could pick you up from work! If you haven’t eaten yet we can grab some takeout from that noodle place. I hear they just updated their dessert menu too!”
Still unmoved from his spot at the door he stared at you dumbfounded. “You came all the way here from across Linkon to pick me up?”
“And get you food! I know how tired you get after your shifts and since I didn’t have anything going on I thought I’d pay my favorite doctor a visit.” You chirped. “Are you almost ready to leave?”
Zayne was completely baffled. No one had ever been so thoughtful towards him. The thought of you taking the time to travel all across Linkon at this hour just to make sure he ate and made it home safe made his heart fuzzy.
“I was actually just packing up. You know you didn’t have to come all this way. I’m perfect capable of transporting and feeding myself.”
Not backing down from his stubbornness you replied, “Of course you can, you’re brilliant. But sometimes I want to take care of you too. You spoil me all the time so it’s only fair that you let me do the same.”
Turning away to hide his reddened face he insisted, “You really didn’t have to-“
Reaching up to turn his face toward you, you insisted, “I want to Zayne. You don’t have to be so tough all the time. Just let me do this for you. Please?”
Finally giving in he sighed and leaned into you. “Since you’re so insistent I guess I’ll let you have this one.”
“Thanks Zayne.” You said, giving him a light kiss on the shoulder.
“No… Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. Whispering in your ear, “Now, where’s our first destination, Miss Hunter?”
Ick
(A short crack fic)
Ok don’t get me wrong, I love Zayne with ALL of my heart but I can totally see him being the type of guy to say something like “oh have did you recently start your menstrual cycle?” Whenever you’re being moody.
BUT NOT IN A MEAN PATRONIZING WAY AT ALL!!!
This man is a doctor, and im pretty sure he’s just always trying to find a rational explanation for everything. Which is why whenever you’re in a bit of a funk it’s his first logical explanation you know?
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
It had been a long day at work with the Hunters association. First you missed your bus to work, then when you finally ran in you bumped into Tara who spilled her drink all over you, and then it started raining on the way home when you didn’t even have an umbrella.
Finally home, you just wanted to dry off and relax with your loving boyfriend, Zayne. You reached into your bag to fish out your keys but they weren’t there.
“Oh what the hell!”
You began dumping all of the contents from your purse onto the ground hoping to find the keys to unlock your apartment but there was no luck.
“Damnit…”
You started to shove all your belongings back into your purse when the front door opened slightly.
“Love? I thought I heard something rustling around out here. What are you doing on the floor?”
Scrambling to get back on your feet, you quickly stepped inside your warm home and began slipping your shoes off.
“Lost my keys…” you mumbled, not even bothering to look up at him as you said so.
“Oh of course.” He chided, looking up and down at your soaked clothes. “You know you should really change out of those. You could get sick if you keep them on.”
“Really? I was just thinking about getting into bed with these on.” You snapped.
“You seem to be upset…”
“What? Me? Never.” You sarcastically remarked.
“You’re definitely irritated. Have you perhaps started your menstrual cycle?”
“Excuse me?!” You were angry angry now. “You think just because I’m upset I’m suddenly on my period?! That’s so sexist! Besides, you know my period was last week anyway. Why would you think I suddenly started again?”
“Studies have shown that some periods can last up to-“
“ZAYNE!!!”
Dating Zayne HCs
* BF Zayne who checks his phone first thing in the morning to see if he got a text from you
* BF Zayne who always orders extra sweets whenever you go out together so he can share with you
* BF Zayne who tracks your period and keeps extra boxes of pads and tampons in his home is you ever need them when you come over
* BF Zayne who loves holding you on his lap and playing with your hair when he reads
* BF Zayne who kisses your forehead and links pinkies with you as a small form of PDA
* BF Zayne who would send you emails reminding you when your next appointment with him is, or simply just emails reminding you to take care of yourself
* BF Zayne who’s the first one to take care of you when you’re sick. Lightly scolding you for not taking care of yourself while he lovingly dotes on you
* BF Zayne who takes you one dates to bakeries and libraries, letting you have the first bite of each treat or grabbing books too high up for you to reach
* BF Zayne who caresses your face with both hands when he kisses you, keeping you close to him only until you need air
* BF Zayne who melts when you run your fingers through his hair, leaning into your touch and humming softly and you massage his scalp
Credits artist @wengwengchim
FINALLY GOT TO AFFINITY-20 WITH HIM!!
He's abosolutely adorable and precious to me.
I love being a Zayne guy.
OPENING THE NEW EVENT PAGE AND ZAYNE SHOWING UP LIKE THIS FEELS LIKE I'VE BEEN SENT TO HEAVEN 😭🫶🏻
CHOCOLATE DAWNBREAKER WITH A HALO?!?!?! IS THIS ANGEL INVITING ME TO GO UP THERE RN?!?
Things I Realize and Love about Zayne's personality in Exclusive Tutorial
* He loves showing you off of his colleagues
* He keeps close to you specially when his colleagues are around
* He lets you have your way on him but never to the extent of humiliating you in public
* He is a true softy and really gets weak when you touch him
* He would take care of you. Not just your health but overall Aspect of you.
* He is a true gentleman, he will never touch you inappropriately even if you provoke him.
P.S.
If I am not already in love with this guy, I sure am now..
JUST A VISIT , RIGHT? A/N: Don't get his license cancelled , please. I have an exam tomorrow but welp priorities hehe hope you have a fun time reading. Doc! Zayne x fem!reader w/c: approx 1k genre: fluff, suggestive (not a lot)
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// JUST A VISIT RIGHT?
They say jealousy is a disease. Thank God the WHO hasn't declared it to be so, or else Zayne might be one of the unhealthiest doctors to have ever lived. Too much? My words are not enough to project the jealousy issues Zayne suffers from while deceiving everyone with his cold demeanour. It all started when you were kids, you were the closest he could have to a sibling. As his parents were doctors, it was quite lonely at home, so he just occupied himself with books - hoping his parents would praise him. After all, skipping a few years and studying with people years older than you gets lonely; the only thing a kid can crave for is his parent's approval.
You were the skipping stone that disturbed the equilibrium of his calm pond. He first saw you when you moved into the neighbourhood with your grandma. He didn't go out often, so how would you even meet? That's when you and Caleb thought to drag him out of his house to play.
It was a placid summer afternoon. Zayne felt like dozing off to the melody of the summer wind and staring out of his window. That's when he saw a sudden tiny palm bang his window and slowly a tiny head with pigtails would pop up. He was so confused, he didn't know if he should shout or just open the window. He recognized your face; you gave him a sweet smile and asked him to open the window.
Zayne hesitantly opened his window as you introduced yourself and asked him to join you to play with him and Caleb. "Caleb?, Who is that?" Zayne asked with the most innocent voice as he looked at you with his eyes. A cheeky sound came from below where you were standing "Um..that would be me, THE PERSON SHE IS STANDING ON." Zayne's faint smile faded away, he used to hang out with you both. Oh, but how he wished to be just with you, but Caleb wouldn't let that happen, and soon life went on, and you three chose your paths in life and drifted away.
[PRESENT TIME]
Zayne wakes up from his sweet nap with a faint smile on his face. They say if life tears you apart, destiny brings you back together. Lately, Dr. Zayne has been frowning a lot less. That's probably cause he has been assigned to be your primary care physician. That gives him an excuse to be in touch with you. It is no surprise that without Caleb, he has taken the responsibility to take care of youto make up for the hole Caleb left behind.
It was his first time meeting you in so long, it would be a lie to say he wasn't nervous. As he saw youwalk into his office, he kept fiddling with his pen to calm his nerves. He had seen you grow all over theyears, but nothing could have mentally prepared him for the tension between you both. It wasn't easy for you as well...seeing the nerdy guy who answered in just 2-3 words, to grow up to be such a fine man, who knows his way around words to comfort you, especially you. Every second with him made you nervous; the fact that it's his day off, yet he only came for youas it was your day off. The fact that he offered you the same candy you loved as a kid to makeyou comfortable. The way he is not in his doctor coat and has his sleeves rolled up, displaying hisveins. You curse your brain for having such indecent thoughts, he is just doing his job...right?
Zayne could read you like a book, there's no way he did not notice the way you were looking at his arms. He thought to push your buttons, as he stretched his neck and let out a deep sigh to loosen his neck tie as he tilted his head back and stared at you. "Apologies, it's been too hot in Linkon recently due to more Metaflux Radiations.I hope you understand." You avoid his gaze and blush, looking down.
Second by second, you are consumed with thoughts that should have never been there in the first place.It was so noisy that you didn't notice when Zayne had walked towards you and tilted your chin up to look at him with his delicate hands. "Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?" He kneeled to your height and gently held your hand with both his hands and placed it against his cheek as he looked up to meet your eyes. "Please don't ignore me when you are hurting, I'll take care of you I promise."
You couldn't take it anymore, his voice...the closeness, his neck. He smiled at you and put his stethoscope against your back as he instructed you to take deep breaths. The way he was so close to you that you could feel his breath synchronize with yours made your heartbeat go faster. Zayne was gonna point it out, till you stood up real fast and sprinted towards the door, overwhelmed with emotions. As you are about to open it, a hand emerges from behind you and pulls you by your waist. You could feel his huge body frame hover over yours as he let out a raspy whisper into your ear, "Don't think I'm not used to patients running away, dear." He pulls your arm gently to turn you towards him, having you cornered between the door and him.
"I'm not gonna let you go for if I do...", Zayne gently lowers his gaze down to your lips as he traces them with his calloused fingers.
"I think I might never forgive myself."
lads boys with pets
(Sylus cats are stray cats that he adopted from the 109 zo area)
El de Caleb todavía está en proceso, espero tenerlo pronto pero la universidad me está matando.
LDS boys x reader who's quite oblivious to their feelings?!?
| Partner who is quite obvious to the boys’ feelings |
Lnd boys x gn! Oblivious! Reader
Xavier
Xavier will wait for you to realize your feelings on your own terms giving you time and affection
He will be so soft and sweet to you, the man’s just happy to spend time with you
Sometimes while training together, he’d purposely let you win so can watch to celebrate.
When he does something a bit flirty, you’re dumbfounded- ears red eyes unable to meet his.
Though he isn’t the best person around to have in the kitchen, he makes an effort to learn how to cook your favourite dish.
A particularly strong hit from you caught Xavier off guard. He stumbled backwards, feigning a loss of balance, and fell to the floor with a dramatic thud. Concern immediately washed over your face as you rushed forward, your weapon forgotten, to check on your fallen comrade.
"Xavier! Are you alright? I should have been more careful," you said, worry etched across your features as you held him still.
Xavier lay there, seemingly dazed, looking up at you with a mysterious glint in his eyes. A whisper echoed through, "Woah... you look pretty from here."
Your concern shifted to confusion, and you tilted your head, trying to make sense of his words. "Hm? You said something? But I can't believe I was able to defeat one of the top-performing hunters today!" you exclaimed, once you registered the accomplishment, your attention torn between victory and the well-being of your sparring partner.
"Congrats on the win, you did great," Xavier replied, his hands reaching up to gently cup your face. The touch was unexpected, and you blushed slightly at the unexpected closeness. His eyes sparkled with a mixture of admiration and devotion.
Zayne
Zayne, although busy throughout the day, would set aside time for you to spend it with you even when you insist on him utilizing it to rest
His type of love would be acts of service and gift giving, getting you small things
^^ for example when you unconsciously ramble on how you were recently into doodling and sketching so he brings in a sketchbook for you to fill up )):
Or when you wanted to have crushed ice in the middle of the summer, he’d use his evol to help you out
He’d keep in one of your doodles on his office desk- a constant reminder of you that put a smile on his face
Dr. Zayne peered over the rim of his glasses, his expression a mix of concern and amusement. The soft hum of medical equipment echoed in the small examination room, creating an oddly serene backdrop to the unfolding conversation.
"Your heart's racing again," he remarked, the corner of his lips lifting in a half-smile. "May I ask why?"
"Really? I don't know, Dr. Zayne. This happens every time I'm near you. Do you think this is some kind of allergy?" you ask genuinely worried.
Laughter almost spills from his lips at the question, “I don’t think that is medically possible, perhaps this is because of some different matters..” zayne trails off, eyes hinting at something you aren’t sure of.
While you are left confused- oblivious even to his intentions!
Rafayel
This man will not stop pestering you, constantly throwing flirty lines at you even when you shoot him down again and again :(
Unlike the other two, immediately after he recognizes his own feelings, he’s all over you
Although when the topic of actually confessing comes up, he’s all shy and red in the face, and when you misunderstand his confession- he gets all pouty not talking to you for days
“y/nn!” he whines over the phone, “I need you here right now! You’re my bodyguard, right?! There’s this hideous bug near my canvas, please come quick,” he hurriedly says cutting of the call before you can even reply.
You roll your eyes as you hear his dramatic plea through the phone. It's not the first time he's called you for something trivial. Sighing, you decide to play along with his antics and head to his house.
When you arrive, you find him standing on a chair, gesturing wildly at the bug near his canvas. "Y/nn, thank goodness you're here! This bug is a threat to my masterpiece! Can you please get rid of it?" he says, looking genuinely distressed.
You can't help but chuckle at his exaggerated reaction. "Alright, alright, calm down. It's just a bug," you reassure him. You take a step forward and swat the bug away, making sure to make a show of it. "There, problem solved. Your masterpiece is safe," you tease.
He looks at you with wide eyes, a mix of relief and admiration in them. "You're my hero, y/nn! Always coming to my rescue," he says, a mysterious glint in his eyes. As you share a laugh, you notice a hint of vulnerability in his expression.
"You know," he starts, scratching the back of his head nervously, "I... um, appreciate you being around. More than just for bug emergencies, I mean." He glances away, his cheeks turning a shade of pink.
He hesitates and finally blurts out, "I like having you around, y/nn. More than just for emergencies." You raise an eyebrow, not fully grasping the weight of his words.
“I mean, I hope you do,” you start, giving him a small smile. Upon hearing your words, he’s not talking to you for the rest of the week, while you wonder if you had said something wrong.
Sorry you had to wait this late but I was busy with moving into uni and lyf happened, although be ready to be fed more often now!!
Welcome! This is a masterlist with up to date links to all my love and deepspace related works (please check in on my pinned post before requesting!!)
📱indicates texts, Twitter, socmed stuff
💌 indicates written works
No works yet (send in a req!)
No works yet (send in a req!)
📱 RAFAYEL AS YOUR BF (TEXTS) [pt2]
Texts between you and your boyfriend- rafayel
💌 SHIRT
Rafayel buys name a shirt which is too tight for their own good, was that Rafayel's intention? Absolutely.
💌 COMPETITION
rafayel and you are fighting for the same position in the company, as a test and to measure your capabilities, you both are assigned to work on a project together whose results will decide your and Rafayel's fate in the company
He infact did not come home 😔 THAT BORING ASS ZAYNE DID
He will come home
Can you get out of the room? - LADS
You asked him to leave the room so you could change your clothes, but he reminded you that you both were married and had children. (I saw some couples doing this on TikTok).
pairing: Zayne x You, Xavier x You, Rafayel x You, Sylus x You, Caleb x You (Female reader)
warnings: pet names (babe, love...), sex mention, suggestive phrases
w:1576k
Zayne
It was a lovely Sunday evening. After a long week, you finally had a chance to have Zayne with you again, a rare occasion due to his hard work in the hospital.
He was reading a book on bed, waiting for you to get ready so you can go out to eat at your favorite restaurant. The bedroom was very peaceful, the only noises being the cars outside and the My Little Pony opening song coming from the living room, where your daughter is.
You just got out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when you saw him reading and decided to test something you saw on the internet.
“Love, can you get out of the room, please? ” Your voice sounded innocent as you began to open your drawers. “I need to change my clothes”.
You turned to look at him and saw that he was staring at you over his glasses, looking confused. “Pardon?”
“Well, I need to put on some clothes and I am a bit shy to change in front of you.” You said, squeezing your arms around your body to keep the towel covering you. “You know… I am a bit embarrassed.”
A playful smile appeared on your lips as you saw his frowned face.
“I don’t understand why you want me to leave the room.” He answers, closing the book and taking his glasses off. Then he stood up, walking towards you at a slow pace. His shirt has the first two buttons open, and his belt is open as well.
“Because I don’t want you to look.” He almost laughs at your answer, looking at you, dumbfounded.
Suddenly, he called your daughter's name, who appeared at the door after some minutes. She was only four and was wearing a blue dress, matching Zayne’s shirt color, ready to go out with you, so she looked at you a bit confused when she saw your body still wrapped in the towel. “Mommy is not ready?”
“Mommy is being difficult.” Zayne forces a sad expression, walking towards the little girl and patting her head. “Tell her to hurry up.”
“Hurry up mommy!” Your daughter runs again to the living room and Zayne smiles, looking at you.
“Do I have to remind you how babies are made?” You blush slightly when he smiles mischievously, leaning against the door. “But once you asked, I will leave the room and make our little angel company”.
Xavier
It was your time to take a shower, so Xavier was taking care of your son while you were enjoying your bath, massaging yourself with the liquid soap. When you ended your bath, you walked to the bedroom and saw Xavier with the baby in his arms.
“Babe, can you get out of the room?” The blonde man looked at you, confused.
“Why? Did I do something wrong?” You opened a tender smile to him and chuckled, getting some clothes in the drawers.
“No, of course not. I just want to change my clothes.”
Xavier looked at you, then his eyes found the baby in his arms. One moment later, he looked at you again. “You know… that I already saw everything, right?”
You blush, looking away to cover your face. “Shut up… I just need some privacy…”
“If it is something with your body, stop overthinking. You are as gorgeous as ever.” You looked at him, and for a moment you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or to throw a pillow on him.
It was just a joke, a prank that you saw some couples doing on the internet, you didn’t know he would say something like this.
“And don’t you remember what happened fifteen minutes ago that woke him up?” You widen your eyes, feeling your cheeks getting hotter.
“Xavier!”
You two listened to the baby laughing, and you couldn’t help but smile too. “You… silly.” Xavier opened a warm smile at your words.”
He kissed your forehead before he began to walk away from you. “I will get his pacifier. Maybe he can sleep again, and we can…” Xavier glanced at you.
That 's it. You got a pillow and threw it at Xavier, making him run out of the room, laughing out loud.
Rafayel
One morning, Rafayel was helping your son with the art homework, and both of them sat on the carpet of the bedroom.
You saw that cute and pacific scene in front of you and smiled, seeing your husband so excited to teach your little boy. A perfect time…
“That's it, my little bubble, now if you mix yellow and red…”
A perfect time for a prank.
“Babe, let's go to the swimming pool… it's so hot today.” You say, innocent, seeing your son's eyes shining bright with the excellent idea.
The boy closed the notebook and ran to his own bedroom, and Rafayel chuckled.
“Fine, let's relax a bit, maybe after that he can sleep early and I will have you just to myself.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist, giving your neck a peck.
“We will have a lot of fun, but now can you get out of the room? I need to put on my bikini.”
Rafayel frowned, confused. “What? Why do I need to get out?”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling softly. “I am feeling a bit shy today, so I didn't want you to see.”
The artist raised an eyebrow at your comment.
“Love, do I have to remind you how we made that little boy?” He kissed your cheek. “It was raining when I held you and…”
“Shush!” Your face was almost burning up, as red as a tomato. “I remember.”
He chuckled again, caressing your hip slowly.
“Good, then I don't have to remind you about how…”
“Daddy! Where are my swim goggles?”
Rafayel stopped, looking at the door.
“Have you looked in your drawer?” He answered, looking at you. “I will help him.”
Sylus
It was your birthday and Sylus promised a “family day” to you, as you asked for.
While you were drying your hair, he was helping your younger daughter to dress up. A moment later, he walked into your bedroom and saw you choosing an outfit.
“Love, can you get out of the room?” Sylus frowned. “Why would I?”
“I want to change my clothes, so I will need to take off the one I am wearing.”
Sylus looked at your covered body, then at your face. “It’s not a big deal. You can change in front of me.”
“No, I am embarrassed.” You answer, lying. You just wanted to test the prank you saw on the internet.
“Embarrassed of what?” He scoffed.
“Changing my clothes in front of you.” He blinked, totally confused, then called three names, making his deep voice reach all the house.
Two children runned into your bedroom, the twins, who were already dressed up, then your younger daughter walked in slowly, since she was still learning how to walk.
“Trust me, kitten, I saw your body a lot of times already.”
One of the twins frowned, saying “Ew! Mommy and Daddy are flirting!” You looked at the kid, poking his nose. “We are not!”
Sylus was smiling charmingly. “Of course we are…” He walked towards you and held your hand, giving it an affectionate kiss.
“Will we have another sibling?” You almost choked when the child said it out of the blue. “What? Where did you get this idea from?”
“Daddy told us that to make a baby he has to kiss your hand…” One of the twins said. “I want one more sister!” The other said as well.
You looked at Sylus, who was trying to hide his smirk against your hand.
“Everyone… get out of here!” You shouted at them. Sylus laughed, holding both of the twins in his arms when he escaped from the bedroom, letting just you and your daughter. “Can you believe it?” You ask the little girl, who smiled cheerfully. “No, you are not going to have a new sibling.” You said, picking her up.
Caleb
“Captain Marshmallow to Captain Daddy, are you listening to me?” You frowned, amused, as you saw your daughter and your husband playing spies in your bedroom, rolling on the bed and running around the room.
“I am, Captain Marshmallow. Leader Mommy just arrived from work. We need to greet her.” Caleb said as he picked the little girl in his arms. “Let's go.”
You smiled, kissing the girl's head before doing the same with Caleb's lips. “How are my ‘Captains’?” The question was almost a joke, but you saw your husband laughing.
“She watched a lot of movies.”
“Daddy! We can use the bubble guns to play!" The girl ran out of the room, letting you and Caleb all alone.
“How are you, my dear?” He hugged you tightly.
“Tired, but I am good.” You smiled, feeling a bit better. “I need to change my clothes, can you get out of the room, babe?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why? It's not like I never saw you naked before, you know…”
You poke his arm, blushing. “I just need some privacy.”
He laughed, seeing your daughter running back to the bedroom with two bubble guns on hands.
“I will give you ten minutes.” He winks, looking at you. “So hurry up, or I will have to keep you here for more than that.”
Soft pity every damn time 😭 but it's done. Started at 68 wishes from hard pity...
— Wish 62 + 64: Zayne Snowfall Embrace + Snowfall Encounter both in the same 10 pull 🥹 — Wish 125: Zayne Snowfall Embrace (61 wishes) — Wish 191: Zayne Snowfall Encounter (66 wishes) — Wish 213: Caleb Endless Summer (😭 R3) (22 wishes) — Wish 279: Zayne Snowfall Embrace (66 wishes)
With the 150 box, that's R2 Master of Fate in 279 wishes. The only myth I'm missing now is Abysm Sovereign, which will be an automatic R3, full stop, the money is already in the savings account collecting interest while we wait fskdjhff ❤️🐉
Previous Wish Reports
Spring and Flowers (Multi)
Xavier: Shimmering Moonlight (Lumiere Rerun)
Sylus: Where Hearts Live (Birthday)
I'm so tempted to go for R2 Master of Fate. Zayne isn't my main, but he's so damn close. Like if Sylus is #1, Zayne truly is #1.1. If I was an OG3 girlie day 1, I would've been team Zayne ride or die (until Sylus kicked down my door, then I would've been a hard traitor, I'm so sorry Zaynie)
I got these calculations from this reddit thread, and while I'm technically fine dropping $500 to R2 this man's limited myth pair, that doesn't mean I should be, financial responsibility is important whether or not you're a whale 🤓
Half of me says not to because again he's not my main. The rest of me is 🤩 over the R2 outfit and based on the Chinese uncle leaks, I wouldn't be spending anything significant again until July. My lucky window to pull isn't until tomorrow so I'll think about it...
good luck to all of zayne's jasmines 🌼❄️ get your man
Not I just yesterday was begging for more story 😭😭 Does LaDS know how much I love action movies? They edited this trailer for me
I'm actually combusting, my two husbands?? Sylus driving in a car chase??? Looking so fucking badass. Dark Dawnbreaker Zayne showing his ruthless side?? FUCK, I don't know what to do with myself
BITCH, the LEG ON HIS SHOULDER???? I can't
the lads, their mcs, and their blobbus
Updating my old illustration of the boys with Caleb 🍎
Spring & Flowers
I was definitely luckier with Catch 22 considering I got all 5 and R1 of 3 of them. But eh, I got my 3 men so I'm happy to stop here.
Started at 44 wishes from hard pity…
Wish 35: Xavier Fragment of Time 😔
Wish 88: Sylus Valleydream Bloom (53 wishes)
Wish 113: Caleb Floating Floraletter (25 wishes)
Wish 148: Zayne Fragrant Possession (35 wishes)
I kept going to 200 wishes to bring down pity and grab the crate to R1 Sylus. Now to go watch the cards and cry and squee! 💜
through the fire | sylus
synopsis : In a world where soulmate marks appear on your skin, yours arrives in red—the color of unrequited love. And the name written there is the last one you ever wanted to see: Zayne, your closest friend, the man you’ve loved in silence for years… and the one already destined to someone else. You learn to smile through the ache, to hide the burn beneath your sleeve, until a chance meeting with a silver-haired stranger named Sylus changes everything. When you pretend he’s your soulmate, he plays along without hesitation. His presence becomes a quiet comfort, steady where your heart is not. But when Zayne starts to look at you differently, to hesitate, to wonder, you’re left caught between the love you’ve always longed for—and the unexpected one who chose you without a mark.
content : soulmate!au, zayne x reader x sylus, zayne x non-mc!reader, unrequited love, angst (light or not, you decide)
You stared at the name scrawled in red across your forearm.
Zayne.
So small. So cruel. So final.
Your breath caught in your throat, a trembling whisper slipping past your lips.
“Why is it his?”
The question barely made a sound, yet it rang loud in the silence of your apartment, echoing off the sterile white walls and the clinical smell of hospital-grade soap still lingering on your skin.
You pressed your palm over the name like you could smudge it away.
But red ink never fades. It brands.
It condemns.
A red soulmate mark.
You had seen the pamphlets before—those rare anomalies that happen once in a few hundred thousand people.
The ones born defective, the ones whose soulmates were already claimed by someone else.
Fated to ache. Fated to long. Fated to never be loved back.
You always thought it was tragic in a distant, abstract sort of way.
Until now.
Until it was his name.
Until it was Zayne.
Your Zayne.
Your friend. Your colleague.
The man who offered you coffee the day you transferred, when everyone else couldn’t be bothered to remember your name.
The one who knew when your hands shook after a 12-hour surgery and would silently leave your favorite chocolate mousse in the breakroom fridge.
The one who walked you home after night shifts, even though his apartment was one floor above yours.
The one you tried not to love.
You tried.
God, you tried.
Because his mark had already appeared months ago—in black. Like it was supposed to. Permanent. True. Undeniable.
You remembered how he told you.
How he looked almost dazed, fingers brushing over his skin like he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to find her.
You had smiled. You had said you were happy for him. You had even helped him pick out a gift for their anniversary.
And maybe you were happy.
A small, pure part of you had been.
But the rest of you was bleeding.
But you didn’t expect this.
You didn’t expect the universe to be so cruel.
Because months later, your body chose him.
As if fate wanted to mock you.
As if it wanted you to watch him belong to someone else, forever just one floor above you, one breath out of reach.
Red meant doomed.
Red meant defect.
Red meant you would love someone who was never yours to begin with.
Your fingers trembled as you traced over the ink again.
You imagined what it would feel like to show him.
To watch his face crumble, or worse—pity you. To be told, gently and with unbearable softness, that he loved someone else.
That his heart already belonged to the woman whose name was etched into his skin in perfect, black permanence.
You would never be that name.
You would never be enough.
So you rolled down your sleeve and turned away from the mirror.
The name still burned beneath the fabric.
And in the quiet of your room, you allowed yourself to break—silently, like you always did.
Because even the stars knew.
You were never meant to be loved.
Only to love.
—•
Day by day, you saw him.
In break rooms and bustling hallways, beside you during rounds, across you during late-night debriefs.
He was always there—smiling softly, offering you coffee in the way only he knew you liked it.
Asking about your day with that quiet warmth that made your chest ache.
He never noticed the way your fingers twitched when you took the cup.
Never saw how you always kept your sleeves pulled just a little too low.
Never questioned the stiffness in your smile.
It had been months.
You had become an expert at hiding the truth—an actress in your own life, wearing ease like armor.
You laughed when he teased you.
Teased him back when he tried to guess your soulmate’s identity.
“He probably doesn’t live around here,” you’d say with a light shrug, the same one you’d perfected in the mirror.
And he’d nod, gentle and non-intrusive, never the type to pry.
And maybe that made it worse.
That he was kind.
That he was always kind.
His soulmate didn’t make things any easier either.
She was bright, and sweet, and unbearably thoughtful. The kind of person you couldn’t bring yourself to hate, even if it would make surviving this easier.
She brought you takeout after long shifts, remembered your favorite boba order, got you a little potted plant for your birthday and left a sticky note on your locker that read, “For when life gets too sterile.”
Just like now.
You sit quietly at your desk, the hospital gone still with night, overhead lights buzzing low.
The sky outside is a deep, velvet black, rain tapping gently against the window.
She hums softly as she unpacks the sushi she brought, setting it out like you were her little sister she needed to fuss over.
“You need to eat properly,” she scolds, her voice warm, mothering.
You smile up at her, gratitude in your eyes.
You mean it. You really do.
Even as your wrist pulses beneath your sleeve—raw, restless, unbearably red.
Even as your soul screams a name it can never say aloud.
You thank her.
You eat.
And you pretend not to feel the burn.
“Any luck yet?” she asks gently, nodding toward your wrist as she takes a sip of water.
You follow her gaze, pulse ticking beneath the fabric, and force a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“No,” you say, voice light, practiced. “Maybe I’m just destined to be alone.”
A half-truth.
The kind that slips out easily when the full one is too cruel to name.
Because what could you say?
That the name on your wrist has been there for months?
That it burns with a devotion that will never be returned?
That it’s his name—her soulmate’s name—written in red?
That while she buys you dinner and worries over your health, your heart quietly bleeds for the man who kisses her forehead and saves his smiles for her?
So instead, you say nothing.
You stir the soy sauce into your rice and let the lie settle between you—gentle, unspoken, and unbearable.
She offers you a sympathetic smile, her voice soft with well-meaning hope.
“You’ll meet him someday.”
And there it is.
The ache.
Low and sharp, blooming beneath your ribs like something cruel and familiar.
You nod, because it’s easier than telling the truth.
Because she’s looking at you with such kindness, such sincerity—never realizing that her comfort is the wound.
She doesn’t know.
She can’t.
That you’ve already met him.
That he’s just down the hall, finishing up his reports, waiting to walk her home.
That the universe gave you a name and then watched you unravel.
So you smile again.
The kind that feels more like a wince.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe.”
—•
“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”
She smiles, radiant and unaware, her arm wrapped easily around his as the two of you stand face to face.
Your mark flares beneath your sleeve, a slow, burning throb that pulls your eyes to where her hand rests—light, familiar, right—against his.
And Zayne—
He looks down at her like she hung the stars.
With that quiet kind of fondness that once lived in his gaze for you, before the universe chose to remind you of your place.
Before the mark.
Before everything changed.
He told you once, in passing, how they met.
At a park. A lost puppy.
He’d helped her look for it, stayed with her until it was found. Said it felt ordinary. Nothing sparked then.
Not until a week later, when her name bloomed black on his wrist.
You remember the way his voice softened when he said it.
“Shaiya.”
Like it meant something holy.
Like it made sense.
You had smiled back then too.
And you do it again now, a practiced expression, polished by months of pretending.
“Yeah,” you say, voice steady. “See you.”
She waves, content.
Zayne glances at you, just for a second—just long enough for your heart to betray you.
Then they turn.
And you’re left behind.
As always.
Your mark burns again as you watch them walk away—slow, steady, inseparable.
It always flares like this when you start to ache for him.
When you let yourself want him, even for a moment.
As if fate itself is reprimanding you.
As if the pain is a reminder: You were never meant to be his.
Just a defect. A flaw in the system.
But you ignore it.
You’ve learned how to live with fire under your skin.
Instead, you cling to the memories—the ones that feel softer in hindsight, even if they hurt now.
“I hope your name appears on my wrist someday,” he’d said once, offhandedly, turning his head to glance at you with a quiet smile.
You had laughed, heart skipping despite yourself.
“If I was your soulmate, you’d probably end up with a headache from dealing with me.”
It was meant as a joke. Lighthearted.
But now—
Now, it tastes like irony.
Because it did appear.
Your name did show up.
Just not where it was supposed to.
Not on him.
—•
You didn’t quite know how you ended up here.
Maybe it was the silence of your apartment. Maybe it was the way your wrist still throbbed beneath your sleeve like a wound that wouldn’t close.
Or maybe—just maybe—you were tired of pretending you were okay.
So you found yourself in a dimly lit pub, the kind where no one asked questions and the music was low enough to disappear into.
You sat near the bar, shoulders hunched in a way you hadn’t noticed until your reflection caught you in the mirror.
One hand wrapped loosely around a glass of whiskey, the other idly pushing ice cubes in lazy circles.
“Here’s to unrequited love,” you mutter to no one, raising your glass like a toast to the cruel stars above.
You take a slow sip. Let the burn settle in your throat. Let yourself feel it—just for tonight.
Then—
A scent. Sharp. Clean.
Masculine and strangely grounding, like rain on stone.
It hits you all at once.
And before you can turn, an arm slides across the bar beside you—unhurried, confident.
He settles into the stool next to yours like it was always meant to be his.
You catch a glimpse.
White—no, silver—hair catches the low light. Almost too perfect. Almost otherworldly.
“Gin. On the rocks,” he says, voice low and smooth, like smoke rolling over velvet.
You glance at him, just for a moment.
And somehow, you felt drawn.
You let your gaze drift to the stranger beside you, curiosity outweighing caution.
He was striking in a way that demanded attention—dangerous, almost.
Red eyes, sharp and unflinching, stared ahead with the kind of focus that made the world seem like background noise to him.
His hair was a mess of white-silver strands, tousled and unruly, falling just above his brows like they had been kissed by moonlight.
And his mouth—curved in an easy, knowing smirk—looked as though it had never forgotten how to charm.
As if he was always just about to say something wicked.
There was an ease in the way he occupied the space, like he wasn’t merely sitting at the bar—but claiming it.
You stared a beat too long.
And then—
A sharp sting.
Your mark flared beneath your sleeve, searing hot.
You flinched, barely, teeth gritting as the pain sliced through the moment like glass.
Of course.
Even now—even with someone like him sitting beside you—the universe couldn’t let you forget.
You were still branded.
Still trapped.
Still hopelessly tethered to someone who would never be yours.
And the burn beneath your skin felt like fate laughing.
You cursed under your breath, the word slipping out low and bitter as the sting pulsed through your wrist like a cruel reminder.
You took another sip, letting the whiskey scorch its way down, hoping it would dull something—anything.
It didn’t.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him shift.
The stranger turned his head slightly, just enough for those crimson eyes to find you.
There was something unreadable in his gaze—sharp, deliberate.
Not surprised. Not amused.
Just… intrigued.
“Rough night?” he asked, voice low and laced with dry amusement.
You didn’t answer right away.
Just stared into your glass, watching the ice crack quietly beneath the amber.
“Something like that,” you muttered, not looking at him.
But he didn’t look away.
And somehow, you felt seen.
Not pitied. Not judged. Just… noticed.
Like maybe, for the first time in a long while, someone wasn’t looking through you.
He chuckles, a low, rough sound that wraps around the edges of your exhaustion like velvet trimmed in iron.
“Same here,” he murmurs, raising his glass in a mock salute before taking a slow sip of his gin.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then—“I’m Sylus,” he says, turning slightly to face you now.
There’s something in the way he says it—easy, but deliberate. Like his name is a secret he only offers to a select few. Like he’s giving you a choice. To take it or don’t.
You glance at him again.
That silver hair, those red eyes. The quiet confidence that radiates off him in waves.
He doesn’t ask for your name.
He just waits.
And for reasons you don’t fully understand, you give it.
“Y/N,” you say quietly, your voice barely above the clink of glass and the murmur of conversations behind you.
Sylus nods, as if the name fits. As if he already knew.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and somehow, it doesn’t feel empty.
Somehow, it feels like the night has started over.
You blink slowly, eyes fixed on the amber swirl in your glass.
“All my nights are rough,” you murmur, your lips curving into a tired, self-deprecating smile. “Not just this one.”
You take another sip, let the warmth settle into your bones like armor.
Beside you, Sylus raises a brow—curious, maybe, but respectful. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t press.
And somehow, that’s more comforting than if he had.
So you both sit there, shoulder to shoulder, in a silence that feels oddly natural.
Not forced. Not heavy.
Just… there.
The sting on your wrist begins to fade, slowly—like a held breath finally exhaled.
Maybe it’s the alcohol.
Maybe it’s his presence.
Maybe it’s just that for once, you don’t feel so unbearably alone.
A sudden courage bubbles up—liquid and reckless.
You keep your eyes forward, voice casual.
“What do you think of people with red marks?”
You feel him glance your way.
There’s a pause. Barely a second. But in it, something passes—something unsaid.
He seems a little surprised by the question, but his expression remains unchanged. Calm. Measured.
“I wouldn’t know,” he says after a sip of his gin. “Mine’s never shown.”
He shrugs like it means nothing. Like fate hasn’t touched him at all.
And somehow, you envy that.
“Good for you,” you say, a little too flat, a little too bitter around the edges.
A beat of silence follows.
Then—a chuckle, low and quiet, rumbles from his chest.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
Just… amused.
Knowing.
“Interesting,” is all he says.
The word lingers between you, heavier than it should be.
Like he’s already pieced something together. Like he sees more than you intended to show.
You don’t look at him, but you feel his presence beside you—steady, unbothered.
As if your pain isn’t a burden here.
As if your broken pieces don’t make you harder to hold, only more worth noticing.
And for the first time in a long time, your chest doesn’t feel so tight.
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper and a pen—moves smooth, unhurried.
You watch as he scribbles something down, his handwriting sharp and elegant, like everything about him.
Then he slides it across the bar toward you, the paper curling slightly at the corners as it stops in front of your glass.
He doesn’t look at you right away—just takes another sip of his gin, eyes still trained on the bottles lined across the shelves.
“I am fully aware of stranger danger,” he drawls, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, “but do call if you need… company.”
His voice lingers on the last word, smoky and deliberate.
Not suggestive.
Not empty.
Just a quiet offering from one broken night to another.
You glance down at the number.
It looks oddly out of place between your fingers—this small, absurd lifeline.
But it’s there.
And so is he.
You give a small, tired smile, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes but feels a little more genuine than the others tonight.
“Maybe I will,” you say, tucking the slip of paper between your fingers like a secret.
He doesn’t respond, but there’s a glint in his crimson eyes as he raises his glass, as if to toast to unspoken things.
To bruised hearts.
To broken fates.
To strangers who feel a little less like strangers.
You both drink in silence after that, letting the night bleed slow and quiet around you.
No questions. No confessions.
Just the comfort of existing beside someone who doesn’t ask you to pretend.
When you finally step back into your apartment, the stillness greets you like an old friend.
Familiar. Too familiar.
You loosen your coat, kick off your shoes, and sit at the edge of your bed, the quiet pressing in.
The mark on your wrist is calm now—dormant, for once.
You pull the slip of paper from your pocket, smoothing the crease with your thumb.
Sylus.
You murmur the name to yourself, letting it linger in the dark.
As if, maybe this time, fate might finally listen.
—•
You sigh, long and weary, as you sink into your desk chair.
Every part of you aches—your back, your hands, your mind.
Eight hours in the operating room, eight hours of focus and tension and the weight of someone else’s life resting in your palms.
You close your eyes for a moment, letting the silence wrap around you.
Then—
A knock at the door.
Soft. Familiar.
Before you can even answer, it opens just enough to let him in.
Zayne.
His dark hair falls slightly into his hazel-green eyes, coat still dusted with rain from outside.
He walks in with quiet purpose, holding out a paper cup—your usual coffee order, still warm.
“Long day?” he asks, voice calm and steady, like always.
Your chest tightens.
And then it comes—the burn.
That same, awful heat radiating from your wrist, seeping into your bones.
You clench your jaw, forcing a tired smile as you take the cup from him.
“Thanks,” you murmur, hoping your fingers don’t brush too long against his.
He doesn’t notice the wince you try to hide.
Doesn’t see how tightly you’re holding your sleeve.
Because to him, it’s just kindness.
To you, it’s agony.
You both sit in silence, the kind that would feel companionable if it didn’t ache so much.
The coffee sits warm between your hands, grounding you in the moment—keeping you from unraveling.
Then he speaks.
“I saw you out two nights ago.”
His tone is casual, but there’s something underneath it—curiosity, maybe. Concern, even.
You glance at him.
He doesn’t look at you. Just takes a sip from his own cup, as if the words don’t mean much.
“Were you drinking again?”
You pause, fingers tightening slightly around the paper cup.
The truth sits heavy on your tongue, bitter and unspoken.
You look down at your wrist, still hidden beneath your sleeve, the phantom sting of the mark pulsing like a second heartbeat.
So many things you could say.
Yes. Because pretending I’m fine all the time is exhausting.
Because I watched you walk away with her again and smiled like it didn’t kill me.
Because my mark won’t stop burning, and I don’t know how to live with this kind of love.
But instead, you offer a small shrug.
“Just needed some air,” you say quietly. “That’s all.”
A lie.
But it’s one he won’t press.
Because he trusts you.
Because he doesn’t know.
He gives you that small, familiar smile—the one that always undoes you more than it should.
“Don’t overwork yourself,” he says softly, like it’s second nature to worry about you.
Then he turns, footsteps fading down the hallway, leaving you with the smell of coffee, the echo of his voice, and the quiet devastation he’ll never see.
Your fingers curl around the cup.
Tight. Too tight.
As if holding on to something will keep you from breaking.
But your mark burns hotter now, searing through your skin like punishment.
As if it’s angry.
As if it’s jealous.
And for a moment, you wonder why it hasn’t bled.
Why it doesn’t just split open and spill all this hurt onto the floor where everyone can finally see it.
“Stop being so kind to me,” you whisper into the silence, your voice shaking.
But there’s no one left to hear it.
Only the sterile hum of the lights overhead, and the sound of your heart breaking—quiet and familiar—as tears trace down your cheeks, uninvited and unstoppable.
Somehow, without really thinking, you found yourself at his doorstep.
The city was quiet, the air cool against your cheeks, your coat clutched tight around you like it could hold the pieces of you together.
Your wrist still ached beneath your sleeve, raw and restless, but you had long since stopped trying to soothe it.
Sylus had texted you the address after your call—short, clipped, and straightforward, like him.
And now you’re here, standing in front of a door you never expected to seek out, uncertain of what you’re hoping to find on the other side.
Healing?
Distraction?
A place where your mark doesn’t matter?
You raise your hand to knock, hesitating for a moment as your breath fogs in the cold.
Then, before you can lose the nerve, your knuckles meet wood.
One. Two. Three quiet raps.
A pause.
Then the door clicks open.
And there he is—Sylus.
Silver hair a little messier than usual, a glass still in his hand, red eyes sharp but softer than you’ve ever seen them.
No questions. No judgment.
—•
He didn’t say a word.
Just nodded once, slow and understanding, and led you inside.
Now, the two of you sit on opposite ends of his worn leather couch, a respectful distance apart, the fire crackling gently between you like a heartbeat neither of you wants to claim.
The room is dim, shadows dancing along the walls, the only light coming from the flicker of flames and the occasional glint in Sylus’s eyes when he turns his head slightly to look at you—then away again.
You’re still.
Tired.
The kind of tired that no sleep could ever fix.
The tears have long since dried, leaving behind the familiar hollow ache in your chest, like grief carved a space in your ribs and decided to stay.
And your mark—
Still there.
Still burning beneath your skin.
You stare into the fire, your hands loosely clasped in your lap, and for the first time in days, you breathe—slow, deep, and unguarded.
Sylus doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t pry.
He just sits there, presence steady, like a wall you can finally lean against without fear of collapsing.
And in that silence, something shifts.
Not healed. Not whole.
But a little less alone.
You turn your head slightly, eyes drifting from the fire to him. His profile is lit in warm gold—sharp, unreadable, but not unkind.
“Sorry,” you say softly, the word catching at the edges of your throat.
For what exactly, you’re not sure.
For showing up. For falling apart.
For being the kind of person who calls a near-stranger because no one else feels safe anymore.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t turn to look at you.
Just gives a small shrug and takes a slow sip from his glass.
“It’s good company,” he replies, casual, like it’s nothing.
Like you aren’t a burden.
Like this—the silence, the ache, the weight of everything you can’t say—is somehow welcome.
You exhale quietly, some small part of your heart unclenching.
Maybe that’s what you needed.
Not comfort. Not words.
Just someone who doesn’t mind the quiet, even when it’s heavy.
“I can understand.”
His voice breaks the stillness, low and quiet—almost like an afterthought, but it sinks deep.
Your eyes dart to him.
Sylus is still facing the fire, his expression unreadable, the flames dancing across the sharp lines of his face.
“I love someone,” he says, slowly, deliberately. “But her name isn’t on my wrist.”
He takes a sip of his drink, his fingers steady around the glass.
“There’s another name on hers.”
The words hang in the air like smoke—soft, but heavy with weight.
And suddenly, you understand why his silence felt so familiar. Why he never asked questions. Why he didn’t flinch at your pain.
Because he knows.
He knows what it’s like to love without being chosen.
To look at someone and see a future they’ll never see with you.
To exist in the quiet spaces between their laughter—wanted, but not meant.
You swallow hard, the ache in your chest mirroring his.
Your voice is barely a whisper.
“Does she know?”
A pause.
“No,” he murmurs. “And I’m not sure I want her to.”
And for a moment, you’re not two strangers on a couch.
You’re two people clinging to the same kind of hurt.
And somehow, that makes it just a little easier to breathe.
“How does it work?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
Your eyes stay fixed on the fire, but your voice trembles with something deeper—something raw.
“Love. How does it work?”
There’s a pause.
Sylus doesn’t answer right away. He sets his glass down on the table, the faint clink of glass on wood echoing in the quiet.
You finally glance at him.
He’s staring into the flames, brows drawn slightly, as if the question has rooted itself somewhere inside him.
“I don’t think it does,” he says at last, voice low and unfiltered. “Not the way we’re told it should.”
His gaze flicks to you, slow and steady.
“Everyone talks about fate. About destiny. About names on skin and inevitability.”
He leans back, resting an arm on the back of the couch, red eyes glinting.
“But love—it’s messy. It’s inconvenient. It doesn’t follow rules or timing or marks.”
You swallow, something stirring painfully in your chest.
“Then why does it still hurt this much?” you whisper.
He looks at you for a long moment. Not with pity, but with understanding so deep it feels like a balm.
“Because you love honestly,” he says. “And honest love never goes unpunished.”
“I just want it to stop burning,” you whisper, the words escaping before you can take them back.
You’re not looking at him—your gaze stays fixed on the fire, on the flicker and hiss of flame. It’s easier than meeting his eyes.
“It’s not the unrequited part,” you continue, voice low and frayed at the edges. “I always knew it would be like this. I never expected anything more from him.”
You inhale shakily, pressing your hands tighter around your knees as if that could steady the tremble in your chest.
“But the mark—it burns every time I think of him. Every time I miss him, want him, remember him.”
The heat isn’t just under your skin. It’s inside your lungs, your throat, your heart.
A fire that reminds you with every spark that your love is a mistake written in red.
“I just want it to stop hurting every time I feel something.”
A quiet hush follows, broken only by the crackling of the fire.
Then, Sylus speaks. His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.
“Love shouldn’t feel like a wound,” he says.
You glance at him. And for once, there’s no teasing in his expression. No smirk, no defense. Just something quiet. Something honest.
“And yet,” you murmur, “it always does.”
He doesn’t offer easy comfort. Doesn’t pretend to have answers.
Instead, he leans back, watching the flames for a moment.
“Maybe,” he says slowly, “the pain won’t go away completely. But it can dull. If you let someone help carry it.”
Your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not from the burn.
It’s from the way he says it. Like he means it.
Like he would.
He steps toward you—unhurried, deliberate. The firelight flickers across his face, catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the glint in his crimson eyes.
“I may not know you,” he says slowly, voice low and steady, “but I know your pain.”
His words settle over you like a weighted blanket—not too heavy, not too light. Just enough to be felt.
Then—
He extends a hand.
Open.
Unassuming.
Offered without expectation.
Not to fix you.
Not to save you.
Just to stand with you in the wreckage.
You stare at it for a moment, your breath caught between resistance and the aching need for something—someone—to anchor you.
And somehow, in the quiet of that moment, it doesn’t matter that he’s a stranger.
Because pain recognizes pain.
And for the first time in a long while… you don’t feel alone in it.
You hesitate—just for a breath—then slip your hand into his.
His grip is firm, warm, steady.
He pulls you gently to your feet, the motion smooth, careful, as though you might break if he moved too fast.
And then—
The mark flares.
A sharp, scalding pain radiates up your arm, and you flinch, breath hitching as the heat sinks into your bones like fire licking at old wounds.
But before you can pull away, his arms are around you. Solid. Certain. Anchoring.
“Let it burn for a bit,” he murmurs, voice close, low, and rough with something almost tender.
Then he guides your head to his chest, where his heartbeat drums slow and steady beneath your ear.
No rush. No pressure. Just presence.
And in that quiet, flickering room—with the fire crackling, your heart aching, and his arms holding you like a promise—
you let it burn.
—•
“Y/N? Are you listening?”
The sharp snap of fingers in front of your face jolts you back to the present.
You blink, startled, eyes locking onto Shaiya’s concerned expression across the table. Her brows are slightly furrowed, lips tugged into a gentle frown.
You’d drifted again.
Your thoughts had wandered—slipped away from her words, from the crowded café, from the clatter of cups and the warmth of the sun spilling through the window.
You were thinking about him.
About Sylus.
About how his arms had felt around you.
How steady his heartbeat was.
How you let yourself lean in, even when the mark warmed beneath your skin like a quiet warning.
“Sorry,” you murmur, straightening in your seat. “I was… thinking.”
Shaiya softens, letting out a small sigh as she reaches for her drink.
“You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she says gently, not accusing—just noticing.
You force a small smile, fingers curling around your mug to hide the slight tremble.
If only she knew who you were thinking of.
And how much it wasn’t her soulmate.
“Just… soulmate,” you blurt, the word tumbling out before you can catch it.
Your heart stutters in your chest the moment you say it, the regret immediate and sharp.
Shaiya’s face lights up, eyes wide with surprise and sudden excitement.
Her hands nearly drop her fork, and she leans in, voice hushed but eager.
“Did you find him?” she asks, a hopeful smile blooming across her face.
You freeze.
There’s a second—a split, breathless second—where the truth rises in your throat like a wave.
That yes, you found him.
That it’s not a matter of who, but how painful it’s been.
That his name is carved in red into your skin.
And that her name is written on his.
But you don’t say any of that.
You just force a smile, one you hope doesn’t look too broken at the edges.
“Not exactly,” you say softly. “It’s complicated.”
How do you explain being loved—held—by someone who might be more than a stranger… but isn’t quite fate?
Suddenly, an arm wraps around your shoulders—casual, confident—and your breath catches in your throat.
The scent hits you first. That same sharp, clean cologne.
Then the warmth.
Then the voice.
“Why don’t you just tell her you did?” he drawls, low and unbothered, his tone laced with a kind of amused defiance that only he could make sound like an invitation.
Your heart stumbles.
You turn your head slowly and catch the now-familiar glint of white hair falling just over crimson eyes that look too pleased with themselves for someone who walked into your unraveling.
Sylus.
Of course it’s him.
You’re frozen, stunned, as your mark flares beneath your sleeve—burning a little brighter, a little wilder, as if it recognizes the chaos he’s just dropped into.
Shaiya’s eyes widen as she looks between the two of you.
“Oh,” she breathes, lips parting in surprise. “Is this…?”
And still, Sylus doesn’t move his arm.
He just smirks.
And you—
You can’t decide if you want to run, scream, or lean into him and let the world burn.
Sylus doesn’t miss a beat.
He gives a small, deliberate nod, his expression unreadable but his voice smooth as silk.
“Yes,” he says calmly. “I’m Y/N’s soulmate.”
The words land like a strike of lightning.
Shaiya freezes, her eyes wide, mouth parting in shock as she looks at him—then to you—then back again, like her mind is trying to catch up with the reality laid out in front of her.
You feel the burn instantly—sharp, searing, a violent protest beneath your skin.
Your mark is screaming.
But you smile anyway.
You lie through the pain like you’ve always done.
With practiced ease, you reach for Sylus’s arm, pulling him down to sit beside you.
His body is warm beside yours, grounding and steady in a way that only makes the burn worse.
“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft, your lips curled into a sheepish smile. “We’ve been… keeping it quiet.”
Shaiya blinks, still stunned, still searching your face for some confirmation that she hasn’t stepped into a dream.
You glance at Sylus, who is already watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.
And all you can do is smile.
Even as your wrist burns like a brand.
Even as your heart threatens to give out beneath the weight of the lie.
Because in this moment—right here, right now—you just wanted to be chosen, even if it was a lie.
“Oh, that’s great! How did you guys meet?” Shaiya beams, already clutching your hands in excitement.
You glance toward Sylus, your heart a tangled mess of gratitude and quiet devastation.
He smirks faintly, unbothered.
“At a bar,” he says smoothly. “She toasted to unrequited love.”
You laugh softly, a breath too close to breaking.
“Yeah,” you say, eyes on him. “And he didn’t walk away.”
Shaiya claps her hands, practically glowing.
“Oh, I have to tell Zayne!” she exclaims, already pulling out her phone.
Your breath catches.
You stare at her, helpless, your pulse thudding in your ears.
There’s a flicker of panic—of heartbreak—just beneath the surface.
And then you feel it.
Sylus’s hand, warm and steady, closing over yours.
Silent. Certain. There.
You glance at him, and he doesn’t say anything—just holds your gaze, letting you borrow his strength.
So you smile.
Small. Fragile.
But real.
Even as the pain coils in your chest and your mark burns beneath your sleeve like a wound that won’t heal.
After the café, Shaiya darted off, excitement practically radiating from her as she called over her shoulder about celebrating soon.
You could only wave, sheepishly, watching her disappear into the crowd.
Beside you, Sylus chuckled, that familiar, low sound that always managed to cut through your thoughts.
You turned to him, brows furrowed, voice soft.
“Why?”
He glanced down at you, completely unfazed, and shrugged.
“Would you rather people think you were lonely for the rest of your life?” he asked, smirking. “Because you were giving off tragic energy.”
You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.
—•
A week passed.
And somehow, Sylus was everywhere.
In the hospital lobby, leaning against walls like he belonged there.
In the café line beside you, pretending it was coincidence.
On your lunch break, slipping you your favorite pastry like it was nothing.
You didn’t complain.
Even when your mark burned with every glance, every word, every moment spent too close.
Because his presence—while painful—was constant. Steady. Like a shield between you and everything else you couldn’t bear to face alone.
Now, you were in your office, signing off reports, when the door creaked open.
Zayne.
You looked up, startled, your eyes meeting his. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there—something frayed at the edges.
Conflicted.
Still, for the first time in what felt like forever, you smiled at him.
Your mark responded immediately, pulsing beneath your sleeve.
“I heard from Shaiya,” he said, voice calm, measured. “You finally found him?”
You nodded, sheepish. “Yeah.”
He opens his mouth—stops. Looks at you.
“That’s… good,” he finishes, but it lands flat. Like he meant something else. Like he almost said it.
You ask, carefully, “Is everything okay?”
He nods. Smiles. Too polite.
“Yes. I’m just… glad.”
And as he turns to leave, your mark pulses—not from yearning this time, but from something worse, realization.
You’re left in the quiet hum of your office, with the sting of your mark flaring and a new ache settling deep in your chest.
Because this time, it wasn’t just unrequited.
It was almost.
Sylus enters not long after, silent as ever.
The room doesn’t announce him—he simply is, like a shadow slipping into light.
His eyes find you instantly.
You expect the usual smirk, the dry remark perched on his lips.
But instead—
He just looks at you.
And something in his expression softens.
Like all the sharp edges of him have momentarily dulled.
Like seeing you—tired, unraveling, still trying to hold it together—matters.
He doesn’t say a word.
He doesn’t need to.
“Why was he looking at me like that?” you ask, your voice cracking under the weight of it.
The question isn’t really for Sylus, but he hears it anyway.
It slips out before you can stop it—raw, unguarded, aching.
You’re not sure what hurts more.
The look in Zayne’s eyes, or the fact that it came too late.
Too late, when you’d already chosen to pretend.
Too late, when someone else had stepped in to hold you through the burn.
Sylus doesn’t answer right away.
He just steps closer, his gaze steady—never pitying.
“Because,” he says softly, “he’s starting to see what he never let himself feel.”
And the worst part is… you’re not sure that changes anything.
“That’s worse,” you whisper, the words breaking as they leave you. “That means he knew.”
The realization crashes over you like a wave—sharp, cold, merciless.
All this time.
All those quiet moments.
All the silence between your smiles.
He knew—and still chose someone else.
The first tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it, then another, and suddenly you’re unraveling—slow, quiet, but completely.
And without a second’s hesitation, Sylus is beside you.
No questions. No hesitation.
Just arms around you, solid and warm, pulling you into him like he’s done this before—like he knows this pain.
You bury your face in his chest as the sobs come, muffled and broken, and he holds you tighter.
One hand in your hair, the other against your back, grounding you.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
And for once, you believe it.
You look up at him, eyes glassy, voice trembling.
“That means he had a choice,” you whisper. “That the soulmate mark… meant nothing.”
The words feel heavy in your mouth, bitter and raw.
Because if Zayne knew—if he saw your love and still turned away—then the mark wasn’t fate.
It was just a cruel joke.
Something to cling to while he chose someone else.
Sylus holds your gaze, his own expression unreadable for a moment—quiet, intense.
Then he speaks, voice low and steady.
“It means the mark doesn’t make the choice. We do.”
He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, gentle in a way that undoes you.
“And he didn’t choose you,” he adds, soft but honest.
“But I would.”
You choke on a breath, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat.
“But you… you don’t have a mark. Not yet.”
Your voice wavers, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
Sylus doesn’t flinch.
Instead, a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips—wry, almost sad.
“I had mine removed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like it didn’t once cost him something.
“Years ago.”
You blink, stunned. “Why?”
His gaze lingers on you, softer now.
“Because I didn’t want fate to decide who I could love.”
Then, quieter—just for you:
“I wanted the choice to be mine.”
“Then… the girl,” you murmur, barely above a breath. “The one you loved…”
Your voice falters, unsure if you want to know the rest. But the question hangs there between you, fragile and trembling.
Sylus’s eyes dim slightly, the usual spark giving way to something quieter—something older.
“She never chose me,” he says, his voice low, steady. “Even before the mark showed up, I think I knew.”
He exhales through his nose, gaze drifting somewhere distant.
“And when it finally appeared,” he continues, “I already made a choice.”
The silence that follows is heavy, but not suffocating.
You feel it—the familiar sting of being almost enough.
And as he looks back at you, something in your chest eases.
Not because the pain is gone.
But because he understands.
You wanted to feel happy.
Wanted to let Sylus’s words wrap around you, ease the ache, soften the hollow in your chest.
But the mark burned—sharp and relentless—like it knew you were trying to let go.
Like it refused to be ignored.
A cruel reminder that no matter how gently Sylus held you, no matter how steady his presence or how kind his eyes—
your heart still belonged somewhere else.
To someone who never asked for it.
And never wanted it.
And that was the worst part.
Because for once, someone was choosing you.
And still, some part of you couldn’t stop choosing him.
Sylus watched you quietly, his gaze lingering not on your tears, not on your mark, but on you—the part of you that still hadn’t healed.
He saw the way your fingers twitched, the way your eyes dropped to the floor like you were ashamed of your own heart.
And then, softly—gently—he spoke.
“I know,” he said. “You don’t have to choose me now.”
No pressure. No expectation.
Just understanding.
Because he knew what it was like to love someone who couldn’t let go of someone else.
And still, he stayed.
Not to replace. Not to compete.
But simply to be there.
You didn’t say anything.
You just leaned into him.
And Sylus opened his arms without a word, holding you like he’d been waiting—like he knew you would break again, and he’d already decided he’d be the one to catch you.
You let yourself cry.
Not the quiet, hidden kind, but the raw, aching sobs that shook your shoulders and spilled everything you’d been trying to bury.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t pull away.
He just held you.
Steady. Solid. Safe.
And in his arms, for the first time in a long while, you let yourself feel it all.
—•
You stared up at the white ceiling, its endless blankness strangely comforting.
Sterile. Still. Silent.
The soft, steady beep of the machine beside you was the only sound in the room, each pulse reminding you that time was still moving forward, even if part of you hadn’t caught up yet.
It had been three months.
Three months since you stood in front of Zayne and smiled through your breaking heart.
Three months since Sylus stepped into your life with his sharp words and soft hands and gave you something you didn’t know you needed—space to fall apart.
Three months since everything changed.
And Sylus never left.
Not once.
He stayed through the confusion, through the aching nights when you couldn’t sleep and the mornings when the mark burned so violently you thought it might consume you.
He was there when you made the decision—tired, trembling—to pack your things and leave it all behind.
Zayne.
The hospital that held too many memories.
The city that never stopped reminding you of what you couldn’t have.
You moved somewhere quieter.
Somewhere you could breathe.
And now you were here—lying on a padded bed in a clean, white room, moments away from erasing the mark that had defined you for far too long.
You weren’t doing it to forget him.
You weren’t doing it out of spite.
You were doing it to reclaim your skin.
To stop punishing yourself for loving too much.
To stop letting fate write a story you never agreed to.
There was fear, yes—lingering at the edges of your thoughts like a shadow.
But there was peace, too.
Because this time, the choice was yours.
And just beyond the clinic door, waiting in the hallway like he always did, was Sylus.
Waiting—not to save you.
Just to be there when you returned. Whole. Scarred. Free.
The procedure wasn’t just to erase ink from your skin.
It was to quiet the fire.
To silence the part of you that still, after everything, ached for Zayne.
The part that stirred when you heard his voice in a memory, that still wondered what if, even when you knew the answer.
At first, you were afraid.
Afraid of what you’d lose.
Afraid that without the burn, without the mark, you might feel nothing—or worse, that the emptiness would linger.
But then you thought of him.
Of Sylus.
Of how he stayed when he had every reason not to.
Of the way he never asked you to love him, only to let him stand beside you.
And somehow, that gave you strength.
You closed your eyes, letting out a slow, shaking breath as the doctors moved around you.
The bed shifted beneath you as they began to wheel you away, the lights overhead passing in soft, distant flickers.
You didn’t cry.
You didn’t look back.
But just before you crossed into the next room, you whispered it—soft, steady, final.
“Goodbye, Zayne.”
And this time, you meant it.
The Barbie movie of it all 😭💞💞🌺💐🌼
And they got everybody makin' out, Sylus humming and calling himself a dragon 😭😭, Zayne being Snow White, Caleb...oh Caleb, the romance is too strong, I can't breathe. And all of MC's different dresses (which are gonna be stupid expensive I already know)
Infold, you will always get my ass 😞
hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng I'm in trouble
uwu happy birthday to me 🎂🎉🥰
