HAS ANYONE SEEN THE NEW MEMORY CARDS IN LOVE AND DEEPSPACE???

HAS ANYONE SEEN THE NEW MEMORY CARDS IN LOVE AND DEEPSPACE???

OMG SYLUS? I THOUGHT HE WAS NAKED. 😭😭

and fuck Zayne.

Z A Y N E.

he’s so hot i can’t—

THE WAYYYY HE WHISPERED “Almost there…”

FUUCCKKKKK 🤭🤭

anyway.

who are yall gonna try to get? I’m going for my love, Zayne 😍😍

thats so sweet im gonna cry :((

THE MORNING AFTER - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : mentions and references to the first time having sex together, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluffff <33

Additional notes : These men would be absolute SAPS the morning after, you guys can’t convince me otherwise. They’re just made to love wholly💗 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @deepzombieyouth @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @hrhmimieucliffe @icedunderwaterroom @granddearduck @skriblobz @nadinefromwhere @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth (more in replies!)

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YEA PLEASE—

I mean whaaaa- that’s crazzzzyyy- who said that?

not me. mhm.

Imagine teasing Zhongli in his tiny dragon form...and it backfires.

"My daaaarling!" You smooch the bajeezums out of your husband, who is currently small, fluffy, and chonky for your cuddling convenience. "My precious sweetie pie!"

Tiny dragon Zhongli purrs in delight and licks your cheek, eyes blissfully closed as he enjoys the attention he's receiving. His little paws cling to your top as his chunky tail wags like crazy. On leisurely days like these, he adores lounging around like this with you. "Ah, there's not a single being softer, warmer, or cuter than you," you tell Zhongli, booping his little nose, and he gives you a mrrrrp! of agreement, wiggling.

Eventually, through all the cuddles and compliments you give him, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. You bring him closer to your face.

"Since you're smaller than me...shall I eat you?"

You laugh in delight as your fluffy little husband wriggles in dismay, but you're not letting go - you playfully chomp the air around him while he lets out soft whines, pawing and grrring in futility at you.

You can't help it; he's so much fun to tease! "So cute! I'm gonna eat you! Raaaah!"

He then decides he's had enough and morphs back into the human-form Zhongli you are most accustomed to.

"Oh! Hello my love!" You make to cuddle your now-grown man of a husband, but Zhongli adjusts his position over you so that he's practically straddling you now, his hands splayed on either side of your head. "Zh-Zhongli..?"

"Hm." He brings his thumb to caress your cheek. "I am that amusing when small, is it?"

"Well..." You squirm in embarrassment, and gasp when Zhongli nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, reveling in your scent. He then begins to make use of his teeth and tongue, making you shiver and whimper after his hot breath lingers.

"So cute." He softly bites your shoulder, a preamble for what was to come. His golden eyes gleam bright as the ghost of a teasing smirk plays on his lips.

"Since you're smaller than me...shall I eat you?"

i need him so bad omfg- 🤭

could you be tender? / zayne

summary. he desires so violently and yet he waits.

tags. a heartbreaking amount of pining like give this man a break, he is a YEARNER, he is quite literally obsessed with the mc but not in a weird way, kind of angsty but it does get better i swear, suggestive comments, making-out, implied smut at the very end.

note. pulled out the high school level biology knowledge for this one. inspired by this quote from anaïs nin and the black pumas on repeat.

wc. 2k words

Zayne had no intention in changing who he came to be. They say patience is a virtue only few are fortunate enough to possess, and though this may run true, he believes it to be otherwise.

It was neither a blessing nor a curse as it simply just… existed, living within him like a permanent encryption of genetic code, for better or for worse. The gods made him like this–so be it. Neither a genetic defect nor a simple computational error placed down by his own DNA polymerase could change the fact that patience was a slow digging knife into his gut. It inched deeper and deeper, slicing through layers of skin and connective tissue until it punctured through vital organs and dug into the very marrow of his bones.

Through the layers of ice so thoroughly fogged to the point of inconceivability, to you it may have looked miles deep, but in reality it was nothing but a fragile wall of glass. The simple blessing of your touch, no matter how delicate and gentle it may be, it was more than enough to splinter a crack in his countenance.

He wondered if you could see it. The look in his eyes, the desire of which was so inherently violent, the curiosity of you seeing such a thing after years of being by your side was only a delusion—a mere semblance of his pitiful hope.

You slept so soundly upon his bed, shoulders finally relaxed for once. You had been so awfully tense since your grandmother’s passing and the receival of her letters that even successfully inviting you over for dinner and a movie was a miracle. Though, you fell into slumber long before the ending credits of the film even arrived.

Zayne wondered if this was the same worry that often plagued you when you saw the fatigue tainting his under eyes after long surgery-filled shifts.

You cared about him. He cared about you too, perhaps a little too much. He became a doctor for you after all, but that was a detail you didn’t have to know—shouldn’t know, rather. Zayne was a long time family friend of yours, but he was your primary care physician first and you were his patient.

It could never be anything more than that.

That became his mantra since the start of his rather laborious career, and an even more extensive job of hiding his feelings from you.

It was kind of stupid, really. A grown man closer to the age of thirty than twenty, have fought a handful of wanderers, and one of the best cardio-thoracic surgeons in Linkon, was afraid.

Zayne laughed at himself, a short palpable huff for the ridiculousness of it all, but it was enough to cause you to stir in your sleep.

A groan escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered open, turning over your shoulder to see Zayne perched at the end of the bed with his back towards you. Confusion washed over your face then when you noticed your surroundings. Your cheeks flushed crimson then, bright even in the dim lighting. This was not the living room you recalled yourself to be in.

“Zayne—”

“Had to move you before you got a stiff neck again,” he muttered the words over his shoulder.

Now that you were awake and talking, all of a sudden his own whirlwind of thoughts were lost into the backwards oblivion of his mind again. As if the past ten minutes of him building assurance was just another thought in the wind.

He sighed, finally tossing you a look when a small grin tugged at the corners of your lips. His heavy beating heart quickens.

This is where he praised his patience rather than curse it. It was moments like this where his heart swelled just by the mere look of you, how even in dim lighting the minute details in your expression was as clear as day. It did not matter whether you had just woken up from a slumber with marks and lines of his bedsheets imprinted on your cheek as a sign of well rest or if you had dirt and blood splattered across your face from intense battle. You always had been beautiful to him and this time was no different.

If Zayne hadn’t known any better, he would have already made his way over to you and held you within his arms until you inevitably fell back asleep.

But alas… he did know better after all.

“You should’ve picked the movie,” he conceded, a look of defeat painted in his expression.

“It wasn’t that boring,” you reasoned, though unsuccessfully, the smallest hint of a smile appeared on Zayne’s peach-tinted lips. “Then again, you should’ve seen it coming when you decided to put on a black-and-white silent film, but I digress.”

Zayne clicked his tongue, head shaking in a playful disapproval. “And to think you’d appreciate such fine cinema,” He readjusted himself on the bed as he said so. He was completely facing you now and just an arm’s reach away.

You ignored the darker thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind if someone were to walk in and see the position the two of you were in then.

“Just because a movie is old, doesn’t automatically mean it’s good, you know.”

“And just because you didn’t understand the movie, doesn’t mean it was bad, either.”

A rising smirk melted upon your lips, eyes glued upon the man in front of you still in his work clothes of a starched white button-down and his black trousers. Not even a single hair was out of place and you often wondered whether or not you could make a mess out of this man.

“Why did you stay, Zayne?” you asked, breaking the silence that fell for a few odd beats.

He did not answer right away. It was as you expected as you watched his own thoughts scramble to piece together a coherent string of words behind those icy dark eyes of his.

His gaze flickers away, “just wanted to make sure you were okay while you slept.”

An easy answer, to be fair, but the most obvious one he could justify. It was neither a lie nor was it the full truth, just simply an embellished rebuttal to hopefully satiate your ever rising noisiness.

“I can take care of myself, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

“I wasn’t expecting to stay until you woke up.” The words fell from his tongue before he could stop himself. You could see the grimace in his furrowed brow.

Zayne often prided himself in only speaking when he needed to. And within those very few words far and between, he always knew what to say and what to keep to himself no matter who he was speaking to. So, of course out of all people, you were the only one capable of watching him stumble over his words.

You cocked your head, “how come?”

“Got stuck in my own thoughts, that’s all.” He hummed.

“Do you do that often?” You damn well knew the answer to that question and Zayne only flickered you a look knowing the same. It seemed as if you wanted to rile him up today.

No matter, as patience was his virtue for today. And perhaps for the rest of his life.

“Only on special occasions,” he joked as his eyes met yours again.

“Our movie nights are a special occasion to you?” You mused as a chuckle leaves you. “I’m honored.”

“Is it not for you?” Zayne shot back. “Anything that has to do with you is a special occasion in my book.”

Pink dusted the apples of your cheeks, but you looked away and hopefully fast enough for Zayne to miss. And maybe he did, but one thing is for sure is that he most definitely did not miss the clear view of your red-tipped ears when you turned.

Zayne feigned a laugh and tried his awful best to suppress the smile that threatened to plaster his face.

Clearing your throat, you look back towards him, sitting up a bit higher now that you pulled yourself together.

“Tell me then,” you continued, “tell me what you were thinking about.”

His brows furrowed, “I believe thoughts are meant to be private.”

“Not all the time,” you argued with a look on your visage he could not quite pinpoint. “If anything, I share my thoughts with you all the time.”

Zayne leaned back as curiosity laced his words. “Oh, really? Enlighten me, then.”

You smiled, basically a reflex in your nature as your pulse quickened. You leaned closer, the gap between you deteriorated by the inch. You paused and your gaze fell upon his lips for the umpteenth time tonight. Reflex, again. Hesitance gripped at your neck but the words were not lost to you, “I dreamt of you…” you swallowed, though Zayne’s expression was as still as ice.

Perhaps you had finally rendered the man speechless as to you, it would have been a flawless and ever-sought-after victory, but rather you could see his calculated thoughts in his irises—dark and dilated. You would have been sucked into the black hole of him if you weren’t careful.

You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. A swallow, a nervous habit, a sign of weakness, a clearing in the woods.

“Was I in a panda suit again?” he replied in a hushed voice. 

You shook your head.

“Then what?”

“I can’t spare any more details, unfortunately.” You leaned back, regaining that space but Zayne only follows suit and shrinks that gap once more.

“Why?”

“It’s your turn now,” you pointed out. “It’s only fair.”

Zayne pursed his lips together, and yet he does not pull away, he does not cower. Instead, he stayed, hand pressing into the mattress right by your leg as if to test the waters. You had every opportunity to move away, to stop what this was from happening and yet the chance was never taken.

To have presented him with such a favorable circumstance made him wonder if his wishes were finally granted. That someone watching above decided that this was the moment for him to stop waiting and to want more.

His eyes dart to your mouth, a perfectly innocuous and coincidental look. But the corner of your lips twitch and Zayne finds himself reaching for you.

At first it was a light touch, barely grazing you with his cold fingertips as they brushed against your chin, then up your jaw, until he found purchase with your cheek in the palm of his hand. You leaned into his touch, a habit you never knew you had as he pulled you in closer.

Zayne’s thumb lined the perimeter of your plump lips, brushing over the corner as it twitched again.

“I think you know,” he sighed.

And just like his fingers, Zayne’s lips just barely brush against yours. A tease if anything, and you wanted nothing more than to curse this man and his goddamn patience. His habit was anything but a blessing as you ignored all the restraint you had built up over the years and kissed him.

Properly this time.

His hands are on your face as if they were made to be there, perfect puzzle pieces nuzzled together as he kisses you back, deeper and deeper. You moan into his mouth, muffled between your lips as he hungrily devoured your lips.

Your fingers found themselves coursing through his dark locks, messing his neatly parted hair but Zayne concluded he had not a single care in the world now that he finally had you in his arms.

Your exploring fingers eventually made their way towards his neck, earning a sharp exhale from him before they wrapped around his tie.

You bring him forward, falling back onto the mattress with him on top of you. Zayne pulls away for a brief moment, devouring the sight of you and your hair splayed all over his pillows. It was just as he imagined again and again, alone in his bed with a never ending ache he could not satiate unless he succumbed to the tug and pull of his hand.

“I thought of us,” He says once his lips find yours again. His words were a mere whisper now, “and being tender like this.”

He desired so violently for you, but now his patience is nowhere to be seen.

He tugged at his tie.

Zayne could no longer wait.

this is so cute- im gonna cry

I've been lookin for a writer who takes reqs for lnds 😭 Can i req sfw hcs/one-shot (choose which one u prefer more) for sylus & fem/gn reader?

I remember there was one call for zayne x mc where mc called zayne accidentally because mc was drunk & mc called zayne (accidentally) instead of booking a cab (mc did book a cab but w/ a wrong destination).

Can i maybe req what if the scenario is like that but it's w/ sylus instead? Feel free to tell me if this req is too much or if u wanna decline it, thanks a lot!

My first Sylus fic! Yay! (Don't look at me Rafayel 🥰) Anon your mind is so powerful! This prompt was so much fun to write, so thank you, hope you enjoy!

Wrong Number

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're having a bit of trouble getting hold of that taxi you booked, but more trouble help is on the way...

Genre: fluff, kinda ends on an angsty note (sorry 😇)

Warnings/Additional tags: drunk reader (gender neutral), some swearing, humour, uses of 'sweetie' and 'kitten', threat of violence/death at the start, a slight bit of suggestion (it's Sylus, ok? He's having ✨fun✨)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Mr. Sylus, please! It was an honest mistake— almost indistinguishable from a genuine protocore, I swear!”

Sylus is lounging back in a plush leather armchair, feeling thoroughly short-changed as he turns about a fake protocore with his fingers. He’s been listening to this noise for almost a full minute, growing awfully impatient, though he did like the last excuse.

“Say that again,” he drawls with a sinister smile.

“It was an honest mistake,” the black-market dealer stutters, tripping over his words. “It was almost indistinguishable from a—”

“Almost indistinguishable…” Sylus confirms. “Almost. Almost.” He’s savouring each syllable— tasting them like wine.

“It would have fooled almost anyone!”

“Almost anyone?” Sylus laughs, and it’s a wicked, dangerous thing. “Well yes, I rather think that’s the point. But it didn’t fool just anyone, did it? It fooled you.”

His smile is gone in an instant, his hand closing around the fake protocore, splintering it with a crack. He drops bloodied, sapphire fragments from his palm, red and blue, red and blue, and they skitter across the hardwood floor like rain.

“Please, Mr. Sylus!” the dealer pleads, desperate. “I’ll do anything! I will! I’ll make it up to you!”

“No, thanks.” Sylus studies his palm as it heals. “I’ve had my fill of fake protocores.”

“Sylus!”

The leader of Onychinus stands, drawing his gun with a customary apathy. Dark energy manifests, twisting around the dealer’s limbs, holding him still, while a lone tendril crawls around his mouth, holding him silent. He’s struggling, but he should know better. He should have known better from the very beginning. With a wistful smile, Sylus levels the gun with his head, and—

Something rings.

His red gaze shoots up, instinctively seeking Luke and Kieran, but they shrug from their station at the other side of the room. The sound is closer than that, anyway. Glaringly more familiar. Sylus’s spare hand goes to his pocket, and he draws out his phone.

“Mmm?” he greets, thumb sliding across the screen as he puts it to his ear.

There’s only one person who calls him at this time of night.

“Where are you?” your voice echoes from the other side of the line.

“That’s a question I prefer not to answer without knowing what motivates it.”

“Wha— Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he drones.

There’s a moment of silence. “Shit.”

It’s not the reaction he aspires to, but you sound agitated, so he’s going to let it slide. There’s a loud crackle from the speaker, followed by a few, harsher sounds, and he pulls the phone away from his ear, wincing slightly. His eyes are trained on the man at his feet, but he lowers his gun, distracted.

“What are you—” he begins, but then he identifies the sound. It’s a finger— your finger— jabbing away at a screen. “If I didn’t know any better, Miss Hunter, I’d say you were trying to get rid of me.”

“No…” you deny too quickly. It’s still there: the tapping. Like Mephisto, pecking furiously at a locked window from outside. A few more jabs, and then…

The call cuts out.

Sylus scoffs, looking down at his now silent phone in disbelief. He flops back into his chair, tossing his gun onto a side table before hitting the button to call you back. You know he’s not a patient man, but you don’t pick up the first time, and so he has to try again. He can be patient for you— he tells himself— as he thinks up some creative ways for you to return the charity. Speaking of charity…

His gaze drops to the dealer. “Get out,” he sneers.

The man doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet as his blood-dark bindings retract, practically throwing himself towards the room’s exit. Luke pushes open the door, the intense music of the nightclub beating through the gap, but Kieran’s being less helpful. He steps into the doorway, blocking any escape. He feints right. Then left. Behind the masks, both men are laughing.

Eventually Kieran steps aside. He shoves the dealer the rest of the way through the door as Luke kicks it shut, and they exchange a high-five.

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. His call connects.

“Hello?” You’re back. “Finally! Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“Still me, sweetie.”

“Sylus?” you actually whine. It’s adorable. “Why is it you? Go away.”

“No,” he lilts tunefully, and then he’s coaxing: “I want to help you, kitten. Won’t you let me help you? Tell me, who are you trying to call?”

Frustration spills from you— fake, exaggerated sobs tearing themselves from your throat. “The taxi, Sy,” you whine again. “The stupid taxi, ok? It’s not here. It’s meant to be here.”

“Where’s here?”

“Ha!” you exclaim like you’ve evaded a masterplan, and not a casually asked, run-of-the-mill question. “No. Nice try, but no. You wanna help me?”

“Yeah.”

“Then leave me alone!”

With— he can imagine— some sort of theatrical flourish, you deliver your phone a final, decisive tap. It beckons a fateful silence. Sylus brings his phone in front of his face, unmoved by the moment’s gravitas. There’s a pop-up on the screen. Kitten: requesting video chat.

He smiles to himself. Then accepts. “Hi sweetie.”

Your face is lighting up his screen, your cheeks flushed, your brow furrowed, and your eyes sharp with determination. “Why can I— wait, why can I see you? Get out of my phone, Sy!”

“My, my,” he tuts, but he’s smiling still, “look at you— the illustrious Miss Hunter. It is a relief to know the fate of Linkon rests in such… reliable hands.”

“What d’you mean?” you mumble.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk!”

He chuckles. “And there’s that infamous wit.”

You bite your lip as you ignore him, still fixated on trying to end the call. It occurs to him that you will eventually succeed; even a broken clock is right twice a day. “Listen to me, sweetie. Are you alone?”

His tone is sober enough for the two of you, and your exasperated eyes meet his. “Yeah.”

“Then be a good girl and send me your location. You remember how to do that, right?” He carefully enunciates each word of his plan. “I’ll come and get you, but I need to know where you are. Don’t go with anyone else. Wait for me, ok?”

You’re nodding away, the odd ‘mmhmm’ escaping your lips, but you’re not at all listening. He catches on after a minute. Trails off— realises your gaze is too vacant, and your focus? Wandering. You’re cradling your phone with both hands. His view is interrupted as your thumb passes over the camera; you’re… stroking the screen?

“You’re so pretty, Sy,” you murmur breathlessly.

His gaze softens. He sighs, “You’re pretty too.”

Then you make a sound he’s never heard before: you squeak, the phone’s audio almost cutting out. A blush is spreading through your cheeks, so much darker than the alcohol’s afterglow, and gods he wishes your face was in his hands. The vision is short-lived, however, because suddenly you’re gone.

There’s a circling view of a dark street, split by streaks of white light, as your phone careens through the air. It strikes concrete a moment later, stuttering to a stop, and Sylus’s grimace deepens with each jarring crack. Your screen has gone black, but he doesn’t think it’s broken. He’s face down, apparently— subjected to an unexciting view of the pavement.

“Oh, shit!” He hears you gasp.

Though your voice is far away, your phone is in your grasp again in no time. You’re turning it over, peering down at him, tracing the outline of his face with worry. “Sorry, Sy. Are you ok?”

“I’ll survive.” He raises an eyebrow. “You know, if you wanted to throw me around, you only needed to ask.”

His voice has dropped, and he loves watching you notice. You stand from your crouch with a smirk, bringing him with you— a dark idea in your eyes. “Wanna go again?”

Before he can protest, he’s looking at the back of your head. Your arm is stretched behind you, gearing up to send him on another short flight.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts, panicking briefly, but you’d never detect it with all your wits about you, let alone none. He’s brought in front of your face again, and you’re frowning oh so sweetly. “I asked you to do something, remember?”

“You told me to do something.”

So pedantic. “What did I tell you to do, sweetie?”

You don’t say anything. There’s a short huff as you blow hair from your face, and then you’re concentrating. You have that look he likes: the one you get when you’re whittling away at your paperwork like a good little hunter. The same stubborn resolve, too, that makes you lean over it when he or Mephisto are conveniently behind your shoulder.

Your location comes through with a ping and his smile widens. He’s up in a heartbeat, telling you he’s on his way— that you did such a good job— and that you need to stay on the phone with him, ok? He spins his fingers as he passes between Luke and Kieran, a gesture they’ve long grown accustomed to and can easily translate.

I'm leaving. Clean this up.

…

“So then Xavier, like— well, you know Xavier— he was all, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ but he never did, Sy! Off he went, leaving Nero and I to do all the paperwork, and I asked Nero, and Nero was like, ‘ask Xavier yourself’, and I was like, ‘I literally just did!’, and he just shrugged, and it’s… driving me crazy, you know? Because where does he even go? Tara and I have this bet going, she thinks it’s because he—”

Your anecdote comes to a sudden stop.

“What does Tara think, sweetie?”

“Shh shh shh! Wait a second…”

You clutch your phone to your chest like it’ll somehow suppress Sylus’s voice. You’re sat, leaning back against a chain-link fence, but you rise as a black car pulls up in front of you. The windows are tinted. You squint, leaning forward to try to look through them anyway.

“I don’t like this, Sy,” you frown as you plant a hand on your hip. “There’s a car here.”

“Oh?”

“Shh!” you hiss again. It’s not the only car parked on the street, but it is the only one alive. The engine purrs and its lights are glowing like angry embers, refusing to be snuffed out by the dark. You take a step closer, then the engine cuts out. You take a bigger step back.

“What exactly are you afraid of?” Sylus asks, his tone so thick it’s practically bleeding through your phone. “Is a big, bad man trying to get you?”

“Well I don’t know what they look like, Sy. The windows are tinted, and I— AH!” you gasp.  

A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you from the ground. “Got you, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles in your ear as tell-tale crow feathers settle around you. His breath is hot on your neck and it tickles, turning your panicked shrieks to laughter.

“Sylus!” you squeal as you attempt to wriggle free. You don’t think you’re trying very hard.

The man lowers you back to your feet, but his arms stay around you and he dips his head, resting his chin on the curve of your shoulder. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi.” For a little word, there’s so much fondness.

“Let’s get you home to bed, ok?”

You nod compliantly with a yawn, swaying a little as his arms retract and you’re having to stand on your own again. He chuckles as he steadies you— placing a hand on the top of your head— and you pivot, drawn by the sound. His crimson eyes find yours and they’re dark with something that stirs you, even with your mind swimming and nothing really making sense. You’re not sure of anything at all, except—

No-one has ever looked at you like that before.

And you won’t remember it tomorrow.

“Come on,” he prompts, nudging you towards the car, and you start to walk, though you’re dragging your feet. “I want to hear all of the association’s dirtiest secrets while I still can.”

“Tara has a crush on the new weapon specialist, you know.”

Sylus blinks, then laughs— a tender, comfortable thing. Completely enthralled. “You don’t say,” he beams.

No, you won’t remember it tomorrow.

NOO IM SORRY-

DONT CRY 😭 HAHAHSHAH

Zayne Drabble

Zayne doesn’t say he loves you. No — wait… let me rephrase that. He can’t say that he loves you.

It hurts, both emotionally and physically for Zayne. His love for you is so great but can’t physically say it to you. 

The God, Astra forbids him to do so. In no matter what timeline, if he dares to utter such words — a curse will be laid upon him, making him feel the most excruciating pain as his ice covers his body.

But even then, Zayne will love you unconditionally and will continue to do so.

You feel cold? Here, have his coat.

You need something from the store? Wait for him, he’ll buy it for you on the way.

You like this food? He’ll remember it and cook it for you in the future.

Zayne will put his hand on your waist when walking together, to ensure that you don’t get separated from him. His grip always feel protective, gentle, and possessive.

In each appointment that you're almost always late on, makes him feel anxious and worried — thinking if you are in danger or if something has happened. Once you enter his office, he feels instant relief and immediately regain his composure. Though his words sound cold and distant, he is only hiding his true feelings.

This man, when it is time to sleep, always prioritizes your comfort before his. He’d pull you close, — hesitant at first, scared that his evol will act up — tucking your head towards his chest as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. Feeling the warmth of your body assures him that you are well and alive and right beside him.

Zayne can’t say that he loved you, however, through his actions — you know how deeply in love he is with you. In this timeline… he’ll protect you and not lose you. 

Not again.

Reblogs would be appreciated!