mexious

[mexious]

Kono Oto Tomare! Chapter 138 Scans and Rough TL

Disclaimer: Please DO NOT use this translation to make your own TL of the chapter!! The KOT TL group works very hard to give you the most accurate translation, that does as much justice to the original script as possible. This is a ROUGH translation. That means is faulty and there must be mistakes in certain places. This is just for impatient people like myself to get a grasp on what is going on in the chapter! You can REFERENCE my TL if you want to discuss the chapter but never USE it as it was your own.

Scans: kono oto tomare 138 raw scans

Page 1

Takezou[thoughts]: Back then, I couldn't have even imagined...

Side text: We experienced and overcame so many things together...

Page 2 & 3

*No text*

Page 4

*No text*

Page 5

Takezou [thoughts]: That this day would come.

Chapter title: #138 Tokise High School Koto Club

Page 6

Audience 1: Hey, it's the school of the incident.

Audience 2: It's finally here.

Uzuki: ...

Tsukaji[thoughts]: They're completely in enemy turf here. I already knew that but...

Page 7

Tsukaji[thoughts]: Somehow, through their performance they'll-

Audience 3: Hey, I even saw a bit of their performance on TV, but it wasn't all that impressive.

Audience 4: Totally.

Tsukaji: ...

Komaki: Ugh, everyone's just saying whatever they want! I hope they shut them up with their performance--

Tsukaji[thoughts]: To be honest, if it were Satowa's introductory solo like in 'Tenkyuu', it would surely have silenced the audience instantly with just the first note, but...

Tsukaji[thoughts]: 'Harmony' starts with Kurata's solo.

Tsukaji [thoughts]: When I heard it before it lacked confidence

Tsukaji [thoughts]: To put it harshly, it didn't come even close to Tenkyuu's opening.

Page 8

Tsukaji [thoughts]: Ahhhh I shouldn't be thinking like this! I don't want to think about it but...

Tsukaji [thoughts]: Ichiei and Meiryou made no compromises when assigning their parts...!

Tsukaji [thoughts]: I understand they wanted to be considerate with Kurata, with him being a 3rd year student and the club president!

Tsukaji [thoughts]: But that kind of kindness...

Tsukaji [thoughts]: At Nationals, it could be your downfall.

Judge Tatsumi [thoughts]: With this atmosphere, they probably won't be able to perform properly. Placing at the top is already unlikely. I just hope it ends without any major issues...

Page 9

Announcer: Program Number 13

Announcer: Kanagawa Prefecture. Tokise High School.

Announcer: Composed by Takinami Suzuka: Harmony.

Page 10

Announcer: In April of last year, Tokise High School's koto club was in the verge of disbandment, with only one member left in it.

Annoucer: Since then, one unique member after other gathered.

Announcer: Today, there are 9 members and 2 teachers.

Announcer: Altogether, it has now become a club of 11 integrants.

Page 11

Announcer: Each one of them is an irreplaceable and important presence.

Announcer: The song we will play today, Harmony

Announcer: Was composed for us from scratch by our club advisor Takinami-sensei.

Page 12

Announcer: This sound is our everything.

Announcer: Please, let it reach them.

Page 13

Takezou [thoughts]: I was always scared of that very first note that was entrusted to me. Scared of a future where someone might not be there anymore.

Page 14 & 15

*No text*

Page 16 & 17

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Page 18 & 19

*All the flashbacks*

Page 20 & 21

*No text*

Page 22 & 23

*No text*

Page 24

Tsukaji [thoughts]: --It wasn't out of consideration. It wasn't a kindness.

Tsukaji[thoughts]: This is

Tsukaji [thoughts]: Sincere, straightforward and earnest to the very end.

Page 25

Tsukaji [thoughts]: That is the sound of Tokise.

Judge Tatsumi: Oh man… if you add too many sounds like this one then-

Page 26

*No text*

Page 27

Chika [memory]: I wanna join the koto club.

Page 28 & 29

*No text*

Page 30 & 31

*No text*

Page 32 & 33

*No text*

Page 34 & 35

*No text*

Page 36 & 37

*No text*

Page 38

Judge Tatsumi [thoughts]: Wait...

Judge Tatsumi[thoughts]: Wait a second.

Judge Tatsumi[thoughts]: This is--

Page 39

Tsukaji: The second solo...!

Page 40

*No text*

Page 41

*No text*

Page 42 & 43

*No text*

Page 44

Tsukaji[thoughts]: Don't cry yet!! It's still too soon!!

Tsukaji[thoughts]: We got the 1st years left!!

Tsukaji[thoughts]: Only the upperclassmen have played together up to this point, you don't want to add any unnecessary sounds to-

Page 45

*No text*

Page 46

*No text*

Page 47

*No text*

Page 48

Ousuke [thoughts]: He's tapping out the bass rythm...!?

Haru [thoughts]: So- so- so cooool----!!!!

Sentarou [thougthts]: His rythm sense is insane!!!

Page 49

Tougo [thoughts]: He's playing Yamada style, same as Kio.

Kio [thoughts]: But the strength of the sound is a bit overpowering-

Page 50 & 51

*No text*

Page 52 & 53

*No text*

Page 54 & 55

*No text*

Page 56

*No text*

Page 57

Judge Tatsumi: ----... What... is this?

Judge Kurokawa: How...

Judge Agata: Why...

Page 58

Judges [thoughts]: ...Is the level of every single member this high.!?

Page 59

*No text*

Page 60

Kifune-sensei: ...

Audience 2: Hey, I... have no idea about the koto but...

Audience 2: --Could it be that

Page 61

Audience: Tokise is... Amazing?

Side text: This is Tokise's sound!

---Kono Oto Tomare! will continue in the next issue!---

[mexious]

୨୧ zayne loses control of his evol and hurts you in more ways than one

✧.* warnings:- fem!reader, established relationships (zayne x reader), nightmares, minor depictions of PTSD, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, ANGST, breakups, hurt and comfort, jealousy, slight xavier x reader, unresolved emotions, reader and zayne are bad at communicating with each other, mentions of foods, hospitals, medication, suggestive content, language, explosions, zayne is kinda soggy and pathetic in this one, canon typical injuries, reader is in a coma, talks of surgeries, makeup sex, size kink, oral sex, girl on top, petnames (little on, my aurora, my love, darling), overprotective tendencies, possessive bf!zayne

✧.* strap in slüts (affectionate) we have 15k+ of zayne angst let's go

If someone had asked you what Zayne’s deepest fear was, you might’ve told them it was a botched surgery, or wilted carrots in his fried rice.

It’s not as if your childhood-friend-turned-lover walked around with his fears stapled on his forehead; Zayne was a private guy, and even after months of dating, you were still trying to get used to his moods and needs.

However, oblivious to you, Zayne’s fear was entirely apparent.

Time and time again, he showed you the truth—without words or fanfare—whenever he scolded you for being clumsy on the field or forgetting to eat the entire day.

Zayne was afraid of you getting hurt. 

And he was afraid of hurting you. 

The bags under your eyes have gotten worse.

A week had gone by since you had slept a full five hours, schedule packed to the brim after a deathly Wanderer attack at the train station left seven injured and five more dead. 

Zayne wasn't faring well, either. His days were consumed with operation after operation; more broken and injured people filling the intensive care units till Akso Hospital had to transfer them to their sister hospital, Mariso.

The Association had issued out a full city warning for Hunters to patrol the streets from dawn to dusk. All your colleagues were burnt out, praying for this harsh season to end so they could return back home; back to normality.

In your shared household, the nightmare was on a constant loop.

For days on end, you and Zayne were fleeting shadows passing each other—the most contact being whispered good mornings or good nights, depending on the time, and once, his touch on your lower back when he gently nudged you away from the door so he could rush out for another surgery.

Things were catastrophic, to put it mildly. 

And it didn’t help that your insomnia and his nightmares were back. 

Staring up at the ceiling, you almost didn’t hear the bedroom door opening until you noticed his broad shoulders outlined in the dim darkness.

“Hey.”

Zayne’s voice is laced with exhaustion, and wordlessly, you open your arms for him.

He’s colder to the touch than you remember, a sign of his Evol losing its composure after days of insurmountable stress and adrenaline spikes.

He’s silent, holding you tightly to his chest. You smell the hospital standard bleach and anesthetic off his work clothes, feel the stuttering of his heart underneath your spread palm. 

“When will it end?” 

His voice, quiet and in a timbre you know and love, vibrates against your cheek. 

“I don’t know,” you reply to him truthfully, bleakly. “I’ve been asking myself that same question since this all started.”

There’s a whistling wind outside the windows, rattling the wooden panes. You close your eyes, trying to put aside the mental image of a Wanderer’s snarl and how similar it sounded to the rushing breeze.

“You should go to sleep,” he touches your face, strokes the back of his knuckles down your cheek. “I’ll go take a shower.”

“Can I come with you?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Of course. If I am correct to assume, you would be doing your skincare twice tonight. Would that not tire you out? Other than this inquiry, please. Be my guest.”

You chuckle slowly, and sit up, watching him undress. Lashes of scars on his defined torso, the sinews of muscles and sharp edges all stack up to create the man you missed with your entire soul.

Zayne fights back a smirk when he feels your arms around him, face tucked into the back of his neck.

“I missed you,” you breathed. “Feels like it’s been years.”

“Only a few days,” he corrects softly. Without sparing another minute, he turns, gathers you in his arms.

You spend the next few minutes showering with him, tracing the water trickling down his defined traps, obliques and abs with your wandering eyes. Lathering up bath soap and going over the spots of your body you had forgotten to scrub in your tired fugue, you discreetly watched him wash his hair, lost in his own thoughts. 

Zayne’s beautiful green eyes flicker to the present when he feels you sneakily coming up behind him, and he almost groans like a virgin teenager at the sensation of your soft tits pressed against his back.

He stays still when your wandering hands trace down his stomach, over his pelvis where his hips tick the second he feels your tiny hands wrap around his cock.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, trying to sound gruff, but it came out breathless instead.

“Showing my boyfriend how much I miss him,” you hum. 

Zayne bites on his lower lip, glad that he was facing the shower wall when you decided to play with him in such a risque way. 

“What a little vixen,” he groans, voice dropping an octave deeper; a baritone timbre which sends shivers up your spine. “It’s amusing. If I had any suspicions, I think you’re trying to get me riled up so that I would lose control.”

His observation was apt, as usual.

“You’re correct,” you brush your lips across a scar over his right shoulder. “So, should I give you a medal, Dr. Zayne? Or, a trophy for getting it right?” 

He breaks your hold on him, and you’re breathless, thinking he is going to reject you when he pulls you into his embrace. Your back meets the tiled walls, and his large hands grab fistfuls of your ass, hitching you up high enough so your legs can wrap around his slim waist.

“All of that is useless,” Zayne whispers huskily against your lips, and you swore your heart was about to double in size and burst out of your chest at his next words. “The only recognition and reward I need is your sweet little pussy, my Aurora. May I know if I can treat her well tonight?”

He didn’t even need to ask; you would serve your cunt on a silver platter for Zayne, no questions asked or needed.

“Yes,” you breathe, twining your fingers through his dark locks and tugging his face closer to yours. “You may, Dr. Zayne.”

His nightmares always started the same.

A dimly lit room. Chocolate wrappers on the bare, wooden floor. Loud explosions outside. And somehow, there was always a broken mirror somewhere in his periphery.

Zayne dreads (no, perhaps, it’s too mild a word)—he absolutely fears—what comes next. 

There’s a little boy, no older than seven who looks at him hopefully. Zayne always ignores him, preferring to watch a blinking red dot on his screen. 

He’s different here; dressed sharply in a dark trench coat, expression like a blank slate. Nothing at all like his focused, calm self in the present. And yet, Zayne recognizes him like how someone might recognize the back of their hand even under a different light. 

The man before him was him… but not exactly him. 

He’s been dreaming of this Zayne for a long time—ever since he turned twelve. 

And right now, he was about to see the extent of this alternate Zayne’s power. 

He can predict what comes next; the stretch of skin on the boy’s face snarling, broken bones sounding in the small room. The shard of ice through his heart which eventually ends his life. 

But, this time, the boy’s cries are different. They’re higher pitched. 

Feminine, almost.

Zayne’s heart races, his movements in the dream sluggish.

Zayne! Her voice reverberates, and he recognizes it. Zayne, please! Don’t hurt me anymore! Save me. Help me. You’re a doctor, Zayne. Not this. Never this. Please. Don’t hurt me—

The boy’s face disappears, replaced by one he knew all too well. His features morphed right into yours, and Zayne desperately lunges at the dark ice piercing your chest, fighting to get it out.

It would never move, no matter how hard he tugged on it or how much he willed his power to make it melt. You were dying with every wasted second, breathing growing ragged.

Zayne, Zayne… you never stopped calling out for him.

Zayne, help me. How could you hurt me like this? Zayne… Zayne…

A burst of light explodes behind his closed eyes. Someone is shaking him awake, the cadence of her voice familiar and sweet.

“... Zayne? Hey. Hey. It’s a bad dream. Zayne, you’re fine. Ssh, you’re fine.”

Her warm hands find his cheeks, pulling him right into her embrace. His face buries into neck, and he shudders, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberries from her hair.

“Zayne, you’re so cold,” you murmur into the darkness of the room. “You’re shivering.”

He was; huge tremors which rocked him from his very core. He feels the familiar tingle on his skin, the web of ice which encases his hands.

Before he can gather enough lucidity and control to push you away, it all explodes in one fell swoop.

Ice shoots out, hitting the ceiling, piercing through the wooden bedframe. 

“Zayne—!”

Your scream of pain rips through the night, and he frantically sits up, finding a huge shard piercing through your forearm. 

“No,” he whispers, fevered. “No, no.” 

His hands are stained with blood—your blood—as he tries to help you. But, the shard wouldn’t budge. 

“Zayne,” you hiccup, moaning lowly. “Shit… H-hurts…”

Nightmares become reality when it finally slams into him what he has done. 

“Hospital,” he mutters hoarsely. “We need a hospital.”

“Zayne—”

“Don’t argue with me,” there’s a feral note in his tone, a harsh reprimand which makes you flinch back. 

“Now, grit your teeth and bear the pain for a little while, Y/N. I am taking you straight to the emergency room.”

You felt like you were floating on auto-pilot. 

Colors and shapes melded into one strange blob the longer you sat in the examination room. After a few excruciating minutes of the ER’s doctor trying to get all the shards of hardened ice out of your arm, you were stitched up and given a heavy dose of painkillers, enough to knock out a horse.

But, you resolutely stayed awake, afraid that if you closed your eyes, something bad would happen.

Immediately once the minor surgery on your arm had concluded, Zayne had disappeared from your side, and you assumed he was downstairs by the general admission—filling up your details. He had stayed with you long enough for the extraction, giving you his hand to hold, though he remained tight-lipped and pale throughout the entire ordeal.

You wanted to see him again, even if it was for a few minutes. 

When the curtain parted, you looked up, expecting to find a pair of emerald green eyes, but were greeted with a pair of worried purple ones, instead.

“Hey, Pipsqueak. Zayne called me the second you got in. Grandma couldn’t come because she wasn’t feeling too well.” Caleb shifted the drapes aside, slowly stepping into your ward. He sat down on the chair by your bedside, the bags under his eyes heavy though his smile still held a teasing quality you were familiar with.

“Caleb?” you winced at how rough your voice sounded, reaching for the water bottle by your bedside. He beat you to it, grabbing the plastic bottle and tipping your head up, helping you drink.

Once your throat wasn’t drier than the desert, you sat up, the woozy sensation exacerbated from your sudden motion. 

“Hey,” he whispered, rushing to steady you. “Slow down. You’re injured, Pipsqueak.” He rearranged you back onto the bed, expression pinched. “What happened? Zayne sounded frantic on the phone and that’s something new. Always thought he could disable a ticking time bomb with how unruffled he is.” 

Despite poking fun at his childhood friend, it didn’t bring a smile onto your face. Caleb ditched his sunny disposition, becoming serious. 

“Y/N, are you okay? You’re acting strange. Did… did Zayne hurt you?”

Immediately, you whipped your head towards him, eyes wide. “N-no! Of course, not. Why would you think that?” You struggle to speak past the drugs making you slur. “He… he didn’t hurt me. Brought me to the hospital. I tripped.” 

A lame conclusion. Caleb’s eyes narrow, and he’s about to ask you again, when a familiar voice interrupts.

“She needs to rest. I thought I told you to come by in the morning?”

Zayne’s frosty glare sets off Caleb’s strained smile. Your childhood best friend's nostrils flare, and the whites of his teeth shine like the edge of a knife when he stands up to greet Akso Hospital’s best surgeon. 

“You made it sound like she was dying so of course I came as fast as I could.” Casting his amethyst eyes to yours, Caleb’s feral smile softens. “You’re right. I can see she needs some rest. Let’s go—” He clasps a hand on Zayne’s shoulder, and you don’t have to be on the receiving end to know Caleb was using his Evol to tighten his grip on your boyfriend. 

“You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Zayne grimaces, and you shoot him an apologetic smile.

Caleb turns to you with a cheery wave. You mouth don’t kill him and he rolls his eyes.

I’ll try not to, he mouths back.

Then, the curtains droop close and you settle back on the hard pillow, freefalling into a dreamless sleep.

Something was off the second you woke up.

Firstly, Zayne wasn’t with you again. 

It was Caleb’s dark bedhead which greeted you, his face inches from your arm, eyes closed and breathing steady.

You lean up, wincing when you felt your stitches pulling. 

“Hey,” you whisper, touching your best friend's broad shoulder. “Caleb? Why’re you still here?”

He groans, groggily opening his eyes. “M-morning, Pipsqueak,” he staggers through a yawn. “What time is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, feeling a huge migraine clustering behind your eyes. “Ugh, where’s Zayne?” 

At the mention of your boyfriend, Caleb blinks, wide awake now. “Ah. He told me he had some emergency surgeries lined up. He’s probably working.”

Oh. You fall into a disquiet, staring at the swathing white blankets. That uneasy feeling was back again.

“Did he say when he would be done?” 

“I don’t know,” Caleb confessed. “But, you have his schedule, so I think you’d know better than me, Pipsqueak.”

Right. Zayne was your boyfriend. Caleb would barely know the guy if it wasn’t for your insistence in the both of them meeting up once a month for dinner with Grandma.

Swallowing your disappointment down, you plaster on a bright smile. “Are you up for some coffee today? You’re always complaining about the ones at the Academy.”

Caleb smiles, and leans forward to ruffle your hair. “Y’know, if this was a normal day, I would totally take you up on your offer,” he becomes serious now. “But, you’re still healing, Pipsqueak. And caffeine is bad. Let me call the nurse to check on you first, okay?”

You nod, watching his broad back disappear out into the halls. 

Fidgeting, you touch your bandaged arm, recalling the clammy silence last night as Zayne drove to Akso Hospital; his jaw tense and eyes steadfastly not meeting yours.

He’s probably angry at himself, you reasoned. Zayne always was harder on himself than anybody else, and the guilt could be eating him alive. 

Feeling slightly reassured that nothing bad would happen, you lean back against the pillows again, closing your eyes.

You fell back asleep the second Caleb reappeared with the nurse; both of them politely closing the door and giving you some time to rest, your best friend’s eyes lingering right on your exhausted expression.

“Goodnight, Pipsqueak,” he whispers into the still air which was permeated with your steady breathing. “See you later.”

That night, you woke up to an icy cold hand in yours.

Fluttering your lashes, you find Zayne with his eyes closed and head bent forward, one hand in yours and the other braced on his forehead.

“Zayne?” 

He thaws from his uneasy doze, woozy emerald eyes widening slightly at your relieved expression.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers the second he finds his voice. “I lost control. I… I hurt you.” That last part was spat out, as if he was firmly disgusted with his lack of composure. “It was dangerous of me to even be next to you. I was aware of my nightmares and my Evol has been unstable as of late. I put you in harm’s way and I am forever sorry for doing so, my Aurora.”

His lips were cool on the back of your hand, those brilliant eyes fogged over with an unfathomable expression.

“Zayne… it’s okay.”

They flare back to life, this time electrified with an untamed emotion. “Okay?” he says slowly, like he couldn’t believe his sins were absolved that easily. “I’ve hurt you and all you can say is ‘okay’? Y/N, please. Be reasonable.” 

You open your mouth to counter his harsh words, but his hand had already detangled from yours. Zayne stood up, the look on his face awfully cold and distant.

“I don’t think this will work out.”

What? You wanted to voice out, but your words were stuck behind the lump in your throat. “Zayne…” 

You reached out for him, but all you felt was cold air where his warmth once stood. He had backed away, expression closed off and frigid. Shame and hurt filled you, threatening to pour out from your eyes.

He couldn’t bear to look at you, those emerald eyes latched to a water stain on the ceiling as if it was more interesting than the girl whose heart he was breaking right in front of him.

“What do you mean by that?” you demand, though it sounds like a plea in your thick voice. “Zayne, it was a mistake. A one-time thing. Don’t make it bigger than what it is. Please. Let’s talk this out—”

“No,” he stood to his full height, looking at you down the line of his nose. “It’s not something we can talk about. You’re better off without me, and I, you. I will drop your things off at your apartment the moment I get off work. Goodbye, Y/N.”

Hot pain sliced through your soul, leaving a gash where he once stood.

“No,” you murmured, though you were speaking to the thin air. Zayne had already turned and left. “Zayne? Zayne! Come back, we can talk it out—”

You tried to stand and run after him, but your body was weakened from the medication and lack of movement. Stumbling back, you sat on the edge of your bed, fisting the sheets and fighting back the urge to scream at him to come back. There was nothing you could do except watch the broadness of his back leave, disappearing down the hall and around the corner.

Easy. How easy it was for him to break things off like this.

Like you didn’t even matter.

You hang your head forward, the misting tears in your eyes pooling onto your lash line. You had no idea how long you stayed like this; frozen, immobile. Waiting for him to come back.

The curtains opened again, and you expected Zayne to be there with a change of heart. But, when you saw it was Caleb instead, carrying a box of doughnuts and his signature easy going smile, you couldn’t help the pang of disappointment coruscating on your trembling lips.

He sensed something was wrong the second you didn’t greet him, and he was right when he sat beside you and you broke down into tears.

Sorry, you gasped in between sobs. I’m so sorry. I’m usually stronger than this. 

Caleb didn’t push you or demand you tell him the reason why you were crying. He held you close instead, patting your head. When you wouldn’t stop sobbing, he rubbed your back, telling you in his low, reassuring voice that you were going to be okay.

He never did find out why you were crying, and neither did you voluntarily supply any information. 

But, when he took you home the next day and found your things neatly packaged in boxes waiting by the front door, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

Zayne…?

You flinched when Caleb mentioned his name.

For a single second, neither of you said anything.

Caleb exhaled noisily, gripping your shoulder and pulling you into his one-arm hug. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to you.”

“No need,” you surprised him and yourself by how emotionless you sounded; nothing but exhaustion and resignation in your tone.

“It wouldn't be worth it—not at all.”

For days after that, you threw yourself back into your work.

The second Jenna called for volunteers for a dangerous mission, your hand would almost always shoot up. It didn’t matter how bad the fluctuations were or how big the threat was—your name was almost always on the list every single day. Even Xavier was starting to notice how impulsive you were becoming, though his worry was more subtle than the rest of your nagging colleagues (read: Tara).

“Wouldn’t your doctor boyfriend worry about you throwing yourself in such situations?” 

You fight back a wince, polishing the nozzle of your Hunter gun. Of course. None of your workmates knew the truth; they all still assumed you and Zayne were together.

“No, he wouldn’t,” you reply back mildly, eyeing the barrel down with a grimace. “He doesn’t care if I live or die.”

A gloved hand picks the gun from you, and you turn to find him frowning. Xavier’s pinched expression spoke volumes, though he didn’t ask any follow-up questions. 

Neither of you broke the silence, until you heard the gun clatter back down onto the floor accompanied by his tired sigh. 

“There are many, many stars in the night sky, Y/N,” he starts. You turn to him with a frown. 

Where is he going with this?

Xavier continues. “Even if one dies or explodes, another one will take its place. Don’t lose your light for a star who refuses to shine for you.”

Standing up, he extends a hand towards you.

“Since you’re not in the best of moods, I was thinking we could have some lamb hotpot tonight. What do you think? I’ll let you choose most of the ingredients.”

Though the idea of food sounded unappealing, you couldn’t help but smile at his attempts to cheer you up.

Taking his hand, you nod. 

“Sure. Can I also pick our second soup base?”

He huffed a laugh. “Why not, huh? You can hog most of the dipping sauce, too. I won’t complain.”

It was the first time in days since you had smiled, the expression foreign and almost painfully pulling your cheeks.

But, you do it anyway.

Despite his odd allegory, Xavier was right. 

Even if someone took their light away from you, it didn’t mean you had to stop yourself from shining again.

Zayne may have been the brightest star in your universe, but at the end of the day, you were the fucking sun.

And no one could take away your light without your permission, no matter how hard they tried.

Another long night at the ER, another cup of coffee.

Zayne puts down his glasses with a sigh, and hears his office phone beep. He barely has time to steel himself when the message comes through, urgent and demanding. 

“Dr. Zayne? It’s Dr. Lewis here. We have a code red down by Bloomshore Forest. Something about a fluctuation. Most of the injured are Hunters.”

His heart rate spikes and he immediately stands.

It’s been more than a week since he last saw you, and Zayne was almost at the end of his emotional tether. He had reacted poorly to the entire ordeal, and was now facing the repercussions of his hasty actions.

Nights were spent tossing and turning, his nightmares coming back at full force. Sometimes, he woke up and padded into the living room, trying to find respite on the couch where your old t-shirt still lay, smelling of you and his regrets. 

When he woke up, there was no one to greet him or kiss his cheek with her morning breath. No one who hummed in the shower while she got ready for work or left loud, theatrical smooches on his cheek before she rushed out of the door. 

There was no you in his life anymore.

Zayne was tired of shadow fighting with demons he couldn’t see.

Plain and simple—he missed you. 

And right now, he had to see if you were one of the injured; Zayne would never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t make amends. 

Rushing down the freeway, he passed by signs of destruction everywhere; torn up trees, fractured roads. Wanderers who left a trail of discord and mayhem wherever they went.

The flickering blue and red lights were what caught his attention, and he quickly disembarked from his car, hurrying to the thick of the commotion. Tents were set up, medical personnel running to and fro. 

Someone recognized him and handed him a pair of scrubs and gloves. Zayne immediately got to work the second Greyson approached him, gray in the face from fatigue.

“Dr. Zayne—”

“Give me a rundown, Dr. Greyson,” he mutters, hurrying to the closest tent. 

“Four injured and about ten with minor abrasions,” his assistant started, “We counted about two missing from the fray. A Mr. Xavier and… Miss Y/N.”

No. 

At the mention of your name, Zayne stopped in his tracks. 

Greyson looked apologetic, though for what, Zayne had no idea.

“When was her last contact?” he didn’t mean for his voice to rise, but it did, betraying his stress and fear over your whereabouts. 

“Two hours ago. A comm signal right in the middle of the N109 Zone.”

Zayne swore he felt his heart drop right into his boots. He gapes, opens his mouth and closes it, but no sound escapes.

“Dr. Zayne?” 

Greyson was waiting for his response. Zayne had to react, fast. 

“Set up the operation room for the four injured and get me a line with the closest hospital for blood transfusions. We need as many supplies as we can get our hands on. Has the Association been notified of their two missing Hunters—?” 

Before Zayne could finish his sentence, a commotion stirs at the fringes of the forest. 

Several people yell, and he looks up in time to find a limping figure supporting someone else. 

Your silhouette solidifies in the half light, dirt and blood caked on your face and limbs. Greyson gasps as well, muttering oh thank goodness. 

A nurse with a blanket rushes over to you and a fair-headed man whom he assumes is Xavier, wrapping the both of you in the thick fabric. 

Greyson doesn’t notice how his attention has waned, locked right on your smiling yet exhausted face. “We’re establishing a line with Mariso’s hospital down the block—hey, Dr. Zayne?” 

He zeroes in back on his assistant with a firm nod. “Do it, then. And keep me updated on the progress.”

There’s a pause.

“Aren’t you going to speak to her?” Greyson asks, curiosity lingering at the thought of why his superior wasn’t going to greet his girlfriend. Zayne takes one last look at you, and he drops his gaze. 

“No. I do not want to overwhelm her before her evaluations.” Straightening, he nods. “Let’s proceed with the different evals and prep. Line up the next surgery for hour 2045.”

There would be no time to let his heart take the lead. 

He had to focus on the task at hand.

Greyson’s expression fades in and out of focus. Zayne notices that Xavier has his hands on your face, inspecting a nasty cut on your cheek.

How easy it was for you to replace him…

“Hour 2045, surgery #1 is confirmed, Dr. Zayne.”

He tears his gaze away from you and nods; ignoring the hollow pang in his chest. 

“Let’s get it started, then.”

You didn’t expect to see Zayne in the distance when you returned back from a near death experience. 

A part of you wonders if your mind is playing tricks on you; if the adrenaline has you seeing things your tired brain can’t catch up with.

But, there he stands. Forlorn yet imposing. Expression a blank sleet. 

You swear he looks over in your direction, but when you look up, he’s walking away with a colleague, head bent low and eyes firmly on his tablet. 

How easy it is for him to walk away from me. 

“Hey.” Xavier brings you back to the present with a small smile and a cup of coffee in one hand. “No cream and three spoonfuls of sugar. Just like how you prefer it.”

You crack a smile, accepting the cup. “Are you sure you didn’t burn it this time?”

He chuckles, taking the spot next to you. “I told the nurse she had to make it and not me, so I wasn’t involved in the process whatsoever.” Your hunting partner blows steam off the cup, pursing his lips to sip on the dark liquid.

“Mhm. See? Sweeter than my burnt coffee.”

You follow suit and take a sip, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. It does taste better.”

Xavier follows your line of sight when he realizes you’re quieter than usual. His azure eyes land on the surgery tent in the distance where a few figures were milling around. 

“Are you worried for Tara?” 

You grip your cup tighter, fighting back a wave of self-loathing at what you had done.

“If I hadn’t asked her to accompany me near the fringe, none of this would’ve happened.” Your shoulders slump forward, and you feel Xavier shifting closer. “It’s all my fault, Xav. I could’ve gotten her killed.”

At the realization, tears prick your eyes. His arm hovers in your periphery and you sniff, imperceptibly nodding.

He wraps you in his one-sided embrace, holding your face close to his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known a protofield of that size would open. It’s not your fault.”

You thought back to Tara’s scared cries; how she dove head first to the ground to dodge the energy surges of that Berserk Wanderer.

The both of you would’ve perished if Xavier hadn’t stepped in at the last minute, breaking the field and swooping in to save you two.

“I need to apologize to her when she’s done,” you mumble softly, “I can’t get that mental image of her hurt out of my mind.”

As you spoke, someone familiar approached you. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a tight smile, Akso Hospital’s Dr. Greyson beckoned you over with a wave.

You shrugged Xavier’s arm off you and stood up, confusion clearly in your gaze.

“Hello! Miss Y/N, right? Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend? I need you to sign here as a witness for Miss Tara since her family is out of state.”

He procured a document and a pen. You took them mutely, unsure if it was rude to correct him on your updated status in Zayne’s life. But, figuring that it would be best not to trauma dump on a stranger, you sign your name on the dotted line without much resistance.

“Wonderful. Thank you. Dr. Zayne will step out and see you in a bit once he has some free time. In any case, please stay here and do not wander back for anymore Wanderers. We can’t have anymore of Linkon’s brightest Hunters hurt!”

Chipper and happy like he wasn’t in the middle of a dire situation, Greyson left you and Xavier alone.

“Nice guy.”

“Hmm,” you sit back down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Zayne’s colleague. Older than him but a sweet one. I used to bribe him with fried chicken to get Zayne’s…” your breathing hitched, and you clear your throat. “... work schedule.”

Xavier’s body stiffens underneath your cheek and you immediately retract yourself away from him. “Sorry,” you mumble, unsure what had gotten into you; how you could’ve let yourself get this comfortable with your fellow Hunter of all people.

But, he shakes his head, patting his shoulder. “You can rest here if you want. I know you’re tired. I am, too.”

Cautiously, you lean your head back on his shoulder, eyes closing.

Xavier’s cheek gently rests on your head, and you hear him exhale tiredly. “I’m dead on my feet.”

“Mhm hmm,” you mumble, fighting the exhaustion caking heavily on your lids. “I could close my eyes and sleep for days.”

“That sounds like a wonderful time.”

The both of you take a second to rest, trying to recenter yourselves back to the reality of being safe and sound away from those terrifying Wanderers. 

You hear someone approaching, gravel crunching underneath a pair of boots.

“Y/N?” 

His soft voice fringes on your consciousness, and your eyes flutter open.

Zayne stands before you, tall and intimidating. There was no spark in his lustreless green eyes which flickered towards the dozing man by your side and then back to yours. You suddenly feel cold all over, like shards of ice were prickling underneath your skin.

It doesn’t matter what it looks like to him, you glance at Xavier and pat his shoulder, trying to get him to wake up. Zayne and I are long over. 

“I need to run a checkup on you. Hunter Association’s orders. Can you follow me, please?” 

Xavier stirs the second you nod, and releases you from the swathes of blankets. A clash of azure blue meeting clear green; both men staring each other down while you shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Make sure she’s all right,” Xavier says in a soft voice, though you don’t miss the steel underneath it.

Zayne nods, and turns around. Barely even looking back to see if you were following him.

Wordlessly, you limp after his broad back, consciously touching your face and trying to smooth your hair down.

Inside the tent, Greyson smiles and leaves you two alone for the first time in days.

There’s a makeshift desk and a chair beside it. An examination bed that had been hastily drawn open stands, forlorn and waiting.

You take a seat by the desk, hands laced onto your lap and eyes on the dirt-packed floor. 

“Are you alright?” 

You don’t delude yourself into thinking there was a hint of concern in his tone. Zayne was just being your primary care physician at this moment—nothing more than his appointed role in your life.

But, wasn't there a time when he was more than this? 

You shake off those thoughts, giving him one-worded answers. 

“Yes.”

He drags the chair by the desk and sits on it, unfurling a binder and picking up a pen. It clicks loudly in the silence, exacerbating how alone you two were with each other.

“Any dizziness? Loss of hearing?” 

You shake your head. “No, Dr. Zayne. I feel fine.”

“Please look at me in the face. I am trying to give you an evaluation for your Association’s report and I need to make sure you meet the health standard.”

Exasperation mingled with professional arrogance laced his tone. You bristled, but did as you were told, lifting your face to meet his eyes.

Those green orbs were galaxies you could get lost in. Swallowing hard, you repeat what you had said, this time in a forceful tone. “I feel fine, Dr. Zayne.”

You make sure to emphasize on his title, not wanting to appear weak in front of him.

How you had cried for nights on end when he wouldn’t return your calls or messages and now here he was—feeling more like a stranger day by day.

You promised yourself you wouldn't be that stupid, brokenhearted girl anymore. This would be the last time you let Zayne play with your resolve and mind.

He picked up a flashlight, beckoning you closer. Cool fingers touched your face, and you nearly flinched when the bright beam permeated your irises. 

“My apologies,” he mumbled, and you thought he meant the intrusive medical checkup when his next words catch you by surprise. “I didn’t have time to answer your calls or messages. I was busy cleaning up after last week’s attack. Please, forgive me.”

He whispers that last part and your mind blanks.

You don’t know what to say, or how to react. So, you settle for silence.

Zayne frowns, clicks off the flashlight. He writes down his findings and brings out his stethoscope. 

The cool circle touches your pulse point, your chest. He closes his eyes, listens to your heart.

“It’s beating faster than usual,” he mumbles, removing eartips and going back to his report. “Any fatigue? Dizziness? Perhaps vertigo hitting you when you least expect it?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, Dr. Zayne. I told you.” Sighing, you plaster your eyes back to the ground to avoid his piercing stare. “I don’t think you should waste your time on me. There are other patients who need your expertise—starting with Tara. But, thank you for seeing me, anyway.”

He doesn’t get a chance to dismiss you before you’re standing up and walking out of the tent with your head hung low.

Zayne doesn’t call you back, and neither do you turn around to give him one last look, like you always do before you leave his office.

Meters of silence and unsaid words stretch between the both of you; coldness replacing once fond memories.

The flap of the tent falls close and a forlorn wind whistles through the air, ruffling the papers on his desk.

Zayne tears his eyes off your form, ignores how his heart squeezes when he sees you returning back to Xavier’s side. 

The other man smiles at you, and the look on your face is far from detached. Warm and inviting, Zayne can’t recall when was the last time you looked at him like that.

Shit.

Never one to be steeped in regret, Zayne finds himself wishing he could turn back the hands of time; change his actions the second after he had lost control of his Evol.

Not only had he injured you, but he had left you behind like so many others did before. 

That was the one thing he promised your Grandma that day he dropped by for lunch: I will protect her with everything I have, ma’am. I will never leave her alone for long.

And this was the best he could give you? Broken promise after broken promise?

For the first time in his life, he feels like a failure; an idiot with nothing but a lofty title and his big-headed ego.

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Zayne grimaces, knowing how well you could hold a grudge if you wanted to. It looks like he has to temporarily play the role of the fool to get you back.

However, he relents and accepts his fate: this Herculean task of winning back your heart.

He would never say it out loud, but he admired your tenacity and determination; how you would always stick to your principles and never let yourself be swayed by a different current.

Reclaiming back your love wasn’t going to be an easy task. You would put him through the wringer—he was sure of that.

But, it’s what he deserves; what he could stomach and take after treating you so cruelly.

It was time to let the begging game begin. 

“... Tara, what the heck is all this?”

You had walked into work one day to a deluge of roses heaping onto your desk. Tara was halfway signing off the delivery man’s note with a gleeful smile, before she turns and offloads the last huge bouquet into your arms.

“Looks like someone’s ex-boyfriend misses her.”

She winks and skips away, leaving you floundering with at least six bouquets of blood red roses swarming around your desk.

You flush with embarrassment when Jenna walks in, her expression one of open curiosity at the sight of all those flowers.

“Looks like you have a secret admirer,” your boss muses. “Or, someone’s boyfriend has done something really wrong. Wild shot—I’m leaning more towards the former.”

It was no secret you were dating Dr. Zayne, but to have it so brazenly rubbed into everyone’s faces was making you cringe from head to toe.

“I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you blurt. “I’ll toss this all out. Don’t want bees in anyone’s hair.”

You chuckle nervously when she gives you a look.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Just hand them to the gardener downstairs. I’m sure she’ll know what to do with them. Such pretty flowers would be wasted in the trash.”

Nodding, you pick up every single bouquet, struggling to not drop one on your way out of the office. Tara sits smugly behind her desk, not even offering to help; wanting to see how far your pettiness could take you.

“Good… morning?”

You peek past the crest of roses to find Xavier’s scrunched nose and confused expression examining the blooms in your arms.

“Morning,” you mutter hastily.

He drops his bag and plucks two bouquets from your arms.

“Are we throwing a party? Or, did someone from our department get engaged?”

You feel like you could spontaneously combust, steeling yourself to reply to his innocent question.

“These are… for me. I think.”

Xavier pauses mid-stride, glancing at you through lowered, ash blonde lashes.

“Oh. Are they from Zayne?”

You pretend not to feel your heart soar in your ribcage at the mention of his name, preferring to plaster on an irritated glare.

“I hope not. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

Xavier doesn’t prod anymore, and neither do you offer to keep the conversation rolling.

He helps you duly dispose of the roses, the gardener’s toothy smile a small consolation for saddling her with this many blooms.

Once you get back to your desk, you pick up your phone and bring up Zayne’s name, finger hovering over the call button.

But, you change your mind at the last minute and click on the chat bubble option.

Please don’t tell me you robbed an entire florist to send me those roses.

Send.

Instantly, a chat bubble appears, his reply coming faster than you expected. 

Your accusation is inaccurate. I did, in fact, leave the old man a huge tip for procuring those roses in record time. You’re welcome.

Brows knitted together, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.

I don’t want them. Please, don’t waste your time or effort on me anymore. It’s not worth it. 

The bubble appears again. Then, it disappears. Reappears.

You wait on the other end with baited breath. Never did a pair of ellipses make your chest hurt this painfully; wildly thrumming heart caught in your throat.

Your tone suggests I am far from forgiven for what I did. If that is the case, would you like to join me for dinner at The Promenade tonight? I recall you adore their chestnut ice-cream. I can pick you up from your apartment. I would very much like to make amends, Y/N. 

Clear and dry cut. Zayne was putting all his cards on the table for you to pick apart and prod.

You switch your screen off, unable to formulate a response.

The memory of how coldly he had treated you resurfaces; the cruel blankness on his face. The ease in which he left you like a man who had done it many, many times before.

Tightening your hands into fists, you fight back a fresh wave of tears which threaten to take you under.

Someone clears their throat, and you snap back to the present, blinking hard and pretending you had something in your eye.

Bless his heart, Xavier willfully ignores your lapse of control; he gives you a small smile, gesturing towards the pantry. “They… just brought in some new instant noodle flavors. I was going to make a cup. Do you want some?”

You plaster on a fake smile, nodding. Suddenly, your stomach rumbles, and he exhales a laugh at the well-timed interjection.  

“Noted. The beef broth one?”

“Sounds good.”

“Roger that,” he turns on his heel, and you don’t know what possessed you to call him back. He turns, waiting for you to speak.

“What’re you doing tonight?” you blurt, and he pauses, tilting his head to the side.

“Not much. I have this movie I really want to watch. Why? Wanderer hunting?”

Knowing it was your favorite thing to do to let off some steam, he waits for you to formulate your response.

“No. I need to inspect something. At that forest again. Something about the fluctuation pattern those few nights ago… Something doesn’t add up.”

Xavier considers it, shifting from one foot to another. “And if we do find it? What, then?”

“We come back here and fill in the team,” you mutter. “And we can finally match the fluctuation pattern to Onichynus’ fabricated Protofield. It would give us a clue to their plans.”

Despite his reservations at letting you delve deeper into this conspiracy theory, Xavier had a hunch that if he didn’t follow you, you were bound to do it on your own.

Whatever happened between you and Zayne must’ve driven you down this frenzied yet determined path; choosing to prioritize your job over the feelings you haven’t sorted out yet.

And who was Xavier to complain? If he had a few more moments to spend with you, he would take it, no matter the motivation.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’ll meet you tonight at the Fringe. 8 o’clock.”

You nod, casting your eyes back to your phone’s dull screen. Zayne’s text message taunts you, and you sensed there would be hell to pay for ignoring him.

But, you turn off those thoughts and focus on your desktop, sorting out your emails and mission debriefs.

There were more urgent things on your plate that needed your focus than an indecisive ex-boyfriend.

The biggest storm of your life was on the horizon, and you were so sure that come tonight, you would finally get the answers you needed.

The tapping of his fingers on the table resounds like a metronome in this quiet restaurant.

Zayne picks up his cup of water, brings it to his lips and pauses. Setting it back down, he glances at his watch for what feels like the 178th time in an hour. A bouquet of fresh jasmines lie on his lap, and he thinks they might be wilting by the second for every minute you don’t show up.

Though it was unlike him to jump to conclusions, Zayne held a small flicker of hope that you would change your mind and see him tonight—despite how his text to you remains unanswered.

Someone clears their throat, knocking him out of his reverie.

“Sir, may I bring you some appetizers while you wait?” 

The waiter’s smile is thin, and behind his sincere question, Zayne senses the pity shining in his eyes.

It bothers him, somehow, that people would feel sorry for him. 

If anything, he thinks they should mind their own business; not jump to conclusions.

He heaves in a deep breath and shakes his head. “No. Please, get me the bill. I apologize for taking up your time.” 

The waiter nods and disappears back to the kitchen—presumably to gossip to his colleagues about a random lonely man he had to serve tonight who was stood up by his date.

Somewhere to his right, a table full of young women were eyeing him, whispering behind their manicured hands. But, he pays them no attention, signing the bill and standing up, clutching the bouquet of flowers by his side.

Zayne steps out of the restaurant, and notices the darkening sky roiling above. 

It was going to rain tonight and he hoped that wherever you are, you would have an umbrella on hand. He wouldn’t want you to get sick, and was about to pull out his phone and remind you when he stops short at a message flashing across his screen.

She’s hurt.

Dr. Greyson’s chat bubble appears, and then pauses. It starts typing again, and Zayne holds his breath, suddenly feeling uneasy all over.

Your girlfriend. You need to come to the hospital now.

He barely wastes anytime, rushing right to his car. Zayne guns it down the highway, straight for the hospital, no thought in his mind besides worrying for your safety. When he arrives, it was like that night he met you near the Forest; a nurse was hurrying into the ER, someone was yelling for more bags of blood, and there, in the fray, was Xavier, broad sword strapped to his back.

“What happened?”

Zayne feels his heart in his throat when Xavier turns to him, grim in the face.

“A calculated attack… an explosion.”

“Explosion?” The surgeon feels like his head is about to combust. A vein throbs in his temple and he narrows his eyes. “What caused it? Is she okay?”

“I’m trying to find out, too,” Xavier mumbles back. “Besides, it was my fault. You don't have to worry anymore after what you did to her.”

Frost sparks on his fingertips, and Zayne tries to control his temper; willing his Evol to stay in line.

It wouldn’t be wise to lash out at Xavier; it would do nothing but make you madder at him.

“Which surgery room is she in? I can help resuscitate her if necessary.”

The Hunter opens his mouth, but it's Dr. Greyson who interjects. “Dr. Zayne, she’s in Operation Theatre 2. Awaiting anesthesia.” 

Zayne turns on his heel, leaving Xavier alone with his silent judgement.

“I need a full body evaluation on the patient to determine the exact location of overpressures and debris. Keep the defibrillator on standby. What category is the blast coded as?”

“Tertiary, Dr. Zayne.”

He swore under his breath, wincing. The same blunt force injuries that would traumatize a person who was involved in a car crash, fall, or collapsing building. 

What did you get yourself into, Y/N? 

Zayne has no time to ruminate; he has to save your life.

A hand on his shoulder stops him. Greyson’s heavy eyes permeate through his soul, rooting him to the spot. For a single second, the fatherly concern shining in his gaze reminded him of another elderly doctor; one who was forever lost in Mount Eternal. “Are you sure you can do this, Dr. Zayne? Are you well enough to take on this task?”

The implicit concern was clear.

This is your girlfriend we’re talking about. Can you handle trying to bring her back from the brink of death?

Zayne nods, bracing himself for another long night.

“I will try to undertake this with everything I have, Dr. Greyson.” 

He stops, correcting himself. “I have to undertake this with everything I have, Dr. Greyson. I believe I do not have a choice.”

Suspended. Floating.

Trapped.

It was completely dark where you were, no light but a flickering blue ember in the distance. Reaching out to it, you found it dancing just out of your reach; taunting you with even more confusion. 

You had no idea how you came to be here or what happened that led you to this strange place. 

In this limbo, time neither exists nor moves forward. 

You were just here. Just being.

Hours must’ve passed. Or, was it days?

You felt a softness wrap around you. Once or twice, you thought you remembered the feel of someone’s lips on your forehead. The shape of a hand whose fingers intertwined with yours. A whiff of a familiar cologne you couldn’t quite place.

It was dark where you were, but you were never alone.

Someone was always beside you. Talking to you. Drawing you closer and closer to that blue flame.

“... I’m sorry…”

You caught that word a lot.

Sorry. 

Sorry. 

But, for what?

Who was that voice apologizing to? 

And what had they done wrong?

You would never know the answer. Except, one day, it appears before you, shining like a periwinkle blue sky opening to a new world.

The blue flame glows brighter, almost encompassing you. 

Please… I’m scared… 

You tried to scream, tried to push back.

But, it grew bigger and brighter. About to swallow you whole.

Was this how a new star was born? Did they see an unbearably bright light before they were engulfed in the flames of being? 

Were you a star right now?

The flames hurt—fuck, they were lapping at your hands. Your arms. Your flesh turns a sickly pale blue, about to drop off your bones.

But, you don’t fight back this time. The burn feels almost sacrificial. Sacred.

Like a ritual you had to push through to see the other side.

So, you gritted your teeth and dug your heels in the ground; staying absolutely still. Letting the embers flicker at your feet, caress your sides and hair.

“... she’s waking up!”

“... quick… nurse!” 

“Zayne… she’s back…”

There’s a commotion in the distance. You feel like you’re about to orbit another universe, your space ship drifting and attempting to dock with this strange planet’s gravity system. 

The bright light pierces through your sticky lids, and you feel askew, like you could fall off this new planet’s axis anytime.

A familiar sharp scent permeates your nose, and you groan, the sound low and groggy.

“Ssh, don’t be scared.” His voice is familiar, a low timber which sounds exactly like home. “I’ve got you. Come back when it feels safe for you.”

Despite your hesitation, you drift back into the abyss, feeling the warmest brush of lips on your forehead again.

You want to reach out to that bright light, hold it in the middle of your palm. Fighting hard now, you wade past the molasses of your sluggish mind, forcing one eyelid to pry open. And then, another.

Finally, you blink, slow and unhurried. Swiveling your head to the side, it felt like you were in slow motion, every action delayed by three seconds.

The word was entirely made up of a blur. It was all too white. Too loud.

Someone cradles your face, and your world tilts. You find yourself sitting up slightly, a familiar face you knew and loved swimming into view.

His bright green eyes solidify, and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, full of reassurance and relief. “It’s quite alright, my Aurora. You’re safe now. Safe here.”

“Z… Zay… Zayne?” 

You force your tongue to cooperate; it feels like a clumsy eel in your mouth, twisting and turning in a slippery mess. Moans and low grunts emitted from the back of your throat, and you wince with every word you struggle (and fail) to enunciate.

“Ssh,” he mumbles, and you feel something circular and hard slipping in between your lips. “It’s water. You have to drink it from the straw. Do you remember how to sip?”

The motion comes back after a few tries, and you hesitantly imbibe the cooling liquid. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, patting your head gently. 

You struggle to pin your eyes on him, wondering what type of lights were shining above for him to appear so bedazzlingly in front of you.

The room is empty, and it’s only him here with you. Outside, the world was pitch black, but here, you feel like every beam was dancing in Zayne’s eyes; the relief in them washing over you, calming your spiking heart rate.

“You’ve been in a coma for three days, Y/N,” he informs in a low whisper, sitting beside you. Taking your hand, he presses it to his lips, kissing each knuckle reverently. “I don’t want to push you, but you need to rest. You suffered quite the blast from that attack.”

It all came back to you in an instant: Xavier’s wide, azure eyes, the flash of golden light. Searing pain and an impenetrable darkness.

You start to shake, and Zayne notices, immediately bringing another blanket from your bedside shelf and wrapping you in it. When that doesn't work, he twines his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. Ever so tender, he cradles your body, gently rocking you from side to side like you were a terrified child.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re alright. It is normal to feel shocked after what happened. But, you’re safe, my Aurora. I have made sure of that.”

You paw at his shirt, fighting to roll the words off your tongue; remembering the unanswered text message and your instant regret when you realized far too late during your failed mission that you had basically told him not to care for you anymore.

“S… Sorry…”

“Please,” he says in a soft, tired voice. “No more apologizing. Don’t ever apologize, Y/N. It was never your fault.”

Zayne tilts your head up, his eyes soft and warm in the dark blue expanse of this hospital room. His thumb grazes your cheek, your jaw and lower lip. 

“You should rest,” he murmurs, smiling when you start to pout. “Alright, my love? I am right here. I will keep you safe.” Leaning forward, he presses the softest kiss to your forehead, its warmth achingly familiar.

“I love you. Please—rest.” 

You close your eyes, inhaling his comforting scent. Nodding off, the last thing you felt was his lips in your hair, his soft whisper of, “I am so sorry for how I treated you” dissipating into the recesses of your subconscious.

Once more, you succumb to the darkness, but this time, you do so with open arms.

“Bedrest and lots of fluids,” Dr. Carol says sternly, much to your chagrin. 

Her salt and pepper eyebrows shoot up, daring you to fight back. You stay silent, staring at your lap glumly. 

The day is much too nice to be bound in bed; sun streaming in through the frosted glass windows, cherry blossoms dotting the sill and bird song fills the air—the heart of winter thawing right into a dazzling spring. 

Zayne is beside you, holding onto your purse while the doctor gives her diagnosis, trying hard not to smirk at your crestfallen expression. 

“I will write a note to the Hunters Association to give you a month off. Lay off the dangerous missions, wandering into closed off zones, and getting yourself into trouble.”

She signs the paper with a flourish, tears it, and hands it to Zayne. Not even giving you a chance to protest. 

“Thank you for the diagnosis, Dr. Carol,” your boyfriend says with a curt nod, pocketing the strip.

She returns his gesture, pushing her rimmed glasses up her blunt nose. “You take care of her, Dr. Zayne. Keep her out of trouble.”

Zayne helps you stand, letting you lean against his arm for support. “Oh, believe me. This little Hunter will be very well rested before she’s finally allowed back onto the field.”

You fume next to him, though with your warming cheeks, Zayne thinks you look a lot like an adorably pissed chipmunk. Before the door closes, you remember to politely give a small bow to Dr. Carol, despite how you were livid at her treating you like a wayward child. 

“Don’t pout,” he murmurs, poking your side as you both tread down the narrow hallway. You flinch, glare deepening. 

“What am I going to do for one month? Sit around and collect dust? Zayne, you have to speak to her. I can’t stay at home all the time,” your tone goes whiny, and he musters a quick chuckle.

“Darling, you know I can’t just interfere with another doctor’s advice. Besides, I wholeheartedly agree with the decided diagnosis.”

Warm sunlight spills across your cheeks; you take mincing steps, still getting used to walking after a full week of rotting on the hospital bed. But, Zayne is patient with you, holding onto your arm while he keeps you steady, matching his pace to yours.

He continues. “You’ve been overworking yourself since we took a break. You need to rest before your body shuts down.”

At the reminder of the separation you both endured, you made a face. “Maybe I should’ve stayed broken up with you for a little while longer to find my answers…”

“And risk throwing yourself headfirst into more conspiracy theories like a pig-headed fool? Be grateful we were given another chance,” he retorts without missing a beat. “You would be severely injured if I weren’t here to give you a voice of reason.”

You quieten, watching a cherry blossom break off a tall branch and float to the ground. 

Zayne notices your silence, and nudges you. Glancing at him, you see a shadow of a smile etched on his lips. 

“I know you must miss the outside. How about we come to an agreement? Take your medication, get loads of rest, and I’ll bring you out every evening to see the cherry blossoms. Would this be more suitable for a ‘punishment’, my Aurora?”

Your heart skips a beat; you’ve missed hearing your favorite term of endearment from him.

“Okay,” you murmur, considerably happier. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Holding out your pinky right in his face, Zayne chuckles again, but indulges you, wrapping his smallest finger with yours.

“It is a deal,” his voice is softer, fringed with amusement and tenderness. 

Zayne is a man of extremes; rarely meeting you in the middle.

When Dr. Carol had advised against strenuous activities for at least a week while your body heals, she didn’t take into account that Zayne would refuse to even touch you in any way other than as a caregiver.

He would fix your meals, help you around the house, and even tenderly bathe you if you so much as breathed a request for it.

But, he would never—in any circumstances—take it further.

How long has it been since we’ve last been together?

You fidget in your seat, staring out a window. 

Far too long, the answer comes back to you like a nefarious whisper. You should do something about it.

And you do have a plan. Granted, it’s half-baked and needs a dash of liquid courage to work, but nevertheless, it was a plan. 

Zayne would be home in exactly an hour, and that was the bulk of time needed for you to get ready.

You washed your hair, brushed your teeth, did your skincare and makeup; there was an attempt to style your locks but you gave up halfway only to let it air dry while you slipped on some silky lingerie. It was his favorite set—black and lacy with a sheer mesh covering the cups that left little to the imagination.

Catching your lower lip in between your teeth, you try to rearrange yourself on the sofa, chest out and hoping your lipgloss hadn’t faded yet; squirming to position your limbs so that it didn’t look like you were a splayed starfish.

The door unlocks, and you hold your breath, a big grin fighting to break through your expression.

Zayne blinks the second he notices you, his doctor's coat bundled up in one arm and the other hand holding his briefcase.

“... Hello?”

You sit up, hoping to God you were at least seductive when you cross your legs, giving him a sweet smile.

“Hello, doctor. Welcome home.”

Those gorgeous green eyes flit to your chest, and his jaw ticks under your scrutiny.

You expect him to at least compliment you, or ask what you were doing in bewilderment. Not say—

“You are going to catch a cold if you keep this up.”

Before you can react, he sets down his briefcase and wraps you in his coat, drawing you to his side.

“Zayne—” you mumble, dismayed. He keeps you tightly to his chest, like you were going to disintegrate without his support anytime soon. “Zayne!” You fight free from his grasp, giving him an exasperated glare.

“Hello? Here I am trying to seduce you, and you just mother henned me!” Pressing your palms flush to his broad pecs, you push him back firmly—exasperatedly. “This is so embarrassing!” 

Petering off into a whine, you huff and cross your arms. Missing how his eyes darken ever so slightly at the sight of the skimpy fabric stretching across your tight nipples.

Taking in a deep breath, Zayne fights the urge to throw you over his shoulder and give your ass a firm squeeze (or smack, seeing as how his self-control was steadily declining). You were making it so hard to keep his composure under lock and key. He channels that frustration into a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“You are single-handedly the most infuriating woman I know on this planet.”

Without warning, he nudges you back, until you’re flush with a wall. He leans forward, and you hold your breath, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw.

“You know other women?” 

He can’t fight back an exhaled laugh at your petulant words. “No. Of course, not. None of them can compare to you, my Aurora.”

His minty cool breath fans across the sensitive strip of your neck, drawing goosebumps down your arms. 

“You are so infuriating,” he noses the length of your jaw, breathing you in. The heat emanating from his broad chest is overwhelming; it makes you dizzy with lust, thighs squeezing together to alleviate the tension throbbing in between them. 

“A menace… you’re impossible to deal with.”

His large, veiny hands grip the fleshy domes of your ass, squeezing them heartily. “Haven’t had you in so long.” Longing coats his every husky exhale. “I miss you so much… but, you aren’t at your peak health, my love. I do not want to hurt you again.”

Zayne’s dizzying warmth distances away from you and you actually cry out softly, grappling onto his shoulders to keep him in place. He gasps, low and taken aback, hips clipping into yours.

“No, please…” you feel your face burning up; never were you this desperate to feel him. “I need you, Zayne. I really, really need you.”

His groan reverberates in his chest, sounding like it came straight from his tortured soul. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Please,” you whimper. “I need you.”

Strong hands lift you up, pin you right to the wall. 

Zayne doesn’t give you any time to breathe. His mouth is on yours, ravenously drinking your moans and mewls. 

For a man whose Evol is ice, his hands run ridiculously warm; grabbing at any flesh he can find purchase on—your thighs, ass, breasts—squeezing them firmly. 

Fuck, you gasp into his mouth. Oh… Zayne… 

The room spins, nothing but the sound of your blood rushing through your ears filling your mind.

He sucks on your bottom lip, desperately rutting his hips into yours. You feel him growing harder against your thigh, straining behind his slacks.

Boldly, your tinier hand rests on his bulge. 

Naughty girl, he rasps. You’re asking for trouble now, little one.

A shiver runs up your spine which has nothing to do with his now colder hands running down your sides.

His Evol drops the temperature around the room, a faint glow of blue ice coating his fingertips. He runs those freezing pads down your exposed skin, catching right on the tops of your breasts. Your pelvis. Inner thighs.

You cry out when he teases your mound through the lace with those cold fingers, back arching wantonly.

“I want to see this pussy beg for me,” he murmurs. “I want to see her drip.”

Slowly, like you were a present he was leisurely unwrapping, Zayne pushes down your bra straps, until the cups are barely clinging to your heaving tits. He presses loving kisses down the strip of your throat, stopping shy of your areolas. 

Stop teasing me, you whine, and his warm breath caresses your nipples as he exhales a laugh. 

I can’t… I’m having too much fun, my Aurora. 

He licks and sucks on them until they’re dripping with his spit, achy and tender to the touch. While he loves on your nipples, one hand slips in between your thighs, finding your twitching center.

Zayne eases the seat of your panties out of the way, and you bite down on a whimper when the cool air brushes your swollen clit and damp folds.

“So wet,” he murmurs. One finger drags through the slick mess, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it tenderly. 

Proving he was more man than robot like how you always teased him, Zayne slides to his knees and looks up at you with pure devotion.

I’m going to eat you out right now, my Aurora, he whispers. Is that alright with you?

Fuck, yes. You almost scream. He didn’t need to even ask; you were begging for it. His tongue, friction, anything—you swore you were about to die from the anticipation. 

Hitching your right leg over his shoulder, he eyes your pussy with a dark look, one which makes you think of a predator cornering his prey. 

She’s so pretty, he muses. I wonder if she’s missed me at all.

“Yes,” you breathe into the darkening living room. The blinds are still wide open, streetlights staining his apartment floor a warm, orange glow.

She’s missed you so much, Zayne. 

The sight of his pink tongue flitting out to touch the corners of his lips, the perfect arch of his cupid’s bow running against the slinky lace, almost makes you explode.

Prying your panties crotch to the side with his teeth, Zayne breathes in your scent, his perfect nose pressed right to your glistening cunt.

“Good,” he mumbles to himself. “Because I’ve missed her like crazy, too.”

His tongue running through your folds catches you by surprise, your cry rebounding across the room.

If it weren’t for his strong grip around your thighs and waist, you would’ve melted to the floor like a snow draft on a hot summer’s day. Zayne held you up as he ate you out; lips and tongue giving you the sweetest friction you had been dreaming of.

You’re so worked up, he breathes in between sinful licks. Zayne mouths your clit, tongue sliding through your folds like he was made for this. There’s nothing but the wet sounds of his mouth on you; his tongue flattens, and you drag your clit over it, hips twitching, getting yourself off.

His cock twitches and he knows he would be the one to swallow his own words; how he wants to get you dripping when he’s the one leaking in his pants like a horny teenager.

Fuck, fuck, Zayne mumbles, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. He bites on the plush flesh, loving how you tense and squeal.

His teeth grazes the sensitive flesh, making you flinch. You’re so responsive, it’s making him heady.

Deep groans well from his broad chest, and you swell with pride. Only you had the power to make the reserved, stoic, measured Zayne go crazy on your taste. 

And he duly gives you the credit you deserve.

“You drive me insane,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin. 

It’s intimate—how he’s looking at you. Those thick, black lashes that frame his perfect emerald eyes lowering; lust pooling in their depths. 

Zayne’s lips are puffy, coated with your juices. There’s a light pink dusting on the high of his cheeks. 

“Are you alright?” he mumbles softly, running those large hands you love up and down your thighs.

You nod, teeth catching on your lower lip. “Zayne,” softly, you voice your need. “Can you please fuck me?” 

How polite. He fights back a smirk, lowering your right leg back to the ground, giving your inner thigh a soft kiss.

He stands back to his full height, towering over you. His sheer size makes your heart quicken, and your back presses flush to the wall, anticipation right in your throat.

But, he’s gentle, as he always is, when he takes your hands, pressing them to his chest.

“Undress me first, my Aurora.”

A stern command wrapped in silk—I won’t touch you until you show me how much you want it.

Your shaky hands move to his shirt, tugging on it until those pesky white buttons loosen. Scars line his chest and pecs, each of them a road your tongue, lips and fingers have explored. Down his stacked torso, more of those white indents make a home on his skin, and you briefly touch them, grazing your fingers on the happy trail leading right to his defined ‘V’. 

The buckle of his belt goes next. You slip it off, working on his slacks and underwear. Zayne silently watches, not giving a reaction. He loves this part; how you huff and warmth surges on your cheeks—hating how much of a tease he was.

But, you’re always an obedient little thing for him. 

You would do as he said, knowing the rewards that lie behind these slight humiliations.

He shrugs his shirt and pants off, and you’re already on him.

Fumbling in the cocooning darkness, your lips paint over his collarbone and neck, right to his jaw. Zayne leans down, kisses you fully on your mouth as he lifts you back into his arms.

Swiftly, your legs wrap around his narrow waist, and he brings you straight to the couch; too impatient for the bedroom.

Your back meets the soft surface, a cushion haphazardly arranged underneath your head so you didn’t have to strain your neck. 

The mastermind has thought of it all. Your musings were cut short when he unhooks your bra, a deft, fluid motion with little to no fumbling. A surgeon’s hands surely were the steadiest.

But, they trembled lightly when he plucked at the band of your thong, gently tugging it down your thighs. 

Beautiful, he whispers, half to himself. 

Zayne, please. You twine your fingers in his hair, tugging his face closer to yours. Feeling his warm breath on your lips. Don’t keep me waiting. 

Hold on, beautiful. Zayne slots himself in between your legs, letting them rest around his waist. He grips your left thigh, hooking it on his shoulder and turns his head slightly to give your plush calf a kiss. His cock catches your attention, fully hard and glistening with pre-cum. Like his physique, it was girthy and thicker; imposing and intimidating. 

Will it fit inside of me after so long…? 

A bead of his excitement pearls on his tip, rolling down the impressive shaft. You smear it across his tip with your thumb, not missing how he shivered.

“I’ll go slow, darling,” he mumbles, locking your fingers with his, drawing your hands above your head and keeping it there with one hand. “Tell me if it hurts, alright?”

He kisses you fully on your parted mouth, drinking in your hitched gasp. I love you, my Aurora. 

Giving his cock a few strokes, he lines it right to your drooling hole, dragging his tip through your folds to prime you up. 

The thickness of him breaches past your tight opening, and you cry out, back arching. Zayne shushes you, focused on not splitting you open too fast. 

Shit, you’re tight, he hisses. I may not be able to hold myself back, my Aurora.

You shake your head, glossy eyes making something in his chest twinge. Don’t—let me feel you entirely, Zayne. 

“Almost,” he mumbles, and you feel the glorious stretch; how it burns in the best way. 

The sounds falling from your mouth were much too lewd, easily heard past the thin walls; though at this rate, you didn’t care who would complain.

He breathes hard, sweat bulleting down his forehead. Finally, with one push, he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

The both of you groan in relief, his forehead knocking softly into yours. He lets go of your hands, letting them wound around his broad shoulders.

You bury your face in his neck as he starts to move, tentatively rolling his hips to get you used to him again. 

“Taking me so well even after so long,” he breathes hard. “You’re always so perfect for me, aren’t you, my Aurora?” 

Mhm, your slurry moan brushes his heated ears. 

Falling apart. He was dissolving for you faster than snow under the sun. 

“I can feel your pretty pussy fluttering around me.” He brushes his lips across your cheeks and nose, those gorgeous heavy lidded emerald eyes sending jolts down your spine. “You really wanted this.”

You can’t do anything but moan for him, pleasure unfurling across your body like a cresting tidal wave. 

His hips clipping heavily into yours, the dense sensation of his cock filling you up over and over again, coarse pubic hair catching on your clit—all of it were slowly edging you towards the biggest release of your life.

He fucks you slower this time, wanting to draw out the moment. 

Weeks of separation and anxiety were condensed within this singular moment; thick gasps flowing from his mouth into yours and back again, filling the air with an unbearable tension.

I love you, he repeats again, figuratively and literally drilling his devotion into your lax body. I love you so much, my Aurora. 

My Aurora. Mine. 

His.

Zayne’s possessiveness leaves you reeling, overwhelming your senses. He was right, as he always was; you belonged to him, body, heart and soul. Every beat of your heart, every trembling breath—it was all his.

Only he could fuck you this good; this deep. Only he could make you tremble from such an onslaught of emotion and sensation. 

His thumb slips into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue; your lips hollowing around it, sucking on his digit like you would his cock. 

Good girl, he rumbles, removing his thumb and replacing it with his index and middle finger. So good for me—you’re my sweet little girl, aren’t you? 

Yours, you mewl, mouth and voice thick with his digits. All yours, Zayne.

The pressure builds—reaching a fever pitch. All of it piles up; heady breaths, sloppy thrusts, his moans and groans slurred into your hair. 

He moves his mouth to your throat; sharp sting of his teeth blends with his murmured praises. But, you can’t focus on anything beyond his cock pumping inside of you, the mess he’s fucking out of you. It smells like sex in this room; musky and heady. 

The couch is shaking, clawed feet dragging across the floor. Somewhere in your foggy mind, it registers that his downstairs elderly neighbor would surely be storming up to confront him. But, no distractions exist when you’re in the circle of his arms. 

He probably wouldn’t even hear her knock over your keening moans.

Something about Dr. Zayne—the meticulous, righteous Dr. Zayne—ignoring someone’s distress because he was too busy fucking you, makes the taut string of your impending orgasm snap. 

Good girl, he whispers; groans when he feels your nails stab into his shoulders. Doing so good for me. Generous hands grip your ass, lifting your back slightly off the sofa. Can you give me another one? 

His selflessness would be the death of you. Zayne hadn’t even cum once—too focused on your needs.

Your head lolls back, feathery moans tainting the air with pure sin. Your thighs spread further, taking him deeper.

“Zayne…”

“My Aurora?” 

He groans softly when you glide your tongue over the shell of his ear, breathily moaning, “Can you please cum for me?”

Strong shivers wrack his body; his sharp mind drawing a blank.

“Please,” you mouth his pulse point, drawing your hands back to his hair to give his dark locks a tug. “Give it to me, please… wanna feel you all hot and pulsing inside of me.”

Fuck, he bites your shoulder, thrusts growing sloppier. Fuck, fuck—

He’s been holding back on you; not wanting to hurt you when you wanted it to hurt. 

You wanted the heat, the overwhelming need. Whining, you whimper please, please, please, over and over again. 

Give me your cum, Daddy. 

That does it. Zayne grits his teeth, a lusty groan of pain and ecstasy brushing against your neck. His cum fills you up steadily, first in spurts, then a fulfilling warmth which coats your walls, drawing deeper into your body with every pulsing contraction; a mini release set off by his own.

He slumps over you, skin growing cooler to the touch. You glide your fingertips over his sharp shoulder blades, feeling frost coating your fingers. They melt instantly at your touch, leaving your skin damp with both sweat and the residue of his Evol. 

Zayne shudders, rubbing his cheek against your jaw and neck like a sated beast.

You twitch your hips, and he pulls out slightly; the fullness of him unplugging and dribbling down to join the mess of both your releases onto the couch. 

He stays deep inside of you, lips tangled with yours; the both of you unable to let the other go.

“Are you alright?” he asks into the afterglow. You squirm a little, feeling his softening cock twitch. 

“Mhm hmm,” you flash him a satisfied smile and he fights back a chuckle. You wiggle your butt, biting on your bottom lip. “I love how full I feel of you right now.”

Zayne squeezes your hips, an exasperated and exhausted smirk gracing his perfect mouth. “Little minx.”

He holds your cheek, smoothes his thumb over your lower lip.

“You do know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

His face is hazy, eyes soft and full of love in the faint light. 

You rest your palm on the back of his hand, melting into his warmth with your eyes half closed and a small smile lifting the corners of your lips.

“Perhaps.” 

You don’t give him time to recover from your quip, flipping him over, both of you still connected from base to tip. 

Zayne doesn’t think he’s ever seen such raw beauty held in one person before; how your skin glowed in the muted orange glow, pretty eyes filled with a passionate ruin.

“But, if you let me take care of you this time, Dr. Zayne, I might be inclined to believe so.”

His hands span across your lower back, smoothing down your hips.

“Anything,” he mumbles hoarsely, an accessory to your seduction. “Do anything you want to me, my Aurora.”

You mumble his name, honeyed with devotion and lust.

And Zayne doesn’t care how many times fate would push you two away; like the tide to the sea, he would always come back for you. 

As many times as it would take. For as long as he could.

“I love you, Zayne,” you whisper, tinier palms pressed to his chest; taking your turn to fuck him.

And he knows you would do it again, too; go through it one more time for him. It was the nature of your love—a push and pull as old as the sea tides. 

But this time—most definitely—he makes a firm vow that it would be the very last time you were taken away from him.

— it is safe to say i am insane over this man i fear. reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunaymph. do not copy, repost, translate or share across any other platform

[mexious]

zayne nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: zayne x female!reader

➵ word count: 3.2k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. dominant/submissive, slight somnophilia, slight degradation, sexual control, slight temperature play, toys.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ xavier's ver. | rafayel's ver.

➵ masterlist  (requests are open)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

© 2024 horrorhot-line

notes: so, i know this is late but i've been sick, so i was bed bound- like i've been asked here is zayne's alphabet, i tried my best to keep true to his character. credit to my fiance for letting me bombard him with questions so i could make this short series accurate.

this was requested here, by a lovely anon <333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) zayne will cuddle you. you know this man finds it hard to show his emotions; he tries for you- but after he's done with you, hands held above your head, his other arm wrapping around your back to hold your chest to his as he snaps his hips into yours, making sure you feel every inch. then, when you're all used, looking pretty and satisfied, he'll clean you up and wrap his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, focusing on the soft vibrations of your body as you talk and stroke his hair.

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he loves your hips, loves tracing his fingers on them just to watch you squirm because you're sensitive there. loves holding them as he fucks you, digging his nails into them as he tries to stop himself from cumming, just so he can feel your pussy twitch around him a little longer. loves the feel of them in his hands, knowing you can't escape his grip as he speeds up, enjoying how you get louder the closer you are to cumming. he likes his back; more specifically, he likes how broad they are because you tend to scratch when he's buried inside you, stretching you out as you hold onto him, your nails leaving marks all over him- he'll look at them in the mirror, in awe of how deep and red they are, a reminder of how well he fucks you. "call my name like a good girl, won't you?"

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he loves your cum, loves the way you get so wet for him, the way it drips down your pussy and onto his thighs, covering them as he holds you in his lap, squeezing your ass to guide you up and down his cock. he loves the mess you make, admiring how pretty you look after you've gotten your release, before zayne's forcing his dick into you again, watching how you struggle in his grasp. "ah, ah, ah. you're not going anywhere until i'm done with you."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) despite being someone who likes to keep clean, he adores making you squirt. he won't relent, thumb pressed firmly to your clit even though you're trying to pry his hand away, setting a brutal force, pounding your wet cunt until you twitch around him, and then he pulls out, watching you squirt over the bedsheets. he doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, shoving his dick straight back in and fucking you, watching you squirt in splurts as you sob. "there you go- that wasn't so bad, was it? do it once more for me, won't you?"

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he's not that experienced, but he knows his way around your body, having spent extensive time studying you. so you're surprised when he tells you he hasn't slept with anyone but you. you don't believe him, to which he'll respond by giving you a demonstration, and suddenly, you don't feel all that curious as he towers over you, arm at the side of your head, stopping you from getting up as he loosens his tie with his free hand. "why don't i show you how much it helps to study your partner's reaction- what do you say?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) prone bone or you on his lap, take your pick. zayne loves the way he can hold you down with just his hips, kissing your shoulder as he fucks into you from behind slowly, speeding up gradually until the headboard slams against the wall and you reach your hand out, grabbing the sheets as you try to get out from under him. he'll reach for that same hand, seizing it in his before forcing it behind your back as he raises himself off you, dick still buried inside you as he sits up on his knees, forcing you to stay in place before he's back to fucking you again. "and where do you think you're going? you wanted this- remember?"

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he's serious; brow slightly furrowed as he fucks into you, watching his dick enter you before his gaze trails to yours. he loves watching you come undone, focusing solely on making you feel good and then some as his thumb finds your clit, no time for him to fool around as he makes you cum on his dick.

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's well groomed, he has a stubble, one that peeks over his boxers and has you staring. zayne doesn't like letting it grow out, he feels you deserve the best, and he takes care of himself as such, making sure he's looking presentable enough as he takes you.

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) he's very romantic when he has the time. outside of his busy work schedule, he'll make sure to make you something nice to eat, lighting candles and giving you flowers when he gets home, before he kisses you, his lips and tongue getting more desperate as he holds you closer, and you swear if he doesn't hold you up, you'll buckle. he'll lead you to the bedroom, slowly taking your clothes off and showering you with wet kisses across your body before his hands find their way to your cunt. "i love every part of you- you're all mine, don't forget it."

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) he won't jack off for a while, but if the hospital's busy and he's leaving his office later than usual, horny and stressed, and you're sleeping- he'll take care of it himself, not wanting to bother you. though, there is that one time you wake up to get yourself water, not realising zayne's back until you find him fisting his dick on the couch, trying to keep quiet. you end up helping him out, and after he's balls deep inside you, fucking you until you're a drooling mess, eyes rolling back at the way he won't stop even as you cum multiple times, you suggest he wakes you up when he needs you, and he stops jacking off altogether, preferring to empty his balls inside you instead of on a tissue. "you're so tight, so good- i'm going to fill you up, make you take all my cum."

➵ k for kink (one or more of their kinks) he has a huge size kink. loves watching the bulge in your stomach forming because of his dick, pressing down on it and forcing you to look at how deep he goes. he has a slight degradation kink, likes making you aware of how much of a slut you are for his dick by making you beg for it only to turn you down and make you wait instead. he's a huge dominant, prefers forcing you into submission rather than you giving in to him right off the bat. depending on the position, he'll choke you too, the other hand going for your tit as he squeezes both, releasing his hold when your vision begins to fuzz. also, he loves being in control, adores it when he finally breaks you, slapping his dick against your pussy, teasing your clit until you're begging him to fuck you, only for him to force your thighs together so he can slot his cock in between and tease you some more. he'll force your body against his, moving his dick against your pussy, letting his tip catch on the hood of your clit so he can feel you twitch against him. "no, i don't think so. you'll wait like the good girl you are for when i finally take you."

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) strictly your place or his, he doesn't like doing it anywhere else. he prefers privacy, and it's mostly because he wants to make sure no one sees how desperate and pretty you look begging for more, yet struggling to take what he gives you. he thinks you sound like pure sin, look it too, and he's certain if any other man saw you like this, they would want you for themselves, so he'll only have sex with you when the two of you are alone in either place, except for when he's stressed and horny because of work- never a good combination, and you end up dropping by at the office when the other staff have either gone home for the day, or are focused on different departments, in which case, he'll bend you right over his desk, shoving your panties to the side so he can finally fill you up, forcing you to take his dick until he cums. "you came here on purpose, didn't you? if you wanted me this badly, you should have just called me home."

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) he likes the power he has over you, and that by extension, means he has a sadistic side. he can be cruel, teasing you and acting oblivious, not showing that he acknowledges how horny you are until you're begging for him. that's what turns him on, the idea that you are weak to him, the way you stutter when he looks into your eyes, silent and holding your gaze until you relent and look away, something he lets you do unless he's balls deep inside you, fucking you hard and rough, snapping his hips and forcing his dick into your pussy before he's lifting your hips slightly so he can get even deeper. "that look suits you, you know. you're the prettiest when you're taking my cock, you know that?"

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) he's not a huge fan of pda, likes to keep his private life with you quiet and under wraps, so he doesn't have pet names for you outside, preferring to call you by your name. when it's just the two of you though, and he's balls deep inside you, towering over your body as he watches you struggle to take his dick, he'll call you his good girl. the tone he uses is different though, when you've been a brat, teasing him when you know he's on the clock just so he can be rough with you when he gets off work. "you're always such a good girl for me, so what changed today? i suppose you had fun trying to make me lose my composure at the hospital. was it worth it?"

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he prefers giving. this man adores the way you grab his hair, trying to get him to stop after he squeezes another orgasm out of you, your body spent and your energy depleted as you beg him to slow down, only for him to tighten his grip around your thighs, forcing your hips down to stop you from squirming, before he licks your clit again, forcing a sob out of you as he uses two fingers to stretch your cunt. "if you want me to let go of you- how about you try not to cum this time, hm?"

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) he's fast and rough, pace unrelenting as he grabs your leg and raises over it his shoulder, using it as leverage as he shoves his dick inside you, forcing you take every inch, tip kissing your cervix as your stomach bulges. as if the sheer size of this man isn't enough, he tries his best to make you feel him in your gut, as if he's trying to mold your pussy into the shape of his dick. his thumb finds your clit, just so that he can feel your cunt twitch and spasm around him, readying himself to cum inside you, yet again. "want me too slow down? that's too bad- you're gonna have to take it."

➵ q for quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) he's not a huge fan of quickies, he likes taking his time with you, forcing you past your breaking point until all you can do is tell him how it's too much. but, when he has overtime and late shifts, back to back, and only has a few hours at home before he has to return to his job, he'll trap you against a wall, or a cabinet, or a wardrobe, rip your clothes off you, bending you over before he's balls deep inside you, fingers in your mouth or around your throat as he fucks you from behind, forcing you to look his way before he kisses you. "i don't have much time. be a good girl and behave for me, won't you?"

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) he doesn't really like risks, prefers staying inside his comfort zone. that is until you get a fixation that you have to explore, and he finds himself giving into you. the first time you asked him to use his evol on you, thinking the cold tempreature would spice up your sex life 10 times over, he refused. until you begged, and begged and he found himself relenting, trying it out as he traced his icy fingers across your lower stomach, his other hand busy being two digits deep inside your pussy, and he won't deny the way his cock twitches at your reactions, you underneath him, jumping at every little touch, and he decides that he loves the way you’re so weak against his abilities. "you wanted me to use my powers, did you not? then be a good girl, and tell me how good you feel."

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) he has a lot of stamina, and when he has the time he will show you just how pent up he's been because of his busy job, forcing you to take his dick late into the night, letting you know that you'll have to sleep in, because there is no way he is letting you rest until he's emptied every last bit of cum inside you. he lasts a long time too, and he'll never admit it, but he will edge himself, slowing down ever so slightly so he doesn't cum too quick, just so he can enjoy the look of pure pleasure on your face and the way your pussy tightens around him, "you're doing so well. cum one more time for me like a good girl, won't you?"

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he doesn't own any toys- that is until he brings one back from a buisness trip as a souvenier. he ends up surprising you with it the night he returns, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, watching every little reaction you have as he reaches between your bodies to press the vibrator to your clit, using the momentary distraction to shove the last few inches of his dick into you, the corner of his mouth twitching as you throw your head back, clearly struggling to take him. "don't look away. keep your eyes on me… good girl."

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) he teases you- sure, but that’s not the reason why he’s incredibly unfair. he's borderline cruel with how demanding he is, forcing your body into different positions, forcing you back onto your knees when you collapse from how spent your body is, holding you against him as he fucks his way into your gut, his pace only getting faster as he uses your pussy, never once stopping even as you ask him to slow down, "no- i know you can take it, so you will."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he’s not loud, but, he makes up for it. he's never quiet, pure sin falling from his lips, always letting you know how good you feel, or how well behaved you are, as he's snapping his hips up into your pussy, praising you for taking his dick, knowing full well that you're barely coherent because of how big he is. "that's it, tell me how good you feel. you look so pretty like this, struggling to take all of me."

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) he prefers privacy over all else, and it's for multiple reasons, but the most important is the fact that he's protective of you. more specifically, he's protective over who gets to see this side of you, the one of you drooling underneath him, struggling to take his dick, eyes rolling back at how deep he is, hands reaching out to push against his abs, trying to stop him from slipping the last few inches in, loud in how you moan when he grabs those same hands, trapping them in his hold as he fucks you harder than before, balls deep inside you. "you're mine, and that means that no one will ever see this side of you. do you understand? no- nodding isn't good enough, i want you to tell me you understand… good girl."

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) he's big, i meant it. not big enough that he rips you apart, but big enough that you feel the stretch of your pussy. he can never get it all the way in on the first try, he has to hold your hips in place as he fucks the last few inches of his dick inside you, lifting your lower body to his so he has complete control as he starts to move. "such a good girl for me. i'm sorry if it hurts, but i'm not going to hold back."

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) zayne longs for you, and his sex drive is very high. you just have that effect on him, but he likes to keep that to himself. he waits for you to initate most of the time when the two of you are alone, holding his face in your hands as he kisses you the second you let him know you're horny, dragging you onto his lap so you can feel just how much he wants you. by then it’s too late, because now he has you wrapped around his finger and he can do whatever he wants with you, knowing you’ll give in to him. "you have no idea what you do to me."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards) he does get tired after sex, but he'll cuddle you first, stroking your hair or tracing his fingers along your back as he waits for you to fall fast asleep after he's fucked you, stolen all your energy and filling you up with his cum. he likes watching you, making sure you're resting well after he's used you, before he's closing his eyes and joining you.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵       ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

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[mexious]

[College dormitory life (18+)]

AllCheng | Mo Dao Zu Shi Modern AU 08-06-2021

[#allcheng, college/university dorms] (NSFW)

let's imagine that (somehow) everyone goes to the same school and they all live in the same dorms.

jc is very pretty and everyone wants a piece of him and he doesn't mind giving~

-Wei Wuxian-

they managed to be roommates, as jc was much more comfortable with someone he knew than someone he wasn't familiar with. And familiar with they were.

They actually already had a little /something/ going on already, where they were fooling around a lot behind yzy and jfm backs, hiding from everyone else. They were each other first in many things, usually experimenting with each other.

now having a whole room for themselves only gave them more opportunities to fuck like they want, without needing to make sure no one is around. They can be a bit louder than before, but jc is scared to be caught by others so he tries to keep it down.

-Nie Huaisang-

nhs is actually the first one in the bunch to approach him first. they were already friends from high school so jc was already somewhat at ease with him. Plus nhs may or may not have a slight crush on jc because he is his type, but it's not a serious crush.

they both agreed that it was alright if it never leads to a serious relationship, they are playing around and nhs finds it just fine.

It gives jc the chance to switch a bit. Not that sex with wwx is bad, but he likes to top from time to time and nhs seems more than happy to bottom for him.

they usually try to do it when their roommate isn't there (tho wwx very much knows about it, they don't hide much from each other). If the moment needs it, they will take a hotel room when the horniness is too much to wait for an opening.

-Lan Xichen-

He is the first one of the seniors to approach him. it took a lot of flirting with jc (and seeing jc shyly respond with some flirting too). They usually meet in the library where jc likes to study (it's quieter and wwx doesn't go there much, hence more quietness).

lxc doesn't have the advantage of first really knowing jc, so he takes him on dates to make the other one more comfortable around him. clearly, they like each other and soon jc wonders how it would be to be manhandled by those strong hands (he has felt them on his waist, they are big, warm and very likely strong too).

the first shy jc is the one to kiss him first, trapping him against a shelf of the library, in a deserted corner. lxc took the given opportunity and they kissed a lot that time. they had to finish up with a handjob in the corner.

afterwards, they very much went farther, jc was more than happy to have strong hands on him like that. much like nhs, they try doing it when they have the time and the room are free (tho when lxc is horny, he is more likely to just rent a room for them, which is often).

-Nie Mingjue-

nmj knew about his brother's relationship with jc (of course nhs couldn't escape his brother making sure he got a good bf). They started somewhat hanging out when jc and lxc started being a bit more touchy together (but still not there yet).

They notice they were going to the same gym in the morning before classes and nmj ended up suggesting a drive to jc (he was pretty excited to be on a motorbike) they got closer by training together (nmj is pretty good at helping him work out correctly). The first time they fucked because of the sexual tension just being too much (and jc learning to be a tease) was in the gym shower room when no one was there.

they did it more than once afterwards in the locker room (jc found the trill of someone maybe finding out rather exciting) and when lxc wasn't in their room (it was a fun time when lxc stumbled on them that one time😏).

-Jin Zixuan-

(sorry jyl 😔)

jzx and jc never really planned that anything would happen, they love jyl too much to really do that to her.

but jc did find jxc attractive (but never said it to anyone) and jzx did like jc a bit despite never showing it.

(cw: sex while drunk)

they ended up sleeping together one time when everyone was drunk and people somehow managed to convince jc to crossdress for them. wwx kept saying jc could look more like jyl with makeup and a wig. later they started arguing about some stupid shit jzx did and the next thing they know they were in jzx room and getting at it pretty heavily.

the next morning was very awkward and they were unsure how to tell jyl about it. After all, they couldn't /not/ tell her, they didn't have it in them to not tell.

Sure thing, it was a really awkward meeting when they did so two days later, both young men looking ready to die for the stupid shit they did (as much of an angel as jyl can be, it was a rough couple of months before she got over it fully. they are both people she loves and trust, she never expected them to do that)

not the best experience for jc (even tho the sex was good)

-Lan Wangji-

lwj wanted to know what was so good about jx, since wwx would never shut up about him. Sure, they've known each other in school (just like with nhs), but he really doesn't get it. Isn't jc just a grumpy guy who does nothing but study?

what is his surprise when he learns from his /brother/ that jc isn't as innocent as he seems to be (or as wwx seems to like to claim). But he still doesn't understand why wwx would prefer him over lwj. so he pursues him only to see it for himself. of course, jc doesn't necessarily enjoy the more aggressive way lwj comes at him (isn't he supposed to be a quiet person!! isn't he more like his brother!?).

but he would lie if he said he wasn't curious to see how lwj would perform compared to his brother. Is he as strong? Would he be more gentle or as merciless as lxc can be sometimes?

So they end up hooking up at some point for some vaguely angry sex because of course they too had an argument before that leading to sexual tension.

lwj is surprised at how nice it actually was and he can admit wwx might not be wrong. in a way, lwj still wants to steal wwx hearts, but when jc comes up to him for more he will never say no to him. Maybe he doesn't hate the young man as much as he might do (and jc doesn't seem to hate him like he thought jc did).

-Xue Yang-

jc is seriously unsure sometimes if xy is really a student or not. He never sees him in classes or anything study related but you bet he will see him at parties getting drunk and high, flirting with anyone that catches his eyes.

of course, he becomes one of those targets and xy seems to have quite some fun flirting with him and not discreetly at all.

One night jc is horny so he simply gives in. After all, if xy is so eager to have him why not?

what was supposed to be one-night stand ended up becoming a more regular thing. Jc also learns he might not be as vanilla as he was (well, he /does/ enjoy semi-public sex soo).

-Wen Ning-

wn is one of the rare shy friends wwx has. He's pretty quiet and can be a bit of a doormat sometimes. jc never spoke much with him until once at a party they ended up both outside for a breath (his head was killing him and he needed fresh air).

He ended up disappearing for the rest of the night, leaving the loud party for a 24h coffee shop where he ended up talking with wn and learning about him.

they ended up having more of these little moments where they just sit down and talk for a long time, having more points in common than they thought they might have.

wn ends up developing a crush on him (but doesn't make a move because he's sure jc is either dating wwx or nhs). of course, wwx (the little traitor!) ends up telling jc because he wants his friend to get it too.

jc is a bit surprised that the shy wn has a crush on him, but he doesn't mind, wn is good-looking and also looks strong too.

jc decide to give it a chance, rather amused at how flustered wn gets when he decides to really put his heart into flirting.

at some point wn finally gets it, jc /is/ flirting with him, so he tentatively kisses him one time, nearly running away when jc doesn't respond out of being stunned (a little shy /wen ning/ kissed him first?! damn).

Thing escalates from there because you can be sure jc will get it if wn finally gives in. It's a bit new, since jc has now gotten used to other rough or kinky sex. wn is so gentle with him, as if scared to hurt him. He doesn't hate it, it's nice to have someone caring like this.

although, when they switch, wn does seem to enjoy having it a bit rougher than what he gives (it take a couple of time for wn to finally get assured enough that he won't hurt him if he goes a bit rougher).

Now jc can chuckle and smirk anytime people comment on how wn must be an innocent child who never did anything.

-Wen Chao-

Wc hears rumours about jc and he tries to pursue him because "Ah! of course the great me can get into his pants too".

Yet, his way of doing is even more aggressive than lwj to the point where nmj and lxc end up asking him to fuck off (although lxc is more polite about it in his terrifying way to always be calm, nmj still looks like a bigger treat).

So he gives up (which his brother doesn't stop mocking for a while after all his claiming of it being so easy). He does throw a tantrum when he learns wn got jc ("fucking /Wen Ning/? are we talking about the same cousin here? quiet and shy /Wen Ning/ got jc? how?!?!") so he resumes his tries, but this time he tries to be more gentle and much less aggressive than (which make him allow on thin ice by everyone else protecting jc's ass).

jc eventually allows him after wc got angry again when he refused him. "Oh, so you think you are better than everyone else? I suppose I can judge on that, tho if you fail my expectation you ain't getting more" (which is a slap in the face, because /wn/ checks out?).

So wc makes sure to show all he has. jc has to admit, he isn't bad, but he isn't the greatest either when wx only search for his own pleasure and doesn't really care for jc's one. "You're boring," jc says as he clicks his tongue when wx comes once and he didn't (he can see in wc face that he did not like that comment) "Let me show you".

Cue power bottom jc showing wc how to actually pleasure him. "Come back when you actually learned to make your partner feel good and not just you," he says when they are done, going back to his room.

wc put his heart into actually learning because he cannot let his pride be this hurt by the fact that he sucks and his cousin does well.

-Jin Guangyao-

jgy approached jc when he learned from both his friend that they sleep with jc (but he doesn't know everyone basically knows and everyone is fine with sharing), but also that he caused trouble between jzx and jyl.

he just wants to investigate and make sure his best friends are not sleeping with someone who's just taking advantage of them.

His tentative to scare jc by subtle showing he knows he's sleeping around with basically the whole dormitory at this point doesn't work, as jc just brushes it off ("Sure, tell them").

this is an open secret, but no one mention really knowing about it so jgy thinks everyone is being tricked. he wants to make sure his friend won't be hurt, but he cannot find actual proof because even xy won't help him on this one ("I don't think your er-ge cares").

So he decides that his latest option is sleeping with jc himself! He can sacrifice himself to help his friends.

but it's actually pretty good? better than with any ex he ever had, and jc sure knows what he does when they switch up. he feels somewhat down now that he betrayed his friend and wants/more/.

"You really don't need to worry," jc tells him as they lay next to each other al sweaty, "Everyone knows, but it was fun seeing you trying to expose me".

jgy seems still a bit unsure, but jc basically straight up call his gege and they pretty much confirm on the phone that yeah, they know and are alright with it. cue the three of them having fun together with jc to show jgy that he can keep having fun with jc too.

(I feel like I insulted jgy intelligence, sorry )

[I ran out of people that could be students :') feel free to put suggestions, I might add]

Original

[mexious]

[a|b|o, ace α!NMJ in rut worrying over Ω!JC]

MingCheng | Mo Dao Zu Shi Omergaverse + Modern AU 21-08-2021

[a|b|o #mingcheng , modern, ace α!NMJ]

Where nmj in rut will get overly anxious if jc even as much as leave his sight, even to go to their room to get something without him. Something in his gits simply cannot stop worrying, he /has/ to make sure his mate will be alright.

So he follows jc around the apartment all day long, hands nearly always on him. if jc is making them some food he'll be behind him hugging and looking over his shoulder, whispering to be careful (and keeping himself from taking the knife, knowing his mate would be angry if he fully kept him from doing things around the house).

and jc tried to find a solution so nmj wouldn't necessarily need to get out of the house without him when in rut. He tried having him on the phone as he did grocery and even face timing!!

but all it managed to do was have nmj run out the apartment not even five minutes after he got out in the phone call and nmj sprinted directly to the store he was at when he caught sight of other alphas looking at his mate.

so jc has simply accepted having nmj sticking to him closely when they are out for things they need. He usually try to have what they need, but sometimes they are missing things and he needs to go out.

what he won't complain about is that no one is bothering him when nmj is around, chasing away literally any alpha who even just glances in their direction (not that nmj scenting him excessively doesn't do the job in the first place).

Where jc needs to put his foot down is when he needs to go to work. He has no choice but to go and nmj cannot just scare away every colleague he has. They compromised on nmj taking him to and from work (although jc knows he must stay at a caf. nearby all day long, he pity slightly the poor barista who needs to deal with him and his rut scent all over the place). He will face time him on breaks, reassuring him that /yes/ he is doing alright. No, no one has tried to hit on him (as if any alpha who has seen nmj would even /try/).

Sometimes jc thinks of how unimpressed some would be. nmj is pretty tall, large and strong, even by alpha general standards. He can even be scary-looking (jc did find him scary when he was younger).

So some would imagine he must be a beast when in rut right?

they would probably be unimpressed by how needy, cuddly, possessive and protective nmj suddenly becomes once he hit his (not that he isn't any of those usually, it's just turned to 200%).

But jc doesn't really mind. There is something nearly cute in how nmj tries to protect him

of even the most harmless thing around him. Sure, it can be exasperating by moment, but there is something about it that he would trade for a beast in the bed.

If what his alpha need is reassurance and security about him being safe then he will give him that as best as he can, the same way nmj gives him all the help he can when jc enters heat, despite nmj not being interested in sex himself. and as jc got out of work one day, seeing nmj pace anxiously (probably wondering if he should go in to find him) while holding some of their favourites drinks, he thinks to himself "I wouldn't trade this for anything"

Original

[mexious]

Height difference

This isn’t the first meeting Jiang Cheng attends–not by far–but he still feels like a child that is allowed to sit at the grown up table.

He’s the youngest by far, even though Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen bridge the gap somewhat, and he’s also the most inexperienced one.

And he feels as if no one ever lets him forget it.

The worst by far is Jin Guangshan of course, the condescending asshole. Jiang Cheng almost sneers just looking at him. The only somewhat non-negative thing Jiang Cheng has to say about him is that he at least treats all of them equally bad. It doesn’t look like he has much regard for Lan Xichen or Nie Mingjue either, and even though those two are accomplished war-heroes he treats them with the same disdain as he does Jiang Cheng.

At least Jin Guangshan’s behaviour was to be expected.

What came as a surprise–and therefore hurts much more–is the way Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue treat Jiang Cheng.

He had hoped for some guidance from them and instead he gets treated like a child at worst or ignored at best.

Lan Xichen falls into the latter category with how he seems determined to not even look at Jiang Cheng and instead of asking him questions directly he addresses them to the entire room even though everyone knows that Jiang Cheng is the only one able to answer some of them.

It makes Jiang Cheng fume but he guesses that’s at least better than what Nie Mingjue does.

He doesn’t miss a single chance to put Jiang Cheng on the spot, clearly waiting for him to slip up and lose face for himself and his Sect but Jiang Cheng refuses to do so.

He always comes especially prepared for these meetings and no matter what Nie Mingjue throws his way Jiang Cheng always has an answer.

Not always the most satisfactory, he is painfully aware of that, but at least he doesn’t have to stammer his way through an excuse.

Nie Mingjue is clearly displeased by the fact that he hasn’t slipped up yet if the look on his face is anything to go by and the satisfaction Jiang Cheng gets from that is enough to fuel his nights of studying in preparation for these meetings.

Still, it hurts and it’s exhausting to know that all of them are against him. He could need allies and guidance most of all and instead he’s here alone, fighting, and feeling as if the other three Sects would gladly see his downfall.

Keep reading

[mexious]

I really like the idea of JC with NMJ during the Sun shot campaign, the big belly is really doing it for me. But also, it's during (or soon after) Sunshot, so both WWX and JYL would be alive to see it, later on JL would have siblings and NHS would be an uncle. I wonder how it would change the plot, would anyone survive thanks to baby fever or would it somehow cause more deaths. Would NHS involve JC in his plotting now that he's family or can having family distract him from his grief enough to not plot. What if NMJ didn't die (unlikely but still). Also I can't use question marks for some reason.

Anyway back to the actual babies, of course they're big. Biggest babies you'll ever see with lungs that can scream your ears off. They will be given the most appropriate and lovely names possible of course. JYL will get to pick one.

I have so many ideas now about thisTT more or less sad/happy

How about just after Sunshot, when WWX is being dumb and staying with the Wens and JC is desperate to save him. Desperate enough to go to the one man that stood in his way - and the one that he had a chance of convincing, the one he had something to offer to...

He goes to NMJ and offers him an heir.

There's not a lot of gentry omegas left after the war. There was never many of them, but the Wen liked to target them to demoralise their families and so there's just a few left and they're all staunchly protected by their packs.

Jiang Cheng knows that the Nie are traditionalists, that their heirs are meant to be born from an alpha and an omega. He knows that the Nie don't have any omegas of an age and position appropriate for Nie Mingjue. He knows that for all his sect being a shadow of what it was, he's a perfect option for the alpha - he's an omega from a good bloodline, he has proven himself in the war, he's young and has a chance of carrying well, their characters are compatible. His pack is small, but dedicated to him and through his sister he has ties to the Jin sect.

Nie Mingjue will have problems finding a better carrier for his heir.

"Most importantly, do you even have the time to wait for another match, Nie-zonghzu?"

Nie Mingjue scoffs and wants to call Jiang Wanyin shameless, but the truth is... no, he doesn't. He knows he doesn't have as much time as he'd like to have - not only to sire a child, but to raise it, to see it grow, to prepare it for the role it will take in the future. He didn't think about it during his youth, because he was focused on raising Huaisang, and during the war there was simply no time.... but now, when they're all focused on rebuilding and repopulating their ranks, the idea of a child came back. His advisors mentioned a heir a time or two already and Nie Mingjue knows it will keep happening more and more as times goes by. He is expected to sire a child, and soon.

And yeah, maybe Jiang Wanyin is desperate enough to shamelessly sell his body for a group of Wen dogs and the shixiong that abandoned him, but Nie Mingjue is just as desperate to not leave his brother in the position he never wanted to be.

Can he weight his hatered for the Wen against his responsibility to his pack?

"I can't advise you on that, da-ge." Huisang's face didn't show a sign of sour, but his fingers were tellingly twisting the tassel of his fan. "Jiang Cheng is a good man, he sticks to his word. If you think he will be a good option, I will have nothing against it."

"It's shameless," Nie Mingjue said sourly. "For an omega to use their body in a trade."

"Certainly. A pitiful thing, to resort to such means," Huaisang looked at the wall as he spoke. "Alphas certainly don't need to lower themselves in such ways."

His little brother, so scathing in being of offhand.

"I'm certain your sworn brothers will have more insights into the situation than me, da-ge. I don't really know about politics," Huaisang noted with a sweet smile "You're lucky indeed to have their support."

Ah yes, quite cutting, his didi.

They didn't exclude Jiang Wanyin from their brotherjood on purpose - they just... didn't think of him at the time. The Jiang sect was non-existent and Jiang Wanyin was chasing shadows on the battlefield, searching for his shixiong, staying on the outside, tending to his hatchlig sect and costing up to Jin Guangshan...

"After all, I'm an omega myself, brother, I cannot be expected to keep up with all that, right?"

Not like Jiang Wanyin, who was raising his sect from the ground on his own shoulders, with little help from anyone. Was it a wonder he wanted his shixiong back, then? Even at the cost of his own body, was it a wonder he was desperate for the support from the last of his family left?

Mingjue burned to consult with Lan Xichen, who was always so balanced and objective when it came to inter-personal politics. But he didn't. Lan Xichen, raised in righteous and prohibitive sect, wouldn't understand. Romantic as he was, Zewu-jun wouldn't approve of the idea - whereas the Nie sect was fine with having their pups born out of wedlock, the Lan were conservative enough to demand marriage and mating before the offspring could even be discussed.

They could not marry, they could not mate - not two sect leaders. What Jiang Wanyin was offering him was a business transaction, borrowing his body for nine months in exchange for shutting up about a handful of Wen dregs.

He could carry on his vendetta against remnants and follow Jin Guangshan's lead, a case he had nothing to win in. Or he could have a strong heir born out of a strong omega of good blood. Jin Guangyao was his sworn brother, but Jin Guangshan was nothing more than a slimy, greedy, distasteful little man that needed someone to cut him at the knees from time to time. Jiang Wanyin was young and inexperienced, but Yunmeng had a strong trading history, with all the rivers going through it, and getting his hands into it ahead of time was just good politics. Once the Jiang sect recovered, good trade deals would put the Nie ahead of others in terms of recovery from the war.

Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were his sworn brothers, but his father taught him to never put all his eggs into one basket.

And Jiang Wanyin was in no way hard on the eyes either.

(Mingjue could only imagine the spark in his father's eyes as he smacked his shoulder in glee and approval. The same spark he saw the few times when his father looked at Jiang Furen during sect conferences she deemed to be present at, to argue for her sect when Jiang Fengmian was happy to settle for less.)

("A good omega." Mingjue remembers his father saying. And somehow it didn't sound the way everyone else used these words to diminish the gender, didn't sound pitying or off-hand. These were words of admiration, a rare thing from his father.)

In the end, he'd be a fool to decline the offer.

-------

It can go two ways ;) Either the happy ending when the pregnancy changes things: WWX sees how much JC is willing to sacrifice to help his case and comes to reason, NMJ gets himself roped into saving the Wen and that leads to Wen Qing helping with his health, so he doesn't die and so he can raise his child and slowly fall for the omega that birthed it.

Or it can go as canon goes: the seed takes, but WWX still looses his mind and kills JZX, and the siege happens, with a pregnant JC leading the charge and then birthing the pup in bitter resentment of its life making no difference... all he had sacrificed, and it still wasn't enough. The Nie get the pup, but NMJ still gets murked, and Huaisang makes a production out of not knowing how to take care for a pup, so he hands them over to JC to raise and so JC is a lonely omega of Lotus Pier, raising two heirs of sects that won't be his...

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3/8 運命の出会い記念日漫画 | とり [pixiv] 

Translated by yours truly, fran-dattebayo :) Requested by fts-peace. Enjoy :DD

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AsuCaga Headcanon Ending

/rewatched Gundam SEED and GSD/looks like writers left a lot of clues for happy AsuCaga ending/but never wrote a clear closure/so here I write my own/

“Going so soon?” Lunamaria asks.

“Yeah. There’s plenty of work waiting for me back in Orb.” Athrun says with a smile. Back home… He picks up his luggage. They were at the spaceport, him, Shinn, Lunamaria, and Meyrin, after dropping off Kira with Lacus at the PLANT Supreme Council Building. How strange; PLANT was his home, and still is, but now… “What about you guys? What are you doing after this?”

“Debriefing.” Lunamaria shrugs with exasperation. “With Commander Joule, once he’s finished with the meeting at the Supreme Council. We are to wait until he’s free.” She adds with a note of annoyance.

“If he’d heard you, you’ll be in trouble.” A familiar voice joins them from their left. Dearka approaches in his black ZAFT uniform and salutes Athrun. “Sorry, Athrun. He couldn’t make it, because of the meeting and all…”

“I’m sure he didn’t want to see my face anyway.” Athrun shrugs it off jokingly. Dearka laughs, and then they shake hands, one Orb uniform to one ZAFT uniform. Athrun turns back to the other three, also clad in their ZAFT uniforms, and salutes them. As he turns to board the shuttle, Meyrin finally speaks up.

“A-Athrun-san!” She calls. He turns back. “Um… Don’t forget to drop by, if you come back… Come visit us, once in a while?”

“Meyrin…” Lunamaria whispers, watching her sister. She puts a hand on Meyrin’s shoulder. Athrun watches and breaks into a small smile; this is what he wanted to see: Meyrin reuniting with her older sister. He felt guilty for dragging Meyrin into the mess when he had to escape from ZAFT, all because of his own mistaken decisions, and had made something of an internal promise to return the girl to her family. He felt a responsibility to watch over her, almost like she was his own littler sister.

“Sure.” He says, nodding. It is perhaps finally truly possible, the days when citizens from Earth and PLANT can visit each other frequently in peace rather than in war, in space shuttles rather than in Mobile Suits. With Lacus and Kira leading PLANT, and Cagalli leading Orb, he is confident those days will come. He waves them goodbye, and settles in for the flight back home.

Though the wars are finally over, the military hardly has time to rest. Humanitarian efforts come first; finding shelter for displaced refugees, taking care of disabled veterans, rebuilding lost homes. Then comes the cleanup effort; on Earth, the large amount of debris, sunken Mobile Suits, toxic nuclear cores, and remaining fallout from the Junius-7 drop; on PLANT, the remains of destroyed colonies Januarius and December, the vast belts of floating debris, and the remains of both superweapons Genesis and Requiem. Then comes the disarmament agreements; disposing weapons, warheads, cannons; decommissioning ships, fleets, Gundams, Zakus, Skygraspers. Orb has taken on the lead as Earth’s chief negotiator in handling the aftermath of the war, drafting treaties between PLANT and the Earth Alliance and conducting war crime trials. That means pretty much he and Cagalli has no time for each other. For two years after the second war ended Athrun served in the Orb military, helping with the postwar efforts, and had not once seen Cagalli personally outside of work-related duties. It is driving him nuts, however uncharacteristic it is for him to lose his cool.

Finally in the third year, when the government begins to decommission parts of the military itself, he is transferred into the astronautical branch and given charge of the engineering department; they task him with redeveloping surplus military equipment into devices of various purposes: from warships to explorer spaceships, from skygraspers to shuttles, from zakus to haulers, and from gundams to constructors. When he received the transfer order, he knew it was Cagalli who handpicked the job for him. She knows of his proficiency in robotics, and of course would come up with the idea of deconstructing weapons of destruction into instruments of construction.

He decides to pay her a visit that evening, waiting outside the Administrative Office in his car. He briefly wonders if it was a good idea, coming without any warning, without even trying to make an appointment, when he sees her escorted out of the building. He gets out of the car, and salutes silently. Cagalli is shocked, as are the Emirs around her still trying to discuss whatever issue they have just been discussing after the adjourned meeting. Cagalli excuses herself from their company and heads toward Athrun. Her bodyguards object initially, but she convinces them that Athrun is fully capable of protecting her; he is a Commander in the military, after all.

Athrun drives them toward the beach by the old shelter where Lacus and Kira have stayed before when Junius-7 was dropped. Neither of them says a word in the car; Cagalli steals a glance at him. His navy blue hair is whipped backwards by the wind, the moonlight dancing off his emerald green eyes. His face is serious, whether in deep thought or in concentration she does not know.

They stand side by side at the beach, Cagalli taking off the distinctive purple jacket of her Orb Representative uniform. She is the first to break the silence.

“So, what brought this on, all of a sudden?” She tries with a lighthearted tone.

“I got the transfer order today.” He answers.

“Oh, yeah, that.” She smiles. “I figured… you’re good with machines. It was just right. We were discussing what to do with all that surplus equipment. You didn’t hear what they were saying in the meeting. Some came up with the stupidest ideas! It’s like no one ever imagined a different use for gundams other than warfare! So I yelled at them, ‘You idiots! We put them into constructive use!’”

Athrun, amused, breaks into a small laugh. Seeing this, Cagalli feels a little relieved. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she was slightly avoiding Athrun after the war, using her busy schedule as an excuse. She wasn’t sure how to handle herself as Orb’s Chief Representative and wanting to be with him at the same time.

“But really, why didn’t everyone come up with the idea earlier?” She says quietly, staring at the horizon into the distance. Then perhaps, there would be less sacrifices, fewer lives lost…

“Cagalli…” Athrun wraps an arm around her shoulder, and she leans into his. It feels so natural, and those years apart suddenly disappear. “Thank you, Cagalli.”

“Hm?” She looks up at him.

“For the transfer. I agree with you, and…” He hesitates. “I think it’ll free up some of my time… for you, if you wanna…”

She blushes deeply. “That’s… not why I transferred you, you know!”

It is most bemusing to Athrun, but he patiently nods, “I know.”

Something stirs inside Cagalli; the patient, loving look on his face is one of the things she loves about this man standing before her, holding her in his arms, the man named Athrun Zala. She nods meekly, and reaches up for a kiss, the first one since they’ve been back in Orb. He notices, through half-lidded eyes, that underneath her white shirt she is wearing the ring he gave her in a necklace. So she still has it, this whole time…

It doesn’t take long for them to grow back to how close they were before the second war. Some nights he’d spend the night at her mansion, some nights she sneaks off to the military base to stay in his quarters; some nights she wakes up screaming for her father and he’s right there next to her, to comfort her; some nights they stay up talking about the future they want to build for Orb. Hearing about the things Athrun have done during the two years of rebuilding Orb has convinced her that this is indeed the man most suitable to be her husband, both for personal and political reasons. But it took a long time to convince the Council of Emirs of this. Almost according to expectation, their reception of her announcement that she will be engaged to Athrun Zala is nearly unanimously negative. It is clear that the end of violent conflict didn’t resolve some of their deep-seated sentiments about people from PLANT, particularly soldiers who have served in ZAFT. Both Athrun and Kisaka have to repeatedly remind Cagalli to stay patient, as antagonizing the Council over the matter will only weaken the stability of her position as head of state.

Slowly they address the challenges one by one: on the matter of his previous enlistment in ZAFT, the fact that he defected twice to join and protect Orb; on the matter of his heritage as Patrick Zala’s son, the fact that he nearly risked his life to stop his own father’s plans to destroy Earth. The revelation that Athrun is the war hero who destroyed both superweapons Genesis and Requiem, thus saving everyone on Earth twice, is the turning point in the debate. Some of the oldest Emirs, who served for a long time alongside her father Uzumi, actually begin to agree. The only one time Cagalli got really mad and Kisaka didn’t stop her is when the issue of Athrun’s race is brought up. Learning to hold back her tears despite being on the brink of an angry outburst, she firmly repeats the ideologies of her father: in Orb, people are welcome to live in peaceful coexistence regardless of their genetic backgrounds, whether they are a Natural or a Coordinator. To reject Athrun because he is a Coordinator and Cagalli is a Natural is to violate the very foundation upon which Orb champions Her independence, freedom, and love of peace.

To this end, Lacus Clyne publicly announces her support for Cagalli. She takes this opportunity to expose a serious problem that has been plaguing third-generation Coordinators: declining birthrates due to genetic incompatibility as a result of excessive genetic manipulation. Following in the footsteps of her father Siegel Clyne, Lacus is of the belief that a “return to Natural” is essential to the survival of Coordinators as a race. In fact, Coordinators are at a point where they can no longer afford to consider the concept a taboo. “Let their union be an example, a declaration,” she proclaims, “That we will strive to create a world where all people are accepted, where none are shunned because of what genes they carry, where we embrace our differences with love and open arms; where we see each other for who we truly are, and not be defined by the heritage we receive from our parents, however proud we may feel about it.”

To their pleasant surprise, the population of Orb is far more accepting of Athrun than the Council. Public opinion of Coordinators in Orb and in countries of the Earth Alliance has already turned for the better towards the end of the second war. Having Lacus Clyne’s public support proves crucial. More importantly, many are beginning to question the efficacy of arranged political marriages altogether, seeing as they did nothing to prevent wars. But what ultimately contributes the most is Athrun’s active service in the postwar restoration efforts - his face is well-known in the general population because they have seen and worked directly with his company in rebuilding their nation. The people see it far clearer, who is really there for them when their land is ravaged by war, who is truly the one protecting their country.

So in the end, they have the blessing of the Council to wed. And just in time, because Lacus is secretly growing impatient with having to delay her own wedding to Kira (they promised to officiate each other’s wedding); Lacus is the sweetest person Cagalli knows, but for some reason she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to see the pink-haired soon-to-be-sister-in-law angry. So first Cagalli and Athrun travel to PLANT, Cagalli as Chief Representative Athha of Orb to officiate her own brother’s wedding, and Athrun as Kira’s best man. Two weeks later their roles are flipped: Lacus and Kira travel to Orb so that Lacus can officiate Cagalli’s and Athrun’s wedding as PLANT’s Supreme Chairwoman, with Kira as the bride’s brother and Athrun’s best man. Their weddings are not only huge spectacles with more attendees than one can imagine, but are also official symbols of international alliance, a vow for peace that shall last for years to come, because that is the answer they have found after suffering through years of unimaginable pain and war, the future that they choose to build together.

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Athrun and Cagalli at the end of Super Robot Wars V, a video game series incorporating characters from all kinds of Gundam and Mecha shows. The games themselves are very strange since you see Athrun and Kira interacting with the Gundam 00 characters, the Cross Ange characters, etc. But the creators of SRW are known to do the characters of Destiny (especially Shinn) justice in terms of characterization. With regards to Gundam Seed/Destiny and the CE universe, SRW V takes place after the events of GSD (though a different version since Shinn was fighting Celestial Being as well as Orb –> See SRW Z).

This game came out on February 23, 2017, so it shows that even after almost 13 years since Destiny ended the creators of this game know that Athrun will always go back to Orb to be with Cagalli. 

Part of me isn’t sure what Athrun means when he asks Cagalli if she think “it’s hopeless” Do they mean maintaining the peace in Orb and the SRW universe? Are they talking about the two of them? Personally I think it’s the latter since they moved on from the talk about peace when Athrun asked Kira what he was going to do and Kira said he was going to travel the world (with Shinn apparently since Athrun isn’t coming).

Either way, this is nice as an Asucaga shipper after 16 years when Gundam Seed Destiny aired. Many of us have read comments from the director, official music videos, and the new remastered scenes (or Final Plus and Special Editions) that point to Athrun returning to Orb to be with Cagalli. However, it’s nice to see them interact after GSD too, even if it’s not officially canon (the only post GSD canon anyways is an Astray manga and the little notes on Gunpla Kits anyways! So frustrating!)

Anyways, if they ever make the Gundam Seed movie please have a solid team of writers and directors to help Fukuda out. Maybe make Fukuda the executive producer like on Cross Ange.

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Time Travel Fics!

Hey, Team! So I’m super into time travel fics and I thought I’d make a list of some of my faves. Hopefully, you all will enjoy them as much as I have. Also, if you have more suggestions that I or others should check out, please reblog/share/reply!

Some preliminary notes:

These fics all involve time travel in some capacity!

They’re all on Ao3, mostly just because that’s where I prefer to read fics.

The ships vary. All are Hermione-centric, but the pairings change! Main partners include Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy, and James Potter.

I’m 100% sure that there are more time travel fics that I haven’t read! These are just a few that I have devoured and enjoyed.

Please heed any and all warnings/tags! Don’t read anything that makes you uncomfortable. Fics should be warm and fuzzy (and angsty, let’s be real), but shouldn’t cause real pain. <3

And now on to the fics – in no particular order! (Under the cut)

Keep reading

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The Lost Tomb Reboot | Taking care of Wu Xie

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Wu Xie minding, Iron Triangle style

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And Venom Makes Three

This is for wxntersoldier ‘s challenge

Pairing: Eddie x reader x Venom

Prompt:  Getting you off is my new favorite hobby (bolded)

Summary:  Your first time with Eddie and a secret guest.

Warnings:  SMUT! Tentacle action, weird threesome, kinky

Words: 3k

               “I had a great time tonight Eddie.”  You stopped outside your building.  

               “I did too.”  The charming reporter smiled at you.  

               You felt like you were sixteen again, unsure if you were going to get the kiss and too timid to go for it yourself.  

               “Welp, goodnight.”  Eddie raised a hand and gave a short wave.  

               You did the same, your heart crushing in the process. Maybe he didn’t have such a great time. He turned and practically powered walked away.  

               “We wanted to kiss her!”  Eddie grumbled to himself.  

               “She wanted to kiss me, not you!”  Eddie argued back in his regular voice.  

               You shook your head, certain that you misheard. As you walked inside you pulled out your phone, ready to hit up your plenty-of-fish account for another date since Eddie turned into a bust.  

Keep reading

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All them heart eyes between Xiao Ge and Wu Xie 

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The Lost Tomb: Reboot | Kylin regained his eyesight

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The Lost Tomb: Reboot | Wu Xie leading the blind Kylin & Pang Zi