#Scars of Xavier

[wishchip106]

why is he making that face

im half expecting Charles to just strut a catwalk with that look jesus get him some high heels or wateva 😒

Erik’s just there

you gonna change into your flight suit or are just going to go into battle with a turtleneck and leather jacket? 🤨🤨

humans hate to see this coming:

you can always recognize magneto by his classic turtleneck and leather jacket combo 😭😭😭

[st-just]

Ehawee by Xavier Beaudlet

[caluski]

revamping (hehe) nathaniel! not that im going back to writing vampire town i just felt like drawing him and i never really settled on his looks anyway so......

[changecomesforyou]

so amazing to see xavier dolan expand his repertoire from sad character (gay) to sad character (straight)

[scarletfish]

god. nora's done it again. I'm in love with the way she writes small domestic moments:

things like cat helping jean heal through cooking:

the small quirks and habits you pick up on when you live with someone:

it's just such smart writing. in a series heavy with violence and trauma, the way nora describes these casual day-to-day interactions is so natural and beautiful.

[digital-chance]

A question! Do any of your characters want kids?

Good question!! Sorry for taking ages to respond.

Nova Futurum

(MC) Rowan Reyes: No, because they live in Nova Futurum and they don't want to bring a kid into that city's fucked up system. Plus they're transmasc, so hosting a child would give them body dysmorphia Henry, Rowan's partner: Yes, because he doesn't mind taking care of kids and likes seeing them happy.

Scars of Duty

(MC) Lucian: He recently immigrated from a different planet and hasn't been around kids since childhood. He wouldn't know what to expect from Earth babies, but might like it? Dunno for sure, he's too busy saving the world (literally) Theodore: Nah. Too noisy for them plus they'd get in the way when they're planning Evil Shit (this is a lie, they'd be a great loving parent. they just like lying to themselves)

Matchbreaker

Xavier and Finn don't want kids because they just recently got together. The other reason is that Finn's rich snobby parents want them to continue on their "good" heritage/lineage and they don't want kids only for that reason.

Thanks for the ask!!

[anxiousxeph]

(WIP?) one day he will have a full body ref :D  (if you dont know, this is Xavier)

[tbaluver]

Kissing His Scars- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: anonnie (anonymous) ᯓᡣ𐭩 genre: slight angst i think ( references of their past lives ) but tooth rotting fluff overall ! a/n: hihi lovelies i miss you all ! i've been really busy with school and i missed writing and interacting with you all so much ˙◠˙ this was requested by an anonnie and i apologize if this is written not the best i feel so rusty bc my exams drained me ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i hope you all are so well and i hope i can get some writing posted bc i have a couple ideas for kinktober but i feel so late ˙◠˙ anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has a couple scars from all the battles he’s been through. A couple small ones from his hands and a couple on his arms. You’ve seen them sometimes when he’s had his shirt off or when you shower together.

He was curious about why you were doing this in the first place. His eyes sparkled with affection as you kiss and caress the lines of each scar with tenderness. He'd lean in to your touch, letting you do as you please, appreciating every second and minute of it. He felt so appreciated and special that he will definitely return the favor back to you.

Every kiss on his scars reminds him that each battle he’s faced has been worth it. In this lifetime, he has found you again after losing you and enduring so much. Now, he has a loving partner to come home to- where he feels cherished, complete, and truly at peace.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, flipping through different shows and movies in search of the perfect one to enjoy while waiting for you and Xavier’s food. Just then, Xavier joins you, settling his head comfortably in your lap, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hi honey,” He says softly, his voice warm as he cups your face. His fingers gently tracing small circles on your cheek.

“Hi baby” you reply, nuzzling against his hand and placing your own atop his. Your heart flutters as you glance down at him. You took his hand, planting soft kisses along his inner palm before intertwining your fingers with his.

He watches you with a playful smile, utterly smitten by how adorable you were. Small affections made him feel loved and cherished. As you flipped his hand to face yours, you noticed the small scars that marked his skin- stories he briefly mentioned he’s gotten from childhood and battles with Wanderers from the past.

“Did you really get these when you were just a child?” you asked as he nodded. “A couple were from mishandling my sword while I was training,” he explained, earning a breathy chuckle.

You draw his hand closer, your lips finding those small scars.

“Hmm? What are you doing? They don’t hurt anymore,” He says so innocently, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. As you pull your lips away from his hand, you look down, meeting his gaze.

“I know,” you reply, your voice softening. “You’ve come some far. Those battles shape you into this strong and brave man.” A gentle smile graced your lips as he returned your smile, warmth flooding over him.

“No, it’s all those battles that have made everything worth it to have you in the end.” His voice filled with sincerity. Unable to resist, he sits up, leaning in. His eyes soften as he closes the distance between you two. Your breath caught as his lips met yours, tender and sweet, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you.

Zayne:

You were no stranger to the scars on his arms. You've memorized every part of his body by now. He always kept them hidden whenever he wore his coat, long sleeves, or cardigan. Whether or not he was insecure about them or not, you wanted to make sure every inch of him was loved.

He was a bit surprised when you first kissed the scars on his arms. When your soft lips brushed against his scars, he melted at your touch. He feels a warmth spread through his body that brings him comfort and so so unconditionally loved. As you planted gentle kisses along his arm, a smile curled on his lips.

He loves it and finds it endearing whenever you do, making sure to give you the same amount of kisses back or more to remind you how much equally he loves you back.

────୨ৎ────

You rested your head on Zayne’s lap, the TV fading into a dull hum as he immersed himself in the pages of his book. With one hand holding the book, his other hand rests against your head to act as a pillow. Curiosity piqued you as you shifted slightly to play with his hand, captivated by the contract between the sizes of your hands. That’s when your gaze fell on the scar peeking from his sleeve.

As he continues to read, you gently push his sleeve up, tracing the outline of his scar before moving to the one beside it. You remembered him telling you he’d gotten these from childhood and how he can’t fully remember how he got them. A bittersweet ache fills your heart as you think of the childhood you both missed out on, wishing you could have been there to ease his pain and take care of him.

Drawn by an impulse, you inch closer and closer to his arm, planting a delicate trail of kisses on his scars. The soft warmth of your lips draws his attention to you. As he glances down, a small smile curls onto his lips.

“What are you doing, my love?” He asks softly, closing his book and setting it aside. His free hand brushes back the stray strands of your hair that had fallen over your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

You rolled over to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of his soft smile and the warmth in his eyes, all just for you.

“Seeing these makes me wish I could have taken away your pain back then.” He’d sigh, cupping your face, his gaze continues to be filled with warmth.

“What matters is that you’re here with me now.” He replies softly as you shift closer, sitting up to rest your head against his chest. “Just having you here makes everything feel right,” He says with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m grateful that we eventually found our way to each other in the end.” He gently lifted your chin with his finger, drawing your gaze back to his before pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips.

( astra when i catch you astra.....)

Rafayel:

He is no stranger to you kissing his scars. You did it once when you kissed his paper cuts on his finger and he wanted you to keep doing it again and again.

Acts as if he's touch-starved. His reasoning would be one he loves it, two he loves and craves your touch, three he feels seen. You’ll still love him no matter what flaws he has or what he becomes.

Although there were some scars that randomly appeared on his arms, hinting untold stories. Initially you assume they might have stemmed from his artistic pursuits and whenever you bring it up, he brushes the topic aside.

Knowing Raf, you sense there’s more beneath the surface, he’s never been one to shy away from discussing his body. But you choose not to press on it and you’ll wait patiently for him to open up in his own time. For now, your love will be his comfort to whatever untold stories those scars hold on him.

────୨ৎ────

“Ouch! My hand!” He whines, flailing his hand in the air as if that might chase away the sting. You walk over to his stool, where he’s currently suffering from another paper cut from his sketchbook.

“Cutie,” he pouts, raising his finger to your face with a hopeful expression. “Kiss it, please.” You can’t help but chuckle as you take his hand in yours. You press a gentle kiss over the tiny wound to make his pain go away.

“There. It’ll be gone in a few seconds, Raf.” Just to be sure, you place another soft kiss on the same spot and notice a faint scar peeking from under his dress sleeve.

“Another one Raf? Where’d you get this scar?” You ask, gently pulling his arm to roll up his sleeve and examine it. He shrugs, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I dunno, it just appeared out of nowhere. I can’t be too focused on that if I’m always focused on you cutie.” You snort. tracing the outline of the scar with your fingertip before leaning in to place a tender kiss on it.

He smiles, his nebula colored eyes sparkling as if they imitated space and the stars. “Are you trying to make it go away cutie?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you reply softly, “but it’s also for the times I couldn’t be there to kiss it better.” He swears his heart can leap out of his chest right now and do backflips from how adorable you are. He reaches out to cup your face, his free arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Then I guess you just have to stay with me all the time," he says, a mix of playfulness and seriousness in his voice. “What if I get hurt again? Who’s going to kiss it all better? He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile breaking across his face.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, your faces meeting each other's level as you meet each other’s gaze. “You know,” he says, his voice gentle, “I could get used to you kissing all my scars. You make everything feel so much better.”

With a playful twinkle in his eye, he cups your cheek, drawing you closer until your lips brush against each other in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Sylus:

You’ve seen the scar on his chest before, whether it was during your shared showers or a cozy night in your shared bed. It often peeks out from under his robe, nestled by his sternum. He doesn’t mention much about how he got it, so you decided not to pry further into it.

The first time you did it was when you both got ready for bed. As you nestled your head against his chest, your fingers gently trace the scar that marked his skin. He’d hum in response from your touch as you pressed a soft kiss to it. He’d let out a silent laugh, finding you to be oh so adorable. He'd ruffle your hair before placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You'd do it a lot more often after you found out he enjoys your small acts of affection towards him. You'd do it any chance you'd get.

In the steamy shower, you'd go on your tippy toes to kiss his scar and he'd respond back by gently placing a finger under your chin to draw you in for a soft tender kiss in return.

He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chest. You’re the only person he can be himself and vulnerable around, so doing an intimate act like that makes him feel safe and loved.

────୨ৎ────

Sylus was already in bed, his head resting gently against the headboard. His eyes were closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was evident to the exhaustion from a long day of work. Not wanting to disturb his peace, you quietly climbed on top of him, resting your head near his heart, hearing the soft, rapid thumps of his heartbeat. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Goodnight Sy,” you whisper, planting a tender kiss on his chest. Your gaze falls upon the scar that you knew so well, it’s story etched into his skin.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” he murmured back, his voice a low, soothing whisper as his fingers traced gentle circles on your waist.

You let your fingertips wander over the scar, feeling the slight indentation. He responds with a soft hum, his eyes still closed. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, his hands still anchoring you on to him. You hum in reply, your mind drifting back to the story behind his scar.

-

“Where did you get this scar, Sy?” you asked, as the warm water pours over both of you in the shower.

He glances down at you, his gaze softening as he focuses on your face, careful not to let the soap get into your eyes. “That,” he paused for a moment, “is the reason I’m still here. But that’s all in the past now, sweetie.”

-

You remember not prying further as you traced the scar’s curves. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his scar, earning a breathy chuckle from him as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“I’m glad you’re still here with me, Sy,” you whisper, continuing to caress the scar with your fingertip.

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer, your eyes meeting his crimson ones. His gaze was sleepy yet filled with warmth. If his heart beats any faster, he swears his heart can burst out of his chest.

“And I’m grateful to always have you by my side.” A soft smile curls to his lips as he cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before pulling you forward to him, giving you a sweet and passionate kiss.

[moonpascaltoo]

logan ‘james’ howlett

masterlist • x-men • 11/18/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

two

𑣲 as it was I @ichorai

you first met logan as weapon x, wiped clean of any memory of his past life. he had nearly killed you then. and now, almost two years later, he’s pressing kisses over the very same scars his adamantium claws had inflicted.

𑣲 blast from the past I @lune-hime

𑣲 a wolverines heartache I @imaginesforfandom

On two separate occasions, both Y/N and Logan find jealousy within their friendship.

𑣲 feral I @angelltheninth

𑣲 worked up I @loganbcrnes

logan breaks the bed

𑣲 anything I @starryluce

Almost everyone fears Logan but Logan only fears you. His wife that happens to be pretty mad at him.

𑣲 i need you baby I @lilac-mushroom

When you found out that mutants were being chased and attacked, you couldn't stand the thought of Logan, an old friend of yours, being hurt. Upon arrival at the place he was staying at, you found him beaten up and hurting, his healing powers slowed down. Deciding to take care of him, you couldn't ignore the closeness and strong sexual tension felt between you, just like old times. It wouldn't be bad to give in to it... right?

𑣲 above the clouds I @/lilac-mushroom

Flying over to Atlanta for a mission with the X-Men, you sat next to Logan on the plane. But when his hand sneaked to caress the top of your thigh, you were faced with having to decide between sneaking off with him to the bathroom and leaving Logan painfully hard for rest of the flight. Maybe if you tried to be quiet...

𑣲 apologies I @jbreenr

The Wolverine's presence in your life took a turn you did not expect.

𑣲 two wolves, one bunny I @buckylattes

Logan and Bucky have had their eyes on you for a little bit now, and you can’t stand to wait any longer for them to finally make a move. So you make a move of your own and finally, you all get what you’ve been wanting.

𑣲 next door neighbor I @/buckylattes

Your next door neighbor, Logan, has been trying to get your attention for a while now, but he fears that he’s taken the whole situation the wrong way. Will you ever give him a chance?

𑣲 possessive I @/buckylattes

Logan is always very possessive of you, his girl, but you can’t really be mad at him even if you try.

𑣲 untangle me I @buckyownsmylife

The one where once it becomes clear that Logan is your alpha, he’s the one left pining

𑣲 first burn I @/buckyownsmylife

The one where Logan is so crazy to make sure that everyone knows you’re his, that he fucks you in front of everyone.

𑣲 prom I @loving-barnes

𑣲 a little game I @/loving-barnes

𑣲 touch me like nobody else does I @galatially

you called and i came, the history between us too broad to ignore; when he showed up on your doorstep five years after he disappeared in the middle of the night, logan howlett decided to clear the air.

𑣲 in love with the wolverine I @ellana-ravenwood

𑣲 sunshine and flowers I @hannibals-favourite-meal

Logan has had a great many loves in his long life and he’s over it. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else yet somehow, the annoying and very much younger art teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, wormed her way into his heart.

𑣲 the way back home I @/hannibals-favourite-meal

After months of being apart from each other, he’s finally back in your arms

𑣲 worst possible decision I @/hannibals-favourite-meal

How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

𑣲 body swap I @make-me-imagine

reader and wolverine get body swapped, and the reader just so happened to be on their period when it happens + them having to deal with each others mutations.

𑣲 wolverine x reader I @carry-on-wayward-sun

𑣲 it should have been me pt2 I @wolfdeamonghoul

Bucky and you had a good relationship, until he felt like didn’t need you anymore and so he breaks up with you and starts dating Natasha soon after. It only takes seeing you walking down the aisle, saying your ‘i dos’ to someone else for him to realize his mistake.

𑣲 what a tease I @/wolfdeamonghoul

you tease Logan too much that he begins to pleasure himself

𑣲 sexting I @/wolfdeamonghoul

𑣲 breed out I @holylulusworld

you woke the animal in wolverine.

𑣲 bed sharing I @/holylulusworld

“Can you do ‘bed-sharing’ with Wolverine? He’s grumpy and you believe he doesn’t like you, but he can’t stop himself from sniffing at your neck and it can be smutty or just fluff. You decide.”

𑣲 cranky I @/holylulusworld

Your boyfriend is cranky in the morning.

𑣲 newbie I @kgficz

Logan had arrived at the X Mansion only a few days ago, finding it difficult to adjust. One night when he can’t fall asleep, he finds you awake in the kitchen and strikes up a conversation.

𑣲 back in time I @/kgficz

Set in Days of Future Past; Logan has lost everything, he has lost you. He’s finally been sent back in time to change the future. How can he keep his head straight when he travels back and sees a younger you?

𑣲 logan training I @imyourbratzdoll

logan and the reader end up training in another... more fulfilling way.

𑣲 labels I @mlmxreader

you and Logan discuss your relationship over a beer.

𑣲 the last goodbye I @trickstersteve

𑣲 just a dance I @lipstickandvibranium

Logan wasn’t fond of parties, but he was fond of her.

𑣲 i guess you didn’t cheat, but… I @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms

𑣲 request I deactivated account

𑣲 grumpy x sunshine I @inkdrinkerworld

𑣲 mutant!reader I @/inkdrinkerworld

𑣲 forever winter I @luna-writes-stuff

After a rough mission, you lost a handful of students. Trying to sleep off your concussion, Logan retreats to the kitchen, coping in his own ways. You encounter him late at night, and remember him that there is no need for him to deal with this alone.

𑣲 obsessed with wolverine I @gallavichsreddie1128

𑣲 sugar, sugar I @eupheme

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

𑣲 come on and show me I @/eupheme

𑣲 your kiss is on my list I @/eupheme

𑣲 the honda odyssey I @coweye

The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

𑣲 the worst logan part 2 I @/coweye

You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life

𑣲 all coming back to me I @heartlogan

logan didn’t realise you would be here in the past. all that follows.

𑣲 the story ends I @/heartlogan

the day that logan lost you

𑣲 request I @gay-dorito-dust

logan reuniting with reader

𑣲 heart made of glass I @moonlight-prose

you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

𑣲 home video I @little-miss-dilf-lover

[shomatoriashi]

08/13/24; 06:35pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ morning sex with them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

[ warnings: somnophilia for xavier’s ]

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

when morning came, you could feel the sunlight streaming through the curtains, painting your bedroom in brilliant hues of color. yet it wasn't the bright intensity of the light that ends up rousing you from your slumber, oh no-

it was the sensation of sylus's cock felt rutting against your inner thighs, his morning wood already straining against the front of his boxers. you end up moaning in response to such an intimate friction, eyes going blurry as you tried to meet with his gaze.

"s-sylus..."

“morning, sweetie.” his voice becomes thicker with passion, feeling the way he moves his large hands to the back of your thighs, spreading your legs wide open for him. he hums, playing with the edge of your panties before sliding a thick finger within your entrance, earning a gasp from you.

“again?” you whine, recalling the sheer amount of times he had taken you last night. you were already burying your face within the plush pillows as sylus worked on thrusting his finger in and out of your slick heat, preparing you for what was to come.

“what can i say, kitten… you bring out the beast in me.” sylus proceeds to remove his fingers from your wet heat, pulling your body closer to him. he continues to hold you against his broad chest, playing the big spoon all while slowly sliding down the waistband of his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free before sliding his erection up and down your silky thighs. while giving your ass a hard slap!, he manages to find your opening before thrusting his cock deep inside of you.

your loud moans echo throughout the room, with the bed creaking in response to his passionate movements against you, making you lose all train of thought as you allowed sylus to fill you over and over again.

dawn had barely set across the skies when you woke up from a startling dream. in it, zayne had let you act out all of your deepest fantasies on him, and although you couldn’t remember each specific detail-

you still felt the ache between your legs, serving as the sole evidence of your heated dreams.

biting down on your bottom lip, your throat becomes dry the moment you trail your eyes to see zayne still sleeping peacefully next to you. the sheets were barely hanging on to his form as you could see the hard line of muscles and faint scars that decorate his pale skin.

letting out a deep breath, you inch yourself closer to him, purposely laying across his body. your lips were already latched onto him, pressing butterfly kisses all across his skin. your gentle touches manages to rouse him from his slumber as he opens his eyes to look at you. your name was spoken from his parted lips in a reverent whisper, saying your name like it was some well kept secret that was meant to be cherished.

swallowing your dignity, you slowly shimmy your way out of your now drenched panties, placing the palm of your hand against his half-hardened cock settled beneath the sheets. “i need you… so… may i take you?”

a sleepy chuckle was heard coming from zayne. “ask… and you shall receive.”

your lover allows you to slide the sheets off of his body, revealing the entirety of his nakedness to you, his cock already standing at full attention. biting back a moan, you slowly got on top of him, purposely straddling his cock as you ran your cunt up and down the length of his erection.

zayne’s soft grunts and groans of your name pushes you over the edge, with you lifting yourself off of him as you grabbed a hold of his cock. giving it another stroke, you held it within your grip before sliding down on him, not stopping until he was fully sheathed inside of you.

��hng!” just hearing zayne’s grunts was enough to get your blood boiling as you proceeded to bounce up and down his length, never once stopping until you were drunk off the sheer amount of pleasure he had given you.

xavier was relentless this morning, unable to contain himself when he saw the way you were resting so peacefully while dressed in nothing but a sheer nightie.

wanting nothing more than to have you wake up with the sensation of his mouth on your cunt, xavier plants himself between your thighs, spreading them wider on the bed for him. noticing the way your panties already had a dark stain against them makes the young hunter let out a guttural groan in response.

pushing up the skirt of your nightgown, xavier grips at the waistband of your panties and slides it off of you in, one swift motion. with your slick heat bare for only his eyes to see, xavier wastes no time when he surges forward and places his lips over the entirety of your sex. his tongue laps up your honeyed arousal, devouring you like a man starved. as if addicted to there mere taste of you, he buries himself even deeper inside of you, tongue tracing at your pussy lips before working on drinking up all that you had to offer.

you finally woke up the moment he makes you cum into his mouth, making xavier feel the onslaught of your arousal coating at his lips. hearing you gasp, you finally open your eyes and place your hands within his golden strands of hair.

“oh my god… i thought i was having a sweet dream… fuck-“

xavier smirks against your slick heat, placing one last kiss against it before leaning up. he lights a trail of heated kisses up your body and gazes at you with dilated eyes. xavier states your name in a gruff manner before grabbing at your chin, leaning down to give you a searing kiss all while whispering, “be prepared, since your dreams are about to get so much sweeter.”

with those words serving as his final warning, xavier shifts the fabric of his boxers, revealing his cock briefly before thrusting himself into you, sheathing himself to the hilt as he desperately pistons his hips in and out of you, taking complete control of all your senses.

when rafayel had convinced you to enjoy a nice and warm morning bath with him, you had every intention of simply relaxing with him-

yet the sounds of skin meeting with skin coupled along with the squelching sounds that served as evidence of your copulation was anything but relaxing. your body was felt burning up with pleasure, your hips slamming down on rafayel’s cock as he met you with his own upward thrusts. both of your movements were filled with an urgency of two lovers who needed to reach their completion together.

“you fit me… so well… almost too well.” rafayel admits to you in a grunt, feeling your hips rolling against his, trapping his cock within your sweet walls. the sensation of your slick heat being wrapped so tightly around him was enough to make the artist slump back against the tub. he was unable to speak any further, losing all of his senses as he watches you bouncing up and down on his cock with a hazy expression.

not even caring about the water that spills over the porcelain tub, and you began to whine when you felt your release quickly approaching. “r-rafe… i’m so close… sosososososo close…!”

hearing the desperation in your voice, he surges forward, hands already wrapping themselves around your naked waist as he helped with speeding up your bounces up and down his length. “come on, my love, let yourself go for me… surround me in your heat so that i may forever burn this moment into my memories.”

letting out a high pitched moan, you dig your nails into rafayel’s shoulders, spilling yourself down the length of his cock as you came. stars fill your vision when the lemurian stills his hips and remains completely buried within your searing heat, spilling his seed deep inside of you as you land against his chest in response.

your breathing was heavy, and you were unable to move due to how intense your lovemaking was with rafayel. the bath water had long since gone lukewarm, yet neither one of you seemed to care. with your naked breasts still pressed against his chest, rafayel wraps his arms around your back, pressing you even closer to him.

“let’s just rest… for a moment…” you hear your lover let out a yawn, and you could only manage a hum in agreement. allowing the exhaustion to take over, you shut your eyes and let the memory of the pleasure you experienced just moments ago to serve as a gateway to the land of sweet dreams…

end notes: i’ve been feeling thirsty for all the lads men and decided to write a drabble for all of them (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[blaire-apricity]

Grief

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘈𝘋𝘚 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Xavier is unraveling. He refuses to accept the brutal reality of your absence, his mind rejecting the notion that you’re gone. Every day he clings to the desperate hope of finding you, even if it means chasing an illusion. Jeremiah pleads with him to let go, to find rest, but Xavier hasn’t slept a single night since you disappeared. The world insists you’re gone forever, but he can’t believe that. Somewhere, he convinces himself, you must still exist. He’s willing to turn the world upside down to see you again, despite the gnawing certainty deep inside him that you’re lost to him forever. He will never stop, not until his body collapses from exhaustion. Losing you once was unbearable; he won’t let it happen again, no matter the cost.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Zayne appears composed, his emotions meticulously controlled, his expression unchanged. But the mere mention of your name sends ripples through his calm facade. When alone in his office, the dam breaks. Tears fall freely as memories of your smile flood his mind, shattering his composure. Your disappearance haunts him, and he blames himself for not protecting you, for not being there when you needed him. It takes years for him to begin moving on, and even then, the wound never truly heals. He will always carry the pain of losing the one person who mattered most to him, a scar that time can never erase.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

Rafayel descends into despair, his mind a tangled mess, his heart shattered beyond repair. The thought of you forgetting him pales in comparison to the agony of losing you completely. He was content just being near you, even if you couldn’t remember. Now, faced with a life without you, he breaks down, collapsing to the ground as sobs wrack his body. He retreats from the world, locking himself away in his studio, which becomes a prison of his own making. What good is anything if it’s only half? That’s how his heart feels—torn without you, the other half of his soul.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Sylus explodes with rage. Always the controlled one, he now finds himself consumed by a fury he can’t contain. You were his unexpected source of gentleness and warmth, and now you’re gone, ripped away from him. The news of your disappearance drives him to violent outbursts. He flips tables, shatters glass, and destroys furniture, his shouts of frustration echoing through the mansion. Luke and Kieran keep their distance, knowing better than to approach him in this state. The loss of you makes him question everything. What’s the point of keeping the peace, of holding back? If he’s lost his world, he might as well set fire to the entire world in his grief and anger.

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑎-𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠; "𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑓𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠." 𝐼𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑆𝑁'𝑇 𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑁 𝐼𝑁𝑇𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝐴𝐿, 𝐼 𝑆𝑊𝐸𝐴𝑅 𝐴𝑆𝐾𝐷𝐻𝐾𝐴𝑆.

[unintentionalseductress]

how do u think the lads boys will handle the period cramp simulator?

Pain Tolerance

Zayne: He's probably not a stranger to pain during our period since he's a doctor who appears to be well-read about women's health (like him making us red date tea when we got our period).

But I think he's unaware of just how painful cramps can actually be. He's medically curious so he'll easily agree to being attached to the machine. He'll hold up for the first few levels and about midway he'll probably be surprised and grit his teeth.

I think Zayne has a high pain tolerance given that his evol literally leaves scars on him but he won't try to be macho and say it isn't that painful. Amp it up all the way I think he'll openly say this is the most awful thing he's experienced. After it's all over he realizes that while he is a good partner during these times, you go through this every month and it makes him more empathetic to your struggle.

Xavier: He knows your period can make you miserable and is willing to try it just to see how bad it is, but is a little hesitant about it.

On the lower settings he'll probably admit this is already uncomfortable and that he doesn't understand how women are supposed to think with this tingling in their lower body all day.

On the mid to higher levels, he's curled up in a ball panting. He's never imagined that this could be so painful and he's wondering how you manage to get out of bed and get to work like this. How do you focus on your day with this horrible ache in your belly, which also seems to crawl down to your lower back and legs?

During this time he'll probably ask to hold hands until it's switched off. He's sweating and asks for chocolate afterwards since that's what you seem to like when on your period. He says he'll never try that again but he also will do more for you now that he knows what your body experiences.

Sylus: Sylus has an image to maintain. He's not cocky enough to believe your cramps aren't painful, but he's seen you being a boss on your period and has convinced himself that if you can look that badass, he can too.

He's wrong. Like Zayne, he's fine for the first few levels but he says he understands why you complain that you feel like you're peeing during this phase. Amp it up at the mid-levels and he's wincing, trying to massage his belly to relieve some of the ache. He tries to act normal but can't, and it's humbling to him that you can go about your day like this and he's crumpled on the sofa.

At the highest level he's lying supine, saying this pain makes him want to murder things. He's sweating and has realized that you definitely have the higher pain tolerance because while you manage to go to work and complete all your tasks, he's thinking about drafting a will and asking you to take care of the twins. This is not a man who neglects you when you're on your period but after this experience, he creates a special storeroom just for you and fills it with all the things you'd ever need for an upcoming period.

Rafayel: I think Rafayel would be a little more playful about this until he experiences it himself. Like Sylus, he thinks that just because you can handle it, he can handle it.

Our dramatic little fish boi will lounge on the sofa as the simulator is hooked up to him. He'll say it tingles when it's turned on and as it amps up he'll probably realize he's bitten off more than he can chew. He'll complain the whole time saying this is miserable and askng why nature decided to make women go through this every month.

At the mid to higher levels he's swearing he's dying and that he needs immediate medical assistance. Thomas keeps bringing him glasses of water and he's groaning in pain, fingers curled into the sofa as he begs for the machine to be turned off.

Once he's unhooked from the machine, he'll probably sob in relief and tell you you're the bravest person to exist for dealing with this with hardly any drama every month. He'll also advise you to take time off when you get your period next and insist he'll run all your errands and get food for you and that he doesn't want you lifting a finger during this time.

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[lalunanymph]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zayne was afraid of you getting hurt. 

And he was afraid of hurting you. 

The bags under your eyes have gotten worse.

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

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

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

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

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

Things were catastrophic, to put it mildly. 

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

“When will it end?” 

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

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

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

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

“Can I come with you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His observation was apt, as usual.

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

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

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

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

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

His nightmares always started the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feminine, almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne—”

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

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

You felt like you were floating on auto-pilot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Zayne grimaces, and you shoot him an apologetic smile.

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

I’ll try not to, he mouths back.

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

Something was off the second you woke up.

Firstly, Zayne wasn’t with you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he say when he would be done?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne?” 

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

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

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

“Zayne… it’s okay.”

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

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

“I don’t think this will work out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you didn’t even matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zayne…?

You flinched when Caleb mentioned his name.

For a single second, neither of you said anything.

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

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

“It wouldn't be worth it—not at all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where is he going with this?

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

Standing up, he extends a hand towards you.

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

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

Taking his hand, you nod. 

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

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

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

But, you do it anyway.

Despite his odd allegory, Xavier was right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

His heart rate spikes and he immediately stands.

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

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

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

There was no you in his life anymore.

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

Plain and simple—he missed you. 

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

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

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

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

“Dr. Zayne—”

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

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

No. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Dr. Zayne?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a pause.

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

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

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

He had to focus on the task at hand.

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

How easy it was for you to replace him…

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

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

“Let’s get it started, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you worried for Tara?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds like a wonderful time.”

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

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

“Y/N?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“Any dizziness? Loss of hearing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He whispers that last part and your mind blanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was time to let the begging game begin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckle nervously when she gives you a look.

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

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

“Good… morning?”

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

“Morning,” you mutter hastily.

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

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

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

“These are… for me. I think.”

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

“Oh. Are they from Zayne?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Send.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Noted. The beef broth one?”

“Sounds good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s hurt.

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

“A calculated attack… an explosion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tertiary, Dr. Zayne.”

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

What did you get yourself into, Y/N? 

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

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

The implicit concern was clear.

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

Zayne nods, bracing himself for another long night.

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

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

Suspended. Floating.

Trapped.

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

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

In this limbo, time neither exists nor moves forward. 

You were just here. Just being.

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

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

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

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

“... I’m sorry…”

You caught that word a lot.

Sorry. 

Sorry. 

But, for what?

Who was that voice apologizing to? 

And what had they done wrong?

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

The blue flame glows brighter, almost encompassing you. 

Please… I’m scared… 

You tried to scream, tried to push back.

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

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

Were you a star right now?

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

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

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

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

“... she’s waking up!”

“... quick… nurse!” 

“Zayne… she’s back…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Z… Zay… Zayne?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S… Sorry…”

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

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

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

“I love you. Please—rest.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fidget in your seat, staring out a window. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... Hello?”

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

“Hello, doctor. Welcome home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know other women?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you whimper. “I need you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boldly, your tinier hand rests on his bulge. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s missed you so much, Zayne. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he duly gives you the credit you deserve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Undress me first, my Aurora.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beautiful, he whispers, half to himself. 

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

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

Will it fit inside of me after so long…? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mhm, your slurry moan brushes his heated ears. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Aurora. Mine. 

His.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Zayne…”

“My Aurora?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Give me your cum, Daddy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps.” 

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

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

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

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

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

You mumble his name, honeyed with devotion and lust.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[urdreamydoodles]

hi! i love your work, everyone feels so in-character and accurate!!! i think anyone even glancing at this blog can really tell how much care and love you have for these characters and its absolutely beautiful.

would you be interested in doing a request with the x-men (preferably Logan, Remy, Kurt, Colossus, Cable, Deadpool, and Magneto please?) where reader is a mutant and their main power is that anyone they touch is instantly filled with joy? and the more physical contact they have the more intense the happiness is, to the point where a shirtless cuddling session might accidentally make one of the x-men cry tears of joy.

X-Men x Fem!Reader

Your mutation is to make people instantly happy by touch

As your partner experiences the effects of your unique mutation that brings instant happiness with a simple touch, they find themselves captivated by the warmth and joy you effortlessly radiate.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Colossus, Cable, Wade Wilson, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier & Scott Summers

Good day, my fellow comic book lovers. Yes, I'm back, with even more ideas than before and even more inspiration. I hope you are ready. (And I'm happy to fulfill your request, the idea is amazing. I hope you like it.)

Logan Howlett

- Logan was initially cautious about letting you get close; he didn’t believe that anyone like you could actually find something worth loving in him. He'd tried pushing you away, though you always found ways to make him let his guard down, usually through gentle persistence and that warm smile of yours that could melt adamantium.

- Your powers were unique to him. With his lifetime of pain, his usual cynicism, and a gruff personality, he never expected to find solace in anyone, let alone through something as simple as touch. The first time you brushed his hand during a mission, he noticed a calm he hadn’t felt in decades. It made him think that maybe he could deserve this—deserve you.

- Over time, he started coming to you when things got rough. A hand on his shoulder after a long day, a brush of your fingers on his arm—these small moments were something he’d never admit he was beginning to crave. It amazed him how you could peel away layers of his anger, leaving him more vulnerable than he’d ever allowed himself to be with anyone else.

- Logan had an unspoken rule about keeping his shirt on during your cuddling sessions. He couldn’t figure out if he was afraid of overwhelming himself or you. But one evening, after a particularly hard mission, he came back to you, worn down. This time, as he lay beside you, he let you slip your hands over his bare chest, fingers tracing his scars with reverence.

- The feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. At first, it was a gentle warmth that soothed his spirit. But then, the joy kept building, wave after wave crashing over him, melting away decades of pain. Logan tried to keep his composure, but the intensity of happiness was too much. Before he knew it, silent tears were streaming down his face. He held onto you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder, overcome by the rarest kind of peace.

- After that, Logan stopped trying to keep his distance, feeling like he could let himself be vulnerable with you in a way he never had before. He still rarely showed his softer side, but when he did, you were the one person who got to see every part of him.

- You two shared an unspoken bond in the way he’d wordlessly reach for your hand in a crowded room, or how he’d find you at the end of a long day, needing just a few minutes of your touch to feel whole again. You became his peace, his center, the calm in his storm.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy’s charm was legendary, and he couldn’t resist trying to impress you from the moment he met you. He’d flash you a smirk, tell a joke, or drop a flirtatious line just to see you smile. But when he learned about your powers, he realized it was more than just fun and games. You weren’t someone he could win over with his usual swagger; you touched something deeper in him, something he wasn’t sure he wanted exposed.

- The first time he felt the effects of your powers, he didn’t know what hit him. Your hand brushed his arm, and suddenly, he felt a joy that he hadn’t known since he was a kid, free of the troubles and betrayals that life had thrown his way. For a man like Remy, who hid so much behind his humor and bravado, it was shocking. But he found himself craving that touch, that happiness, in a way he hadn’t expected.

- Whenever the weight of his past sins would catch up to him, he’d come to you, leaning into your embrace, letting your warmth dissolve the guilt that usually gnawed at him. Remy often joked that you were his “lucky charm,” but it was more than luck—you were his reminder that maybe he deserved to feel something good after all.

- One night, you both were curled up on his couch, your hand tracing patterns on his chest, your bare skin against his. It started as a pleasant warmth, and then, without warning, it grew into an overwhelming wave of euphoria. The happiness was so intense that it caught him completely off guard. He chuckled at first, saying, “Cher, I think you mighta broke ol’ Remy,” but then his voice hitched, and he couldn’t help the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

- For a man who always prided himself on staying in control, it was a vulnerable moment. He laughed softly, wiping at his eyes, but you just held him, letting him feel it fully. Remy realized that in your arms, he didn’t have to be the smooth-talking charmer, the rogue who had everything under control. He could just be Remy.

- From that day on, he let himself be honest with you about his past, his regrets, and the mistakes that haunted him. He knew that with you, he could find the joy he’d always chased in all the wrong places. Your touch was a balm to his soul, something he knew he’d never take for granted.

- You’d often catch him looking at you with a softness that no one else ever got to see, and when he’d pull you close, it was as if you were the one thing in his life that made sense. In you, he found a kind of love and joy that filled all the gaps he’d spent years trying to ignore.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt was enchanted by you from the start. With his deep-rooted faith and complex past, he saw you as a gift, something almost divine. Your presence seemed to bring light into his world, and he found himself drawn to you in a way that went beyond simple attraction.

- The first time he felt your powers, it was as if his worries and insecurities melted away, replaced by a gentle, all-encompassing happiness. Your touch brought him a kind of peace he hadn’t known since before his mutation became visible. For Kurt, who always struggled with acceptance, your touch was a reminder that he was worthy of love, just as he was.

- He cherished every small gesture—the way you’d run your fingers over his skin, your gentle hand in his when he’d had a tough day, the way you made him feel seen. It was as if you understood the parts of him he rarely shared with anyone else, parts he kept hidden even from himself. With you, he didn’t have to hide.

- One night, as you lay side by side, you rested your hands on his bare chest, skin to skin. The feeling started as a soft, warm glow that spread through him. But then, it deepened, filling him with such overwhelming joy that he couldn’t contain it. His vision blurred as he felt tears welling up, and he turned his face into your shoulder, his voice catching as he whispered, “Mein Liebling… I have never felt this happy.”

- The tears that followed were unexpected, but he let them fall, finally allowing himself to experience the joy you gave him without holding back. In that moment, he felt an intense gratitude—for you, for your touch, for the love that made him feel more human than he’d ever dared to hope.

- From then on, he became even more openly affectionate, his love spilling out in everything he did. He would trace gentle patterns on your hand, whisper sweet nothings in German, or look at you as if you were the answer to every question his heart had ever asked. He felt blessed, and he’d tell you so often, his voice filled with awe and reverence.

- You became his sanctuary, his safe haven from a world that so often judged him. With you, he found not just happiness but the acceptance he’d longed for. Kurt would hold you close, his tail wrapping around you as if to anchor himself to this joy he’d found, promising you silently that he would cherish every moment.

Piotr Rasputin

- Piotr is gentle and considerate, always cautious with his strength. When he met you, he was amazed by how someone so powerful could be so soft-hearted. At first, he worried about your powers, fearing he might become too reliant on the joy you brought. But soon, he found himself yearning for your touch after long, grueling battles, especially when he could let his guard down around you.

- When you first held his hand, he was hesitant. He’d always been a bit self-conscious about how different he looked, but you just smiled and took his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your touch brought him a gentle warmth, melting away the insecurities he often carried with him. With you, he felt seen and accepted in ways that no one else had ever made him feel.

- Piotr isn’t one to ask for too much, but he found himself drawn to your touch like a magnet. After particularly rough missions, he’d quietly seek you out, hoping for a moment of comfort. You never made a fuss, just let him sit beside you, holding his hand or leaning against him as the joy you radiated worked its way into him. It became a cherished ritual, something that made the hardships of his life feel bearable.

- One night, Piotr finally allowed himself to lie beside you, skin to skin. At first, it was a gentle happiness that filled him, but the longer you stayed close, the more intense it became. The warmth grew into an overwhelming bliss, and for someone as stoic as Piotr, the depth of it caught him off guard. His breathing became uneven, and before he knew it, he was crying—tears slipping down his metallic cheeks as he held you close, speechless.

- He felt almost embarrassed afterward, but you just smiled, wiping his tears and reassuring him. That moment marked a turning point for him. He realized that with you, he didn’t need to hide his emotions, that it was okay to let himself feel. You brought out a side of him he thought had been lost long ago, one that still hoped, dreamed, and loved with a full heart.

- After that night, Piotr grew even more attached to you, finding peace in the quiet moments when you’d lie together, sharing warmth and joy. He’d often spend those moments in a comfortable silence, simply holding you, feeling grateful for the happiness you’d brought into his life.

Nathan Summers

- Nathan has seen his share of hardship and pain, coming from a war-torn future where joy is rare. He was wary of you at first, seeing your powers as a potential weakness in a world that demands toughness. But as he got to know you, he realized that the joy you brought him wasn’t just a temporary distraction; it was something he hadn’t realized he’d been desperately needing.

- You first touched his hand during a quiet moment, and he felt a strange peace wash over him. He was stunned. Joy was a feeling he hadn’t associated with himself in a long time, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. But after that first taste, he found himself seeking your company, your touch, whenever he felt the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him.

- Over time, Nathan came to cherish the sense of calm you gave him, though he would never admit it outright. Instead, he’d make excuses to see you, dropping by under the guise of “checking in” or “needing advice.” You’d smile knowingly, reaching out to him, and the tension would melt away from his face as your touch brought him a happiness that felt out of reach otherwise.

- One night, Nathan finally allowed himself to be vulnerable, lying beside you without his usual armor, letting himself feel the full effect of your touch. As you traced your fingers over his scars and metallic arm, the joy started to overwhelm him. It was so pure, so intense, that he felt his defenses shattering. His throat tightened, and he could no longer hold back the tears that streamed down his face.

- You didn’t say anything, just held him close, letting him process everything he’d buried under years of battle and hardship. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt light—almost as if he’d been granted a glimpse of a different life, one filled with peace and contentment. He hadn’t thought it possible, but you made it real, even if only for a moment.

- After that night, Nathan began to trust you with parts of himself he’d never shown anyone. You became his safe haven, the one person who could ease the storm that constantly raged within him. He’d reach for you whenever he needed grounding, finding solace in your presence, and for once, he allowed himself to believe that maybe he deserved to feel happiness, even amidst the chaos.

Wade Wilson

- Wade was fascinated by you from the start. He was used to people either fearing him or finding him too much to handle, so when you treated him with kindness and didn’t shy away from his scars, he was hooked. At first, he thought he’d be immune to your powers, but your touch affected him in a way he couldn’t explain—and for once, it left him speechless.

- Wade’s sense of humor often masked his pain, and he’d joke endlessly about how “lucky” he was to have a “happiness generator” like you. But deep down, he was in awe of you. You brought him something he hadn’t felt in years: genuine joy. He often found himself seeking your touch after missions, feeling the chaotic noise in his mind quiet as your presence filled him with peace.

- Wade was so accustomed to hiding behind his jokes and bravado that he didn’t know how to respond to the warmth you gave him. You’d touch his hand, or hug him after a tough day, and the happiness would radiate through him. For someone used to constant pain, both physical and emotional, it felt almost surreal.

- One evening, he finally allowed himself to let go of his usual defenses. You sat close, tracing gentle patterns on his scarred skin, and the happiness flooded through him, stronger than ever before. The joy grew overwhelming, melting away the hurt he’d carried for so long. Wade tried to crack a joke, but his voice wavered, and suddenly, he found himself laughing and crying at the same time, his heart pounding in his chest.

- He tried to brush it off, saying something about “emotional overload,” but you just held him, letting him feel without judgment. Wade had spent so long hiding his vulnerabilities, but with you, he didn’t feel the need to. He clung to you, grateful for the comfort you provided, for the happiness that didn’t demand anything from him but to just be.

- After that, Wade made it his personal mission to keep you smiling. He’d bring you flowers, tell you absurdly bad jokes, and remind you constantly of how much he cherished you. You were his anchor, his light, and the one person who saw past the madness to the man he rarely showed anyone. In your arms, he found a joy that, for once, he didn’t need to laugh away.

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik’s life has been filled with loss, pain, and a single-minded pursuit of justice for his people. When he met you, he saw your power as a beautiful contradiction: something gentle yet capable of profound influence. Your ability to bring happiness through touch initially seemed trivial to him, but he soon learned its incredible value, especially as you softened the edges of his hardened heart.

- The first time you touched Erik’s hand, he resisted, fearful of showing vulnerability. But even the brief contact sent a surprising warmth through him. He’d spent so long submerged in anger and grief that this unexpected peace felt foreign. Over time, he began to seek out these moments, allowing himself to feel the comfort you provided in small doses, though he’d never admit how much he craved it.

- Erik wasn’t accustomed to softness, and at first, he found himself pushing you away whenever he felt the effects of your powers becoming too strong. But gradually, he began to allow himself more of this joy, savoring the brief relief you brought to his restless mind. You became his oasis in a life filled with darkness, a reminder of a gentler world he’d almost forgotten.

- One evening, after a particularly difficult confrontation, Erik finally allowed himself to be vulnerable, lying close to you, letting his guard down completely. As your touch filled him with happiness, the intensity grew until he could barely breathe. The joy was overwhelming, washing over years of pain, and before he knew it, he was trembling, tears streaming down his face as he held you close, finally allowing himself to let go.

- Erik felt embarrassed afterward, but you reassured him with gentle words, wiping his tears away. He realized then that, with you, he didn’t have to be the hardened leader all the time. For once, he was allowed to be just Erik, and you cherished him for it. This vulnerability only deepened his love for you, making him fiercely protective of your presence in his life.

- From that moment on, Erik allowed himself to indulge in the joy you provided, even if only in private. He’d come to you after every struggle, finding solace in your embrace. You became his sanctuary, and though he remained resolute in his mission, he held your love as a reminder that beauty and goodness still existed in his world, grounding him in ways he never thought possible.

Charles Xavier

- Charles has always been a compassionate leader, dedicating himself to helping others. When he first discovered your power, he was fascinated by the effect you had on others. He viewed your ability to bring joy through touch as a remarkable gift, one that held potential beyond the typical mutant powers he encountered. Over time, he found himself drawn to you, grateful for the solace you brought into his life.

- The first time you touched Charles’s hand, he was pleasantly surprised by the calm that washed over him. Years of telepathic stress and the weight of his responsibilities melted away, if only for a moment. He quickly realized that your presence was unlike anything he’d experienced before. You were a beacon of peace, something he hadn’t realized he needed so deeply.

- Over time, Charles found himself coming to you more often, especially after long days spent guiding and protecting his students. You became his retreat, a safe place where he could rest without the weight of the world on his shoulders. He admired your strength and cherished the way your touch brought him a rare sense of tranquility, allowing him to recharge and continue his work with renewed purpose.

- One evening, Charles allowed himself to truly relax in your arms. As he lay beside you, your touch grew more intense, filling him with such profound joy that he felt all his worries dissolve. The happiness was so powerful that he could no longer hold back the emotion building within him. Tears slipped down his face as he clung to you, overwhelmed by the depth of the joy he felt.

- You held him close, letting him process the weight of his emotions. Charles hadn’t allowed himself to be this vulnerable in years, and with you, he realized that he didn’t have to carry everything alone. Your love reminded him of the beauty and kindness he fought to preserve, rekindling his faith in a future where mutants and humans could coexist.

- After that night, Charles became even more devoted to you, finding strength in the joy you brought to his life. He would often reach for your hand during moments of doubt, feeling your touch ground him. You were his reminder of what he was fighting for, a symbol of the peaceful world he envisioned, and he cherished every moment spent in your embrace.

Scott Summers

- Scott is disciplined, focused, and sometimes emotionally reserved, the weight of his responsibilities often making it difficult for him to relax. When he met you, he was hesitant, unsure if he should allow himself to get close to someone so gentle-hearted. But you quickly won him over with your kindness, and the joy you brought him became a welcome contrast to the structured, intense life he led.

- Your touch was a revelation to Scott, who was so used to suppressing his emotions that he hardly recognized the calm happiness you stirred in him. At first, he tried to downplay it, insisting that he was fine without it. But he found himself seeking your presence more and more, grateful for the way you helped him unwind and escape the pressure of leadership, even if only for a while.

- Scott isn’t one to openly show vulnerability, but with you, he felt a rare sense of peace that allowed him to let down his guard. You’d hold his hand or lean against him, and he’d feel the stresses of the day melt away. Slowly, he came to cherish these moments, finding that your touch grounded him in ways he didn’t know he needed.

- One night, after a particularly intense mission, Scott allowed himself to be fully open with you. He rested beside you, letting your touch wash over him without any resistance. The joy you brought grew until it became overwhelming, filling every part of him with a profound happiness. He found himself overcome with emotion, tears slipping down his cheeks as he realized how much he’d been holding in.

- You comforted him, holding him close as he processed the depth of his feelings. For Scott, this was a turning point, showing him that it was okay to rely on someone, to let himself feel happiness without guilt. You reminded him that he was more than just a leader; he was a person worthy of love and joy, something he often forgot.

- After that, Scott became incredibly protective of you, seeing you as a constant source of strength and peace in his life. He’d come to you after every battle, every difficult day, finding solace in your touch. You were his reminder that, despite the constant struggle, there was beauty and happiness worth fighting for, and he held onto you with a newfound appreciation for everything you brought into his world.

[vampiredaisiesss]

❝ all a ghost can do

is haunt ❞

— part one

★ dofp! logan howlett x younger reader

tags & warnings - mentions of domestic violence and daddy issues, age gap, (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of logan being referred to as an 'old man' and him calling the reader a 'kid', fluff, itsy bitsy angst, time has softened logan a bit.

word count - 1.7k

part two

★ ★ ★ ★

The whiskey burns, but not enough. Never enough to dull the edges of memories that cut deeper than any blade could. 

Logan sits at the kitchen counter of the mansion, darkness pressing in from all sides. His demons always seem to find him here, in these quiet hours when the world narrows down to silence.

Even the adamantium in his bones feels heavier tonight.

He catches your scent before he hears you—that vanilla body lotion you always use. Your bare feet pad against the hardwood floors, and he takes a long gulp of his Jack Daniels when he feels your eyes land on him.

Your eyes are full of worry, as they often are for him. You can’t help it. You both know he drinks too much, smokes too much, gets angry too fast and doesn’t sleep enough. You might be a lot younger than him, or seen half the world he has, but that doesn’t mean you are incapable of distinguishing his self-indulgent tendencies from self-destructive ones.

"You're brooding again," you murmur, voice soft in deference to the midnight hour. The gentle concern in your tone makes something in his chest twist uncomfortably.

"Ain't brooding, bub. Just thinking." The lie tastes bitter, worse than the whiskey.

"Same difference with you," There's no judgment in your voice as you pad closer. You slip onto the stool beside him, close enough that he can feel the heat of you against his arm. "Share your demons with me, old man."

Logan's grip tightens on the bottle, knuckles white. "They ain't your burden to bear, kid."

"Seems like they should neither be yours to carry alone anymore," Your hand finds his forearm, fingers gently coaxing his own to uncoil from the bottle. "They’re tearing you apart, Lo."

“I’ll heal,” his voice turns assertive.

For the first time since you walked in, Logan looks at you. There’s no real heat behind his hazel eyes, but the intensity of his gaze makes your mouth go dry. 

Logan's the kind of handsome that gets better with age, with grey starting to streak through his dark hair at the sides. You've spent more nights than you'd care to admit thinking about running your fingers through that hair, wondering if it's as soft as it looks. 

“There are some scars that can’t heal on their own.” Your voice catches, vision blurring as memories surface. His expression softens, recognizing your demons as they dance in front of your eyes.

You grew up in a small house on the outskirts of town, where the screams couldn't carry far enough for neighbors to hear. Your father worked construction, coming home with anger burning through his veins, fueled by whatever poison he'd picked up at the local store. The bruises started small—a grip too tight around your wrist, fingers digging into your shoulder. By thirteen, you'd mastered the art of layering clothes in summer without breaking a sweat.

Your mother watched it all happen through a veil of willful blindness. She'd whisper "I love you" while dabbing antiseptic on split lips, promising "things will get better" as she covered the marks with a drugstore concealer. But she never left, trapped in her own web of shame and financial dependence.

The day Charles Xavier found you was the day your powers manifested. 

Your father had been in one of his rages, when something inside you finally snapped. The resulting telekinetic burst had sent him flying across the room. You ran, terrified of what you'd done, of what he'd do in retaliation. That's when the professor's black car pulled up, offering sanctuary within the walls of his school.

Xavier's became more than just an escape—it became home. A home with an unlikely collection of mutants who’d soon turn into family. As far as you were concerned, Charles Xavier was your father and Storm had taken on a motherly inclination when it came to you.

And then there was Logan… gruff, protective Logan who understood you without you having to explain. You both sat in this very kitchen the night you finally told him everything.

You'd watched his knuckles whiten, saw the rage build in the set of his jaw—not at you. Never at you. You remember thinking that your father wouldn't survive the night if Logan decided to pay him a visit. But instead of violence, Logan had offered something far more precious than revenge.

Understanding. 

And that was the first time you fell a little for him. 

Logan lets out a breath that shakes more than he'd like to admit. "Been thinking about Stryker. The lab." His voice roughens as he admits. "Sometimes it all just... comes back. Can’t close my eyes, for the life of me."

You don't flinch from the roughness in his voice—you know too well how memories can become monsters in the night. Instead, your fingers slide down to cover his hand, "Would you like to spend the night with me?"

"That's how rumors start, you know." The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his hand turns beneath yours, rough fingers catching against your skin. He shouldn't enjoy your touch this much, shouldn't let himself notice how perfectly your small hand fits in his giant one.

"You worried about your reputation, Howlett?" You lean closer, unable to help yourself. Everyone else might see your relationship as purely paternal, but the thoughts that race through your mind when he looks at you are anything but daughterly.

"Hell nah, never been." His voice drops lower, rougher, allowing himself this small indulgence. "You sure you wanna be associated with a sleazy old bastard like me?"

"I'm afraid it's too late for that." The words come out playful, but your mind floods with memories. 

Ever since you joined the team, Logan's been your shadow, protecting you during every mission. You think of training sessions in the gym, how good his hands feel when they’re adjusting your stance. You think of the day he carried you through the mansion when your leg broke after a mission gone sideways. You'd been mortified at first, but when you felt him cradle you against his chest, you'd buried your face in his neck.

When it comes to Logan, it's more than just physical attraction. It’s the way he’ll jump in any fire to save you. It's the way he'll sense your fear and comfort you whenever you have nightmares. It’s the way he can make you laugh just by raising that eyebrow in exactly the right way at exactly the right moment.

You felt safe with him. You wanted him to know he could feel the same with you too.

Logan watches you lose yourself in thought, fighting the urge to brush back the strand of hair that's fallen across your face. 

He's spent too long trying to convince himself that his feelings are purely protective, that the way his chest tightens when you smile at him is just paternal instinct. But there's nothing fatherly about the way his body responds when you're close, about how often he finds himself thinking about the sound of your laugh.

"And call it daddy issues or whatever," you add with deliberate casualness, though your heart is hammering against your ribs, "but I like older men. So you're in luck, old man."

Logan knows he should say no. Should keep his darkness away from your light. But when you stand and offer your hand, he takes it, letting you lead him through the silent halls like a ship following a lighthouse home.

He has been in your room before, though never like this. Your room is almost the same as his. Almost, with bits and pieces of you sprinkled throughout. A huge antique bookshelf, courtesy of Charles, is one of them, covering an entire section of the four-walled space. 

You watch Logan from your perch on the bed, the way his hands are curled into loose fists at his sides. "It's okay," you let him know softly. "Let me help."

He draws a breath at your words. His hand falls from the doorframe, and the door closes behind him with a soft click, separating the two of you from the rest of the sleeping world.

The mattress dips beneath his weight when he finally sits. You resist the urge to immediately touch him, letting him arrange himself comfortably, until he's lying down with his head in your lap. 

His breathing is too measured, too even to be natural. You watch his hands, curled still into loose fists against his chest, and wait.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the rigid line of his spine begins to soften. He drapes his left arm over your legs, and your fingers find their way into his hair. And fuck, if it isn’t as soft as you imagined. 

"Is this okay?" you ask softly, working your fingernails through his scalp; The first stroke sends a shiver down his spine.

He responds with a barely perceptible nod.

"You're safe here," you murmur, tracing patterns against his scalp. "No labs, no Stryker. No pain. Just you and me."

His eyes flutter close, though he fights it at first but all protests die in his throat. Your fingers continue their gentle journey through his hair, across his scalp, and you feel him surrendering inch by inch to the comfort he's denied himself for so long.

"Those memories? They're just ghosts now. They can haunt you, but they cannot touch you. They can't hurt you anymore, because you survived. You got out, Logan. You're here. You're loved. You're safe."

A soft whimper escapes him. Slowly, so slowly he almost doesn't notice, the tension begins to leak from his muscles. The metal in his bones feels lighter now, smoothing the worried crease between his brows.

"That's it," you whisper, and he feels the smile in your voice. "I've got you, Wolfie. Rest now."

Wolfie, he smiles sleepily. The nickname is the last thing he registers before sleep claims him whole.

★ ★ ★ ★

a/n: Do we want a part two???

[eufezco]

AFTER MIDNIGHT

you spend the night in the house of a family you helped on the road. it's your first night together after a long time and you weren't planning on wasting it.

smut with a bit of reader and logan struggling with body image. english isn't my first language (!) gif credit to @/asgardswinter

mcu masterlist

you slowly unbuttoned logan's shirt.

you were both standing in the middle of the room as you helped the fabric slide down his arms until it fell to the floor. you looked at him in the eyes, he was embarrassed, his cheeks were burning and he was unable to make eye contact. you held his chin between your thumb and index finger and you pressed your lips against his.

logan didn't want to stay. he only said yes to the dinner invitation because it had been days since your last proper meal and he didn't want you, charles, or laura to starve to death.

what he truly wanted was to get back in the car and drive to north dakota. but you could see on his face how tired he was, his whole body was in pain and you didn't know how to help him. so when the family you had helped on the road offered you to spend the night at their place after dinner, you immediately said yes.

they let you and logan stay in one of the guests' rooms while charles slept in the other one and Laura rested on the big couch in the living room.

logan hissed when your fingertips touched his bruised shoulders and you quickly removed your hand, terrified at the thought of having caused him more pain. you broke away from his lips. —i don't want to hurt you, lo —. you excused yourself before he could speak.

logan shook his head. his big hands carefully cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a sweet kiss. —you could never hurt me.

it had been so long since the last time you were intimate that you didn't even know where to start touching him. both of you had been very busy. there were days when you didn't even see each other because when logan came home from work you were already asleep and the only interaction you had was when you could feel his arms wrap around your body from behind and pull you closer to him.

so you taking care of old charles xavier, logan spending most of the day out working, caliban sleeping in the room next door, and now you and logan having to look after laura... you had barely had time to be alone with each other. but that night it seemed as if the stars aligned for you to end up alone in that room.

your hands landed carefully on his chest, warm skin and hard muscles under your fingertips. his body tensed, afraid that you might also feel the thick scars on him and that they disgusted you as much as they did to him. but they didn't. you felt his scarred skin under your touch and traced each of his scars with your fingers.

while he still cupped one of your cheeks, logan placed his other hand on the base of your neck. your lips moved with increasing desperation, your tongues slipped past each other's lips and you softly moaned in the middle of the kiss when logan's fingers gently closed around your throat.

your fingers worked on his belt and the zipper of his pants as logan guided you to the bed. you walked backward, your lips still attached as his hands took care of the button of your jeans.

you sat on the edge of the bed while he leaned over. he crawled on top of you until you were completely flat on your back. logan held the weight of his body using his hands resting on both sides of your head. if you knew how everything hurt him every time he moved, you would've stopped him but he didn't want that to happen.

he sacrificed all the pain in his body for the feeling of your legs squeezing both sides of his body, for your hands pushing the back of his head to deepen the kiss, for the way you parted your lips from his to gasp for air and for the way he kept kissing you even though you weren't kissing him back.

one of his hands slid down your body, his thumb caressing your sensitive nipples over the fabric of your top. you moved uncomfortably on the bed once his hand reached your stomach. logan kissed you harder to keep you from overthinking. he had never been very good with words, but his actions made up for it.

his big hand sneaked inside your underwear, your mouth opened when his fingers found your clit. using his thumb, logan rubbed circles there, just the way he remembered you liked it. his index and middle fingers teased your entrance, spreading your arousal all over it. logan slowly pushed those two fingers inside you, thick and rough, coated in your juices.

you threw your head back and a moan ripped from your throat. logan's hand holding his body over yours went to your mouth. he shushed you. your eyes were closed shut. —can't do that. i'd love to hear you but we gotta be quiet, yes?

you nodded, it was hard taking into count how sweetly his fingers stretched your pussy.

—gonna be quiet so i can fuck you with my fingers? —he asked you, his hand still covering your mouth. you nodded again. he slowly nodded too. his voice, already deep as it was, turned deeper as he murmured in your ear. —yeah? good girl. can you feel how tight you are? gotta get you nice and ready for my cock —. his fingers sank knuckles deep into your core. you closed your eyes shut again, trying your best to hold back your whines.

logan's hand covering your mouth moved to your cheek and caressed it with his thumb. his two fingers inside you curled up. logan pulled them out and pushed them in again as he praised you for doing such a good job in keeping quiet.

—you okay?

you nodded to his question, teeth biting your lower lip.

—words, baby, i need to hear you say it.

—'m okay, lo, but, fuck —. you softly moaned. —i can take it, i promise i can, i need you now. —you whispered as you grabbed the back of his head and connected your lips with his. shit, and how could he let his girl beg for his cock when he wanted you as much?

while his lips devoured yours and his beard tickled your face, logan pulled down his underwear, just enough to free his cock.

he gave himself a few pumps, rubbing himself up and down, before sinking into you. he was going slow, but he didn't stop until he was all the way inside you. logan rested his forehead against yours, your mouths open, incapable of continuing kissing, a few centimeters apart as your breaths mixed.

logan placed one of his hands on your hip, holding your body to the bed and allowing him to set the pace. he kissed your top lip while you were still too lost in the feeling of being full to kiss him back. you grabbed his bicep, nails digging into his skin, leaving half-moon marks. fuck yeah, you heard him moan in a whisper.

it was so hard not to make any sound when you could feel how he was using his entire body to fuck into you, making the bed creak while dropping a bit of his weight on you and caging you on the bed. with a bit of luck, your hosts would already be fast asleep and would not hear it because he was trying his best too. every time his balls smacked against your ass, he had to hold back the grunts and turn them into heavy breaths.

your foreheads were pressed together. back in the day, you'd have been telling each other the filthiest things, but now the 'i love you's came out in soft whispers and died into each other's mouth. it was so intimate. you wrapped your legs around his body, ankles locked behind his back. logan held your hands, pinning them against the mattress on both sides of your head and interlacing your fingers.

logan came inside you with a groan that he tried to silence by hiding his face in the crook of your neck while you bit your lower lip as your legs shook and squeezed his body. you felt dizzy from all the panting, your knuckles were white from the tight grip you had on his hands. his claws came out unintentionally but thanks to your hands under his, the blades didn't stab into the mattress otherwise you would have had a lot of explaining to do the next morning.

—are you okay? that must have hurt.

after catching your breath, he removed himself from you and lay down on the bed. you turned to look at him and took one of his hands between yours. you kissed his knuckles before massaging them. you heard the hiss he let out as his claws hid in his hands again.

logan hummed, enjoying the soothing effect that your fingers had on his aching knuckles. he lifted one of his arms so you could snuggle into his chest and you gladly took refuge on one side of his body.

—never been better —. he kissed your temple, holding you closer to him.

you played with the patch of hair on his chest while you silently enjoyed each other's company. logan closed his eyes and hummed as his fingers caressed your hair. you lifted your head from his chest, and he opened one of his eyes, curious to know what happened.

—you know i stopped taking the birth control pill months ago, right?

logan closed his eye, relieved to know it was just that. —yeah, you told me, i remember.

you narrowed your eyes. —you know what that means?

he opened his eyes to look at you, were you being serious? —me cumming inside you? yeah baby, i'm almost 190, i know what that means.

you looked at each other in silence for a few seconds until you let your head fall on his chest again. he could see the worry in your eyes. he ran his fingers through your hair again, telling you that you would be okay even before you could ask him.

—what will we do if i get pregnant?

—we will be okay and we will find a way, we always have.