Enby shark out here eatin' grass for free. (Del, they/them, old enough. I write almost criminally long posts about LaDS and LaDS-adjacent topics and in-between that I post or reblog random nonsense. Enjoy!)
The (Mer)man That You Are: Rafayelās Relationship with Masculinity
First off, don't come for me, I'm not here to rehash the "controversy" of some players saying Rafayel was hotter or more masculine as the Lemurian Sea God. That's not a controversy, that's just an opinion. Maybe on X those things coincide, but not here. Not in this mojo dojo casa house.
That said, I am curious about why/how such opinions might be formed. Even prior to LSG, I saw random comments about Rafayel being āsoftā or looking āfeminine,ā despite the fact that other LIs have similar characteristics. Posts have also popped up here on Tumblr about Rafayel being underestimated as a lover because of his features and behavior. Not a lot, but it stands out because I never see the same kind of posts about any other LI.
Is this all just social media brainrot nonsense? Probably. But Iām going to pretend there's something to it because I want to yap about it soā¦
Rafayel is more masculine than he appears (to some folks) and hereās why.
CW: light discussions of misogyny and this thing is long as hell, I couldn't keep track of how many things I spoiled, so let's say all the Rafayel spoilers ahead
DISCLAIMERS:
As per all my LaDS commentary posts, a disclaimer that this is JUST MY OPINION. I haven't seen all of his content yet, I'm only going with what I know so far and other interpretations of Rafayel are EQUALLY VALID. But this is the internet and I get to yell things just like everyone else.
Usual caveats when it comes to actual credentials: I have none. I do basic research things as part of my day job, but Iām not a sociologist. Also, Iām American and while I do my best, that comes with all the myopic baggage we tend to have. If a CN LaDSer wants to dunk on me because all my takes are super Western and I miss a shit ton of nuance, well I am here to get dunked on, go off, my liege.
Basically, my only qualifications are that I think too much and I have access to the internet. Now that you all have your grains of salt to take with all this, letās gooooooā¦.
Prologue
To start, letās define what I mean by āmasculinity.ā As I use it here, I mean masculinity in the traditional Western sense, the stereotype of it as a set of qualities associated primarily with men. Iām aware that there is more to masculinity than these qualities, that all genders can and do share in them, and that ideas of masculinity vary wildly from culture to culture, but this admittedly narrow perspective is what Iām going to focus on to keep this post from becoming a dissertation. (I said I wasnāt going back to grad school and I meant it.) Keeping all that in mind, weāre going to start with how Rafayel performs masculinity (or doesn't) on a surface level.
1) At face value, Rafayel's more feminine qualities are played up more than other LIs', and he is the only one with a less masc profession.
We know that Rafayel is very powerful. Between his godhood and his Evol, he might even be the most powerful of the LIs, greater or at least on par with Sylus, who could arguably be considered the most masculine-coded of the five. Rafās Evol is fire, an element tied to yang energy, associated with maleness or masculinity. Rafayel is confident, assertive, independent, literally physically strong (I mean that body, whew), and brave. There are definitely more feminine aspects of him, but I would argue that all of the LIs have traits more commonly associated with āfeminine energyā and thatās why this game is great: it recognizes that most humans contain these multitudes. So why would some people get all up in Rafayelās sexy-ass business about his energy specifically?Ā
One possible reason is greater visibility of this aspect of his character. Itās not only his behavior towards MC thatās gentler and less emotionally restricted, it also shows in how he dresses and acts. Rafayel is always fashionably dressed, a trait he shares with Sylus, but with less emphasis on the stereotypically āmaleā fashions that Sylus wears. Rafayelās colors are brighter, his fabrics more flowy, and his waist is SNATCHED. Like goddamn. Also our boy is DRA-MA-TIQUE. I doubt Rafayel has ever heard of stoicism and if he has, Iām sure he wants nothing to do with it. He loves to get in his feelings, frivolous or otherwise, which makes sense considering his godly domain (the ocean notoriously gives zero fucks). As for his facial features, to me Xavier is more feminine in looks than Rafayel and while I could get into why I feel that way, I don't find facial features as important compared to other factors. When it comes to those aesthetics, my take is that it's truly a matter of androphilic people having varying tastes and probably also China having different standards for masculine beauty.Ā
Aside from Rafayel's appearance and affect, another thing thatās easy to overlook is his āsoftā profession. Look at the other LIs: Hunter, Soldier, Crime Boss, Doctor. Usually, these are roles that Western society associates with men and manliness. Donāt get me wrong, male power structures have gatekept the shit out of art as well, but artistic men may often be perceived as more sensitive or moodier, i.e., more feminine. (Note: this is an exceptionally Western take, even with my caveats, so I want to point out that this stereotype of the āsensitiveā artist may not be true in China, especially considering the immense popularity of Rafayel there.) The other LIs have tough, physically intense jobs. Rafayel paints and sings. He is an assassin, but that doesnāt come up nearly as much and is more of a side hobby than an actual vocation. But historically, while āartistā was something only men did, it was not considered by the prevailing cultural norms to be exceptionally āmanly.ā
For example, this might just be me and my lack of education and largely useless art degree, but I can name a handful of famous female artists off the cuff. Mary Cassatt, Alma Thomas, Adrian Piper. But ask me to name a famous female soldier or crime boss or even doctor? Uhhhā¦ I mean, Jane Goodall is a doctor, but not the right kindā¦umā¦ I will pass for now, but Iāll get one eventually, come back to me later.
Point being, Rafayel's less masculine traits are more front and center than the others, so it's easy to read him as more feminine even when that isn't true.
2) Rafayel is not afraid to be vulnerable. In fact, he insists on it.
I donāt think Iām breaking any new ground by pointing out that stereotypes of āmasculineā people generally donāt involve being vulnerable. LaDS doesnāt really fall for this trope, the LIs all show vulnerability quite openly in their relationship with MC, only differing in how long it takes them and how they express it.
However Rafayel shows his vulnerability the most and the soonest. His fear of MC disappearing/abandoning him manifests as a kind of neediness in the beginning. Itās true that Caleb is also clingy (wild understatement), but heās known MC his entire life and often that clinginess is expressed by trying to āprotectā her (masculine-codedā¦ but also mom-coded). Sylus too is desperate right out the gate, but he hides his vulnerability behind a tough guy act. Zayne and Xavier take AGES (AKA a reasonable length of time for a normal person) to become vulnerable enough to express their true feelings. (... Although that might only be Zayne, itās possible Xavier is just clueless, that sweet baby.) Whereas Rafayel, who to MC is someone she only met fairly recently, comes hard out the gate with āpromise youāll never make me wait for youā at affinity level five. (There are 250 affinity levels, Rafayel, pump your brakes, sweetheart... But actually donāt, I ily so much, I will never leave your side.)
Let's look at the first bond events.Ā
Zayne: I enjoyed having lunch with you, here is a seal.Ā
Xavier: ME WANT PLUSHIEā¦ oh, you got it? Cool, letās team up.
Sylus: I let you, a stranger, run around my house like a maniac and feel me up in my robe while I pretended I wasnāt tented up like crazy. Letās go blow up an auction as our first date. (Not exactly normal, but you canāt tell me it isnāt masculine).Ā
Caleb, who MC has known practically all her life: Iāve protected you all this time, please let me keep doing it or I will literally have a breakdown.Ā
Aaaand Rafayel, whom she met like three weeks ago: What do you mean you have a JOB?? I could have DIED by now and I thought youād been MURDERED, donāt EVER do that again!!! š ššš
His second bond is also more intense. Zayne shares a personal memory in Nostalgic Sweetness, Xavier and MC open up about their feelings a little more in A Night of Warmth, but Rafayel is quite literally at his most vulnerable in Ebb and Flow, telling MC he is helpless against her and revealing his true identity as a Lemurian.
Even though in his other content (four star cards, phone calls, etc.), he doesn't seem to be any clingier than the other LIs, that early baring of his soul and the role he assigns MC in his life (a bodyguard, someone to always be close to him even though he doesn't need protecting), gives an air of vulnerability that's not as present in their stories, despite them being just as obsessed with her.
It makes sense why Rafayel would act that way though. Based on his past with MC, he is not taking any chances with her not knowing how he feels and disappearing from his life. But too often vulnerability is equated with weakness which, if you grew up in a patriarchal society, is equated with femininity. It's a wrong belief and can and should be overcome, but it does exist.
But on the flip side of this raw vulnerability is Rafayel's hiding of his true strength.
3) Due to his trauma, Rafayel often hides his more masculine side behind a mask of carefree indifference.
So I know the game is Love and Deep Depression for every LI, but I feel like Rafayel gets a particularly raw deal.
In their myths, Sylus and Xavier knew the costs and made their choice to die/kill a bunch of people to spare MC. Zayne and Caleb were mostly helpless against Astra and EVER respectively, but Rafayel...
Wellā¦ okay, this may be a departure from canon, but I donāt think Rafayel knew refusing to sacrifice MC would destroy all of Lemuria. I think he knew something bad would happen, but where I get hung up is if he knew all of Lemuria would instantly collapse and kill everyone, how did he expect MC to escape? I'm sure there's an answer to that, but when I watched the myth, the impression I got was that Rafayel was sacrificing himself, making way for the next incarnation of the Sea God. I'm almost definitely wrong and please correct me in the replies with what actually happened if you want, but it would explain (or at least contribute to) why Rafayel so rarely exerts his power as a god: He thought he was saving MC's life but then he ended up destroying his entire civilization. And even if he did knowingly make the choice to destroy Lemuria and die for MC, it didn't even work and he was chained up for thousands of years. Then he tried to die for MC again and was caught off guard when she used their everlasting bond oath to MAKE HIM STAB HER TO DEATH. And then when he finally found her again, what did she do? GHOSTED HIM. Not on purpose, but still. Hasnāt the man been through enough??
Itās different from the others because they either knew they had no choice, or they had a choice and made it. Raf thought he had a choice, but he didnāt. TWICE. And because of that insecurity around his power, Rafayel hides himself. He's often intense but he's rarely serious and keeps his life pretty peaceful and comfortable, which makes it easier to forget/not notice how in charge and in control (i.e., masculine) he really is.
So many of his Tender Moments are sweet and mellow, but that āOther Rafā still shows up from time to time: Scorching Rain (beating up a stalker), Lost In Your Eyes (going to a black market auction and immolating his own painting on stage), that one Promise card where he remorselessly murders that one dude. (The guy had it coming, but Raf was so stone cold about it, not even that angry or like hungry for revenge, just standing on business. Scary, but also hot.)
In the main story, that moment of Rafayel under the water when MC asks him to save her is the first time we see him a bit more in control and it was almost jarring to me how different he was. That part of the story also happens to be the first appearance of the Sea God side of him, but we'll get to why that matters in a moment.
Overall, Rafayel's true power wasnāt entirely hidden, but it may have felt too low-key to be meaningful in some cases due to the foregrounding of his superficially feminine aspects, his unabashed vulnerability, and that nonchalant mask that he uses to cope.
4) Lemurian Sea God was not necessarily more masculine, but he was definitely less inhibited.
So now weāre at the part where I admit that I lied to you and I AM going to talk about people saying that Rafayel got āhotterā even though his physical form was EXACTLY THE SAME. Not to start shit, but to analyze why it was a catalyst for some people that got them into Rafayel.
My take is that it wasnāt his physical form that changed (again, it literally didnāt), it was the vibes. Without his present-day trappings, without his vulnerability creating an impression of neediness, and no longer disregarding his power, Rafayel feels more adult. And grown-ass men who are true grown-ass men are hot (if you are attracted to grown-ass men, that is.) To me, when heās putting on his drama king performance and downplaying/sidelining his strength, Rafayel seems the most immature compared to the other LIs. Lemurian Sea God drops those behaviors while still retaining Rafās lovable character.
Even when he had a similar look as God of Tides, the vibe was still very youngish. Compare his LSG look to GoT: The nail polish, the tattoos, the toga, the ānon-conformistā attitude. Itās giving ancient Greek teenager who shops at Hot Topic, versus a shirtless, even more tatted up, godlike figure (that long hair def reminds me of Zeus and I wouldnāt be surprised if it was referencing a Chinese mythical figure with long hair either) in a low slung tunic OR with a powerful, hip-thrusting fish tail. HOOOOT. (I mean, theyāre both hot, but whatever.) Not only that, but Raf is fully owning his power in Tears of Romirro: threatening MC when she asks what heāll do if she doesnāt free him, stopping that storm and defying a prophecy and acting like it was no big deal, and calling in a skeleton shark monster to go to that Sea God palace in the ocean and WRECK THEIR SHIT.
I know for me, until I got Lemurian Sea God, Rafayel wasnāt on my radar as an LI, even though I loved his character. When I got LSG, I didn't find him more attractive because he ālooked more masculine.ā I found him more attractive because he was finally owning his true power and I could see who he was underneath what I'd already been shown.
āBut Del!ā you say because I wrote that you said it, āDoesnāt this mean that you were one of the people underestimating him?ā to that I say: WHY, YES.
THATāS RIGHT, I WAS THE ONE UNDERESTIMATING HIM. IT WAS ME ALL ALONG! When I said some people might perceive his look, behavior, and profession as less masculine, it was me. I was people. When I said his style of vulnerability might make him seem weaker to some people, even when you know he isnāt, I was people. When I said his masculinity may have felt too low-key in his cards because his masking was hiding it from people too incurious to look, itās because I WAS PEOPLE. It wasn't something I was conscious of at all, but I did think of Rafayel as the "softboi" of the LIs.
And I was SO very wrong.
Knowing what I know now, I am genuinely embarrassed about not recognizing the fullness of Rafayelās character. And I donāt just mean traditional definitions of what is considered manly. Raf has all of that, the physicality, the authoritativeness, the competence, but he also has the depth and sensitivity that are found in truly mature men as well. Like all of the LIs, he is multi-faceted in addition to being devastatingly attractive and Iām so glad Paper Games slapped me in the face with Tears of Romirro and showed me what a fool Iād been.
In conclusion, TL;DR, Raf is hella masculine and people who think otherwise have probably not been paying attention, and I can say that because I was one of them. But no longer! That sexy fish is in the harem now, even edging out Sylus who ALSO had a myth that I needed to see to get a full picture of himā¦
...
Oh my God, am I the problem??
[If you made it to the end of this, WOW. Thanks for reading this monster. How do you love Raf? Count the ways in my replies and/or reblogs if you want.]
Heads up to anyone interested in following/already following that I'm abandoning this account and all my new posts will be at deepspace-diver-del because I got tired of this blog one not being my primary one. (Seriously, if you're wondering who that random Mountain Goats fan was who was liking all your LaDS headcanons and smut posts, it was me.)
It's when he asks from time to time if we're/mc worried about him. Itās as if this is an attempt to feel out, to understand whether they really care about him, whether he is really important to this person.
And my little research started from this moment in the main story. A moment that really feels tense. He's just been shot in the chest, but he still casually asks it. Trying to understand why the person who hated him a second ago doesn't want him to die? Or a harsh mockery of her attempts?
*main story. long awaited revelry. ambiguous chaos, chp. 4.
And I decided to start with 4ā cards, where he asks this casually, as if it isn't so important, or turns this question in another direction.
*pic. 1&2: razor's dance, melodic wave.
Sometimes he says it in a teasing manner. And he obviously notices that, at the beginning, mc avoids giving a direct answer and admitting that yes, she is worried.
*pic. 1&2: nightplumes, goodcat code.
When mc shows worry, sometimes it's looks like he's trying to confirm that she really care about him, and this also comes in the form of teasing.
*pic. 1&2: valleydream bloom, searing touch.
And one of my favorite cards: innocent birdcage. I like this moment, how they kind of teased each other, but at the same time they still showed sincerity and mc here directly expressed her feelings.
*innocent birdcage.
Moving on. Another my favorite moment. And here it already feels like he's trying to ease mc's anxiety a little, because even though he didn't get a direct answer, he understood that she was worried.
*pic. 1&2: night of secrecy
And here is the final part, which made me collect all these different moments: the call at affinity level 127. That moment when they directly discuss that she wants to be aware of what is happening, that she is really worried, that it is important to her and she needs to know. There are no more of these avoidances, when the answer was āIām not worried, itās just this and thatā, this topic is no longer hushed up, it is openly discussed.
Mephie ā¦. Please explain this photo of you ? itās like double meaning āSlaaaaaaayā or āomw to spy for big bossā š I LOVE YOU LITTLE ONE š¤
actually, it's a screen shot from the time Mephisto busted down for Miss Hunter
can you smell that? That's the smell of the dust shedding off of an animation degree
10 Ways You Ruin His Day (and 10 Ways You Ruin His Self-Control)
I originally made this list as character notes for future stories ā I love digging deep into their dynamics and really breaking them down. But honestly? I couldnāt not share.
Would love to hear your thoughts too: what do you think drives them absolutely mad, and what turns them into helpless fluff puddles? š¤
š Top 10 Things That Make Caleb Absolutely, Irrevocably Mad
1 He doesnāt know where you are
Even when it makes sense. Even when youāre safe. Even when heās on the far side of a tunnel with no signal and too much time to think. The silence eats at him, turns every breath into a countdown. By the time heās back, no one on the base dares talk to him until youāre in his line of sight again.
2 You come home with a bouquet of flowers from another man
Itās not jealousy, really. Itāsā¦ fury dressed in olive green. Youāre standing there, smiling, saying some poor man gave you flowers because you saved his life. Great. Fantastic. Calebās thrilled that his girlfriend is both competent and accidentally irresistible. But now he has to pretend this isnāt bothering him while mentally comparing the man's face to strategic punching surfaces.
3 You climb on unstable furniture to reach something
You know, nothing fancyājust a stack of books on top of a chair thatās on top of a bench. And you? Balancing like a gremlin in fuzzy socks. He walks in and suddenly the war flashbacks begin. You think itās funny. He thinks itās a workplace hazard, and you are the HR violation.
4 You rearrange his model planes
He adores you. Worships the ground you walk on. Would throw himself in front of an oncoming dropship for you. But if you dust his shelf and dare to reorder his starfighters and aircrafts by vibes instead of model number? He's already rewriting his will. In blood.
5 You do something reckless and then smile about it
You say ārelax, I had a plan.ā He hears: āI almost died, and Iād do it again, because Iām cute and unstoppable.ā That smile? That grin you give when you know exactly what you did and youāre proud of it? Thatās why he needs stress meds. And maybe a punching bag with your face on it. (Lovingly.)
6 You casually mention the girl he used to date
You say it with a smirk, like itās just some harmless teenage memory. But he doesnāt see herāhe sees you. You, standing in the doorway that day. You, catching him with her, both of them half-undressed. And you looking at him like something cracked between you. Back then, you were off-limits. You were the girl he wasnāt allowed to want. So he wanted someone else. Easier. Safer. And now, years later, you bring it up like itās nothingāwhile heās still trying not to remember how badly he wished it had been you.
7 You werenāt his first kissābut worse, he wasnāt yours
It never comes up. Not out loud. But he remembers. Vividly. The hallway. The way your face lit up. The boy leaning in. You smiling. And Calebāwatching from across the room, fists clenched, jaw tight, playing the role of older brother when his whole body screamed mine. You never talk about it. But he never forgot. Never will. Because that moment shouldāve been hisāand someone else took it first.
8 You walk away during a fight, or shut down emotionally
You call it āspace.ā He calls it āpsychological warfare.ā You shut down. He short-circuits. Nothing drives him more insane than trying to fix something while youāre actively ghosting him across the living room. Heād rather you screamed. Threw something. Anything. But this quiet? This distance? Thatās the one thing he doesnāt know how to fight.
9 You cryāespecially if itās because of him
And then heās done. Game over. His spine straightens like heās under military command and his entire soul just went through the paper shredder. You cry, and suddenly heās the villain. You say āitās not your fault,ā but that doesnāt matter. Heās already rewriting the past and taking full responsibility. And yes, heāll suffer in complete silence. Like a man.
10 You secretly try to uncover what heās hiding from you
You call it curiosity. He calls it a breach of protocol punishable by full emotional lockdown. You think youāre clever. He thinks you just walked into classified territory barefoot, blindfolded, and with a target on your back. You were never supposed to see that side of his world. And now that you have? He doesnāt know whether to yell, hold you, or lock you in a room with military-grade firewalls and a blanket.
š Top 10 Things That Turn Caleb Into a Complete Fluff-Mess
You wearing his dog tags / uniform shirt / flight jacket
Instant puddle. No chance. He sees you in his gear and his brain just... shuts off. All he can think is mine mine mine, and he gets this dumb, soft little smirk like heās trying so hard not to combust.
You falling asleep on himāespecially mid-conversation
Youāre curled into his side, mumbling something about dinner plans, and then: silence. He looks down, sees you asleep on his chest, and thatās it. Whole day ruined. Cancel all missions. Heās not moving.
You bringing him coffee exactly the way he likes itāwithout asking
That quiet, thoughtful act? Hits him right in the soldier-shaped heart. He doesnāt even know how to process being taken care of, so he stares at the cup like it just proposed to him.
You absentmindedly touching himāfiddling with his fingers, tracing scars, playing with his hair
He pretends he doesnāt care. He does. He cares so much he forgets how to breathe. Just turns into a warm, red-eared statue trying not to whimper.
You whispering āI trust youā or āI feel safe with youā in a soft moment
Core memory unlocked. He stores that one like sacred intel. Will literally whisper it back to himself at 3 AM when heās lying awake, missing you. It breaks him in the best way.
You clinging to him in your sleep / pulling him closer without waking up
Caleb.exe has stopped functioning. He will lie perfectly still for HOURS if it means not disturbing that moment. Bonus points if you mumble his name while doing it.
You defending him when someone questions his methods or past
Heās used to being the shieldānot having someone stand in front of him. The second you raise your voice on his behalf? He falls in love with you all over again. Might even cry. Secretly.
You gently helping him out of his gear after a long day
Soft hands on his buckles. A kiss to his shoulder. A low āYouāre home now.ā Thatās how you make a Colonel melt. His fingers twitch like he wants to worship the ground you walk on.
You surprising him with something dumb and heartfelt, like a handmade gift or bad sketch of him
He acts gruffāsays āthe hell is this, Pips?āābut then puts it in his locker or keeps it in his chest pocket for missions like itās sacred treasure. Because it is.
You calling him ābabyā / āhandsomeā / āsweetheartā when he least expects it
He acts like itās annoying. It is not annoying. It turns him into actual butter. If you do it with a teasing smile? He short-circuits. Might drop something. Might combust. Definitely blushes.
You ignore his instructions when you're sick
You had a fever of 102Ā°F. He left explicit care instructionsābed rest, fluids, minimal movement. You, sweating and glassy-eyed, decided this was the perfect time to rearrange the furniture. When he came home and found you dragging a bookshelf across the room ābecause the light felt wrong,ā he genuinely considered sedating you. Not as punishment. As damage control. For both of you.
You order greasy fast food instead of going somewhere ānutritionally viableā
He offered to cook. You said no. Twenty minutes later, youāre eating fries from a paper bag while half of it spills on his clean table. You grin. He stares. Not angry at the food. Angry because you rejected his precision, then settled for processed chaos.
You leave wet towels on the floor after every shower
Heās not sure when it started. Day three? Day five? But every time he walks into the bathroom and steps into cold, soggy cotton, something in him fractures. You claim you āforget.ā He suspects a psychological experiment.
You casually mention spending time with male friends
You think itās harmless. Lunch with Caleb. Training advice from Xavier. You light up when you talk about themāand thatās the problem. Zayne doesnāt say anything. Doesnāt raise a brow. But the sudden over-fixation on his email inbox says everything.
You receive a speeding ticket. Forty miles over the limit.
You wave it off like itās a funny little anecdote. He sits in absolute silence, calculating the stopping distance of your car vs. standard reaction time at that speed. You think heās judging. Heās actually trying not to scream.
You poke his ass. Specifically, between the cheeks.
You call it āaffection.ā He calls it āemotional terrorism.ā He flinches like heās been electrocuted, whips around with murder in his eyesāand youāre giggling like a gremlin. Later, you regret nothing, but your thighs may beg to differ.
When you diagnose him with internet psychology
Youāve read one book on attachment styles and watched three reels about emotional unavailability. Now youāve decided he has "clinical avoidant tendencies with a hint of fear-based control fixation." He stares at you, deadpan, like he's about to perform your autopsy.
You keep spoiled food in the fridge and expired meds in the cabinet
You say āit doesnāt smell that badā or āmaybe it still works.ā His eye twitches. His gloves are already on. Heās not even mad at youāheās mad at entropy. Youāve become its agent.
You watch reality shows. About infidelity. Willingly.
You claim itās ājust background noise.ā But he walks in and hears someone scream āthatās not even your baby, Kyle!ā and your eyes are glued to the screen. His soul briefly leaves his body.
You washed his white lab coat. With your pink unicorn pajamas.
Itās not just the color. Itās the betrayal. The symbol of his clinical neutrality now smells like bubblegum and looks like cotton candy. You say itās cute. He looks personally violated by the washing machine.
You bring him lunch at the hospital
He never asks. You just appearāarms full of neatly packed containers, face lit up like this isnāt the third double shift heās worked this week. He complains about the timing. The smell. The disruption. And then eats every bite with frightening focus. You leave. He stares at the empty container like itās proof someone still believes heās human.
You quote him back to himself like a philosopher
You remember something he said weeks agoāsome throwaway line about time or structure or entropyāand you drop it casually in conversation, like itās wisdom from an ancient text. He doesnāt know how to react. You turned his logic into poetry, and heāll never recover from that.
You wear the little seal keychain he made
He didnāt think youād keep it. Let alone turn it into your everyday keychain. But there it isāalways with you, worn smooth from touch. You twirl it absentmindedly while talking to him, never noticing the way his gaze lingers. Never realizing how something so small can hit him so hard.
You put a photo of the two of you on his desk
It appears one day. No fanfare. Justā¦ there. A moment frozen in light, sitting quietly beside his surgical reports and diagnostic schematics. At first, he moves it to the edge. Then back to center. Now it lives next to his pen. He doesnāt talk about it. But itās the only object on that desk he wipes clean with his bare hand.
His work shirt smells like you
You borrowed it that morning, wore it while dancing around the apartment with wet hair and no real purpose. Hours later, when he pulls it on between rounds, the scent hits him like a loaded memory. He short-circuits mid-button. Everything feels warmer than it should.
You leave your phone with him while you shower
No password. No hesitation. You toss it into his lap with a breezy ācan you clear out whateverās making it lag?ā and vanish behind steam. He sits there, phone in hand, suddenly trusted with everything. He opens nothing. But the fact that youād let him? Thatās the part that shakes him.
You ask for his opinion on minor discomforts
A papercut. A weird freckle. A suspicious sneeze. You hold out your hand, utterly serious, asking what he thinks. Itās laughable. Ridiculous. And it absolutely wrecks him. You could ask a dozen othersābut you ask him. Like heās the one who makes things better.
Youāre on top
He likes control. Precision. Strategy.
But when you climb into his lap, all instinct and fire, hands braced on his chest and lips already partedāhis brain stops cooperating. Thereās something about you taking the lead that makes him unravel. Quietly. Violently. Completely.
You argue with him about complex theoriesāand mean it
You donāt just nod. You push back. You challenge. You quote sources he hasnāt thought about in years. You spark. You flare. And he watches, fascinated, lips twitching with something dangerously close to pride. No one does this. No one dares. But you? You never flinch.
You whisper āI love youā in your sleep
Itās not loud. Itās not even clear. Just a faint breath in the dark, like a dream half-remembered. But he hears it. Every time. And though he never says a word in returnānot while you're sleepingāhis fingers tighten around your waist like he's anchoring himself to the only thing that matters.
šØ Top 10 Things That Make Rafayel Absolutely, Irrevocably Annoyed at You
You told him his painting was āniceā
You stood in front of a piece that cost him three sleepless nights, a minor existential crisis, and two broken brushesāand said āNice.ā Just like that. No gasp, no poetry, no tears. He aged five years on the spot. Somewhere in the distance, a violin cried for him.
You dragged him to a cat exhibit
You thought it would be cute. Enrichment. A bonding experience. Instead, he spent the entire time perched on edge, eyes darting like prey. You said ātheyāre just kittens.ā He said nothing. He was too busy making sure none of them came closer than ten feet.
You cleaned his studio
You thought you were being helpful. But you moved The Pile. The sacred, unholy, perfectly calibrated mess. Now he canāt find his favorite brush, and also heās deeply offended by how cheerful you looked doing it.
You didnāt reply to his messages for over an hour
He sent three texts, one meme, and a āthinking of you šā voice note. You replied 67 minutes later with āsry was showering.ā By then, heād already decided you were breaking up with him, joining a cult, or possibly dead. He had a whole monologue planned. And now youāve ruined it.
You cut your hair
He loved your long hair. Adored it. Worshipped it. You showed up with a sharp little bob and said āitās just hair.ā It is not just hair. It is the collapse of a visual era. Heās still adjusting. And by adjusting, he means mourning with wine.
You made fun of his driving
You muttered ātechnically, you were meant to let the tram go firstā He muttered ātechnically, silence is golden.ā His driving is instinct. Vibe. Energy. If you didnāt want drama, you shouldnāt have sat in the passenger seat of a man who parallel parks like heās in a ballet.
You woke him up too early
He went to bed at 4 a.m. because inspiration struck. You woke him at 7:12 like it was nothing, and said āyou have that interview, remember?ā He does remember. He also remembers specifically telling you that if he ever falls asleep before sunrise, you are to let him die peacefully, cancel all earthly obligations, and throw his alarm clock into the ocean where it belongs.
You hid your phone screen when a message came in
You were probably teasing. Just being playful. But now heās spiraling. Who was it? Why the secrecy? What do you have to hide? Congratulationsāyouāve just activated his inner opera villain.
You got jealous
Which is absurd. Heās the one who invented possessive affection. But you being jealous? That makes him unreasonably indignant. What do you mean you ādidnāt like the way that gallery girl looked at himā? Of course she looked. But he didnāt see her. He saw you.
You burned the bacon
You say āitās fine.ā He says itās charcoal. The entire kitchen smells like culinary war crimes. And now heāll have to burn incense and replant three garden beds to recover emotionally. Who even let you near the stove? Who hurt you? Was itā¦ the bacon?
šØ Top 10 Ways You Accidentally Turned Rafayel Into a Purring, Love-Drunk Work of Art
You massage his head
Heās mid-rant. Arms crossed. Absolutely furious about the lighting in that gallery. And then your fingers slip into his hairāand just like that, the war is over. His entire body melts like heās been tranquilized. Heāll deny it later, of course. But the way he leans into your hand? Case closed.
You claim him in public
Itās an art gala. Heās dressed to ruin people. And then you slip your arm through his, fingers just tight enough to say mine. You smile like a goddess. He pretends heās unaffected. Inside, heās writing vows in ten languages and considering printing matching business cards.
You actually listen to his advice
He knows he can be dramatic. Unfiltered. Emotionally volatile. But when you sit there, really listening, nodding like his words matterāyou destroy him. Suddenly heās not the chaos. Heās the compass. And that? Thatās love.
You share every detail of your day over dinner
You talk about everythingāthe lady at the store, the funny email, the awful latte. You give him your day like a story, like heās the only one you wanted to tell. He leans in, listens too closely, files away each emotion like a collector of rare art.
Youāre always down for his wildest ideas
Itās 3 a.m. He wants to hike 2.5 miles along the beach, take a boat to a tiny island, and watch the sunrise with wine. You say āgive me five minutes.ā And just like that, you become the only person worthy of his wildest, most beautiful chaos.
You let him photograph you
Nothing compares. Not awards. Not praise. Nothing rivals the moment you look into his lensābare, unfiltered, unashamed. Especially when youāre nude, glowing, and laughing like the world doesnāt exist. Thatās when he falls in love with you all over again. And again. And again.
You let him choose your dress
You come out in the one he picked. Elegant. Perfect. You spin for him. And the way he watches you? Like he made you. Like youāre the gallery and heās the only one with the key. Itās not fashion. Itās trust. And he adores you for it.
You sing when you donāt know heās home
Wearing socks and earbuds, dancing with a broom, serenading your way through burnt pancakes. Youāre off-key. Glorious. Real. And he stands in the doorway, silent, just watching. Because in that momentāyouāre not posing. And heās never loved you more.
You take care of him when heās sick
He has a fever of 99Ā°F and insists heās fading. You bring tea, stroke his hair, whisper that heās āvery brave.ā You donāt mock him. You take his dramatics seriously. He will never forget it. He may also write you into his will.
You join him in the bathtub without asking
Heās already halfway submerged, music playing, steam curling in the airāand then you slip in behind him, no warning. You nudge your legs around his hips, hand him your shampoo, and let him wash your hair while you giggle. He tries to act unimpressed. But when he starts kissing your toes? Yeah. You win.
āØ Top 10 Behavioral Anomalies That Triggered Xavierās Internal Alert System
You break an agreementāeven if it's ājust a small oneā
Itās not about control. Itās about structure. You promised. And when you bend the rulesājust slightlyāhe doesnāt react outwardly. No visible shift, no sharp breath. But something behind his eyes goes cold. Because for him, even small deviations mean recalculating everything. And that means risk. To you.
You create drama ājust to get a reactionā
You push. You poke. You escalate. And he gives youā¦ nothing. No outburst, no flinch. Just that flat, unreadable stare while he mentally exits the room. He doesnāt get angryāhe just shuts off the part of himself that wants to stay.
You refuse his protectionāon principle
You call it independence. He calls it a strategic vulnerability wrapped in pride. He wonāt argue. Heāll just be one step farther back the next time, quietly cataloging how to stop caring just enough that it wonāt kill him if something happens.
You call him coldāespecially when heās holding himself together for you
You see stillness. He feels restraint. You accuse. He remembers what it takes to not become the darker version of himself. If only you knew how much energy it took to stay composed. If only you knew it was for you.
Youāre late
Five minutes. Ten. No message. No explanation. And his pulse ticks upwardānot with impatience, but with pure, trained alertness. He starts looking for signs. Traffic reports. Emergency alerts. By the time you arrive, heās smiling. But itās the tight kind. The kind that says never again.
You skip training
Youāre tired. You had a long day. You say youāll make it up later. He doesnāt argue. He just recalculates survival probabilities and mentally adds you to the list of people who might die because they were unprepared. And he will blame himself for letting you get soft.
You pull away from his touch when you're angry
Itās not the rejection. Itās the meaning behind it. He reaches outāsmall, careful, calculatedāand you shut the door in his face with a single backward step. He doesnāt try again. He doesnāt ask why. But the space you leave behind? It echoes.
You use a photo of Lumiere as a bookmark
You think itās cute. Maybe even sweet. He sees itāand freezes. Heās not jealous. Not exactly. But the idea that you might admire that version moreāthe legend, the mask, the sharpnessāit unsettles something deep. Something he canāt name.
You secretly believe youāre not good enough for him
You never say it out loud. But he sees itāin your deflections, your nervous jokes, the way you doubt his love like itās a glitch. It doesnāt anger him in the usual sense. It justā¦hurts. Because youāre the only one who never had to earn it.
You throw yourself in front of him during a mission
Itās instinct, you say. Split-second decision. You didnāt even think. And thatās the problem. He does. Always. Every variable, every movement, every risk is accounted forāexcept you breaking formation to protect him. You think itās brave. He sees it as catastrophic miscalculation. Not because you acted without logic. But because you decided his life was worth more than yours. And that? Thatās the one conclusion he refuses to accept.
āØTop 10 Things That Quietly Break Xavierās Walls and Leave Him Unreasonably Soft About You
When you start reading the same book heās readingYou donāt announce it. You just show up with the same title, a few chapters behind, and start casually asking questions. He plays it off. But inside? Heās spiraling. Because thisāthisāis how you speak his language. Silently. Precisely. Together.
When you knock on his door like youāre trying to break it downItās loud. Impatient. Inappropriate for the hour. But he knows that knock. That rhythm. That you. You need him. Not his solutions. Him. And somehow, that chaos pounding on his door feels more like home than anything else.
When you hug him from behindYou wrap your arms around his torso mid-task, face pressed between his shoulder blades, palms splayed across his chest like youāre anchoring yourself to something ancient and steady. He stills. Every time. Like someone just whispered a secret to his bones. He never asks why. Never moves away. He just tilts his head slightlyālistening, as if your silence said everything he needed to hear.
When you touch his sword (the actual weapon, calm down)He never lets anyone handle it. Not even for cleaning. But your fingers skim the hilt, gentle, curious, reverent. And somehowā¦ itās okay. Youāre not just touching steel. Youāre touching him. And he lets you.
When you act like a little girlYou scrunch your nose. Say something ridiculous. Blush like you didnāt mean to. And he watchesāutterly disarmed. Because he knows exactly what you want. You want him to carry you. Wrap you up. Keep you safe. And he willāwithout hesitation.
When you join him on a morning runYou complain. You lag. You swear this is ānot your vibe.ā But you still show up. Same hour. Same route. And when you match his pace for those few precious minutes? He doesnāt say itābut heās proud. Painfully proud.
When you share your dreamsāand say āweāYouāre rambling. Light spilling from your words. Talking about the future, the maybes, the next steps. But you donāt say I. You say we. And that sound? That tiny shift in grammar? It settles deep. Irrevocable. Permanent.
When you make matching braceletsYou say itās silly. Handmade. Slightly uneven. Thereās a charm shaped like a rabbit. He never takes it off. Not in combat. Not in sleep. It rests against his wrist like a pressure pointāand grounds him better than anything else.
When you remember his habitsYour shopping list always includes his cinnamon. His brand of shampoo. The exact instant noodles he pretends not to love. You donāt make a show of it. You just know. And that knowing? It destroys him in the softest possible way.
When you trust him completely in bedāeven when his darker side surfacesThereās a momentāquiet, chargedāwhen the softness shifts. He waits. Watches. Braces for resistance. But you donāt pull back. You open your hands. Arch into him. Let him take control without fear. That? Thatās what breaks him. Not the pleasure. The trust.
š¤Top 10 Things That Push Sylus Into Maximum Sarcasm and Mildly Homicidal Disapproval
Your outdated, unreliable weapon
Yes, he gets it. Itās vintage. Itās āstandard issue.ā Itās approved by the Hunters Association. Congratulations. That wonāt matter when it jams and gets you killed. Every time you return one of the sleek, upgraded firearms he hand-delivers like heās your personal armory concierge, he has to resist asking if you've already made a draft of your death wish. Alphabetically sorted. With floral headers.
You chew gumāand pop it
Itās not the gum. Itās the snap. The sudden, violent pop of sugary air bubbles that hits his trauma response like a trigger. He knows itās just a noise. His shoulder still twitches. Heās this close to reaching into your mouth and extracting the gum like a gentleman. A very sarcastic, deeply annoyed, half-feral gentleman.
You try to shake your tail (him)
You use stealth tech. You block your signal. You go dark. Adorable. Youāre forgetting that the very system youāre relying on was developed by his own syndicate. The only person who ever really evades Sylus is Sylus. And maybe the cat that lives under his car. But not you. Never you.
You donāt introduce him as your boyfriend to your old classmates
You panicked. He gets that. You called him āa friend.ā And now heās deeply committed to the bit. For the next seven days, every time you said anything, he replied with āOf course, as your friendā¦ā in front of waiters, dealers, and one extremely confused ambassador. You only managed to shut it down by hastily posting a photo of you two with the caption āmy boyfriend and the love of my life.ā Acceptable recovery. Barely.
You refuse to use his resources
His private jet? Untouched. His cars? Collecting dust. His black card? Sitting unused like some kind of insult in your purse. You say youāre āindependent.ā He says youāre actively offending his entire lifestyle philosophy. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to ignore an entire walk-in wardrobe prepared for you in his estate? Honestly, itās almost admirable. Almost.
You once smoked a cigarette, and he saw it
He didnāt say anything. At the time. Just looked at you. Silently. Like someone had drop-kicked a kitten in front of him. Heās not judging. Heās just picturing your lungs in an ashtray. And adding another page to your death wish list.
You speak in riddles and expect him to āget itā
You want somethingātime away, a trip, his attentionābut instead of asking, you sigh dramatically and murmur, āItās fine. I guess some people just donāt want to escape the city with their girlfriendsā¦ā He blinks. Slow. Dangerous. āWas that a request, a riddle, or an emotional booby trap?ā If you want something from him, Kitten, try using nouns and verbs. Not cryptic guilt puzzles.
You suggest another woman would be āperfect for himā
Itās a joke. Offhand. Barely a breath. But your voice waversājust slightlyāand that ruins it. He doesnāt want her. He doesnāt want options. He wants you. And now, thanks to your charming lapse in self-worth, he has to waste the rest of the evening reminding you that this face, this power, this entire empire already belongs to someone. Guess who.
You sneak up on him
You never mean to. But somehow, you're always the one person who slips past every alarm, every trained instinct, and ends up whispering behind him when his brain is still in kill mode. It takes everything in him to not react on pure reflex. You think itās cute. He thinks itās potentially catastrophic.
You donāt believe him when he says heās fine
Yes, heās bleeding. Yes, his shirt is soaked. But he said āitās a scratch,ā and when he says thatāhe means it. His body heals like a myth. Your worried face? It makes something in him ache. Because the real wound isnāt on himāitās in you, for thinking heās anything less than unbreakable.
š¤ Top 10 Things That Make Sylus Dangerously Soft for You (And Yes, Heās Keeping Score)
When you finally spend his money
It started with coffee. Small. Harmless. But the alert hit his phone and, for a moment, he genuinely wondered if his card had been stolenāuntil he saw your name. And something in him shifted. Not because of the cost. Please. He could buy the city it was brewed in. No, it was the fact you used it. You. Willingly. Now? Youāre bolderālittle dresses, shoes, jewelry you donāt need. And every time you do, he rewards it like you just proved you understand the assignment: what's his, is already yours.
When you give orders to his men like you're the boss
You donāt ask. You instruct. Calm, certain, completely in charge. One of his men hesitatesājust onceāwhile youāre directing them to rescue a terrified kitten stuck in a tree. Sylus doesnāt interfere. He just watches, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth as armed professionals scramble to obey you like you're the patron saint of lost animals. Somewhere in his mind, heās already fitted you for a crown. With tiny cat ears.
When you secretly pet Mephisto
The mechanical raven used to drive you insane. Now? Youāre sneaking him treats and absentminded scratches under the jaw. Sylus sees it. Says nothing. But deep down, he knows: if youāve accepted the birdāyouāve accepted all of him. And thatās lethal. To him.
When you make him a playlist
You never explain them. Just send a link and say nothing. But he listensāevery time. Alone. In his car. In the bath. Eyes closed, calculating your every choice like itās encrypted intel. Each track? A hint. A mood. A coded message from you to him. He doesnāt ask for them. He just waits for the next one. And when it arrives, he treats it like gospel.
When you leave a trail of chaos in his car
Your hair on the seat. Your gum wrappers in the cup holder. The seat so close to the wheel he practically has to fold in half. And the music? A full-volume love ballad ready to ambush his eardrums at ignition. It's obnoxious. Itās inconvenient. Itās perfect. His life, now featuring you.
When you eat from his plate
You swore you werenāt hungry. You said āno carbs this week.ā And now? Youāre stealing fries from his hand and dipping into his steak sauce like itās your birthright. He doesnāt stop you. He just watches you chew with that look that says: mine. forever.
When you talk and talk and talk
Something happens. You spiral. Words spill. Thoughts tangle. Youāre not even aware youāre ramblingābut he is. He listens to everything. Stores it all. Because thereās something magical about your voice when itās unfiltered. You donāt realize it, but he falls a little harder every time you forget to censor yourself.
When you crawl into his lap while heās working
Heās in the middle of paperwork. Calculating things. Dangerous things. And suddenlyāyou. Right there. Knees on either side, arms around his neck, like the worldās most beautiful interruption. He tells himself he needs to finish. But his hands are already on your hips.
When you call and ask for help
A jar. A stuck zipper. A ride. It doesnāt matter. Youāre a trained hunterāyouāve faced things with claws, fangs, and no name. But you still call him. Because you want him. And that? That wrecks him in ways heāll never admit. Heās already on his way before you hang up.
When you scream his name right before you come
Thereās a lot heās proud of. His empire. His power. His record. But nothingānothingāsatisfies him more than the moment your voice breaks open with his name. Like prayer. Like surrender. Like heās the only thing in your world. Which, of courseā¦ he is.
(If you are confused about the definition of these terms, please see the tags. Note: Daddy and Father titles have been bestowed on a wildly subjective basis, some restrictions apply, your results and preferences will almost definitely vary.)
ā "this reminded me of you"Ā and itās just a stupid rock or a weird leaf but you hold onto it like it's a diamond because it'sĀ youĀ to them.
Would lovvveee to see this written in your style :D any lads pairing is fine with me!!
Heyyyy thank you for this, I rly needed something to sweep away the writing cobwebs!! Went for Zayne for this one, hope you enjoy! š„°š
You arenāt quite sure how to take it when Zayne holds out a smooth, dark pebble heād plucked from the beach and slips into your hands with the addendum: āThis reminded me of youā.
Your fingers are already cold, but the stone is colder: wet from the kisses of the ocean it never quite managed to be swept up by. You hold onto it tightly, regardless. Your eyes are torn between it and Zayneās peridot gaze; he looks like heās stepped willingly out of his depth.
āUmā¦ā you begin, the breeze snatching at your hair, āthanks?ā Ā
Zayne watches you, waiting. You look at the pebble again. Then him. Then the pebble. You canāt help it: a soft laugh starts to spill out of you, joining the chorus of the wind and the waves. Zayne smiles as though heās remembered he can swim. He chuckles with you. āYou donāt like it?ā
āNo, I do! Itāsā¦ itāsā¦ so cool. Just like me, I totally see it. The resemblance isā¦ uncanny.ā
Youāre grinning, holding the pebble up by your face so Zayne can compare the two of you. You put on a stony, serious expression for a moment, trying to match the rockās effortless stoicism. Zayne chuckles a little more deeply. āYou know that isnāt what I meant.ā
āWhat did you mean, then?ā Your grin has returned.
āI meantā¦ā Zayne begins, but then his words and smile falter, replaced by a soft, familiar frown. You see it often when heās working, or conjuring excuses during a cancellation call with the dentist. Eventually, your doctor-with-an-answer-for-everything confesses: āI donāt know, actually.ā
Some things arenāt meant to be dissected. With a warm hum, you lean to peck Zayneās cheek, then thread your arm back through his, starting to drag him along the almost greyscale shore once more. The pebble is tucked into your pocket, turning your hand ever colder, but you donāt let it go.
Incredible video essay by one of my favorite YouTubers. It's very generous, enlightening, and even-handed (LaDS gets a mention OF COURSE, look at the title) and I'm putting it here as a sort of reminder and prelude to a post idea I have discussing some of the issues around "paying for feelings" and developing real attachment to fictional characters (nothing negative, just observational).
I still have some feelings of embarrassment about how invested (emotionally and financially) I am in this game and this video really helped ease some of my anxiety that maybe I'm a little too dependent on it. I'm someone whose past trauma and subsequent trust issues have kept me from seeking out real romantic relationships despite wanting one, and playing LaDS is an escape for me to feel a facsimile of that connection that I don't think I'm ready to handle in real life. There are pros and cons to that approach, most of which are covered in the video.
Sharing for anyone like me who might need to hear an objective but kind perspective on the subject, or for people who are just interested in the topic of fictophilia, a word I just learned and will now use forever.
I need more Sylus with dragon instincts, so.... ā
please enjoy...ā”
I love thinking about how at some point, purely on instinct, Sylus would start building a nest. Likeāhe doesnāt even think about it, he just starts collecting all the little things you like and arranging them super carefully in the corner of the living room. You stared too long at a pendant in a store but said no when he offered to buy it? Yeah, he definitely went back for it and put it right in the center of the table. Left a hoodie or some other piece of clothing at his place? Itās already sitting in that same corner on the softest pillow he owns. Every tiny thing that ever caught your attention ends up there.
What does frustrate him, though, is that most of the stuff you like isā¦ kind of cheap. He wants to give you the whole world, his entire hoard of treasuresāand yet youāre out here looking at little trinkets, bottles with cute prints, and random shiny bits. So he tries to balance it out. Adds a couple rare gems. Some rare weapons. And definitely a lot more soft, cozy things.
Heād never come out and say, āthis is a nest I made for you,ā but heās absolutely hoping youāll go there on your own. He wants you to get it. It feels ridiculous to him, but he literally canāt help itāitās pure instinct. And he will get upset if you ignore it. He wonāt say anything, but heāll get quiet and broody. You hurt his feelings. Thatās serious.
But if you do notice your hoodie and walk over there, heāll watch your reaction so closely. And once youāre there? Heās not letting you leave. Heās going to point at every single item and tell you exactly why itās there.
He tried really hard to make it not seem weird, okay? And honestly, if you ignore the mountain of pillows and blankets, the clothes, weapons, jewelry, and all the random stuff you likeāitās actually a pretty cozy corner. Thereās a soft chair. Warm lights. Itās a vibe. Please sit there. Heād be so, so happy.
everyone at akso hospital was aware of zaynes crush on the hunter that came in regularly. yvonne teased zayne about the little smile that seemed to be reserved only for you. greyson, on the other hand, chuckled about zayne, who always twisted his neck to the point of giving himself whiplash whenever you left, as if he had to savor every last second of seeing you.
one day, greyson was feeling particularly brave. he elbowed zayne in the side. āyou and that pretty hunter, huh? when are you planning on asking her out?āĀ
zayne pushed the glasses up his nose. āI already have.ā
yvonne and greyson shared a stunned look. āyou have?ā, yvonne asked.Ā
āI haveā, zayne gave back sternly.Ā
ādo we have to drag every little crumb of information out of you? tell us everything!ā, yvonne exclaimed.Ā
āthereās not much to tell. it went well.āĀ
ālook at you, dr. zayneā, greyson said with glee. āgetting a girlfriend before all of us.ā
āshe is, in fact, my wife.āĀ
zaynes smile never faded. actually it got bigger when he saw the absolute astonishment in greysons and yvonnes faces.Ā
I can actually see this happening with Zayne. He's compassionate at work but SO reserved. When his coworkers think he has a crush, he's actually been dating MC for like 6 months and by the time they think he's actually going to do something about it, he's engaged to her.
They only thing I think would be different is I don't know that Zayne could be low key about her being his wife for like any length of time. Like Zayne is a wife guy, (but not THAT kind of wife guy, an actual one) and he has pictures on his desk and she's his phone background and he can't stop himself from calling her that.
"I'm having dinner with my wife."
"My wife and I have tickets to the opera."
"I'm going out of town that weekend with my wife."
Like he won't stop saying it because he's so happy about it.
And I do think he'd invite his colleagues to the wedding, especially Greyson.
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