moonvale909

[moonvale909]

Across the Rift, I Saw You- Dawnbreaker Zayne x reader

The stars had always whispered to him.

Zayne didn’t dream often. What few moments of rest he permitted himself were shallow and haunted by duty but that night, he fell too deep beneath the celestial layers of his own mind, into a space where memory and soul didn’t seem to follow time.

He didn’t remember closing his eyes.

But he opened them to a timeline not his own.

White lights. Clean walls. A sterile scent in the air. It was some kind of medical wing and he wasn’t himself. Not exactly.

He was standing in the body of another Zayne. One without the weight of battle resting on his shoulders. He wore a white coat instead, glasses low on the bridge of his nose, a faint trace of exhaustion behind otherwise gentle eyes.

A doctor.

He saw through his eyes, heard his thoughts. But more strangely he felt everything this version of him felt.

A few weeks go by, he dreams again and then she walked in.

The first time he saw her it was as if the dream bent in half and reshaped itself around her presence.

She was annoyed.

Apparently she had been dodging post-mission checkups again, and Doctor Zayne looked at her like someone who had lost count of how many times he’d told her off. His tone was sharp, clipped but beneath that worry. He could feel it. His other self didn’t show it but it was there buried deep.

He was a spectator, silent in the current of that memory. But something about her...

Made him curious and intrigued.

Why did his breath hitch when she rolled her eyes and sat on the medical bed?

Why did his heart pound as Doctor Zayne examined her arm that small cut she'd tried to brush off?

Why was there a flicker of something tender and reckless behind Doctor Zayne’s eyes when she mumbled, “You worry too much”?

He hadn’t even spoken to her but he felt his chest tighten all the same.

And he woke up with her voice still in his ears.

The dreams never stopped.

Every time he closed his eyes, he was pulled into that other life.

He watched Doctor Zayne and her share shy smiles between appointments, argue over medical protocols, share silences that said more than words. He watched the way Doctor Zayne softened when she was near even if he didn’t realise it himself. And he felt it all.

He started to crave the dreams.

Because even if he wasn’t the one holding her hand even if he wasn’t the one she leaned on, he could still feel what it might’ve been like.

But then…the dreams changed.

The pauses between conversations grew longer, heavier. Doctor Zayne was often busy that much was expected. But then he’d started pulling away even when he was home. He’d listen with half a heart, respond with half a truth. She reached for him during moments that mattered when her hands trembled after a mission, when she couldn’t sleep but his comfort came delayed, clinical, or not at all. Her voice, usually steady, sometimes teasing, cracked not from loneliness but from the quiet ache of loving someone who wouldn’t let her carry any of his weight.

It wasn’t any arguments that broke them. It was the thousand quiet moments. Like the night she came home from a mission and Doctor Zayne was at the desk, still in his scrubs, poring over reports. He looked up when she entered.

“You’re late,” he murmured absently, tapping his pen against the margin.

"I know...they needed us to check that abandoned warehouse...How was your day?" she said and waited.

"Good" and then she hoped for him to say something else but the silence lingered too long...

“I’ll warm something up,” she said quietly.

“Thanks,” he replied, already back to reading.

It wasn’t cruelty. It wasn’t neglect.

It was just…absence.

And after enough of those moments, something inside her stopped reaching out.

And in the dream, Zayne felt it...her ache, her quiet resignation.

And one night he watched her cry.

Not as himself. He was behind Doctor Zayne’s eyes, seeing through his silence. She stood just outside the infirmary door, shoulders trembling, trying to keep her breath steady. Doctor Zayne noticed but didn’t move. Maybe he told himself she needed space. Maybe he thought she'd come to him when ready.

But she didn’t.

And Zayne helpless in the dream wanted to tear through the moment. To get up. To reach for her but all he could do was watch her turn away.

Doctor Zayne had let her down.

And when he woke, there were tears on his own face. He felt angry and afraid.

Afraid that someone who looked like him could leave her so broken.

He searched for answers in his waking hours. Celestial scrolls, forbidden theories, threads of magic and science that twisted time and space. He became obsessed convinced that these dreams weren’t mere dreams.

They were a call.

And maybe…just maybe…a door.

He found it.

Not easily and not without cost but the breach shimmered before him one night alive, unstable, a rip in time he shouldn’t touch.

But he did.

It was raining.

He stepped into the new timeline under a stormy sky. He wasn’t sure what year it was or what version of the world this was.

But he could feel her.

His pulse pulled him like a compass.

And there she was.

Soaked, hair clinging to her face, walking down a dim corridor inside the base. She looked tired. A little older. Like she was carrying something too heavy.

She turned the corner. She stopped.

And her eyes met his.

The silence that followed was long.

She stared. A thousand thoughts behind her eyes. Recognition. Confusion. Hurt.

“…Zayne?”

His voice was low, shaking , “Not the one you knew.”

She blinked, took a step back. “Is this a joke? A prank? Are you following me now?”

He held her gaze, gently. “It’s not a joke. I’m real. And I’m not him… but I am me.”

She took a step closer, still staring. “...But you look like him.”

He nodded. “I know. But I’m not him.”

She searched his face, every angle, like trying to understand. “You have his eyes. His voice. His everything.”

He swallowed. “I saw you. In dreams. I saw everything he did…everything he didn’t. And I—”

She cut him off. “Why are you here?”

He stepped closer, slowly, reverently. “Because he let you go. And I couldn’t bear to watch it.”

Her lips trembled. “You don’t know me.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I’ve seen your laugh. Your anger. Your tears. I watched you patch him up when he was too stubborn to say thank you. I watched you break when he didn’t show up.”

His eyes burned. “And I can’t be him. But I would never make you feel that way.”

She blinked, stunned.

“I crossed timelines,” he said, “because I couldn’t take one more night of seeing you hurt.”

He reached out, not touching, just letting his hand hover near hers.

“I don’t know what this means. Or if you could ever trust someone who looks like the man who broke you, but I had to try.”

Rain hit the windows behind them both.

And this time, she didn’t pull away.

In his world, he was Dawnbreaker. A name spoken in fear. A ghost who hunted Wanderers before they lost themselves completely. To the city, he was a killer. To himself, a necessary monster.

But here before her, he was just Zayne.

And for the first time, he wanted something for himself.

Her.

And maybe...just maybe...that was enough to begin again.

[moonvale909]

Right Person, Wrong Rhythm - Zayne x reader x Caleb

Zayne was a puzzle, beautiful, quiet, composed. When she first met him, there was something magnetic about the silence he carried, the way he observed more than he spoke. Maybe it was the mystery, or the subtle way he seemed in control of any room he stepped into. For a moment, she was curious. Interested, even.

He was different from the chaos and noise she was used to. At first that difference felt calming.

But it didn’t take long for the quiet to become something else. A stillness that never reached out. A tone that never shifted. Conversations stayed on surface-level tasks. Polite. Professional. A loop. Repetitive. Predictable.

She wasn’t the kind of person to expect fireworks every second. But she needed warmth. Nuance. Color.

With Zayne, it was like trying to read a book with all the important pages glued shut.

She didn’t make a scene. She just….stopped leaning in. Stopped expecting something that clearly wasn’t there not because Zayne was cold, but because she knew now that he wasn’t her kind of warmth.

And the irony?

That’s when Zayne finally looked up.

He noticed her pulling away. She wasn’t cold or rude just quieter. Smiling the same way but with a soft edge that told him she’d seen something, and decided it wasn’t for her.

He didn’t understand at first. She had always been kind. Sharp. Attentive. She used to ask him questions no one else did. She noticed the tiny things, like when he was tired, or when he subtly avoided eye contact after a tough mission.

He’d brushed it off at the time. Kept his walls up.

But now? Now that she was slipping into the background of his days like a fading song, Zayne started wondering what he’d missed.

And by the time he realised that her silence meant goodbye, not shyness, it was too late.

She had found something else. Someone else.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t messy. It was a rooftop on a cool night, the stars bright and unbothered above, and Caleb beside her, leaning his shoulder against hers like it had always belonged there.

They didn’t need to say much. Their rhythms matched.

Where Zayne’s silence had felt like distance, Caleb’s silence felt like understanding. Where Zayne stayed behind walls, Caleb let her in.

She didn’t regret anything. She had no bitterness toward Zayne, just a soft kind of peace. He wasn’t wrong. Just not hers.

And Zayne? He stood a little longer outside after seeing them. Let the breeze hit his face. He didn’t cry. He didn’t storm off. But something inside him shifted.

Because for the first time, Zayne felt it. That sting. That "what if." That echo of a moment that he hadn’t stepped into when it was still there.

But She…she deserved someone who didn’t wait.

So he let the rooftop disappear from his view and walked away.

Closing Note: Some hearts don’t need fireworks to speak. They need quiet understanding, a steady presence, and a space to grow without pressure. Sometimes we realise too late who we could’ve been to someone and sometimes, we walk away before becoming someone we’re not. Not all connections are meant to last but the right one? It finds you when you’re ready. Funny how the heart doesn’t always speak up when it should. But sometimes…it whispers just loud enough for the right person to hear.