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ughbrie · 5 months ago

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converging threads | zayne

part one | part two

⤜ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ- “And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

“Now, he’s clawing his way into my thoughts, trying to make sense of a life that isn’t his to have.” Zayne’s hands curled into the fabric of your clothes, as if anchoring himself to something tangible. “And every time I look at you—” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he clutched you. “He’s reaching for you. And I don’t know if it’s me who wants you or if it’s him bleeding through.”

(Or… after the events of Chansia City, Zayne had started to avoid you. More than a week later, in the dead of night, he's outside of your door, struggling with his sense of self—blurring between two worlds.)

⤜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ- zayne x female reader

⤜ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ- angst, smut, & fluff

⤜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ- 8k

⤜ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ- nsfw, mdni, softdom!zayne, references to zayne's third anecdote (still in the dark), spoilers to zayne's main story branch (thorns under the moon) and four star memory (fragmented dreams), mentions of childhood trauma and violence, too much angst, oral sex (blowjob), dirty talk, penetration (p in v), clothed sex, riding, breast play, emotional sex, unprotected sex, and creampie.

⤜ ɴᴏᴛᴇ- As a dedicated Zayne main, I've always had a soft spot for Dawnbreaker!Zayne, I just want to give him the biggest hug! While he never explicitly took control of main story Zayne’s body, their connection through dreams and nightmares allowed them to see into each other’s lives. And so, I wanted to explore what it would be like if that connection blurred even further after the events of Chansia City, and how Zayne would react to it. I hope you enjoy reading!

The knock at your door was soft, barely audible over the hum of Linkon City outside. You might have missed it had you not been awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the restlessness clawing at your chest. Something felt wrong.

Hesitating for a moment, you peeled the blankets away and stepped towards the door. When you opened it, Zayne stood there, still as a statue. The warm glow from your apartment barely touched him; he lingered in the shadows of the hallway, his expression unreadable, like he was caught between two worlds—one where he stood before you and another far beyond, too distant to reach.

“Zayne?” Your voice was uncertain, your fingers tightening around the doorframe. He looked normal—his crisp shirt unwrinkled, his coat still shielding him from the cold. But his posture was rigid, like he was torn between memories, caught between the man you knew and something far more elusive, far darker. His breath came slow, controlled, but his fingers twitched at his sides, as if holding onto something unseen, something slipping away from his grasp.

It had been more than a week since you last saw him—more than a week since you clawed your way out of his dreamscape, fighting against the twisted phantoms of his nightmares and the suffocating pull of his uncontrollable evol. More than a week since he began avoiding you, and you couldn’t understand why.

You had searched for him—at Akso Hospital.

You pushed open the door to Akso Hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling your nose as you made your way down the familiar corridors. The sight of the bustling staff, the low murmur of nurses giving reports—it should have been comforting. But it wasn’t. Every step you took felt heavier, the weight of worry pressing down on your chest.

You were looking for Zayne. It had been a week since you’d seen him, and the silence between you was suffocating. You had tried calling, texting, but there was no sign of him.

You found Greyson near the nurses’ station, chatting with a few other doctors. He noticed you first, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his usual, easy smile appeared.

“Hey,” he greeted, his tone too casual. Too… practiced. “What brings you by?”

“I was hoping to see Dr. Zayne. Is he around?” You tried to keep your voice even, but the question felt like a weight in your chest.

Greyson shifted on his feet, glancing toward the hallway where Dr. Zayne’s office was. “Oh, you know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “He’s been buried in surgeries lately. Really busy.”

You frowned. “Busy? He hasn’t been answering my calls. I’ve tried everything.”

At the sound of your words, Greyson’s gaze flickered uncomfortably, and before he could answer, Yvonne appeared beside him, her bright smile almost too wide.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here today!” Yvonne chirped, her voice all sweetness, but there was a subtle edge to it. “Greyson’s right. Dr. Zayne’s probably just deep in work. You know how he gets, don’t you?”

You nodded, but the unease in your chest grew. “But… I haven’t been able to reach him. And he’s been avoiding me. I’m starting to get worried.”

There was a beat of silence before Yvonne glanced at Greyson, then back at you. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion almost too practiced. “Oh, you know Dr. Zayne,” she said, her voice a little too smooth. “He’s a bit of a workaholic. And, well, he’s been dealing with some… personal things lately. I’m sure he’ll be in touch when he’s ready.”

Greyson cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s just focused on… other things right now.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach. Something wasn’t right. Both of them were too evasive, too careful with their words.

“So he’s just been… avoiding me because he’s busy?” You asked, your voice thick with skepticism.

Yvonne’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes shifted just a little. “Exactly! He’ll reach out when he’s ready. Don’t worry.”

But you weren’t convinced. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t telling you. Before you could press further, Yvonne’s phone rang, and she quickly excused herself with a bright, almost rehearsed smile.

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Zayne’s just… well, Zayne. He’ll be back to his usual self soon enough.”

The words felt hollow, like a lie wrapped in a smile.

You turned to leave, the knot in your stomach tightening. Something wasn’t right, and you were more determined than ever to find out what was going on.

You even went to his home not two days after. You had been patient, given him space, but the silence between you was gnawing at you, and you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

You arrived at his place and paused outside the gate, your heart sinking. The house sat dark and still, as though no one had been home for hours. The front door was locked, the quiet expanse of the yard untouched. No sign of Zayne’s car in the driveway. No movement behind the windows.

Frowning, you reached for your phone, calling him once more. It rang, and rang… and rang. But there was no answer. No familiar voice on the other end. You tried again, and again—each unanswered call tightening the knot of anxiety in your chest. It was unlike him. Even when he was busy at work, he always answered your calls. You thought things had changed between you—gone beyond just childhood friends, past the barriers you once had.

You hadn’t been able to ignore the way things had shifted between the two of you, how you’d shared more, laughed more, and even kissed—moments that felt like stepping into something real, something undeniable. And yet now, in the silence, you felt that connection fraying, slipping out of your grasp.

You reached for the gate, testing it, but it was locked tight. The metal was cold beneath your fingers, the weight of it pressing down on you in a way you couldn’t quite shake. You knocked gently on the gate, your hand hesitant against the metal, but there was no answer. No sound from inside. No footsteps echoing in the distance. Just more silence.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the door, wondering if you were missing something, if you were just being paranoid. But there was no denying the gnawing sense that you were being shut out.

Yet now, here he stood, unannounced, uninvited. The sight of him should have brought relief, but something was off, like he was a mere shadow of the man you knew.

“You should’ve let me in sooner,” he murmured, a wry attempt at a smile barely forming before fading just as quickly. His voice was softer than usual, almost exhausted, like the fight had been taken out of him. You stepped aside instinctively, letting him in. He didn’t move right away. Instead, his gaze lingered on you—as if memorizing every detail, confirming that you were real, that this wasn’t just another one of his nightmares.

Then, finally, he stepped through. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the two of you in the silence of your small apartment. He exhaled, but this time it was unsteady—as if releasing a breath he’d been holding for far too long. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his coat pockets, a feeble attempt to mask the unease rolling off him in waves.

“Zayne, where have you been?” The question came out before you could stop it. His avoidance had gnawed at you, making every second of silence between you feel like it stretched on forever.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor for a brief moment, like he was trying to find the right words. Then, finally, his voice broke through, hoarse and fragile, as if he’d been swallowing down too many words for too long. “Every time I close my eyes, I see a world where you don’t exist.”

The confession hit like thunder in your chest. Your breath caught, eyes wide with confusion, but something else too—fear, a strange sense of loss, creeping in. You stared at him, unable to comprehend, yet knowing there was so much more buried beneath the surface.

“It’s not just nightmares anymore,” he whispered, voice barely audible. His eyes flickered with something raw and unfamiliar—something you hadn’t seen in him before. “It’s bleeding into the day. I can’t… separate it. Separate me.”

You frowned, confusion tightening around your thoughts, heart pounding. “Separate what? Zayne, what are you talking about?”

He stiffened, jaw tightening as if he’d realized he’d said too much. He shook his head, dismissing the words before they could fully escape. “Ignore what I said.” he muttered, but the tension in his voice betrayed him.

“Zayne…” You stepped closer, cautious but firm. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

A bitter chuckle escaped him, but there was no humor in it. His hand drifted to his temple, pressing hard as if trying to force something out of his mind. “I don’t know how to explain it.” His voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in his composure. “I don’t even know if it’s mine to explain.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Zayne was rarely uncertain. But now, he looked lost, like he was trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers. The man who had always been in control, who always had an answer, was unraveling in front of you.

“Then let me help,” you said softly, reaching for him.

He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching into fists before loosening just as quickly, as if even that took too much effort. “I don’t think you can,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. The warmth of his body under your touch should have felt familiar, comforting, but there was something cold in the air around him that you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m here,” you reminded him gently, voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His shoulders sagged just slightly, his resolve faltering under the weight of something neither of you could name.

You guided Zayne to the couch with a soft insistence, his steps heavy, like each one was taking him further away from something he couldn’t quite grasp. He didn’t resist, but his hesitation was palpable. You noticed the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he sat down, his back stiff, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

You sat next to him, your fingers brushing the fabric of his coat as you settled yourself. The space between you both felt charged, yet strained, like two magnets unwillingly attracted but refusing to align.

Your hand hovered near his arm, unsure, but you couldn’t ignore the impulse to reach out. The last few days—weeks—had felt like a slow, suffocating crawl through a fog. Seeing him like this, so unguarded, was both a relief and a deepening worry.

“Zayne…” You started, your voice low, soft. You weren’t sure how to approach him anymore. He had been pulling away, emotionally distant, and now, even his presence seemed fractured.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.

At the first touch, his body flinched. Not an outward movement, but a sharp intake of breath, like a quiet shudder that ran through him. His hazel-green eyes were blown wide, pupils dark and dilated, swallowing the soft color until only a thin ring of green remained. For a brief moment, he looked at you—through you—like he was caught between two realities, struggling to tether himself to the one in front of him.

Then, just as quickly, his gaze flickered away, his throat working around a breath that sounded too controlled, too measured. As if he was holding something back. The air between you thickened, the weight of his restraint pressing into the space between your fingers. His jaw tensed, a sharp line of tension beneath his skin, and yet—he didn’t move away.

With a careful breath, you let your hand rest against his arm, your fingers curling gently around the fabric of his coat. You felt him tense beneath your touch, but it wasn’t from discomfort. No, it was something else. Something deeper. His body shuddered again, more pronounced this time, and you could feel his muscles ripple under the strain of holding back.

“Zayne…” You said his name again, this time softer, as though you were speaking to someone who was slipping away. You moved a little closer, hoping that your proximity would ground him somehow, though you weren’t entirely sure how.

His voice cracked when he spoke, low and hoarse, like a man speaking to a ghost. “Every time you touch me… it’s like… I feel like I’m being pulled in two directions.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to make sense of his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, your hand still resting on his arm, waiting, watching him closely.

Zayne exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his sides as if struggling to find an anchor. “I’ve always suffered from nightmares,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “The same ones I’ve always had since I was young. But after what happened at Chansia City…” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “It didn’t stop when I woke up.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You knew Zayne had always been plagued by restless nights, but this—this was different. You thought back to that moment at Akso Hospital, when you had found him slumped over his desk.

His brow was creased with the weight of exhaustion. His breathing had been uneven, his hands gripping the fabric of his coat as if he were bracing himself against something unseen. You had hesitated before stepping closer, unsure if you should wake him. But the quiet distress on his face made the decision for you.

“Zayne…” you had whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The moment your fingers made contact, he jolted awake with a sharp breath, his eyes wild with something you couldn’t name. For a split second, it was as if he didn’t recognize you, as if he were somewhere else entirely.

But then, his gaze softened, reality bleeding back into him. His breathing was still heavy, his shoulders tense, but when you knelt beside him, concern written all over your face, he didn’t pull away.

Without thinking, you had reached out again, brushing his hair back in a quiet attempt to soothe him. His body sagged under your touch, the tension in his shoulders melting just enough for him to lean forward. And before you could react, he rested his forehead against your chest, his breaths uneven as if the simple act of being close to you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You had stilled at first, heat creeping up your neck, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, you let him stay there, your fingers threading through his hair in slow, absentminded strokes. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the sound of his breathing evening out against you, his body losing some of its rigidness.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Just… let me stay like this for a while.”

And you had. Because for the first time, you realized how deeply tired he was.At the time, you thought he was just tired physically, but now you realized he was tired in a way that ran so much deeper as you watched him sitting on your couch, that same exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, only now it was accompanied by something far worse. He wasn’t just tired. He was unraveling.

“I thought I could ignore it,” he continued, pulling you back to the present. “I thought it would fade eventually. But it’s not stopping.” His fingers curled into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ground himself. “It’s getting worse.”

You swallowed hard. “The nightmares?”

“They’re not just nightmares anymore.” He exhaled sharply, his hands clenching before loosening again. “They’re memories of a life that isn’t mine.” His jaw tightened, his entire body tense with something unreadable. “And the worst part?” His eyes flickered to yours, dark and conflicted. “I feel like I’m walking on air, seeing things that aren’t there, feeling emotions that aren’t mine.”

You frowned. “Zayne, what are you talking about?”

His throat worked around a response, but for a moment, he said nothing, only looking at you with something close to desperation. He shook his head as if trying to shake off the words before they could leave his mouth.

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, but you weren’t about to let it go.

“It does matter,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for more than a week. You look like you’re about to fall apart, and now you’re telling me ‘it doesn’t matter’? What’s happening to you?”

He let out a bitter chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t even know if I can explain it. It’s… there’s another version of me. One I can’t escape. And he—” Zayne cut himself off abruptly, dragging a hand over his face. “He’s ruining everything.”

The conflict in his expression made your stomach twist. You had never seen him like this—so lost, so tangled in something that seemed beyond even his understanding. And when you reached for him again, your fingers brushing past his sleeve against his skin, you saw the way he shuddered.

At first, you thought his reactions stemmed from discomfort—that every shudder, every tensed muscle was his way of pulling away. But then you saw it. The way his breath hitched. The way his lashes fluttered shut for the briefest second, as if savoring the warmth of your touch. As if he had been starving for it.

It wasn’t rejection. It was restraint.

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally spoke, his voice raw. “Every time you touch me…” He exhaled sharply, as if the words themselves were dangerous. “It’s like my world’s losing its sense of direction.”

His confession stole the air from your lungs.

“But it’s not just me that wants this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And that’s what scares me.”

Your fingers curled slightly around his wrist, grounding both of you in the silence between words. Zayne’s breath was uneven, his body strung taut beneath your touch. You could see it—the war waging within him, the push and pull of something he refused to name. His fingers curled at his sides, clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was holding himself back.

But from what? From who?

The question burned at the edges of your mind, but you didn’t voice it. Instead, you did the only thing you could think of. You moved.

Slowly, you climbed onto the couch, onto him, your knees settling on either side of his thighs as you straddled his lap. His entire body went rigid beneath you, his breath stalling in his throat.

“You—” His voice broke, a warning tangled in desperation. His hands shot up, as if to push you away—but the moment his palms met your waist, he froze.

A violent shudder ran through him, his grip faltering but never leaving you. He barely held together, his fingers twitched against your sides, his body caught in an unbearable tension.

“You shouldn’t…” he rasped, but even as he said it, his hands pulled.

Pulled you closer.

Pulled you flush against him, until there was no space left to retreat.

You gasped softly at the sudden contact, at the warmth of him, the way his body molded against yours like he had been starving for this. For you.

His head dipped forward, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as his breath came out in a harsh, unsteady exhale. His grip on your waist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel how badly he was struggling.

“Zayne…” You whispered his name, hands lifting to cradle his face, to guide him to look at you. He didn’t resist, but the moment your fingers brushed against his jaw, his eyes fluttered shut—his entire body reacting as if your touch was something he had been craving but forbidden from having.

“Every time you touch me…” He repeated, his voice was raw, nearly fractured. “I feel like I’m slipping deeper.”

Your fingers trembled slightly against his skin. “Slipping into what?”

His jaw clenched. His hands trembled against your waist, caught between pulling you closer and pushing you away.

“Him.”

The word sent a chill down your spine.

Zayne’s eyes finally opened, and what you saw there made your breath hitch.

Something was breaking inside him.

Something was bleeding through.

Like the fragile moment before dawn—when night still clung to the sky, desperate to remain, yet the light pressed forward, inevitable. A battle between darkness and the coming sun, neither willing to yield.

You didn’t know who he was, or why Zayne was fighting so hard to keep him at bay, but you could feel it—how much hewas longing for you. How much Zayne himself was afraid of that longing.

Your hands slid from his face to his shoulders, steadying him, grounding him. “You’re still you,” you murmured. “No one else.”

His fingers flexed against your waist, his breath ragged. “Then why does it feel like every time you touch me… I’m losing control of myself?”

He was slipping, unraveling, caught between two selves—one who had you, and one who had only ever ached for you.

And for the first time, Zayne wasn’t sure which one he wanted to be.

You sighed, your fingers curled against his shoulders, gripping him just a little tighter. His body was warm beneath your touch, but the tension in him never eased. If anything, it worsened.

“Zayne,” you whispered, searching his face. “Help me ease your mind, tell me everything. Tell me about him.”

His expression darkened instantly. His hands, still gripping your waist, stiffened before pushing you back—just slightly, just enough to put distance between you.

“No.”

The refusal was sharp, final.

But you didn’t let go. “Zayne, please.”

His jaw locked, his breath coming out in harsh exhales as he tried to rein himself in. But you had already seen it—the flicker of something raw in his gaze, the weight pressing down on him like it was crushing him from the inside.

He turned his head away, his grip tightening before he forced himself to let go. “I don’t want to tell you.” His voice was quieter now, but no less strained. “Because if I do…” His throat bobbed, his hands clenching into fists. “What if you look at me differently?”

Your chest ached. “Zayne—”

“He’s not me,” Zayne bit out, his voice lower now, edged with something close to rage. His fingers dug into the fabric of your clothes as if anchoring himself. “I don’t care what I see, what I feel—he is not me.”

You frowned, your heart pounding. “I didn’t say he was—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, his fingers digging into you much harder before he wrenched them away, as if touching you made it worse. “It shouldn’t matter. Because whatever he is—whatever he’s done—I am not him.”

His voice cracked at the end, his composure slipping, and it hurt more than anything. Not because of what he wasn’t telling you, but because he was carrying it alone, letting it eat away at him like he deserved it.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “Zayne, I don’t care what you think this means. I don’t care what’s bleeding through or what memories aren’t yours.” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “What hurts me isn’t who you were or weren’t—it’s this.” You gestured between the two of you, the distance he was trying to wedge between you. “It’s you shutting me out, punishing yourself like you have to carry this alone.”

Zayne let out a sharp breath, his fingers curling into fists against the curve of your waist. His grip was tense, hesitant—like he was still fighting himself.

You watched him carefully, the weight of his silence pressing against your chest. He had been resisting, keeping himself locked away behind walls you couldn’t breach. But this time… this time, something shifted.

And then you realized it.

It wasn’t your persistence that made him falter. It wasn’t even the promise that you would accept him, no matter what. It was the fact that you told him it hurt you too. That his silence, his self-inflicted suffering, didn’t just wound him—it wounded you.

Zayne’s throat bobbed, his gaze flickering, as if weighing the consequences of speaking the truth. His fingers flexed against you, his breath uneven.

Finally, he asked, “Do you know why I became a doctor?”

You hesitated. “Because you wanted to save people.”

“Partly,” He let out a bitter laugh. “But mostly because I spent my entire childhood dreaming of a man butchering them.” His hands raked through his hair, gripping at the strands.

“It started when I was twelve.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I didn’t understand it then. I just knew that every night, I saw his hands, covered in blood. I heard the screams, felt the cold metal of a blade I never held.” His fingers flexed against your waist. “And every morning, I woke up terrified that I’d become him.”

You sucked in a quiet breath.

“That’s why I became a doctor,” Zayne muttered, his voice barely audible now. “To erase him. To bury him. Every life I saved was another step away from him.” His gaze snapped back to you, and there was something close to desperation in it.

He paused, and his gaze softened just slightly as it met yours, though there was still that edge of desperation.

“And… I wanted to help you, too. Since the first time I saw you struggling with your heart… I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you, not like that.”

Your heart pounded. “Zayne…”

“But now?” His gaze locked onto yours, and you almost flinched at the intensity in his eyes. “Now it’s not just nightmares. After Chansia City… it’s like something cracked. Like I bled through him.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

His fingers flexed against your skin, then curled into a fist, as if the words physically hurt to say. “I used to only see flashes. His world, his sins—they were nothing more than fragments. But now? I see his everyday life.” His voice dropped lower, as if saying it out loud made it more real. “I see him waking up in an empty apartment, walking through streets that no longer have names. I see him looking for something—someone—who was never there.”

Your chest tightened. “Zayne—”

“And I know what that loneliness feels like.” His voice was rough, raw. “Because when I had nightmares of his life… he dreamt of mine.”

A chill ran through you.

“He dreamt of Linkon. Of Akso. Of—” He swallowed hard, his grip on you unyielding. “You.”

The word hung between you, heavy and fragile at the same time.

Your heart pounded.

His pain was something you could see, something you could feel in the way he held you too tightly, in the way he refused to look away, as if afraid you’d vanish if he did.

“Does it change anything?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Zayne’s breath stilled.

“No, it doesn’t,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I want you. I do. I’ve never denied that.” His fingers curled against your skin, holding you closer. “But this… it’s never felt like this before.”

His gaze darkened, his brows drawing together. “Like I can’t go a second without feeling you, without needing you right here. And I don’t know if it’s just me—if it’s always been me—or if it’s him. But it doesn’t matter.” His voice dropped lower, rough with something unspoken. “Because either way… I still want you.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’re here, right now. Whatever he feels, whatever he wants—this moment belongs to you.”

His throat bobbed, the conflict in his gaze raw and unfiltered. His fingers twitched where they held you, as if he wanted to push you away and pull you closer all at once.

And then—finally—he whispered, “I don’t know if I can separate us anymore.”

Zayne’s breath hitched, his hands still gripping your waist like a man on the verge of breaking. His body was rigid beneath yours, every muscle coiled tight with restraint. His stormy eyes flickered between your lips and your gaze, warring with something unseen.

You could feel it—the way he was holding himself back, the way his fingers twitched against your skin like he was fighting the instinct to pull you in.

And then, just when you thought he might push you away—he moved.

His lips crashed against yours, the kiss rough, almost desperate. A sharp inhale left him as his fingers tightened at your sides, pressing you flush against him. It wasn’t careful, wasn’t measured like everything else about him. It was hurried, hungry, as if he had been drowning for far too long and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

Yet even in his desperation, there was hesitation—a tremor in his touch, a battle within him. His grip faltered, his breathing unsteady, as if his own emotions were overwhelming him.

For a moment, he slowed, his lips ghosting over yours, softer now—less frantic, more reverent. His fingers traced up your back, like he was memorizing every inch of you, terrified you might disappear.

But then when you surged forward to deepen the kiss, something in him snapped.

His restraint shattered as his hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. His other hand dug into your waist, as if grounding himself in the feeling of you. He let out a quiet, shuddering breath against your lips, his body trembling beneath your touch.

It wasn’t just desire—it was longing. A desperate, aching need that had been simmering beneath his skin for far too long.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

He kissed you harder, as if trying to chase away the ghosts of a world where you didn’t exist—where he had spent endless nights reaching for something that was never there.

Zayne’s breathing was ragged as he suddenly tore himself away from you, his forehead pressing against yours, his grip on your waist still firm but trembling. His chest rose and fell in unsteady heaves, as if he had just surfaced from deep waters.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped, his voice thick with something raw and desperate. His fingers flexed against your waist before slowly dragging up your sides, his touch both grounding and possessive. “But I need to feel—” His words cut off, a quiet ‘fuck’ slipping from his lips as he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stop.

You could see it—feel it. The battle raging within him. The desperate need to claim this moment as his own, to separate himself, to make sure that this—this longing, this ache, this hunger—was his, and not something bleeding over from the nightmares that haunted him.

His fingers ghosted over your arms before gripping your wrists, guiding them up to rest against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms, erratic and heavy, proof of his struggle. His eyes searched yours, dark with emotion, pleading for something he couldn’t voice.

“I need to know it’s me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not him. Not the dreams. Just… me. But I don’t trust myself enough not to hurt you.”

His fingers brushed your skin, hesitant, reverent—like he was afraid of his own hands.

“But I trust you.”

The words felt heavier than anything else he had said tonight, laced with the weight of every nightmare, every fear, every ghost of a life that wasn’t his. He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“I need you to take control,” he murmured, each syllable careful, deliberate. “I need to know this is real—that you’re real—that I’m real.” His hands curled into fists before he forced them to relax against you. “Because if I let go now… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

There was no mistaking what he meant. No mistaking the conflict in his gaze—the desperation tangled with restraint, the need warring with self-loathing.

Your hands slid up from his chest to cup his face, fingertips brushing against the sharp angles of his jaw.

“It’s you, Zayne,” you whispered, your voice steady, certain. “You.”

You tilted his face up, brushing your lips against his—a whisper of a touch, just enough to tether him to the present, to this moment with you. He shuddered beneath your touch, his hands tightening at your waist as if anchoring himself.

“I’m here,” you continued, pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another along the line of his jaw. “This is real. We’re real.”

A sharp exhale left him, his resolve breaking little by little as you pressed against him. His grip on your waist faltered, then returned, stronger—desperate.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured against his skin.

He shuddered at your words, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he wrestled with the warring emotions inside him. When they opened again, the desperation had intensified, the dark gray irises nearly swallowed by the black of his pupils.

“Show me,” he rasped, his voice low and rough with barely restrained desire. “Make me believe it.”

You took your time, trailing kisses along his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt as your lips travelled down. You wanted to savor this moment, to make sure he knew it was him, that this was real.

As you sank to your knees before him, you looked up at Zayne through your lashes. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. You wanted to erase every nightmare, every fear, every shadow that haunted him.

“You’re real,” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his cloth-covered arousal. “This is real.”

With a steadying breath, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the bulge straining against his zipper. You could feel the heat of him, the throbbing need, and it made your own body ache in response.

You worked slowly, unzipping him with deliberate care, letting your fingers brush against his arousal as you did. He was already hard, the thick length of him stretching the fabric of his boxers.

You haven’t seen him naked before, and crossing this line made your thighs clench. Glancing up at him, you caught his gaze, holding it as you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down. His cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect, the swollen head already glistening with need.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around the thick base of Zayne’s cock, giving him a firm squeeze as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes. “You’re beautiful, Zayne.”

Slowly, teasingly, you started to stroke him, your soft palm gliding along his hard length. You could feel every throbbing vein and ridge, committing the shape of him to memory.

Leaning in, you breathed over his swollen cock head, then, with a deliberate slowness that was almost torturous, you dragged the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein that ran from base to tip. You lingered at the sensitive spot just below the head, swirling your tongue around it before giving it a firm press.

Zayne shuddered and groaned, his fingers flexing in your hair as you dragged your tongue back down to the base, your hand following the same path. When you reached the bottom, you dipped your tongue into the neat little slit at the tip, tasting the first salty drops of his arousal.

Savoring his flavor, you wrapped your lips around the swollen head, your soft mouth stretching around his impressive girth. You suckled gently, your cheeks hollowing as you began to take him deeper, inch by hard inch.

“Your mouth… it feels so g-good…” he groaned.

The praise that escaped his lips made the flush on your face more evident. As your lips moved slowly down his shaft, encasing him in the slick heat of your mouth, your tongue undulated along the thick vein on the underside as you took him deeper, until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

You held yourself there for a long moment, relishing the heavy, throbbing weight of him, the musky scent of his arousal flooding your senses. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you began to bob your head, taking him deeper into your throat with each downward motion.

Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, stroking and squeezing as you sucked him. You could feel him growing harder, the thick length of him pulsing against your tongue as you pleasured him.

“Fuck… just like that…”

You couldn’t help but moan around his cock at his groans, your brain committing the sounds to memory. You doubled your efforts when you felt he was close, sucking harder, stroking faster, your tongue never still as it lapped and swirled and caressed every hard, throbbing inch of him.

His grip on your hair tightened, his hips starting to piston forward, fucking your mouth as you sucked him with wild abandon. You could feel his body tensing, his breath coming in harsh pants and groans.

“I can’t… I can’t hold back much longer…”

And then, with a roar that was nearly feral in its intensity, he came. His cock jerked and throbbed as it erupted, shooting hot, thick ropes of cum down your eager throat.

You swallowed it all, working your throat to milk every last drop from his pulsing length. The taste of him was intense, the salty-sweet flavor of his essence exploding on your tongue.

As the waves of his release began to ebb, you slowly pulled back, letting his still hard cock slip from your lips with a lewd pop. You licked your lips, savoring the lingering taste of him as you gazed up at Zayne with a look of pure, sated desire.

“Zayne,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “It’s you. This is you. You’re real.”

You placed a soft, lingering kiss on the tip of his cock before nuzzling your cheek against his thigh, looking up at him with a smile that was pure tenderness mixed with deep, abiding lust.

As the last tremors of his intense orgasm faded, Zayne reached down and gently but firmly pulled you up by your arms, urging you back into his lap. You went willingly, straddling his hips as you sat facing him.

His hands slid around to your back, one resting high on the curve of your shoulder blades, the other splayed across the small of your back, pulling you flush against his strong chest. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Gazing into your eyes, Zayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. It was a kiss filled with gratitude, with hunger, with a desperate need to claim you, to make you his.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting himself on your lips and tongue.

As you both lost yourselves in the kiss, you could feel Zayne’s cock, still semi-erect and slick with your saliva, nudging against your core. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you ache with a renewed desire.

Almost unconsciously, your hips began to move, grinding against his in a slow, sensual rhythm. You could feel the heat building between your thighs, the dampness of your arousal soaking through your panties.

Zayne groaned into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt your hips rolling against his. His cock twitched and began to harden further, growing thicker and longer with each passing second.

Breaking the kiss, Zayne trailed his lips down the column of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse. “Ride me,” he growled against your skin, his voice low and rough with renewed desire. “I need to feel you, all of you, surrounding me, consuming me, making me forget everything but your name.”

You shuddered at his words, at the raw, primal need in his voice. Reaching down, you pushed your panties aside, baring your slick, needy sex to the cool air and his heated gaze. You could feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, a testament to how much you wanted him, needed him.

With a roll of your hips, you positioned yourself over his hardening length, feeling the thick head nudging against your entrance, you slowly sank down. You were so wet, so ready for him, that he slid inside you with a single, smooth thrust.

You both groaned at the sensation, your inner walls fluttering and clenching around his thickness as he stretched and filled you completely. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it brushed against your sensitive flesh, igniting nerve endings you didn’t know you had.

Zayne’s hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements as you began to ride him. You started slowly, rising up until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt.

“You feel so good, love.” he murmured, his lips parted open.

With each downward motion, you could feel the pleasure building, the coil of tension in your core winding tighter and tighter.

You arched your back and Zayne leaned forward, freeing your breasts from the confines of your shirt as he lifted it by the hem. He captured one straining nipple in his mouth, suckling and nipping at the sensitive bud. His free hand slid from your hip to the juncture between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing the swollen nub in tight, fast circles.

You cried out, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Your hips moved faster, rising and falling in a frantic rhythm as you chased your pleasure. The wet, obscene sounds of your coupling filled the room, spurring you both on.

His other hand inch upward, holding your head firmly, his fingers tangling in your hair, Zayne tilted your chin up to gently force your gaze to meet his intense, hazel-eyed stare. He let out a strangled moan, “Say my name, love. Come on…”

Zayne’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as he guided your increasingly desperate movements. His own hips surged up to meet yours, driving his thick length deeper, harder, faster into your clutching heat.

“Zayne,” you breathed, “You’re the only one I want, the only one I need.”

His breathing grew ragged, each exhale escaping through gritted teeth as he lost himself in the slick slide of your bodies joining again and again. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixing with the staccato cries spilling from your lips.

Zayne’s hand moved from your clit to your breast, squeezing the soft mound roughly as he pinched and rolled the stiff peak between his fingers. He leaned down, his hair falling forward as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, tasting the salt of your skin.

“Fuck, just like that…” he growled against your neck, his voice strained. “S-Say my name again—please…”

His words sent shivers down your spine, making your inner muscles clench around him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as it stretched you, filled you, owned you.

“Z-Zayne…!” you moaned.

Zayne’s thrusts became more erratic, more desperate at the cry from your lips. The hand on your hip slid around to the small of your back, pressing you flush against him as he pounded up into you. The couch creaking with each surge of his hips, the sound mingling with your cries and his grunts.

You could feel the tension building in your core, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter as you climbed towards your peak. Your nails raked down Zayne’s nape as you held on for dear life.

With a harsh curse, Zayne slammed up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his release overtook him. His cock jerked and pulsed inside you, painting your insides with his hot release.

The sensation of his release pushed you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your body convulsed, melting into him as your inner muscles clamped down around him while you came apart in his arms.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you gasping for air as the aftershocks of your release rippled through you. Zayne’s arms tightened around you, drawing you in close, his heartbeat steady beneath his damp shirt, grounding you in the moment.

In the quiet aftermath, as your breath began to steady, Zayne placed a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there as if memorizing the moment. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice raw and heavy with emotion. “For this. For everything.”

You gently cupped his face, guiding him to look at you. “You have me, Zayne,” you said softly, your words steady and sure. “No matter who you are, no matter who you become—I’ll never walk away.”

He paused as his fingers brushed gently across your damp cheek.

He spoke, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “All I know now is that… the only thing I’m sure of,” he began, his forehead resting against yours once more, “is you.” He swallowed, his grip around you tightening as if trying to ground himself in the present.

You thought that would be the end of it, but he exhaled, a shudder racking through him.

“I never believed in fate,” he added, his voice low, but without any trace of bitterness—only a quiet acceptance. “But now, I do. Because no matter where I am, or who I am… you’re the constant. The one thing that’s always been real.”

He paused, his words heavy with an ache that tightened your chest. “And I think… I think I’m meant to love you in every life, in every timeline. I’m meant to be with you. And no matter how complicated it gets, no matter what happens, I’ll always end up finding you.”

His grip on you tightened further, pulling you closer, as if to make sure you were really there. “Now… I can’t help but feel… bad for him.”

A heavy sigh escaped him, thick with weight and regret. “He doesn’t have you. He doesn’t get to have this—this connection.” His voice wavered, raw with something unspoken. “And I think that’s what hurts the most. No matter how much I try to separate myself from him, I can’t shake the feeling that a version of me is still reaching for you. That somewhere… in every universe, in every life, even if you don’t exist in it—it will always be you.”

part one | part two

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3 if you want to check out more of my writings, head on to here — masterlist.

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qiyuearning · 4 months ago

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girldad!zayne who is irrevocably terrified of fatherhood. ironic, he knows.

zayne who has helped delivered more children than he can count, yet his hands still tremble when he cradles one of his own. his daughter.

zayne who needs to keep reminding himself he is a capable man. he’s done this before, he can do it again. there shouldn’t be a problem. he of all people shouldn’t feel this way. he knows you need help the most right now.

zayne who is hesitant to touch her. he keeps imagining these silly, impossible scenarios that leave him waking up in a horrible, cold sweat. like, if his ice evol were to act up while he was holding her. he knows for a fact he’s since come to stabilize himself, that the chances of him hurting her with his evol were slim to none, but what if it did happen? he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. he wouldn’t know how to face you. her.

zayne who is trying his best to support her.

zayne who tenses up when you place his daughter into his arms. he looks towards you. that look in your eyes, something that held only the purest form of trust and understanding. he slowly relaxes, his hand steadily coming up to caress the baby girl’s soft cheek.

zayne who wants to be there for every single one of her milestones. her first word, her first time crawling, her first time trying a carrot (preferably steamed), the first time she chooses to run to dad rather than mom— even though he knows the chances are slim to none.

zayne who feels like he’s finding happiness all over again. first, with you. then, with her.

that happiness, he’s found, came in the form of every morning the two of you spent gushing over how adorable she was as she ate in her high chair, and every night the two of you stood exhausted by her crib after hours of trying to get her to sleep.

lately, that happiness has begun to come in the form of every morning he spends getting her ready for school, meticulously tying her hair in pretty ribbons just how she likes, and every night he sits at her bedside, tucking her in with a goodnight kiss to the forehead.

zayne who is trying his best to be a good father.

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ekaymnslvs · 26 days ago

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"But even though you're killing me

I, I need you like the air I breathe

I need, I need you more than me

I need you more than anything

Please, please"

#fanart #lads #love and deepspace #digital art #artists on tumblr #lads zayne #dawnbreaker #sketch

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quitesins · 2 months ago

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Imagine if Mc’s soul split in two during reincarnation, with the Mc taking their heart and the Reader taking their memories. So there’s someone out there who remembers every past life, every love, every death and heartbreak. And can’t do anything but watch as the Mc and the love interests live out their lives together because without the Mc’s heart, not a single one of them recognise the Reader.

#SORRY I LOVE UNREQUITED LOVE #kinda like how dawnbreaker sees the moments thru zayne #love and deepspace #non mc reader #lads #zayne #caleb #sylus #Xavier #rafayel #lads mc #lads x reader #x reader #quite ramblings #unrequited love #angst

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unintentionalseductress · 3 months ago

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The Spaces In Between

Warnings: MDNI, sex, threesome, DVP, creampies, cum tasting, mentions of death, angst, Zayne mildly bullying Dawnbreaker Summary: A celestial event strands you in Dawnbreaker's reality. With him and Zayen in such close quarters, things get a litte wild. A/n: This blog used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Hello everyone! Here is it, as promised! I will say, this took way longer than expected. Due to some not so fun real life stuff, I had to balance out writing this in between but it's here. Not really proofread.

A streak of moonlight peeks through the cracked glass windowpane, getting lost in the brightness of the well-lit living room. You shuffle uncomfortably on the sofa as your eyes flick back and forth between the two men on opposite sides of the coffee table. Your mind tries to rationalize the situation, attempting to convince you that stranger situations have happened, yet none come to mind as you wait in an achingly familiar living room that you simultaneously have and haven’t been in before.

Zayne eyes the man facing him with suspicion, his slim fingertips interlocked contemplatively as though trying to judge his next move. The other man eyes him with an identical expression of cautious appraisal. His resemblance to Zayne was slightly unnerving, from the part of his hair down to the last strand of whiskey bleeding into the green of his irises.

His clothes were all black, save for the tie, which had small white polka dots on it, and his brow was furrowed as he looked at you and Zayne. You clear your throat and attempt to break the silence.

“Sir,” you say, and the man turns his head in your direction. “I’m very sorry that we’ve intruded on your house. But you must understand, we’re just as confused as you are.” You look at Zayne, who imperceptibly nods his head in agreement. Taking encouragement from this, you continue.

“It’s all such a blur. See, Zayne and I were out, trying to look at the lunar eclipse.” You nod towards the window, where the faintest glimpse of the moon was visible, tinged slightly red from the eclipse. “And the next second, we were at your door. Now, I’m not sure why Zayne’s fingerprint was able to open it, but to be honest, this house bears an uncanny resemblance to his.”

You laugh, realizing you sounded crazy, then deciding this night couldn’t get any worse, you attempt a jab at humor. “You two don’t know each other, do you? I mean, you could pass as twins.” You smile, then falter as both men stare stonily at each other. A moment passes before Zayne speaks.

“Know isn’t the right word,” he says in a strained voice, keeping his eyes trained on his doppelganger.

“Agreed,” the man says, his voice identical to Zayne’s intonations. “If anything, we are a figment of each other’s imaginations.”

“Huh?” Confusion scrunches your face.

“I don’t see him often, but he sometimes appears in my dreams.” Zayne’s shoulders are tense, and his jaw is tight. “You’re called Dawnbreaker, correct?”

At the mention of the name, the man’s head jerks up sharply, his eyes narrowing. “Where did you hear that from?”

“That’s what the people call you, whenever you appear in my dreams.”

“Dreams?�� Dawnbreaker scoffs. “Or nightmares?”

Zayne’s hand forms a fist, and you look at him empathetically. “Zayne.” You cover his hand with yours, and strangely, Dawnbreaker’s gaze briefly flicks to your interlaced fingers before returning to your face.

“You’ve been having nightmares?”

Zayne sighs. “Not all the time. But when I do have a nightmare, he’s always there.” Zayne jerks his chin at Dawnbreaker.

“What happens in your nightmares, Zayne?” you ask probingly, hoping he wouldn’t brush you off. Zayne’s eyes finally make contact with yours and there’s worry in their depths.

“It’s the same thing. I’ll be doing normal things, like going to work, texting you, and planning an evening together. But I can feel him, right at the periphery. Watching. Then the point of view changes. I’m no longer looking at things with my own eyes but with his.” Zayne looks aggrieved as he recounts his nightmares.

“And each time, I hear begging voices, asking him to help them with their pain. And you killed them.” Zayne’s words are accusatorily and flung at Dawnbreaker, who remains impassive. A chill runs down your spine. You look at the man who could have been a clone of your compassionate boyfriend, and it seems impossible. This man couldn’t be a killer. Could he?

Sadness gathers in Dawnbreaker’s eyes, and he averts his gaze. “I did it to ease their pain. Little can be done when the transformation has gotten that bad.”

“Transformation?” Morbid curiosity fills you, and you look at Dawnbreaker beseechingly, waiting for him to defend himself against Zayne’s accusation.

Dawnbreaker’s expression is unyielding as he assesses Zayne. “It must be so easy for you to judge when you live in an ideal world where Wanderers aren’t a source of infection.”

“Judge?” Zayne’s eyes narrow. “I’d hardly call killing people needing judgment.”

“They were in pain. In your world, your happy, safe world, Wanderers aren’t causes of illness. They can cause destruction, sure, but do they bring disease to your city, like they did to mine?” Dawnbreaker gestures outside his window, where you can just make out the grim silhouette of his version of Linkon City.

“Wanderers don’t carry disease-” Zayne begins, but Dawnbreaker cuts him off.

“They do in my world. And there’s no cure. Once you’re infected, you begin to change into a Wanderer. The process is painful. There’s no slowing it down. You think I’m killing humans for sport? I did those people a merciful favor.”

Zayne is silen,t but it’s obvious he’s shaken by this information. His gaze wanders to Dawnbreaker’s hands, which bear faint, discolored, lines that run across the backs before being lost to the hem of his jacket sleeves. Uncomfortably, he rubs the back of his neck, giving himself time to think.

“If you could end someone’s pain, wouldn’t you do it? Knowing they will suffer, will lose their humanity once the transformation is complete, isn’t a clean death better than being hunted like a beast?”

You consider his words in stunned silence, shuffling awkwardly next to Zayne.

“I don’t turn up in your dreams intentionally.” Dawnbreaker’s voice cuts through the quiet, and both you and Zayne look at him sharply.

“Oh?” Zayne asks with a hint of disbelief.

“It’s out of my hands. I dream when you dream. And your dreams…” Dawnbreaker sighs, as though wondering if he should admit this or not. “Your dreams…are my only respite.” There’s longing in his tone, and you feel a stab of sympathy for him.

Zayne blinks, clearly at a loss for words. “Respite?” he asks, disconcerted.

“Yes. Similar to how you see things through my eyes, I can also see your world through yours.” Dawnbreaker’s expression is so solemn that it makes your heart clench. If Zayne had ever looked that way, you’d instantly be pulling him into a hug. It took every ounce of willpower for you to not comfort Dawnbreaker, because despite it all, you didn’t know him, no matter how much he looked like Zayne.

“I see you going about your day at Akso Hospital. Greeting your coworkers. By the way, I’m also a doctor.” Dawnbreaker adds this last bit of information as an afterthought. He hesitates before continuing. “And…you and I…bear the same name.”

Zayne’s lips part, but no sound comes out as he processes this tidbit. Unperturbed, Dawnbreaker continues.

“Before I was called Dawnbreaker, I was known as Dr. Zayne. Your dreams…allow me to see what my world could have been like if the Wanderers hadn’t caused a plague.”

A pang of sympathy punches you in the gut, and it’s clear that Dawnbreaker’s words are affecting Zayne too. His eyes have softened as he regards what has been said.

“I’m essentially an alternate version of you, Zayne,” Dawnbreaker continues. “Now, I’m not sure how you ended up in my world. It hardly matters. But, may I say something, if you’ll allow it?”

Zayne nods, listening intently.

“Everything you have in your life. Your job, your friends. Her.” Dawnbreaker gestures towards you, and your heart skips a beat. “Don’t take them for granted. You have everything I can only wish for.”

His face carries a haunting expression that makes you ache deep within. What was it in his voice? Regret? Grief? Anguish? They all seemed to mix into something unique as he articulates his tale, like a little songbird vocalizing over a graveyard.

“I know at least in this world, I have to walk my path alone. I will never know the peace you get to experience every day. I didn’t intend to don this mantle of Dawnbreaker. But I was given very little choice in the matter. I didn’t want to be a killer. But knowing what happens to captured Wanderers that were formerly humans…they’re taken away, experimented on, before being stripped for parts, and disposed of like garbage. At least with what I do…”

Dawnbreaker reflexively opens his palm and stares at it, wondering, before continuing in a more resolved voice. “I’m able to grant them a dignified death. Their bodies remain intact and human enough that their families can give them a proper funeral.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m no hero. But I believe this is the best outcome they could have asked for.”

You swallow, feeling a lump in your throat as you do so. Zayne had gone quiet, his mouth a grim line. Beneath the shock and skepticism, you see a familiar flicker of empathy come into his face, the kind he reserved for critical patients without a positive outcome. Somehow, you felt like an outsider as you watched the two men in silence. There was an inexplicable bond between them, and it felt like in the game of circumstance, Dawnbreaker had drawn the short end of the stick. Their roles could have been easily reversed.

Then what? Would it be Zayne sitting opposite you while Dawnbreaker held your hand? Even their scars were identical, each dip of mottled skin exactly placed. You felt for the poor man, trapped in this nightmare that he couldn’t escape. Zayne, at least, got a reprieve when he woke up. You wondered what happened in Dawnbreaker’s dreams on the nights Zayne didn’t have nightmares. Did he sleep dreamlessly? Was that more blissful than peering into a world where it felt like Zayne got everything that he didn’t dare to even think of?

You’re interrupted from your train of thought by Dawnbreaker who suddenly stands up. “It’s late,” he says shortly.

“Are you kicking us out?” Zayne asks tartly, as though he’d been preparing for the boot. Dawnbreaker tsks and shakes his head no.

“Don’t be ridiculous. At this time of night? The Wanderers would pick your bones clean before you even made it to the end of the road.” He looks conflicted, then seemingly finding no other justification, says, “You can stay in the guestroom until you figure out how to get back.”

“Are you sure? We wouldn’t want to intrude.” The words slip out of your lips, and Dawnbreaker looks at you with such intensity that you flush.

“I’d rather not have my doppelganger wandering the roads. It could get very difficult to explain. Stay here for the time being. We’ll figure this out.”

“Thank you,” Zayne says the words with quiet sincerity. “I understand this isn’t ideal.”

“It’s not,” Dawnbreaker agrees easily, and it almost makes you laugh. “Come, I’ll show you where the guestroom is.”

Zayne raises an eyebrow, and this time, you fail to stifle the giggle. Clearly, being told where the guestroom was in his own house was pushing Zayne to his limit. Dawnbreaker’s expression remains neutral but you can’t help but notice the redness in his ears, the same reaction Zayne has when he’s embarrassed.

“We can find it by ourselves, thank you,” Zayne says magnanimously, and Dawnbreaker nods awkwardly.

“Well, good night then.” Zayne takes your hand and starts to lead you away, and you steal a glance over your shoulder at Dawnbreaker who watches you with a look of longing.

“Sleep well,” he says, and that’s the last thing you hear from him before Zayne closes and locks the bedroom door.

Once inside the privacy of the room, Zayne sinks onto the mattress, covering his face with his hands. Sensing the stress he’s carrying, you sit next to him and knead his shoulders, hoping to relieve some of his tension.

“Zayne,” you murmur soothingly, trying to get as close to him as possible. He removes his hands, and you’re startled to see the beginnings of anxiety settling into them, his pupils dilating.

There’s a tinge of distress in his voice as he speaks.

“I don’t remember when I first started seeing Dawnbreaker in my dreams. But each time, all I can remember is being scared. I never imagined that I’d meet him face-to-face. I thought he was something that only existed in my imagination. Like the boogeyman that small children believe is hiding in their closet. I didn’t think he was real.”

You feel your heart clench at the sight of Zayne like this and embrace him, pressing into his back as your arms wrap around his chest. “Yes, I can imagine how disturbing this must be for you.”

“It was one thing to have him exist only in my dreams. Now I find out he’s not only real, but also an alternate version of me? He has my name, he lives in my house, he’s even a doctor. What next? Is he dating an alternate version of you in this world?”

You frown, trying to imagine what you might be like in this dimension. “He didn’t mention an alternate version of me. And Zayne,” you add in a quieter voice, “I don’t think he has anyone in his life.”

Zayne contemplates your words. “What makes you say that?”

“All that talk about not taking the people in your life for granted, including me. I think he’s been by himself for quite some time. It can’t be easy, living with that kind of loneliness. You had Greyson and Yvonne, and even Dr. Noah to talk to. I think Dawnbreaker is alone. Like, alone.” You emphasize the word, and after a moment, Zayne nods his head in understanding.

“That part about him doing the mercy killings for humans. Do you think it’s true that they turn into Wanderers in this world?”

“I don’t see why he would lie about that.”

Broodingly, Zayne continues to speak as though he’s trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his mind. “It must be awful for him, though. Being a doctor yet unable to save all those people. I know if I were in that situation, I’d definitely find it weighing on my conscience.”

“You feel bad for him.” You state the obvious plainly.

“Of course I do. But at the same time, he makes me uneasy.”

You nod, then press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “Well, we’re stuck here. Worrying doesn’t make any sense. And it doesn’t look like he means us any harm. We’ll find our way out of here.”

Zayne hums, then covers your hands with his. You smile wanly, and Zayne feels the movement against his skin, your warm breath steadying him. “Let’s try to get some sleep. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”

You nod and allow Zayne to pull you under the covers, his hand resting on your back as he draws as close as he can.

“I’m glad I’m not alone,” he mumbles against your hair, and after some time, Zayne manages to fall asleep.

You, on the other hand, struggle. Unwilling to pull away from Zayne’s grasp, you remain as still as you can, but your mind is rolling over the recent events in your head like a washing machine. You understood Zayne’s initial intimidation when it came to Dawnbreaker. No one ever wanted to meet the object of their nightmares. But at the same time, you couldn’t stop thinking about Dawnbreaker’s existence.

Some part of you pitied him. You wondered what it must feel like to be the person people find to meet their ultimate end. And with no one to talk to, hiding his identity, and pretending he was a normal person, how was Dawnbreaker even functioning on the whole?

Then there was the fact that he and Zane were absolute physical copies of each other. It was a double whammy, at least for you, to see the face of the person you loved so dearly in so much torment. When you had met Zayne, you hadn’t imagined loving anyone else as fiercely as you loved him. Zayne was yours, inextricably, irrevocably, inexplicably. You understood killing, because deep down, you knew you’d kill for Zayne. Anything that tried to harm him would need to go through you. But how were you supposed to protect him, console him, from himself?

Dawnbreaker didn’t seem like a threat, but the fear in Zayne’s body was real. You hear the sound of his peaceful breathing, and your heart constricts. The most precious thing in your life was asleep in your arms. And his twin was right outside that door.

You’re not sure how long you were awake, but soon a fragile light filtered through the curtains. Dawn had broken on Dawnbreaker’s house. You carefully pull away from Zayne’s embrace and pad out of the room.

You almost jump in shock when you see Dawnbreaker seated on the sofa with a cup of coffee in his hands. His eyes look at you over wire-rimmed glasses, appearing vexed.

“Why do you keep reacting like I don’t live here?” he asks dryly, setting his coffee down. You blush, realizing he was right, although you couldn’t quite explain why you were so jittery around him; he hadn’t shown any behavior thus far to do so.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…Zayne’s asleep in the bedroom, and then I find you in here. It’s all very uncanny.”

Dawnbreaker nods then gestures at the living room. “Would you like to sit?”

You hesitate, then gingerly sit down at the same spot you were in last night.

“Why are you up so early? Don’t tell me you’re a night owl.”

“An astute observation.” Dawnbreaker’s lips twitch, and he sips more coffee. “I have an early shift at the hospital.”

“Ah. You and Zayne are alike in that manner.” You glance out the glass doors that lead to the balcony. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up and he’s already left for work. Barely makes a sound.”

“How considerate of him. I imagine it would be more difficult for him to leave if you’re awake.”

You frown at the comment. “Why’s that?”

Dawnbreaker seems to consider his words before carefully continuing. “Well, I think that if you were awake, he’d be very tempted to stay and talk. Or perhaps do nothing and just hold your hand. It’s not easy to leave behind the person you love, no matter how short or temporary it may be. At least, that’s how I’d feel.”

As the last few words leave his lips, Dawnbreaker’s eyes widen, and he hastily busies himself with his coffee cup. You observe a faint flush creeping up his neck and into his ears.

He drains his cup then straightens. Avoiding eye contact, he briskly says, “I’m not sure what my schedule looks like. But I’ll definitely be back tonight. There’s food in the fridge. And please don’t go outside. This isn’t the Linkon City you’re used to.”

Before you could respond, Dawnbreaker had already grabbed his coat and was at the door. It clicks shut, and you’re left in silence, wondering what had just happened.

The day was spent in a whirlwind of thought. Towards the evening, your brain felt like a dried sponge left in the sun for too long, wrinkled and desiccated, as you went through the events with Zayne again.

“Zayne, please,” you begged, looking for a break. “We have talked and talked and talked, and I can’t think of anything else to add.” You lie back on the sofa, shielding your face from the rays of the setting sun.

“You made me try resonating with random things in the house, hoping it would cause a tear in between the dimensions, and nothing worked. As remarkable as the situation is, Dawnbreaker’s house is a normal house, with perfectly normal items.”

Nonplussed, Zayne looks at your supine form and sighs. “You’re right, as much as I hate to admit it. We’ve been at this for hours. Let’s refresh our minds. Would you like some tea?”

Zayne walks into the kitchen to boil the kettle. “What time did Dawnbreaker say he’d be back?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. He didn’t mention.”

“Hmph. If he got pulled into a last-minute surgery…” His eyes flick to the large clock mounted on the wall. “We can forget about seeing him before midnight.”

Right on cue, you hear a ping from the front door as it unlocks, revealing Dawnbreaker, who’s holding several bags.

“Did you go shopping?” You ask him as he sets them down on the living room carpet. He nods, his glasses slightly askew. He sniffs the air curiously.

“Tea? How delightful,” he comments before seeing Zayne standing before the stove. Zayne raises an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, I know how to brew tea,” he says patronizingly, and Dawnbreaker scoffs, but doesn’t comment. Even though Dawnbreaker posed them no threat, Zayne still seemed to be wary of the man.

“I picked up a few things for both of you.” Dawnbreaker hands you the bags, and you peek inside, spying toiletries and some clothes.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully.

“I had to guess some of your sizes, so my apologies if some things don’t fit quite right.”

Zayne carries a tray laden with 3 cups of steaming tea and puts them on the coffee table. When Dawnbreaker stares at him, Zayne smirks, some of his usual sass coming back.

“Despite our introductions, I’m not a barbarian.” He pushes a cup towards Dawnbreaker, who sips it with dignity.

“You said it, not me,” he says stiffl,y and Zayne rolls his eyes before settling next to you. He rummages through the bags.

“I’d Venmo you but…I don’t think my bank supports interdimensional transactions,” he quips, and miraculously, Dawnbreaker smiles at him. You feel hope blossom in your chest as you see the small interaction, and there’s a brief moment of peace, until Zayne looks further into the bag and his eyes darken.

“Why did you buy panties for my girlfriend?” Zayne asks in quiet anger as he tears his gaze away from the bag, glaring at Dawnbreaker.

Dawnbreaker calmly puts down the teacup, although he looks chagrined. You, on the other hand, would have turned a brilliant shade of red.

“He didn’t!” You look at Dawnbreaker. “Did you?”

With an effort, Dawnbreaker manages to compose his voice into a tone of practicality. “Zayne, be serious. It’s an essential item she’ll need. I wasn’t exactly out buying thongs.”

“Ok, stop it! Both of you.” You snatch the bag from Zayne’s hand, blushing furiously, but you weren’t sure who you were upset with. You direct your words at both of them.

“Dawnbreaker, thank you, but you should have asked first. And Zayne,” you round on him, and Zayne’s eyes widen at your demeanor. “Thank you for being chivalrous, but I did need new underwear anyway. Now, if you two don’t mind, I’d rather not be here if all you’re going to do is try to one-up each other!”

And with that, you flee, but not before you hear Zayne address the elephant in the room.

“How did you know what kind to buy anyway?” His voice is dripping with distaste, and you freeze in the hallway where they can’t see you. Dawnbreaker responds after a gap in a constrained voice.

“You always dream about the same ones. It wasn’t hard.”

You cover your mouth to muffle the groan of humiliation that leaves your throat before disappearing into the guestroom. After what felt like an eternity, you hear the door being cracked, and Zayne enters. He looks sheepishly at you while you stare crossly at him from the bed.

“I’m sorry if I overreacted.” He mumbles and gathers you in his arms. You’re about to reply snarkily, but feel the bite drain out of you as his chin rests on top of your head.

“I thought you’d come sooner. Were you guys still talking after I left?”

Zayne’s embrace tightens suddenly, and you look at him curiously.

“What?”

Zayne looks conflicted as to whether or not to tell you, and you give him a little shake. “C’mon! Nothing could top being given panties from a stranger.”

He runs a hand down the back of his neck. “You might be surprised.”

You freeze. “What?”

Zayne looks uncomfortable, his eyes darting about the room as though trying to decide what to fix his gaze on. You push him away and flash him a warning look. Giving up, he divulges the information.

“I was asking him what other…things he saw in my dreams.”

You freeze. “...Oh.” Dreading the answer, you ask anyway. “And?”

Zayne looks ashamed as he admits the words. “Well, I dream of you. A lot to be honest.” He smiles reassuringly, but it’s feeble in quality. “And sometimes those dreams aren’t…PG.”

Your heartbeat quickens, and you avert your eyes, although you didn’t find this surprising. “Well, that’s normal, right? Couples sometimes dream…spicy things about each other.”

“Yes, but…You’re completely naked in my dreams. And I’ve dreamt of us making love, of…giving you oral.” Zayne’s face is a brilliant shade of siren red, and he fiddles with the edge of the blanket. “And Dawnbreaker has unknowingly been privy to those dreams.”

You feel all the color drain from your face. “What?” You point at the closed door. “Dawnbreaker has seen me naked?”

Zayne nods emphatically, and you cover your face in shame, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

“Oh my god! That’s so…so…” You struggle to think of a word.

“Violating?” Zayne suggests, and you nod vigorously.

“Yes! I mean…that’s so disturbing, watching your dreams, those dreams, like it’s some kind of adult video! How can I face him? How-” You cut off abruptly as you notice Zayne’s lacking demeanor.

“Why aren’t you angrier?” You ask, and there’s conflict in his expression.

“I completely understand your reaction. And it’s valid, 100% warranted. I felt the exact way you’re feeling right now when he told me. However…” His voice trails, and you press him.

“Yes?”

“I genuinely don’t think he did it on purpose. I mean…he has no control over it. He only saw it because I was dreaming it. And it’s difficult to wake up from a dream. You get what I’m saying?”

You take a moment to consider, feeling chills ripple down your body at the thought that a man you had met less than a day ago knew intimately how your body looked. You cross your arms, as though trying to cover yourself, like Dawnbreaker could somehow see you right now.

“Dawnbreaker and I spoke at length, and he explained himself and his situation. He doesn’t mean any harm. It just so happens to be a set of rare and unique circumstances.” Zayne reaches out to pull you back against him, and you do so willingly.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday. About him being lonely. After our talk today, I’m starting to think you’re right. He has been on his own for quite a while.” His hand caresses your back. “I don’t like that he knows what you look like. But at the same time, it’s out of his hands.”

You hide your face in Zayne’s neck as he speaks. He sighs, and it ruffles your hair. “Just pretend it was me.”

“Excuse me?” You squawk, dumbfounded.

“I mean. Technically speaking, he is me. Perhaps, we can deal with this by pretending it was me? Does that make you feel a little better?”

You consider, and strangely enough, it does. Thinking of Dawnbreaker as an interdimensional version of Zayne made it less awkward than thinking of him as a stranger. “Yeah. It’s just another you.” Your nose settles into the slope of his shoulder, and he tenderly strokes your hair.

“For the record, I’m also very weirded out by this situation. I feel like a voyeur and an exhibitionist at the same time.”

You burst out laughing, feeling your shoulders shake with pure mirth. After all the gathering tension, it was freeing to laugh like this.“Ah, so I’m dating a pervert.” You wrap your arms around his neck. “How unfortunate.”

There’s humor in Zayne’s eyes as he pulls you closer. “I can only blame you. You bring it out in me.”

You're surprised by the fluid movement of his lips as they trail down your neck, leaving a kiss that feels like a feather was brushed against your skin. You twitch at the tickling sensation, then inhale sharply as Zayne leaves a wet, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “But after all that talking with Dawnbreaker. I need to know you’re mine.” His hands gently trace the contours of your body, slipping under the hem of your shirt and cupping your breasts, sending sparks of heat into your system. You don’t protest as the blood rushes into your ears, humming in your veins, coming alive under his experienced touch.

“Zayne…” His name is a whisper as you feel the familiar rise of liquid heat in your belly, and the quickening of your heartbeat.

“Nothing has made sense in the last 24 hours. But you make sense.” He sucks your neck, leaving a small, red, bruise. “I need you.”

It’s how he says it, with that tone like he’s drowning, and you’re a breath of fresh air bringing him back from the depths. You hiss as he leaves another mark.

“Sorry.” Zayne soothes the sting with a soft, wet lick. “You’re mine. No matter who’s seen you.”

Possessiveness spills into his tone, and he swipes the pads of his thumbs in circles over your pebbled nipples. Tingles begin at the tips and radiate down your spine, your limbs, and your sex. A familiar throb starts to grow between your legs, and you sigh, an uncontrollable little mewl falling from your lips.

Self-conscious, your eyes fly open, and you cover your mouth. Caught between semi-arousal and the need for decency, you glance at the closed door. “Zayne.” You cup his cheeks.

“What if Dawnbreaker hears us?” You knew the only reason you mentioned it was because you were relying on Zayne’s impressive ability to control and rein in both your flowing desires. If he wasn’t interested in maintaining decorum, your own will would be swept away like sand under the tide. Zayne’s eyes are darkening at the edges, his breath becoming ragged, and he pinches your nipples with the perfect pressure that has you squeezing your eyes shut and letting out another helpless noise of pleasure.

“Let him,” he growls, bringing a surge of stunned arousal into your belly. Zayne leans you down on the bed, lifting your shirt up to suckle. When he lets go, the little peak is moist with his spit.

“The dreams apparently don’t come with sound.”

You slept soundly that night, exhausted from Zayne’s passionate lovemaking. When you woke up, your limbs were tangled up with Zayne’s, held possessively against him while his breath fluttered your hair. Your body was covered in bite marks, and you felt your face flush as you remembered everything; the teasing touches and perfectly learned movements of his fingers as he had brought you to the edge over and over. Your reluctance to be vocal had somehow fueled his determination, and your inhibitions had all but vanished as he’d deliciously licked and nibbled every part of you until you were a mewling mess of pleasure under him.

Your body still had that wonderful ache of being used, and as you stretch, your internal muscles instinctively squeeze together as something slippery shifts inside you. Zayne had no reservations last night, his rigid length plunging into you in a sweet rhythm of ecstasy, spilling himself into you each time until your slit was messy and slick from your couplings.

It was rare to see him like this, throwing caution to the wind and letting himself finish inside you without protection. Your stomach growled noisily, and you realized you hadn’t eaten last night.

The clock on the wall showed that it was around 5:30 in the morning. Early enough that Dawnbreaker might not be up yet. You couldn’t bear to face him knowing that he would have heard everything that happened last night. You try to use Zayne’s suggestion of pretending Dawnbreaker was just another him, but the thought just made things worse given the cisrcumstances, the idea of someone listening to your most intimate moments.

You wonder if Dawnbreaker had been appalled by the noise. Or if he had found it welcoming. The latter sends a rush down your spine, a curious thrill filling your being at the thought. Had he tried to ignore it? Or would the noise have turned him on? And if it had, was he the type to touch himself?

You shake yourself mentally, feeling shame at your indecent thoughts. Another pang of hunger shoots through you, and you carefully get up from the bed. Your clothes from last night were scattered all over the floor, and you resignedly pull out the fresh ones from the bag Dawnbreaker had brought in last night, feeling the irony as you tug on the fresh cotton panties.

Once dressed, you silently slip into the hallway, thanking the gods when you see the living room is empty. Only the rustling of leaves from the tree outside could be heard. You find some instant ramen in one of the cabinets, boil the water, and let it sit. You had just taken a few forkfuls when you heard noise in the hallway, and you whipped around to see Dawnbreaker come into view, fully dressed for his day.

He freezes when he sees you, then blinks, eyes flicking away as he tries to appear nonchalant, deftly turning on the coffeemaker, grabbing a cup, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the counter as he waits. You slurp your noodles, trying to ignore the increasing thumps of your heartbeat and the prickly heat creeping down from the nape of your neck.

The silence drags on deafeningly, until, unable to take it anymore, you mumble, “Nice morning, isn’t it?”

Dawnbraker appeared to be fascinated with his coffeemaker as he didn’t look up as it started to gurgle and the aromatic liquid began to pool into the carafe. Acting unconcerned, he says, “It’s a usual morning, I’d say. But I understand why it’s good for you.”

You unexpectedly inhale the broth, spluttering undignifiedly as you choke, tears welling in your eyes as you set down the ramen. Instantly, a glass of water is handed to you, and you gulp it down gratefully.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, unable to look at him from the embarrassment. Your whole body felt like it was being twisted and knotted on the inside, and the prickling had now slithered down from the nape of your neck and spread out along your spine and limbs, causing goosebumps to erupt in its wake. Then, seemingly unable to control yourself, you add, “I hope we didn’t disturb you last night.”

Dawnbreaker adds milk to his coffee and sips. “I barely heard anything once I put on my headphones.” When he lowers the coffee cup, you could have sworn he was gritting his teeth. “Was the bed comfortable?”

Your back stiffens, and you jerk your head in the other direction. “I realize we’re in your house, but what happens between me and Zayne behind closed doors is none of your concern.”

“Do you normally get it on in strangers’ bedrooms?” Dawnbreaker quips back, and you flush again, chastised. “Or are you under the impression that Zayne’s house and mine have the same rules?”

“It didn’t seem like you would mind, given how you’ve been snooping around in Zayne’s dreams.” Your words are harsh and taunting, intended to shame him. Your appetite had all but vanished, and you throw away the remainder of the ramen into the trash, intending to escape the kitchen when all of a sudden, you’re spun around, strong arms caging you in against the wall.

“Oh, but I don’t have a choice there, do I?” Dawnbreaker is barely a few inches away from you, his broad physique looming over you. “I only see what your Zayne shows me, I’m afraid.”

There’s a strange, mocking, ironical tone as he speaks. “Sometimes I wonder if he was aware of my presence and dreamt what he did to show off what he had. Trust me, I could map out every feature of your body from memory. That’s how often he dreams of you naked.”

His hand trails down your cheek, the gesture surprisingly tender as his eyes gaze into yours, and strangely, you realize you’re not struggling to free yourself. The familiarity between Dawnbreaker and Zayne had all but obliterated your fight-or-flight instincts. His lips were at eye-level, and you suddenly felt curious about how they would feel pressed against yours; would they feel like Zayne’s? Or someone else’s?

His fingers stroke across your jaw, then down your neck, a teasing tickle of digits that stirs up a delicious feeling of desire deep within. Some confine in the back of your mind is aware that you’d just been made love to a few hours ago, Zayne’s seed still buried inside your cunt, but a carnal yearning had been ignited from the moment Dawnbreaker put his hands on you.

His hand pauses in its journey going south towards your collarbone, and when those green irises flick back to you, he smirks.

“Oh, the number of times I’ve seen you making this expression,” he murmurs, his cheek rubbing yours. “You’re turned on, aren’t you?” His lips replace his cheek, and you shiver at the feeling.

“You were making an utterly delightful sound last night. I wonder what was happening for you to make such a noise.” Dawnbreaker’s breath tickles your ear as he places a little kiss just under it, and you let out a weak little whimper even as your brain begs you for a modicum of restraint.

“You’re doing it wrong.” Your eyes snap open as you hear the same voice that was whispering provocatively to you coming from the entrance to the kitchen. Your heart stops as Zayne comes into view, his expression impassive. Mouth dry, you watch as he approaches while Dawnbreaker doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder. He and Dawnbreaker corral you, leaving no room for an exit.

“If you were referring to that adorable little chirp she makes, you need to do this.” Zayne unabashedly leans forward to nip your ear, then gently draws the lobe into his mouth, sucking, and as he said, your eyes flutter closed and the chirp leaves your lips with a hint of desperation.

Your body felt strangely heavy, a fog falling over any rationality you might be harboring. A jolt of arousal shocks your body, reaching the deepest part of your core when you finally open your eyes and see Dawnbreaker watching intently, hunger in every line of his face.

“Like this?” he asks before he repeats the action on your other ear, and you let out the same chirp, reddening at the realization. It felt like an out-of-body experience, feeling these mouths on you, yet unable to differentiate which belonged to whom. It was like being double-teamed by Zayne, the texture and pulls from the lips identical.

Your hands, which had been tense, one on each of their chests, were slackening, letting them draw closer to you. The chirps become a moan as they both lick their way down the smooth column of your neck, marking the delicate skin with their teeth.

“Someone’s enjoying themself,” Zayne teases, feeling a buzz flooding his veins as he watches your reactions. There was something undeniably erotic about what was unfolding in front of his eyes. The thought of sharing you with another man? Unbearable. But sharing you with himself? It was like the universe had created a solution. If he could have replicated himself he would have, for the sake of your pleasure. His cock hardens at the thought of watching you writhe on his clone’s tongue while he squeezed and played with your nipples. An unrealized fantasy was awakening inside of him, and your response was bringing it alive for him.

Briefly breaking contact with your skin, Zayne glances at Dawnbreaker. “Don’t you have to be at work?”

“I can clear my schedule,” Dawnbreaker says huskily, and it feels like a million butterflies are alive inside your stomach, their wings creating more tingling sensations of arousal that scurry into every corner of your being.

Before you can say anything, Zayne scoops you up into his arms and carries you, not into the guestroom, but further down the hall into Dawnbreaker’s room, or what would have been his room in your world. He lays you down delicately, settling to one side and stroking your arm, stoking the flames of your steadily growing passion. When Dawnbreaker hesitantly joins, he seems unsure of what to do, shooting Zayne a look of uncertainty.

One of Zayne’s hands grips your chin, leaning your face up to his for a kiss, and you moan longingly into his mouth at the contact, his lips parting to allow space for your exploring tongue.

“Are you ok?” he asks, and when you nod your approval, he directs your face towards Dawnbreaker, who finally covers your lips with his.

It was a unique experience, almost as if Zayne had pulled you back into a kiss for a second time, but you could sense the subtle differences in his technique. It was more reminiscent of an earlier Zayne, when you had first started dating, and he had shyly kissed you, inexperience showing as he’d clumsily made out with you. It was endearingly sweet, and you thought you’d never encounter it again. Yet here it was, and it made you giddy that you could feel this first kiss again.

Dawnbreaker was in a trance, trying his best to keep his raging emotions under control as he let the kiss speak for him. Night after night, watching you with Zayne, wondering if he could ever experience what he had. Now here you were, warm and reactive in his arms. He can feel you trying to teach him, your mouth guiding his as he’s drawn into the sensuality of everything. He timidly touches his tongue against your parted slit and he’s rewarded with the feeling of the wet slip of your tongue against his as you draw it into your mouth. His hand haltingly rests on your knee, fingers gripping into the skin where it leads into your thigh.

You break the kiss as Zayne licks the nape of your neck, giving a squeaky suck to the delicate skin as his hand busy themselves with the hem of your top. Effortlessly, he pulls it off, revealing your bare upper half to Dawnbreaker’s hungry gaze.

Your nipples harden under their watchful eyes, pebbling proudly from arousal, as you try not to appear too eager at the thought of having them both in bed. A sigh escapes you as Dawnbreaker traces the very edge of one of the round buds, his touch feather-light.

“She does enjoy having them played with,” Zayne remarks in a low voice as he demonstrates his point by gently tweaking your nipples with just enough pressure to make you squirm. Dawnbreaker’s lips parted at the sight, like he was imagining how they would feel and taste in his mouth. Your movements press your back more firmly into Zayne’s chest, and he rests his chin on top of your head as your core moistened and fluttered with anticipation, the squeezes on your nipples sending waves of pleasure into your clit which pulses between your folds.

Zayne’s hands ghost the undersides of your breasts, then cup them and push them up, the tender flesh filling his palms as they’re put at Dawnbreaker’s eye level like an offering. Delighted shock jolts through you as, with a groan, Dawnbreaker’s head closes the gap and his lips brush against one of the hardened peaks before sucking it into his mouth. Your body jerks at the warmth and wetness as Zayne continues to play with your other nipple, the dual sensations contrastingly distinct, Zayne’s calloused fingers on one, Dawnbreaker’s pliant tongue on the other, pushing you to a point of no return.

Shallow pants flow from your open mouth as the last vestiges of sensibility drain from your mind, your hand cupping the back of Dawnbreaker’s head to hold him in place. His tongue was curious, laving your nipple with care, his eyes flicking up to your face now and then to gauge your reaction to his suckling, and the action sends a plume of warmth rushing from your gut into your spine. When his teeth delicately graze the swollen nub, you moan helplessly, feeling surrender overpowering your willing body.

Just as you think you’re finding your equilibrium, Zayne catches you off guard and begins to work on your free nipple with his tongue, his little sucks causing a dizzying sensation that steals the breath from your lungs.

Your body knew who was who, yet it didn’t seem to mind as long as it was being pleasured. Your eyes close almost languidly, your breathing slowing at the sheer eroticism of the scene unfolding before you. Coherent thoughts are slowly wiped from your brain, leaving it a mush of want and need, operating on the most primal instincts you could muster.

Dawnbreaker releases your nipple, then draws a line with his tongue between the valley of your breasts, his teeth scraping over your bellybutton, your powerless noises causing his heartbeat to quicken, his cock painfully hard in his formal trousers. Observing his journey south, Zayne follows suit and licks your shoulders, biting into the crook of your neck and zealously squeezing your swollen mounds enticingly.

When Zayne’s hands ghost down towards your waist, you suck in a breath as he deftly undoes the drawstring of your shorts. Your bottom rises to help him pull the garment down, and Dawnbreaker takes over, dragging your panties off. He observes the white stain left behind and brings it to his nose to inhale, and your eyes quickly dart away, unable to take the embarrassment.

“That’s not just her you smell,” Zayne says with a touch of satisfaction, and Dawnbreaker’s eyes narrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you check for yourself?” Zayne offers, and you realize what his intentions were, yet you’re unable to stop Dawnbreaker from nudging apart your thighs, desperately clenching your hole as tightly as possible, but to no avail.

The slippery arousal that had built inside you had caused more of Zayne’s seed to leak, and the milky white fluid was spilling onto the sheets, leaving damp marks as it left your body.

“Oh fuck…” Dawnbreaker’s eyes grew animalistic. “How is she this insatiable?”

“It’s not her fault.” Zayne pets your hair as he speaks. “The thought of both of us has put her body into a heightened state of arousal. You should be proud of yourself.”

You squeak as Zayne shifts your body with his, helping you rest between his long legs as he keeps yours spread apart, his long fingers parting your swollen lips with care to reveal the sticky, dripping labia to Dawnbreaker’s probing gaze. You turn your head, trying to hide in the safety of Zayne’s chest, and he chuckles at your response.

“What’s the matter? You weren’t complaining when you were being stretched wide and filled last night.”

You let out a whimper of mortification, which only grows as Dawnbreaker, emboldened by the sight, adds in a throaty growl, “Certainly not. You were begging, clear as day, for more. What’s the point in acting demure now when the proof is in the pudding?”

Your hips wriggle as Dawnbreaker strokes the edge of your entrance, gathering some of the viscous fluid that was slipping out of your already well used cunt.

Zayne watches with fascinated interest, then, unable to resist goading Dawnbreaker, asks him, “Have you ever given oral to a woman before?”

Pink dusts Dawnbreaker’s cheeks as he looks at you with unconcealed greed. “I didn’t want anyone else,” he says simply in a strained voice, and Zayne hums as if expressing his approval.

“Well then, this shouldn’t pose too much of a problem.” Zayne settles against the headboard as he holds you in place. “I think we taste the same.”

An array of expressions crosses Dawnbreaker’s face as he processes Zayne’s words. “How am I supposed to know that?”

“It’s just logic and common sense. But I suppose if we wanted to test it…” His voice trails, and you jerk as Dawnbreaker brings his coated finger to your lips. You obediently part them and suck, tasting the tang of your pussy along with the ashy taste that was purely Zayne.

“Remember that flavor,” Zayne purrs in your ear. “We’ll need you to confirm if we taste identical.” You flush even as you wantonly suck Dawnbreaker’s fingertip clean, and he withdraws it, now glistening with your saliva.

With the smooth expertise of a medical professional, Dawnbreaker gently brings the finger onto your clit which had swollen conspicuously, pulsing as he pets it delicately and a strangled noise leaves you. Zayne’s fingers tighten into your flesh, indenting the fat on your thighs.

“Patience. You know the best things happen if you wait.”

Dawnbreaker runs circles over your clit and keeps glancing at Zayne as though seeking his approval, something that amused him greatly.

“Try applying a little more pressure on it,” he says, swelling with the fulfilling idea that he was the expert on your pleasure. When you let out a lingering, keening moan, he kisses your hair.

“I know. I know. But remember, it’s his first time. He’ll get the hang of it.”

As Dawnbreaker familiarizes himself with your body’s reactions, he steadily increases the speed on your clit and you writhe, wrinkling the sheets and rocking your hips to relieve the gripping ache that was growing inside.

Zayne makes another jab at Dawnbreaker. “Are you scared you’ll taste me? Is that why you’re not using your mouth?”

Temporarily stunned at the question, Dawnbreaker gapes at Zayne who smirks. “Although fingering works fine, you’re better off giving her oral. It’s softer. And leaves your hand free to do other things.”

Glaring at Zayne and determined to prove him wrong, Dawnbreaker willfully lies between your spread legs, and your belly rises and falls in tense anticipation as you wait for his tongue. As it finally wedges its way between your folds, you cry out, your senses on edge as he catches the base of your clit, dragging it wetly upwards, certain that he could taste Zayne on your membranes.

The indecency of the entire act catches up to you, causing your face to screw up in pleasure as your clit is covered by the warm, wet, muscle, laving it tenderly. Dawnbreaker reaches up to cup your breast, kneading it as he gratifies you, and you’re stuck in limbo between wanting to fall into the abyss of lust, but also hearing the disapproving clicks Zayne keeps making.

“There’s a better use for your hands,” he mumbles impatiently, and before you realize what’s happening, you feel two fingers slip into your slick channel, widening your muscles on their girth. Daring to crack your eyes open, you see Zayne’s arm crossing over your body and his wrist crooked as he contributes to your building desperation.

The world slips away in a haze as you focus solely only what you can perceive; Dawnbreaker’s mouth on your clit, and Zayne’s fingers buried in your hole, both of them contributing to your pending orgasm in different, yet united ways. As Dawnbreaker maintains his deliberate licks, Zayne curls his fingertips into that spongy patch of nerves, teasing them relentlessly, both men reducing you to nothing but a being focused solely on climaxing and disintegrating into dust.

You don’t care how loud you are, nor how tightly your walls clench Zayne’s fingers as your body arches and moves as it needs, closing the gap between yourself and the peak.

In a moment of chaotic relief, you feel the familiar tingling deep within before a blinding spiral of delight claims you, your pussy contracting wetly, squelching as Zayne continues to thrust his fingers persistently as Dawnbreaker licks you through the aftershock rippling through your system.

Both men are watching the sight of you losing control almost reverently, every last cry a testament to their effect on you. Dawnbreaker’s lips glisten with your juices, which he swipes away with his tongue lasciviously. The loss of Zayne’s fingers are felt keenly as he removes them from your cunt, the walls quivering in protest.

Sweat had beaded on your forehead, your breathing harsh and uneven as you tried to float back down to earth. You’re acutely aware as Zayne and Dawnbreaker settle at your sides, affectionately nuzzling you and calming your frayed nerves.

“Hope you’re not too worn yet, darling,” Zayne coos at you as he pushes back strands of hair from your face. “We have another comparison for you to make.”

They continue to nuzzle into you as though each were trying to imprint their scent on you.

“If you’re comfortable, I think Dawnbreaker should do the honors this time. He’s already getting sloppy seconds, it’s only fair, don’t you think?” Zayne asks almost playfully, and you give him a pleading look, his filthy dialogue only edging you further along this path of depravity.

Dawnbreaker looks uncertain, but as Zayne gently nudges you towards him, your inhibitions vanish, and you find the strength to straddle him and begin to undo his tie and buttons. Dawnbreaker’s body is tense as he resists the urge to devour you whole, his fingers clenching the bedsheets as he waits for you to finish undressing him. His breath hitches as you trail lingering kisses down his chest, nipping his skin as your hands busy themselves with his zipper.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but when you finally free him, Dawnbreaker’s cock stands at attention slit already beaded with precum from the engorged head. You wisely keep your thoughts to yourself, but Zayne could have guessed them; it too was identical in size, shape, and coloration to him, and you teasingly lean down to swipe your tongue against his tip, savoring the taste of him. Knowing exactly how much of Dawmbreaker you can take without gagging, you set your mouth to work, slurping him in and hollowing your cheeks to suction around his aching erection.

Dawnbreaker hisses in approval, his hand tugging at your hair as you work on him, his abs rigid as he watches you bobbing along on his dick. Zayne can barely contain himself as he watches, the sight of you pleasuring his pseudo-self so unbearably stimulating, and with a quiet rustle, he slips his cock out of pants and starts pumping himself, remembering the soft feeling of your mouth and turned on by Dawnbreaker’s deep grunts.

Dawnbreaker finds a small strand of restraint and stills you, damned if he orgasmed before he had the chance to experience your pussy. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear Zayne’s egotistical expression if he did.

“Please.” Dawnbreaker rasps. “Use me.”

The soft command issued with that tone of urgency was all it took for you to adjust yourself over him, then with a sigh, you start to sink on his cock, and Dawnbreaker’s eyes widen at the sensation. A deep, guttural noise leaves him as he throws his head back, marveling at the warmth and how your walls expanded to accommodate him seamlessly, sliding down and taking him to the hilt.

Feeling full and comfortable with the familiar cock inside you, you start to ride, your tits bouncing as you do so, watching Dawnbreaker’s captivated face as he experiences his first time. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements on him as his eyes close in bliss.

Dreams were a pale offering when he was experiencing you in this way. Dreams didn’t capture how flushed your cheeks were, the way your lips were parted, and the soft, breathy moans that were floating from them. He’s dying to kiss you again, his arms tightening around you as he gives in and does so. You pause mid-stroke to kiss him with concentration, and Zayne finally sees his window.

As you lie down on Dawnbreaker’s chest, reeled in by his kiss, Zayne discards his pants and underwear, joining you on the bed and gently prying your ass cheeks apart, observing how your full hole was tightening around Dawnbreaker’s length. He grasps himself by the base, notching his tip towards your tight pussy and you free yourself from Dawnbreaker’s lips and let out a small whimper of discomfort as Zayne pushes in.

It wasn’t painful but you feel your limits being tested, your cunt being split apart as Zayne slides on top of Dawnbreaker’s cock, joining him inside your snug sex. His breathing is ragged as he kisses your back, praising you and offering soothing words as you adjust around both of them, before he thrusts into you, the stroke making you and Dawnbreaker jolt in response.

The sensation was so tight and Dawnbreaker pushes his hips up against you in response, the dual cocks stroking and hitting every inch of your gummy channel. Impaled and unable to do anything except receive them, you steady yourself on Dawnbreaker’s chest, hands splaying out on his pecs as the three of you push each other into heady levels of ecstasy.

The room fills with grunts and mewls, and the sounds of your sloppy cunt as their cocks pound into it, the wet friction of skin rubbing on skin a lewd addition to your arousal. You’re barely holding on, feeling sweetly lightheaded as they use you, their hands wandering all over, groping your tits, your ass, their lips leaving stray kisses all over your body.

Giddy with the knowledge that you were filled to the brim with the two of the same cock, your body automatically becomes receptive, sighing and gasping your pleasure, trusting them to wreck you into a beautiful mess.

Dawnbreaker’s hips stutter, and his jaw is clenched, and you recognize the signs of an impending orgasm. You stroke his hair encouragingly.

“Cum for me. It’s ok to let go…”

And those words spoken with that beseeching tone have Dawnbreaker falling apart, his balls tightening before releasing his load deep inside you. Not too soon, Zayne, also overwhelmed by the stimulation, lets out a growl as he gives one final thrust and spurts of thick cum escape from his tip.

Their combined cream oozes out of you, the slippery feeling only adding to the debauchery as they ease out of you. Without missing a beat, Zayne scoops some of the leaking fluids onto his fingers and brings them up to your lips for a taste.

“Well?” he asks expectantly, waiting for your answer as Dawnbreaker tries to catch his breath underneath you.

You lick your lips clean, considering.

“No difference,” you remark, and both men visibly loosen up.

“Exactly the same, my dear men.”

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @decileste @thesoftuglywrites @belt0-0 @snatched-bubblegum-bitch @wynter-lily @cordidy @delphiakira @ibreathesmut @thedeepspacecadet @mcdepressed290

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pesky-selkie · 4 months ago

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And the city went Silent.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace Zayne #lads zayne #lads fanart #dawnbreaker zayne

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lesyeuxdesylus · 8 months ago

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whoever thought of this, count your days 😭

#love and deepspace #l&ds zayne #zayne l&ds #zayne #lads zayne #dr zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x mc #doctor zayne #zayne x reader #lnds zayne #zayne x you #dawnbreaker #zayne dawnbreaker

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iz-star · 24 days ago

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"Astra's tools can never fall in love"

Twitter

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #lads zayne #l&ds zayne #l&ds #lnds #love and deepspace zayne #fanart #my art #death and rebirth #dr zayne #dawnbreaker #astra

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solifloris · 7 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖

╰┈➤ ❝ dawnbreaker!zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 (backlog)

tags : pwp (with some plot), kinda porn with feelings, ambiguous relationship, that one "dawnbreaker slipping into dr. zayne's life" theory, angst (but…soft???), slight nipple play, needy/desperate sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, praise, use of "my love". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : YELLS OK im like two days late on this… but… BUT !!! a belated birthday gift for my beloveddddd @dawnbreakersgaze !!! <333

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

The Zayne you know has not been the Zayne you know...

You don't fall in love with someone in the span of a few days.

It didn't work that way—love was a fickle emotion; complicated, unpredictable… Terrifying. To approach it meant silent steps. It meant biding your time, holding out your hand, moving forward little by little…

…Ideally.

But love was powerful.

Love did whatever it wanted.

Love could take you in like a storm while you were unprepared; love could crash through your windows and hold you hostage despite your attempts to be gentle with it.

Love could turn the tables.

And sometimes that was what it felt like to be with him.

You wouldn't fall in love with someone in the span of just a few days—but perhaps, this case was a special one.

Your eyes were soft, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Gentle caresses moved over his skin, and you could see the way he melted under your touch. His own eyes were wide, lips trembling. An inexplicable emotion stirred within the depths of his gaze… And it was always like this.

It was always like this when he looked at you.

As if he could never believe that you were real.

"Zayne," you murmured.

He would swallow thickly, and give the slightest of nods.

"Zayne."

The same name, the same face, the same voice. Yet this Zayne, lying on top of you, caging your body between his arms… he was not the same.

Not the same… yet similar, nonetheless. A reflection of the other, you would think. He barely spoke, yet he barely looked away from you. He felt more expressive of his thoughts, but all the same time adamant on keeping them hidden. And no matter how many times you'd seen him, he felt hesitant, unsure, guilty… yet so, so, so full of the very same love that the Zayne you knew would always give.

You'd lost track of how many times this had happened.

They were sporadic, at first—moments fleeting and spaced apart, where you had learned to separate your Zayne and the other Zayne through the smallest mannerisms you'd notice to be different.

You watched the man before you draw in a sharp breath as your hand trailed down his face and over his neck, his collarbone… Such visceral reactions. He looked weak before you; so… broken. Every time he showed himself to you, there was a tense, unspoken sense of longing that hung in the air.

He was not your Zayne.

But he would reach out all the same to mirror your actions, run the pads of his fingers through your hair and down the side of your face… and you would let him.

He was not your Zayne, but he wanted to be. And seeing you in front of him made him feel so fragile. That look in his eyes told you that he could shatter at any possible moment.

"…It's okay."

Love was powerful, you thought.

He was not your Zayne, but he was still Zayne, after all.

You knew so little about him, but he was still Zayne. And if love was so powerful—then it could fix him, too. Couldn't it? Couldn't a little bit of gentleness… Couldn't a little bit of love… for him, as much as him—

Couldn't that help?

"…My love…"

Whenever he spoke, his words were short. It was hardly the matter-of-factness you were used to, hardly the witty quips and dry sarcasm that could parallel. This Zayne's words were short, his voice hoarse, and rough—as if speaking hurt him even more, as if speaking could drive him further into a puddle of guilt that he seemed to have dug himself into.

Your eyes closed.

"Zayne, it's okay," you murmured. "It's okay."

His touch grew bolder, dipping downwards, slowly pulling down the straps of your top, curling around the swell of your breasts.

Your breath hitched.

"Zayne."

He didn't speak again.

Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. He didn't kiss you, almost felt as if he was holding his breath— something small, and wet, fell upon your cheek.

Your eyes opened.

Can I have you?

He asked the question silently, stray tears rolling down his face as he looked at you. His hips pressed into yours, and the outline of his erection grinded against you.

Can I have you?

He didn't speak, but his eyes told you everything.

"Yes."

Just this once.

And the whine he let out brought a slight thrill through your body.

It didn't take long before his lips were all over you, kissing you, tasting you, claiming you—down your chest to your abdomen, inhaling the scent of your skin, before proceeding to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses back upwards. All the while, his hands remained steady on either side of your body, both a sure sign of his hesitance as much as the hunger within him that had him trembling above you.

When his eyes met yours once more, he has his mouth hovering over your nipple. Slowly, slowly, he wrapped his lips around it—it was so tender, the way he sucked on it, loving, the way his tongue would swirl as he took as much of your flesh as he could. Heavy breathing mixed in with the sloppy noises of his ministrations, and you were arching into him, begging him, encouraging him.

One more pull at your nipple until it slipped away from his lips with a wet pop, trails of saliva connecting to your bud.

"Pre...tty…" he rasped.

You felt your heart soar; for the first time, he seemed happy.

And this time it was you who didn't speak.

You reached for his hand, leaving his balance to rest momentarily on the other as you trailed it down your body. Further, and further, and further… His hand rest over your mound, gentle petting movements gliding a finger over your folds.

"Mmm…"

As usual, even the softest touch had you melting.

Zayne had always been loving , and tender, and sweet with you…

This Zayne was not your Zayne, but even the careful way he treated your body felt very much like it.

He was not your Zayne. But he was still Zayne.

A mantra you would repeat to yourself.

His movements continued, gathering up your slick and spreading them all over your folds, eyes retained on your face and your expressions.

Are you feeling good? he seemed to ask, and you smiled softly.

"Very good," you whispered.

Look… I'm so wet for you.

Though you didn't say it, you saw the way his eyes traveled down to your cunt, finger raising as if to look in awe at the sticky mess you had made for yourself.

"…Beautiful."

He spoke again.

And this time, there was little to no hesitation left in his actions before he was in you, cock nestled so warmly, so perfectly, so deeply into your core.

The intrusion had you drawing in a sharp breath no matter how used to his size you would think you'd gotten, but before you could react, he had pulled you into a tight, almost possessive embrace.

"Please," he choked. You could feel his tears wetting your skin as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. "Please… just this once… Just for the last time, just… Please…"

You clenched your walls around him, legs wrapping around his waist.

Slowly, you brought your hands up to stroke his hair.

"Zayne," you murmured. "You're still Zayne, right?"

"… Not—"

"Mine. I know. You're the Zayne in his dreams. Aren't you?"

You felt him nuzzle into your neck with a certain desperation, a whimper tearing from his throat.

It was answer enough.

Yet you moved your hips, grinding against him, urging him to claim you more, claim you deeper.

"It's okay," you repeated, softly, "you can move."

Zayne was still Zayne. You had made the choice from the start.

You wouldn't fall in love with someone in the span of just a few days—but it had taken only a few couple of meetings, barely lasting hours, barely lasting minutes.

Zayne was still Zayne.

You would love everything of him.

Your hips continued to move, bucking upwards onto his, cherishing the groans he would make into your skin. It was you who set the pace—a silent voice of permission, of pleading…

And he followed suit.

"My love…"

He began to thrust.

"…My love…"

Harder, faster.

"My love."

You gasped as he pulled away from you, panting harshly, driving his length in and out of you—desperate. Desperate.

"M- mm—!" you moaned out, arching your back. "Zayne… Zayne!"

"Can I… Can I?" he groaned above you, eyes shut in pleasure. He didn't stop—didn't want to stop. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin proved every bit of desire he had for you, if the image above you was not proof enough. "Please, my love…"

You held him tightly.

"Yes," you gasped. "Take me… You can have all of me, fill me up, cum inside, please—"

You mewled at a particularly sharp thrust, and your legs tightened around his waist. He was throbbing, his movements jerking erratically as you spoke your words.

"Fill… f-fill?" his eyes were wide, but he continued.

It gave you joy to know you were affecting him like this.

It's exactly the same…

"Yes, Zayne. You can give it to me. Please, please, I need it… Need it inside…" You begged, and clawed at his back, and moved to his thrusts the best that you could. "Inside, inside—!"

Please, please, please.

He whimpered as you tightened around him, urging him to spill, urging you to stuff you full like you wanted him to. His breathing became ragged, eyes nearly glazing over with pleasure at the mere thought of it.

He could claim you like this.

Even if it's not the real him, even if he's not doing this as himself—

You could see all manner of thoughts flash in his eyes as his gaze became hungrier. More desperate. More… resolved.

"I'll f-fill you up," he grunted. "Pump you… s-s-so full of me… All of me— My love, my love, my love—"

You cried out as he buried himself all the way into you, your hips colliding as hot, thick ropes of his cum painted your insides. Your body shuddered, slick trickling out of you and dripping down onto the sheets. You felt warm all felt; almost sore, your cunt pulsing around him as you tried to steady your breaths.

He collapsed against you, pulling you in for a kiss.

"If I can have you…" he breathed, "even just once… even just once, I… I'm happy…"

I'm happy.

Your eyes shone as you cradled his face, daring to place a small flurry of kisses over his cheek.

I'm happy.

This was all you wanted.

Love was powerful, you thought. And of you loved him—if you loved all of him, then everything would be okay. You wanted to believe that.

Perhaps in a fit overwhelmed by your acceptance, he gasped, and you felt him roll his hips in place—

You didn't stop him.

He could do this as many times as he needed, as much as he was here with you.

an : actually crying bc im hoping i did him justice why is zayne always so hard to write omlll

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

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