#dr zayne

[scorpyuu]

✨ Nightly rendezvous ✨

Before 🍎 comes home.

Which one is your favourite?

[zerocoded]

BOOMSHAKALAKA 💥 HOW BIG ARE HIS HANDS?! istg this is NOT an average “guys have big hands” thing, his fingers are as big as my ovulation period damn.

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS BIG? HIS THIGHS! so big they didn’t fit in the screenshot. bro did not take military training lightly.

🗣️ so you’re telling me he walks around wearing SLEEVELESS SHIRTS?! hell yeah i’m licking his biceps AS WE SPEAK.

also, the shadowing on his muscles? tell me this game doesn’t want me dead.

the side profile deserved it’s own screenshot. i swear infold keep making this fine men obsessed with us urgh

WHAT THE FUCK is going on with his eyes, someone pls explain to me. the glowing is not normal, it’s giving FERAL/YEARNING/I NEED YOU WITH ME TO PROPERLY FUNCTION i fear. i mean, hell yeah.

lastly, but not least. “you can’t leave without my permission” ?????? are we going to pretend this is not hotly concerning ??????

also the unbuttoned shirt? BRO WHERE YO CLOTHES AT?! tell me they didn’t gave us his military uniform unbuttoned and his scars poking out. TELL ME.

i’m sorry for the unfiltered post. just watched his trailer and wished i was here when the other boys were being revealed :( infold you won’t see me complaining until the 22nd comes, i’ve been FEED. thank you. yes, there will be more caleb content released on this blog this week. yes, i am already at 4k on the new work i’m writing for him. no, i’m not even in the middle yet. yes, i’ll be writing gravity play with him soon.

[empty-vessel-of-a-person]

MC and Zayne needs to clarify what they’re talking about… otherwise I will think about something else.. 😂😂😂😂

[ilovemyladboyz]

Imagine Zayne and pregnant reader.. I imagine Zayne would try to come home more often— like try to come home to you and eat lunch with you or something. I like to think he likes to talk to the baby when he can’t sleep.. but he’s too shy to do it when you’re awake. He also will get up at ungodly hours to please your cravings.

I feel like he would have the hospital bag ready in the first couple of months of being pregnant and I think he would be a nervous wreck on the inside and calm on the outside. Once the baby is born I think him and a kid would share the same sweet tooth.. I feel like you would have to lock up the sweets and hide the key just cause your kid would ask daddy for some candy.

★·.·¯`·.·★ ·.·¯`·.·★·.·¯`·.·★ ·.·¯`·.· ★·.·¯`·.· ★·.·¯`·.·★

LMK IF YALL WANT THIS FOR THR OTHER BOYS TOO!!

© ilovemyladboyz. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work with out my permission.

[sleepymothafterhours]

I wish you wanted me like you wanted her

Or

Zayne x reader but reader isn’t MC, MC ends up dying on a mission with reader and it causes reader to just want to teach future hunters cus they’re scared

And reader and zayne get super close and eventually get married they’re a very traditional couple very happy at least on the outside but zayne is so closed off because eventually reader ends up back in the field and back on the most dangerous missions and he’s so scared that he just shuts them out

They fight about it often, but in the end they stay together and one night go out with some of their mutual friends and he accidentally gets super wasted(lightweight) and they half carry him home(because they walked there it’s right by their house) and readers bidding their friend goodnight while they’re run off and they try so hard to get him to just go to bed and by the time he settles down and they think he’s asleep it just slips out that they “wish he loved them like he loved her.” And he hears it and he’s like “I’m sorry..” and he truly is because he loves reader so much and hates that he’s caused them so much pain and they slip out of bed to go make themself some tea or something with a “don’t bother.”

——-

What do we think folks? I need at least one person to be interested in this Zayne angst or I’ll give up on it

[themagicafox]

Can we talk about their noses? 🙂🙂🙂

[loveanddeepthroat]

The Cost of Caring

Pairing - Zayne x f!MC

Summary - You couldn’t save everyone. It was a nonnegotiable part of your job that you were aware of from your very first day as a hunter. You thought you’d be prepared for your first failure, but it quickly eats you alive.

Word Count - 2.2k

TW - Depictions of blood, injury and death. Themes of PTSD. Angst & Hurt/Comfort with a little fluff.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

The words were a repetitive mantra in your mind, but they were never going to reach the intended recipient.

Because she’s dead.

It’s been a few hours since the young woman died in the wanderer attack on the beach this morning, but it feels as though it’s still happening at this very moment. You couldn’t save her, and it was already consuming you.

Captain Jenna sent you home after your failed attempt of typing up a report for her. You don’t really remember the subway journey, or how you managed to get off at the right station. The walk home was nothing but a blur, too.

The first thing you did was get out of your ruined uniform, dumping it straight into the trash. Likely a bad idea as it technically isn’t your property, but you could never wear those things again. 

They still had her blood spattered on them.

You stood in the shower for a while, the water so hot that you can still feel the tingle of light burns across your shoulders and over your scalp as you stand at the kitchen sink, washing already clean dishes in water that was even hotter. You weren’t entirely numb to the pain, and that’s what you wanted.

Zayne’s nightshirt tickled the surface of your thighs as it dangled from your body like a floaty dress, the smell of him emanating from the soft fabric. He’s due home any minute, but your need to feel consumed by him outweighed your ability to await his arrival.

Something had to stop the guilt from consuming you.

Your hands move of their own accord in the molten water, washing the last of the spotless cutlery on autopilot. As you swipe your hand around in the water to check that nothing remains, you feel the skin of your palm split from below your index finger down to your wrist, the clear soapy bubbles turning red at a rapid pace. The bread knife bobs in its victory before sinking back down to the bottom of the sink.

There’s no reaction from you. All you can do is bring your hand just above the surface, watching your palm hastily fill with hot, metallic blood.

So much blood.

Kids screaming. Families running for their lives. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

You’re running. Sprinting, even. She can’t hear the commotion with her headphones on, her hat covering her face as she sleeps on the sunlounger. She needs to run.

Now.

Your pace picks up, something you didn’t think possible. But you’re not going to make it. It’s faster than you by a long shot, sights set on the easy prey laid out beneath the warm rays of sunshine.

“RUN! COME ON!”

It’s too late.

You fall victim to unwillingly witnessing the gruesome attack the wanderer imparts on the young woman, her blissful ignorance never giving chance for a moment of realisation as she’s torn into with brutal ferocity.

You’re still running. Just at the sight of her, you know she isn’t revivable. But you run anyway, driving a weapon through the wanderer with a scream you didn’t even hear from your own mouth. 

You didn’t save her. You didn’t do your job. You didn’t get close.

You failed.

You failed.

You—

“Hello?!”

Zayne’s snapping fingers in front of your face brings you out of recent memory, your eyes focusing on your sliced palm again. You blink, still unable to react.

“What happened?” he asks, a frantic edge to his usually soothing voice. He rummages in the draw beside you for a clean tea towel, shoving it into your hand and clamping it there with his own to stem the bleeding. “Hey, come on. Snap out of it. You’re alright.”

He watches you warily for a moment, but when you don’t snap out of it, he turns you around so that you’re away from the sink and against the kitchen island. His free arm hooks around your waist securely, hoisting you up onto the surface to sit you down.

You must look like hell by the way he’s ogling you. Your hair is still dripping from your shower, the scalding water now ice cold between the strands. His nightshirt that smelt of him only moments ago now smells of dish soap and the metallic stench of blood. Not to mention the fact that you haven’t said a word yet, just stared into his soul, trying to figure out where your own one went.

He flickers his focus between your eyes and your hand, his warmth washing over your exposed skin as he stands between your legs. He gently lifts the tea towel to check the flow of blood, but even the sting of fibres from the towel that had stuck to the wound and tugged at the raw skin didn’t rouse you from your blank state.

“It’s okay. It’s not too deep,” he says a little gentler, likely more to himself than to you. He pushes the ruined tea towel back into your palm, his hand wrapped tightly around yours to keep it there.

A loud, uncontrollable sniffle startles you out of your stupor. You were starting to cry, the first real emotion you felt since your colleagues had to practically drag you off of the beach. If there was anyone in the world you could be unapologetically vulnerable with, it was him.

“It’s alright,” Zayne whispers, using his free hand to comb your sodden hair away from your face. “That gave you a bit of a shock, it’s completely normal.”

“I failed,” you croak.

Zayne tuts, shaking his head with a frown. “They’re just dishes, I’ll finish them—”

“I couldn’t save her.” Your voice was broken and unrecognisable. “I…I c-couldn’t—” The words won’t materialise, and your chest feels like an elephant is standing on it. It hurts. An mental hurt unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

It made you immediately miss the numbness you’d been drowning in all day.

Zayne takes a deep breath, his hand that had momentarily paused in your drenched locks resuming its rhythm of combing through them. You expect him to tell you that you haven’t failed, or that you did what you could. You expect him to haul you into a tight hug and tell you how sorry he is to hear that. You expect a whole lecture on how you’re not invincible, and that you cannot do it all.

But you don’t want any of that. And he doesn’t give you that, either.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “I understand what you’re feeling.”

Of course he does. He’s a surgeon, and it’s a high possibility that he could have lost a patient in the operating room just today, considering the intricate nature of his profession. He isn’t going to sympathise with you, because it’s his everyday life you’ve just experienced. 

Death is a regular visitor in his presence.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks.

You shake your head, hiccuping pathetically and nestling your throbbing head into his steady hand to ground yourself. It’s not enough to block out the tirade of assumptions plaguing your thoughts, though. 

Was she somebody’s girlfriend? Her partner will never be able to hold her like this again.

Was she a mother? Her children will only have fading memories of her throughout life.

Was she happy? Was she having a relaxing day to herself for the first time in months? Did she have any silblings–

“Hey,” Zayne whispers, moving his hand down to your chin to tip your head up in his direction. “Come back to me.”

“That’s probably what her family are thinking,” you croak.

“Please don’t,” he softly begs. “I can’t make this any better for you. If I could, I would. But drowning yourself in the guilt of something you couldn’t control is going to make you ill.”

“I can’t—”

“I know it feels impossible right now. It’s a big, heavy ball of guilt and dread hanging from your conscience whenever you can’t save a life,” he says like he's reminiscing on his own experience with it. “I’m here. I don’t want you to tell me the details if you don’t want to, but I want you to speak up when you’re eating a sandwich and can’t get through it because you know that person will never eat again. Or when the breeze outside becomes too much of a feeling on your skin, and you just can’t handle the thought of being able to feel what she can’t.”

This is the moment that you realise you’re in the best company for this situation. Some of your colleagues and the surrounding witnesses at the beach had thrown around the phrase ‘I couldn’t imagine how you feel right now’ in an attempt to sympathise with you after the event. 

You didn’t want their sympathy. Why would they direct their sympathy to you, when a mother and a father have lost their daughter?

But Zayne wasn’t going to pull you out of your pit of self deprecation just to throw you a pity party. He was going to help you navigate this, the way a more experienced surgeon likely did for him when he lost his first patient.

“It hurts,” you whisper.

Zayne nods softly. “It does.”

You swallow thickly, realising the mental hurt is marrying with the physical pain in your hand. Zayne catches your wince, and moves the tea towel gently to find that the heavy flow of blood has now muted down into a few trickles and seepages.

Your eyes follow him around the kitchen as he gets out the hefty first aid kit from the cupboard, grabs you a bottle of juice from the fridge, and reaches up into the medicine cabinet for the box of ibuprofen. He pops two of the little capsules into your free hand, uncaps the juice for you, and gets to work thoroughly cleaning your wound. 

For the few minutes it takes him to disinfect and carefully wrap it, your mind can only focus on the love you feel for him. It’s overwhelming sometimes, and instead of thinking of how the lady at the beach will never feel these feelings again, you begin to hope that she had ever even felt this way in the first place. You hope that she gave and reciprocated love so strong that wherever she is now, she’s not mourning a feeling she never had the privilege of relishing in.

Despite how wrong it feels to focus on him and not the woman you couldn’t save, you feel yourself calming down a little. It’s going to take time, but you’ll come back and be better on your missions. You’ll learn from this, and you’ll adapt, just as Zayne had in the medical field.

He presses a tender kiss to the bandage, his thumb tracing lightly over the fabric. “That’s better. A few days at home will be necessary, though.”

You know he doesn’t only mean because of your injured hand, but he doesn’t say it. If anything, you agree. This is all brand new territory for you, and you’re sure that it’ll have its highs and lows.

Nodding your head, you put down the bottle of juice to rest your uninjured hand over his chest, feeling his heart beating. It’s steady and calm, and your own heart works to mirror it.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, the day’s tribulations taking a heavy toll on your consciousness. It’s the first time this afternoon that you’ve been able to identify how utterly exhausted you feel, and how badly your body, mind and soul need to rest.

“Don’t thank me,” he murmurs, pecking the top of your head. “Let’s dry this hair and take a break from the real world for a little while.”

And he did just that. He blow-dried your hair, brought you some fresh pyjamas, slipped into bed behind you and enveloped you with his warmth, keeping you locked into the moment of reprieve and preventing you from drifting off into another spiralling vortex of self destruction.

The cost of caring is a big price to pay, especially when the thing you care so much for is out of your reach. You care about your job and the people of Linkon. You care about the safety of others. You care enough to put your life on the line every day, even when you get discouraged.

But that care won’t stop tragedies.

It almost makes you envy those who wouldn’t have batted an eyelid in your situation this morning, but that was no way to be in life.

Soulless.

Your willingness and determination is a big part of you, inspired by Zayne’s integrity and drive to change people’s lives for the better. People will be lost and injured, and it will be hard, but you will never give up.

And you will never be alone.

You tuck your head further beneath his chin to inhale his scent, your eyes slowly fluttering to an irresistible close.

“I’m proud of you,” you hear him whisper into your hair before you drift into a deep sleep.

A/N - I haven’t written anything lads related in a really long time ._. I’ve been really drawn to Zayne recently and had to get this out of my system.

[shaladyvibes]

Man, I love one direction!

[myearts-uwu]

Zayne rkgk

Had to try drawing him for the first time because I love him dearly. He's just so lovely and he deserves his sweets and a good rest.

[xinnn6]

???? Reading this without context was crazy 😭😭😭

[ilovemitsuya]

Our last quad banner guys💔

[himbodruid]

Future LaDS fics! (I’ll edit this as more ideas pop up!)

Zayne

-Hand massage (fluff)

-followup of Desperation in Yearning (angst/smut)

Sylus

-morning after (this is the only context you’re getting lmao, fluff/smut)

-walks in on your…”personal time” (smut)

-foodplay (smut)

-expanded Approaching Dusk Secret Time (smut)

-present day sylus experiencing dragon sylus instincts (smut)

If any of yall have an idea you would like to see for Sylus or Zayne, my suggestion box should be open! Note that I probably wont write for Xavier or Rafayel specifically because I main Zayne/Sylus and don’t know Rafayel or Xavier’s nuances very well! I’m also not prepared to write Caleb fics lmao

[kokomyass]

in your hands

in which, daddy surgeon zayne is stressed asf and y/n gives him a good old massage ;)

The sound of the door opening announces his arrival, and you’re already moving toward the door, anticipation bubbling in your chest. When Zayne steps inside, your breath catches at how attractive and distraught he looks. He’s dressed immaculately in his tailored grey three-piece suit, the vest hugging his broad chest and trim waist perfectly. The silver chain of his pocket watch gleams faintly under the soft lights, and the crisp white dress shirt underneath is slightly rolled at the sleeves, revealing strong, veiny, forearms. His tie is loosened just enough to hint at the strain of his day, and his dark hair, usually so immaculate, is artfully tousled from the long hours.

His sharp gaze meets yours, the intensity in his dark eyes softening as they take you in. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice low and tired but still rich and warm.

Without hesitation, you close the distance and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face against his chest. His body is firm and warm beneath the fine fabric, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you as much as your embrace seems to do for him.

"Long day?" you ask softly, your voice muffled against him.

"That’s one way to put it," he replies, his tone edged with exhaustion. Still, his arms come up to hold you, his large hands resting lightly on your back.

You pull back slightly, enough to look up into his striking features. Even tired, Zayne exudes an effortless charm that makes your pulse quicken. "Come on," you say, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. "Sit down and let me take care of you."

He simply raises an eyebrow, letting you lead him without protest. "You don’t have to do this, Y/N," he says, his deep voice teasing but grateful.

"I want to," you reply firmly.

Once he’s seated, you step behind the couch, placing your hands gently on his shoulders. You reach down and carefully slide his glasses off, setting them on the nearby table.

"Better," you say softly, leaning down just enough to catch the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes as you brush your hands down his face softly.

Your hands find his shoulders again, and as you knead into the thick muscles beneath the fine fabric of his suit, you can feel the tension he’s been carrying all day. His body is so solid, so strong, and yet he melts under your touch as though you’ve found the exact release he’s needed.

"Zayne, you’re so tense," you murmur, your thumbs digging into a particularly tight spot.

"Comes with the job," he mutters, his head tilting forward slightly.

You hum thoughtfully, your hands moving up to his neck and then into his hair. As your fingers massage his scalp, his dark locks silky under your touch, he lets out a low, quiet groan that sends a thrill through you.

"You’re amazing, you know that?" you whisper, your voice filled with admiration. "The way you work, how much you care…and how you look..... it’s incredible."

His lips twitch into a faint smile. "You say that every time," he replies, his tone softer now, the weight of his day starting to lift.

"And I mean it every time," you counter, leaning down until your face is close to his. Without thinking, you slide your hands forward to cup his face, tilting it back slightly so he’s looking up at you.

Zayne blinks, surprised but not displeased, his piercing gaze meeting yours as his strong jaw rests lightly in your palms. From this angle, his features are even more striking—his smooth lips, his skin that glistens effortlessly, and the way his dark eyes seem to pull you in completely.

"You’re so handsome," you whisper, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

He smirks faintly, his expression softening. "And you’re so shameless," he teases, his voice warm and full of affection.

"Maybe," you admit, leaning down further, your lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss.

Zayne’s hands come up to rest over yours as he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss. It’s slow and warm, a quiet exchange of everything you both feel but don’t need to say despite the awkward position. When you finally pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, his expression more relaxed than you’ve seen all day.

"You spoil me," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"You deserve it," you reply simply, your hands still resting on his face as you lean in for one more kiss, savoring the quiet, intimate moment.

[coffeekittycatt]

idc the people need to see ts 🫦

[loveanddeepspace-sideblog]

Hehehehe 😏😏😏 “crime”

Let’s pretend we are sore from skiing, uh-huh 😏

[lisharchivez]

Because the game didn't have this rewind feathure nor there was any wiki track for socials

Is why I started this whole account to post everything I kept Screenshotting in organized manner

I am sure many fans won't need a secondary source to see all possible outcomes ,so thanks for being here so far.

But this account will not be closed , I started this before ladswiki had solid archive of these ,which is one of my pride and achievement as zayne girlie & a fan of this game

and I will stay . And you will always be welcomed .

thanks for all the support . I am excited about how much rewinding that is possible in this rewind feature. will the interactions of NPCs can be rewinded like it's the first time ? Or it will be more like "re-edit"? Will we get response notification from the guys after we changed our responses or their response will just be refreshed? Can we leave the chat in middle prompting them to poke us when it's a rewind ?

🤔so many questions. I am excited.