#dawnbreaker is that you?

[xayspancakeee]

what.

WHAT.

i have so many questions-

more zayne angst? are we speaking to dawnbreaker now? “when i can’t wake up”- WHAT.

i am convulsing with anxiousness. let him be happy, it’s what he NEEDS.

how this nightmare ends???? baby noooooo.

we asked for more main story branches with the boys, but at what cost? angst, just angst everywhere.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

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

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

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

wc : 1.8k

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

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

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

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

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

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

…Ideally.

But love was powerful.

Love did whatever it wanted.

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

Love could turn the tables.

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

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

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

It was always like this when he looked at you.

As if he could never believe that you were real.

"Zayne," you murmured.

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

"Zayne."

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

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

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

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

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

He was not your Zayne.

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

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

"…It's okay."

Love was powerful, you thought.

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

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

Couldn't that help?

"…My love…"

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

Your eyes closed.

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

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

Your breath hitched.

"Zayne."

He didn't speak again.

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

Your eyes opened.

Can I have you?

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

Can I have you?

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

"Yes."

Just this once.

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

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

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

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

"Pre...tty…" he rasped.

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

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

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

"Mmm…"

As usual, even the softest touch had you melting.

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

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

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

A mantra you would repeat to yourself.

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

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

"Very good," you whispered.

Look… I'm so wet for you.

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

"…Beautiful."

He spoke again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"… Not—"

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

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

It was answer enough.

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

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

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

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

Zayne was still Zayne.

You would love everything of him.

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

And he followed suit.

"My love…"

He began to thrust.

"…My love…"

Harder, faster.

"My love."

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

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

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

You held him tightly.

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

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

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

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

It's exactly the same…

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

Please, please, please.

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

He could claim you like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm happy.

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

I'm happy.

This was all you wanted.

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

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

You didn't stop him.

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

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

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

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[lesyeuxdesylus]

whoever thought of this, count your days 😭

[dawnbreakersgaze]

[cute-little-crow]

you desire asks, bestie?

consider: in the middle of a sleepy morning cockwarming session with zayne and dawnbreaker takes over

What a wonderful idea… 🥹

The first rays of the morning sun creep across bare floorboards, soft breathless moans and the rustle of crisp sheets give way to whispered pleas, and the warmth of skin on skin soothes away any lingering weariness.

Not often do you wake before Zayne, but today has been one such day. His face appeared peaceful—handsome as ever—and content in whatever dream occupied his subconscious.

It had been far too tempting not to admire more of him; pulling back the covers carefully so as not to disturb him and running explorative fingertips across his bare chest and down the slope of his abdomen.

Not until your hand dipped below the waistband of his pyjama trousers did Zayne truly begin to stir. The sensation of you cupping his balls and teasing his morning erection was more than enough to rouse him from the worst of his sleep.

He had welcomed the affection and the desire, cupping your face before running long careful fingers through your hair. His voice was thick with sleep, though few words were exchanged, more or less you understood one another without the need for proper sentences or questions.

It was just as easy to straddle his waist. Just as easy to pull aside your underwear, warm and wet from arousal. It was even more easy to sink onto his cock with one long exhale of satisfaction.

For a long while you lay draped over Zayne’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and drawing fine, intricate patterns on his bicep and shoulder. Your eyes were heavy and given the early hour, you couldn’t be sure if you dozed or not, and the same could be said about the man keeping you stuffed and satisfied despite the lack of movement or friction.

Only when his body gave a jerk did you crack one eye open. He was staring at you—dumbfounded. The apples of his cheeks were a glowing pink and his throat bobbed wildly as though he held far too much saliva in his mouth.

Zayne’s heartbeat spiked and his cock twitched within your snug walls. He seemed panicked though evidently still aroused, given how his palms settled at your backside, kneading with such care you openly moaned.

“Is this a… dream?”

You hummed, confused but not alarmed. “No, this is reality. I like spending lazy mornings like this with you,” you assured, pressing soft kisses to his sternum and towards his still working throat.

As if testing the waters, Zayne raised his hips slowly and cautiously until you squirmed and clenched around him. Desire and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on tugged behind your navel…

His eyes.

Something wasn’t quite right. It was clearly Zayne, but also not the Zayne you knew and loved. This was a man you had only glimpsed from the corner of your eye and very rarely.

He looked lost; set adrift in an ocean of solace. It hurt to maintain the eye contact and despite the reservation growing in your chest, the desire to care for him overwhelmed everything else.

Slowly, just as carefully and deliberately, you rolled your hips back and forth. Watching as his jaw tensed then fell lax, his eyes fluttering shut to show a fan of black eyelashes against his cheeks. He bit his lip and panted harshly.

“Let me love you… let me show you something different. You don’t have to be alone, not right now,” you whispered into his ear before slowly and tenderly making love whilst the winter sun continued to crest over the horizon.

[snowave]

Okay, hear me out. Let me just type and post my thoughts about Zayne (which are probably thoughts that aren't just mine, but for other people, too) that kept on lingering in my mind.

In my opinion, being in a relationship with Zayne means a lot of subtle affections, and what other people label as the "bare minimum".

Opening the doors for you,

Head pats,

Accompanying you,

Giving you things that reminds you of him,

And many more.

Some people these days say that we shouldn't settle for less, that we shouldn't be "the bare minimum" enjoyers as what they really call it. I mean, I get it, we should go for someone who wouldn't give you less, but would give you more than you deserve. But for me, sometimes it's always the simplest and the littlest things that makes a relationship work.

Being in a relationship with Zayne would be filled with those simplest and littlest things that other people might brush off as mundane, or a part of daily life. But I think (probably just my mindset, or whatever), sometimes those things are usually neglected. That because they're part of our everyday lives, we don't do those things for others. But for some people (like me), they mean a lot, because it means that the person who does that to you pays you attention, is attentive to what you might need, and knows what to do around you. That is how Zayne is to MC in almost every universe that they're in.

In addition to the things I've mentioned, I think Zayne would make you feel very secure in your relationship. Sure, he might do those mundane tasks to others as well because he's a gentleman, but with you, he does it because he knows you all too well. He makes sure that everything is comfortable for you, that everything is working for you, that things won't be too complicated for you. That's how Zayne is. Also, I think Zayne is a very present partner in a relationship, despite of his busy schedule as a doctor. Even if it isn't a physical presence, I think he's the type to text you about his day, ask you about what you did, always curious about what you are doing, etc., that despite of everything, he will always and will find time to make his presence known into your days, especially those long, agonizing shifts of his, or some medical missions, and the like.

As for reassurances, this is just my opinion, but I think you won't need to ask Zayne for reassurances about your relationship, as I've mentioned, he will make you feel very secure about your relationship with him. Even if you don't ask or tell him something, he just knows. He will make you feel like you're the center of his universe or something like that. But of course, every one has their bad days as well, Zayne will probably reassure you in a way that you'll only realize how huge and deep this man loves you.

(I'm a huge simp for this man, Zayne Li, you'll always have my heart, really. Just my random thoughts, which are probably not that far from yours.)

[almond-tofuuu]

Maybe dawnbreak! Zayne eventually finds a way to get to the world he 'dreams' about, and meets the mc. (yandere tho???)

Oooh I love this idea!!!! Thank you anon!!!

Hope you enjoy 💕

The Reaper's Embrace

Dawnbreaker! Zayne x reader

Warnings: slight yandere/possessive elements, possibly ooc Zayne/Dawnbreaker (I tried my best)

lmk if I missed anything ☺️

Something was wrong with Zayne.

When you left work to find him waiting for you outside the building, a strange sense of unfamiliarity washed over you, as though your subconscious was screaming about a danger your brain couldn't register. Which was absurd, right? Zayne wasn't a stranger, far from it.

Maybe it was the clothes he was wearing. The sleek, black suit hugged his broad shoulders perfectly, and the long, dark coat he wore over the top blended seamlessly into the night. He looked intimidating, almost scary, his imposing form striking an eerie resemblance to that of the grim reaper.

You shake your head in an attempt to clear your mind, "I'm being ridiculous! It's just Zayne, so what if he's dressed a little differently. I must be even more exhausted than I thought" after mentally reprimanding yourself, you make your way over to Zayne, ignoring the unsettling chill running down your spine.

"You must've gotten off work early today if you're here to pick me up! Sorry if I kept you waiting" you greet him warmly, soft smile on your face despite the increasing paranoia building inside your mind.

Zayne doesn't respond, his eyes that are usually filled with a tenderness and warmth now appear cold and lifeless, but there's a hint of something else in his gaze, something almost crazed and predatory. It makes your blood run cold, as if the ice of his evol was flooding your veins. It's as though you're in a trance, your mind is begging you to run, to get away from the man in front of you, but your body won't respond, frozen under the intensity of his gaze.

Zayne takes a careful step towards you, one hand slowly reaching out but stopping just short of touching your cheek. He hesitates, as though he's afraid to actually touch you. And he is. He's afraid that this is just another dream, a cruel trick his mind is playing, and the moment he touches you, you'll disappear, slipping through his fingers like the early morning mist.

Zayne has dreamt of this moment for so long, thoughts of you haunting him, consuming every fibre of his being until the only thing he could think about was you, you, you. For years he had been forced to watch you through the eyes of the doctor, taunted by the other version of himself that got to hold you.

But not anymore. Now that he had finally found his way to you, he wasn't going to let you go. The doctor could never love you the way he did. You were a ray of sunlight that broke through the darkness that shrouded his life. You were his saviour, his guiding light, you were his.

As Zayne's hand hovers inches from your cheek, you feel a shiver run down your spine, a primal instinct urging you to flee. But you're rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense, icy eyes. With a trembling breath, you brace yourself for his touch, unsure of what to expect.

Finally, his fingertips brush against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. His touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender, but beneath the surface, there's a palpable intensity that sets your nerves on edge. For a moment, the world falls away, and all you can focus on is the sensation of his touch, the way it sends a rush of conflicting emotions swirling through your mind. Fear, desire, uncertainty—they all mingle together in a chaotic symphony that threatens to overwhelm you.

And Zayne feels it too. The warmth of your skin underneath his cold, calloused fingertips is enough to cloud his mind with desire, all thoughts of logic and reason are forgotten as his eyes darken. The tender hold he had on your cheek turns into a bruising grip of your jaw, his other hand encircling your waist, pressing your body tightly against his, strong arm preventing you from escaping. Lowering his face beside your head, 'Zayne' finally speaks, warm breath fanning over your cheek. And although the smooth, deep voice is familiar to you, the darkness of his tone has your body trembling in fear.

"I've waited for this moment for so long. Finally, you're mine. And now that I've got you, I'm never going to let you go."

[lalunanymph]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 (part 2)

✧˚ · . three minutes past his 27th birthday, the mass serial killer known as 'dawnbreaker' finally meets the girl from his dreams

✧˚ · . part 1

✧˚ · . warnings:- dawnbreaker!zayne x fem!reader, HEAVY ANGST, mentions of food, mentions of illnesses, mentions of injuries, spoilers for zayne's lore, alternative timeline, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancies, pet names (darling, my love, beloved), nightmares, mentions of smoking, MCD, brief mentions of su_cide, nightmares, a not so happy happy ending, minors and ageless blogs do not interact. i am not responsible for your media consumption

✧˚ · . dawn says: i had to split the last part into 2 because it was literally so long tumblr said nope sorry girlie this ain't making it into the tags lol

✧˚ · . playlist

“You may know me as Zayne, but I go by another name…” 

He exhales it into the suffocating silence:

“Dawnbreaker.”

Your eyes bulge wider, mouth falling open in horror. Of course, you were aware of that name; you knew who he was.

Serina Callaghan, daughter of Detective Callaghan, had told you numerous stories about the elusive serial killer. How no one could find a trace of him. 

Yet, here he was—standing in your kitchen with remorse etched onto every pore of his body.

You feel a sick sense of nausea bubbling from your stomach to your chest, threatening to spill onto the floor.

You had taken him in… made love to him… held him in your arms every night… when he had killed all those innocent people…

As if reading your mind, Zayne shakes his head. “These people—the ones who had passed on—I never killed them for fun. They wanted me to end their lives because they were overtaken by the disease… by the Abomination.”

His words shock you out of your reverie; tames your urge to grab the phone and call the police. For a split second, you wonder what Zayne would do to you if you were to lunge for the cordless phone; would he escape?

Kill you?

Forcing yourself to be far braver than you felt, you clutched your trembling hands together, taking in a deep breath.

“So, m-mercy killing,” your voice shook, but your deduction was spot on.

“Yes.” He shrugs off his coat, and you eye the wad of cash he takes out and sets on your kitchen counter. “I will never kill someone unless they pay me to do it. I do not like taking lives, but as one of the last Evolvers in this generation… it is my duty to help.”

Evolver? 

The layers of truth were starting to make your head spin. You could barely unravel your spiraling thoughts.

“I thought Evolvers were extinct.”

Zayne shakes his head. “We are rare, but we are still here.”

As if to solidify the truth, he holds out his hand. On his palm, the air condenses, and the temperature in the kitchen drops a few celsius. You watch, gobsmack in silence, as bits of snow appear, coalescing right into a singular teardrop-shaped crystal that unfurls into a shimmery flower with five petals.

“Ice,” Zayne explains, and slowly approaches you. He gently places the flower on the table, right where you were standing. 

He backs away, giving you some space to work out your emotions. You stare at the jasmine flower, in silent contemplation. 

It’s intricate and beautiful, but ice in itself was deadly. 

While it looked harmless falling from the sky, it had the power to bury people under its weight; causing hypothermia, avalanches, and skin burns. 

You glance at Zayne, wondering which category he belonged in—if he was a chilly breeze or an entire fucking snowstorm.

His weary gaze spoke volumes, though he let you reach your own conclusions. Zayne was giving you a choice: one many people in your life didn’t.

Stay or leave. 

Be with him or turn him away.

Two forks of an outcome; you had no idea what to choose. 

Your silence stretches on and Zayne hangs his head forward. He’s about to turn and leave, when you slowly reach out to touch the jasmine flower. It’s cool on your palm, tougher and durable. Not wet and cold like real ice.

“Crystals?” 

Your voice comes off low, hoarse. There’s a dazed look in your eyes, one which tugs on the sorrow lining his soul.

He hates to do this to you; hates how conflicted you look.

“This is what you use to kill people, don’t you?” 

Astute, again. Zayne would honestly be impressed by your wits if he wasn’t painfully aware of how you were holding him accountable for his horrendous mistakes.

“I know you think awfully of me—”

“Why kill them?” You’re breathing heavily now, anguish coating your every word. “What if you could save them, instead? Can’t that be done?”

Zayne shakes his head, unable to meet your eye. “I have spoken to a few scientists about this… but many of them were taken by the Abomination. It’s caused by constant exposure to Protocores and is incurable. The only thing I can do is make sure those infected have a swift end.”

Your silence strikes him heavier than a hit.

“Infected?" you murmur hoarsely. "Constant exposure? A swift end? Do you even hear yourself?” 

You simmer and bubble, cheeks flushed with anger. “Zayne—these are human beings! People with love, dreams and hopes. People with families. They’re not jobs or ledgers. They deserve a bit more dignity than that.”

Suddenly, the despair in his eyes turns ice cold. You’re hopeless to stop him from approaching you, and scramble back until you bump the kitchen counter, eyes wide and fearful. But, he stops just shy of your feet touching, an unfathomable expression on his face.

“I would never hurt anyone. Ever. You of all people should know. Didn’t you say you weren’t afraid of me the first time we were intimate together?” He fights hard to not let his tone turn accusatory, eyes shining with frustration and unshed tears. “What made you change your mind this time?” 

“You killed them… you killed them all,” you’re close to tears, trembling from head to toe. Zayne looks like he’s about to cry as well, begging you to see beyond the murderer you thought he was; to embrace him and hold him and share his burden, even though he knows it’s unfair to put all this weight on you.

He was so tired of pretending that everything was alright. And deep down, he knew you were, too.

This world wasn’t kind to anyone, and he only had you to soothe the ache—to be the light he looks forward to every morning. 

Please, don’t go, he wants to scream, hands balled into fists at his side. Don’t leave me alone… you are the only one I have left. 

A sob bubbles past your lips, and you wrap your arms around you; willing yourself to stand upright and be brave.

“Do you regret it?” your voice is thick, and he longs to staunch the tears falling from your cheeks, but the words are lost in his throat.

“All of them? Did you ever regret killing them?”

Zayne tightens his fists, clenching down hard enough for his nails to leave pale moon crescent indents on his palms. 

“There was a boy I had to kill once. Georgie. He would’ve been thirteen…” he closes his eyes, hoping to find some strength to push on. Zayne was so incredibly tired from constantly fighting.

“We celebrated his birthday at a cafe, too. He loved macarons. And chocolate. But, his mother gave him the disease. I had to be the one to put him down. I still think about him every time I hear ‘happy birthday’.”

His words are simple, but they make you bleed, staring at the floor with tears blurring your vision.

You fall into a thick disquiet, and so did he. Zayne stands upright, like a prisoner about to be read his final judgment; willing you to forgive him—god he hopes you find it in your heart to forgive him.

He wasn’t a good man—a fiend of the night people were afraid of. But, Zayne would never forgive himself if you didn’t take him back. He would dig his knees to the ground, beg for you to change your mind.

In the throes of his own self-loathing, he almost flinches when he feels your arms wrap around his torso. Your head thumps onto his chest, and he realizes you’re fully crying now. He embraces you fiercely, quickly. Holding you fast to him as if you both could fuse together and become one.

You leave tear stains across his blood speckled shirt, fingers digging into his shoulders as violent sobs rip through you. 

“Do you hate me?” He forces himself to ask through numb lips. Zayne doesn’t know what answer you would give—if you would even reply to him.

But, you shake your head, hiccuping his name. 

“Are you afraid?” 

There’s a slight pause, and you shudder, shaking your head again. 

Zayne nuzzles your hair, rocking you from side to side like he was comforting a hysterical child. 

Your sobs eventually stop and you’re both swaying in each other’s arms now. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. Zayne hums in confusion, and you continue. “I’m sorry for being so quick to misjudge you. You’re not the bad guy, Zayne. You were forced into this horror… our world is so fucked up and you were just trying to make it better any way you could.”

You peel your face from his chest, eyes red-rimmed and nose runny. He gently dabs at your tears and snot with the sleeve of his dress shirt, careful not to press down too hard.

He doesn’t say anything else, and you both let the silence scatter and fall where it may. Somehow, your fingers end up in his hair and he’s nudging you back against the hard counter.

Zayne lifts you up effortlessly, parting your legs wide to slot himself in between them, hands gently squeezing and groping your thighs and hips.

The need to reclaim you claws through him, searing his every coherent thought with nothing but the cry of your name.

He looks down the line of his nose, tilting your face up to the light so you meet his eyes. What he finds in your expression makes his heart ache in misery—your sadness and despondency hitting him right in the soul.

“Would you rather I stop killing people?”

It’s a loaded question, one that has your mind reeling. You eye the blood on his shirt, now soaked through with your tears. 

“Only if you promise me you will never find pleasure from it.”

He shakes his head, firm in his conviction. “Never. Not once, or ever. I can promise you that.”

“Do the police know?” 

A good question, indeed. Zayne nods, catching you off guard.

“Callaghan’s colleague. Detective Ivan. He was the one who scrubbed my records clean. He knows not to seek me out because… it means he’s next.”

Zayne lets the words hang in the air. He hears your mind whirring, thoughts piecing together.

“Detective Ivan found out and agrees with what you’re doing? So, the police are turning a blind eye?”

“Yes,” Zayne murmurs, trying hard not to fall into the gravity of your lips; forcing attention to this distressing topic. 

“He was with me when Georgie died. He saw the extent of how the Abomination takes over people. Dark as it is, he agrees with my ethics and now, I only focus on people who come to me through word of mouth. Rarely do I ever hunt them anymore. They choose this end because it is far less painful than the alternative.”

“Which is?” 

He steadies himself with a short breath. “Living as a rotting corpse with no control over your body.”

You suck in a sharp inhale. Your smaller fingers fist the front of his shirt, your mind a million miles away.

Zayne nudges your face towards him, fingers cold on your skin. He swallows hard, and you follow the motion—his throat moving, Adam’s apple bobbing. Impulsively, you lean forward, catching him off guard with a chaste kiss.

He musters a low groan when you begin to tug on his hair; sliding your tongue into his mouth.

Frantically, he grips your thighs, hips—fisting your hair to pull you closer. 

Hot breaths clash. Moans echo around the kitchen. You lean back, far enough for silvery strands of spit to connect your lips to his. 

Zayne devours the dark look in your eyes, and he thinks loving someone shouldn’t hurt this much, but for you, he would go through the agony all over again.

The tormented man wants to swallow you down, break his rib cage open and tuck you safely close to his heart. Your sighs and gasps fuel him to be better—change his ways so he could have you in his life forever. 

“Zayne,” you sigh, all syrupy and love-struck. You play with his shirt’s button, and before he can stop you, you start to unravel all of him.

“—No." He grabs your hands in a panic, stopping your intentions in loosening his buttons. Those scars on his skin flash behind his mind, marking him as a lost soul and unworthy of you.

You shake your head, determination lining your pretty features. “Don’t hide from me anymore, Zayne. I want to see you—all of you.”

He’s helpless to stop you from unfastening his armor, greeting those silvery scars with a soft gasp.

There was a reason he never fucked you with the lights on—those lacerations on his body caused him shame.

But, you don't recoil out of disgust like he expects. Instead, your pretty fingers topped with pink nail polish trace the milky white divots; those signs of pain and abuse he had to endure for his entire life.

Peering at you pass thick lashes, he sees you lick your lips, the desire on your face as clear as day.

“You’re so beautiful, Zayne.”

Not giving him a chance to speak, you dip your head forward, pressing your soft lips reverently to the scar just above his heart.

Zayne feels like something seismic has just happened—an internal earthquake which rocks him apart. 

Outwardly, the world doesn’t change; the flickering light he keeps on forgetting to fix over your sink still casts intermittent shadows across your face; the outside world whirs with sounds of robots and automated deliveries.

Nothing has changed and yet, everything inside of him has fundamentally been shifted.

A strangled sound emanates from his chest, and you look up quickly, afraid that you might have hurt him.

But, Zayne’s not in pain—not in the least. His green eyes shine verdantly like a forest after a storm, locked right onto your flushed face. You think that out of all the realities in this messed up world, you might find the real meaning of adoration in them.

He cups your face, smoothes your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“I love you.”

It’s the first time he’s ever said this out loud. His breathing stutters, caught off guard. And you’re staring at him, too. All wide eyes, and parted, perfect lips. 

Slowly, you defrost, bringing your hands up to your face, pressing your palms to the back of his hands. 

The silence is deafening—a pin could roll off the counter and fall to the ground, sounding like an explosion. Zayne swears he can hear the blood rushing in his ears. 

“I love you, too.”

Your voice is soft. Fragile. It echoes with shades of fear, but never uncertainty. 

For if there was one thing you were certain in this life, it was that you were completely, sincerely and stupidly in love with Zayne.

His eyes ripple close, and so do yours. Foreheads gently touch, breaths shared as one. The two of you stay like this for a long time, savoring this quiet, beautiful connection you had both created in such a short time.

Zayne has never known love in this lifetime. 

Slowly—surely—he was starting to warm himself up to the idea; falling deeper and deeper into a head on collision with your devotion. 

None of it scares him; how could it when it’s the stuff of his dreams? Of a forever stretching into the tiniest moments: languid mornings over shitty cereal and sappy medical romcoms on your beaten up couch and nights spent warming your sheets.

He can’t fight it; this feeling of always wanting to be by your side.

And so, he openly and fervently welcomes it.

“You’re glowing.”

Serina’s offhand comment brings you up short, and you fight back the creeping flush threatening to overtake your cheeks; preferring to bite your lower lip and turn you face away so she couldn’t see your growing smile.

Her silence isn’t judgmental this time. Rather, it’s tainted with a cynical curiosity.

“I guess Zayne really does make you happy.”

You hum, going back to your supplies of flour and sheets of freshly roasted nuts.

“He’s staying with me now.”

“Oh.”

You don’t turn to face; don’t have to because you know she’s making a face behind your back. 

“Is he coming to pick you up later?”

You think about him astride his motorcycle, dark locks whipping in the wind; fitted black trench coat, pristine suit and tie clinging right onto his frame and feel your stomach twist with nerves.

“Mhm hmm.”

Serina pauses, and you could tell she was struggling with something to say. 

“I’m happy for you.” 

Whatever it was you expected to drop from her mouth, it wasn’t this.

You turn around, and the incredulity must've been transparent on your face because she bursts into laughter, doubling forward to cackle with glee.

“Your face! You look like I just came out and told you I sold children’s blood by the bag.” 

She snorts and straightens, wheezing slightly. “I am happy for you, you idiot. I’m glad you’re not fish food yet and you’re glowing and you have a stupid amount of hickeys you try to cover up every day with that shitty concealer I got for you five fucking years ago. Point is: I’m happy for you.”

Serina emphasizes the last word, and you shyly lace your fingers together, feeling both sheepish and incredibly exasperated.

“I… Thank you.” Not knowing what else to say, you flash her a small smile, one which she returns instantly.

Scoffing, she runs a hand through her platinum blonde hair and tosses the rag she was holding across her shoulder, gesturing to the door.

“Go. I can handle closing time. I know you’re dying to see Zayne tonight.”

You perk up, in disbelief. “Serina—” 

“Leave those nuts in the fridge. They should be easy to chop up and temper with our chocolate bark tomorrow.” Hustling you out of the kitchen, you squeal at the feel of her cold fingers prodding your lower back. “Now, go. Call Zayne up and let him take you home. I’m sick of your love struck puppy expression.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, and unlace your apron. “Are you sure you can handle it? I can stay with you and help.”

Serina makes a face, though you could tell she was joking. “Ugh, and have to be around you for another hour while you pine for and miss him? Yuck. Get out of here.”

She jokingly swats you with her towel and you get her message loud and clear. 

“Okay, okay. Goodnight, you ass.”

“Goodnight, simp,” she drawls, and you scoff, rolling your eyes while you pick up your phone to call Zayne. 

Serina waits together with you, smoking a cigarette and filling you in on the latest online celebrity gossip. 

When Zayne arrives, sharp on time and sharply dressed as ever, she shoots you a smirk and a wave. You wave back, and slip on the helmet he passes you, stradling behind him to speed off into the night.

They look happy together. 

The young woman chuckles tiredly, scrubbing a hand down her face. She trudges back into the cafe, cleans up the remaining plates and cups, humming under her breath. As she fills up the dishwasher for its final load of the night, she hears the front doorbell tinkling.

Frowning, Serina wonders if you had left something behind when the sound of heavy footfalls resounds in the quiet space.

Thinking nothing of it, she straightens, a scowl on her blush rose lips.

“We’re closed,” she calls out in her most polite voice.

The presence in the dining space does not remove itself. From her stance inside the kitchen, she could just make out the silhouette of a tall man partially hidden behind the pillar separating the main hall from where she stood. 

Fuelled with distaste and annoyance, she rounds the corner, fully prepared to fight off this stranger and tell them to piss off.

“I said, we’re closed—”

Her words are cut off when she notices a faint glow of purple surrounding him. His eyes which were once blue were now soulless and drained, clapping onto hers, their pupils widening slightly.

Strange bulges appear on his body, and in the limited light, they seem to move up and down his arms. 

Crawling like they were filled with life.

She takes a step back, a sharp scream piercing the air.

The man falls back, putting his hands over his ears. He yanks on his graying hair, teeth bared and spittle splattering onto the ground.

“Shut… up…” 

His moans rattle and thump, filled with pain. He looks at her, and in the briefest of moments when they make eye contact, Serina could plainly see the anguish in them—the desperation for someone to end it all.

“Please,” his hoarse voice makes her skin crawl, her hairs stand on end. “Someone… Help me… kill me…”

The stranger falls to his knees, back arching like a cat poised to throw up all over the polished, hardwood floors. 

He heaves, and spittle drips from between his clenched teeth. Serina can’t move; completely frozen to one spot, locked on the sight of his pale hands curling into claws.

Those choked sounds he made would haunt her for the rest of her life. But, nothing could prepare her for when he lifts his head and the bulge under his right eye bursts, revealing a dark, tentacle appendage dangling from his cheek.

“Please,” he begs her with what was left of his humanity.

“You have to help me… you have to save me.”

Zayne’s arms wrap around your waist as you’re stirring a pot, his hum of adoration and contentment rumbling against your back.

“What?” you tease, picking up some bay leaves and tossing them into the fresh marinara sauce. “Are you excited to make me cook even after I slaved for a whole night in the kitchen?”

He clicks his tongue, kisses you right on your pulse point.

“Feisty. And here I was, about to fully offer you my assistance.”

He drops his arms, and you turn back to him with a pout. 

“I was joking,” you backtrack, fluttering your lashes. “I could really use your help,” and add, “Please,” when the beginning of a smirk plays on the corners of his mouth. 

“Alright,” he hums, grabbing a handful of sweet basil and a knife, chopping them up finely to be added to the pasta sauce once it was done.

It was comfortable working alongside him. Zayne didn’t need endless chatter to fill in the void, and neither did you feel obliged to talk his ear off. 

You start to hum, and he tunes in, admiring the rise and fall of the melody; how clear and bright your voice is.

“Would you like to put on some music?” He suggests, pointing to the old radio sitting atop your kitchen counter, a fine layer of dust on its smeared screen. 

You take him up on the offer, nodding. 

Zayne pushes a button and the last recording you had on plays in the room. A voice from long ago vibrates with nostalgia, reminding him of days passed and a comfort only found from warm sheets on a Sunday morning.

“Why don’t you ever let me into your home?” 

He pauses, glancing at you. “Pardon?” 

You exhale a laugh, and a teasing quality takes over your smile. “Your apartment. How come I never see it? Do you have piles of bodies you’re hiding from me?” 

A slender, calloused finger materializes by your hip, poking into your side. You flinch and giggle, locking eyes with his amused expression. 

“Careful. Do not go around unnecessarily exposing me.”

“So, you do have them under your floorboards.” 

He decides to challenge you back. “Are you afraid?” 

You scoff, picking up a wooden ladle to stir the sauce. “You must be mistaken, Zayne. For it isn’t me who should be afraid of you, but you of me.”

He resists the urge to pick you up and spin you in his arms for being so damn adorable. Reigning in the cute aggression, he titters a laugh. “And why is that so?” 

“Because,” you turn to him, your teasing smile growing wider. “I know things you don’t know. I have a certain set of skills not many have knowledge of and I can and will use them to my advantage.”

“Oh, really?” He drawls, raising a brow. The expression draws his handsome face into a comical curiosity; it nearly breaks your resolve not to laugh. “Enlighten me on these skills.” 

You clear your throat, setting the ladle down. “For example, I can bet you that I am a better dancer.”

Unexpectedly, he sweeps you into his arms, grabbing your left hand with his right and encircling the other one around your waist; you had no choice but to place your other hand on his broad shoulder to keep your balance. 

He was close—much too close—and it makes your face burn hot, your mischievous quips dying in the back of your throat. 

Zayne holds you fast, sure—swaying you from side to side as you both slowly circle the room, one gliding footstep at a time. He makes sure to lead you properly, careful to keep you two in an orbit far from mishap. 

You feel safe enough to lay your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breathing alongside the sweet, romantic music. Eyes falling close, you lavish in this sense of serenity and comfort you had never felt in your life.

Zayne, too, takes a second to savor this moment. He gazes at the peace suffusing across your face and feels his heart growing lighter.

I want this for the rest of my life.

The thought jolts him from his reverie; scares him enough to convince himself to take it back.

But, as much as Zayne wants to delude himself, he can’t run away from the truth.

He wants this for as long he breathes on this godforsaken planet. As long as the seas ebb and flow and the sun turns on its fucking axis—he wants you. Zayne doesn’t care what others might think; how they would make a mockery of your connection to him. He would kill anyone who tries to get between you both. 

And he hopes that deep down, you feel the same way, too.

He wakes up in the early morning to his phone vibrating on the dresser.

Zayne groans, feels a sinking weight on his chest and realizes you had fallen asleep sprawled on top of him.

His instincts override his fuzzy mind to not wake you up, nimbly grabbing his phone and answering the call without looking at the screen.

“Zayne.”

The voice on the other end jerks him fully awake, and he resists the urge to jolt upright, remembering you were still fast asleep.

“One second,” he murmurs into the receiver. The other man hums.

Zayne puts the phone back down, gently scooping you up and rolling you to the side, tucking the covers under your chin.

He sits upright, turning to plant his feet to the ground and picks the phone back up. 

“Detective Ivan?” 

“We have an emergency.” 

Zayne stops scratching his bare chest, tired green eyes sharpening from the urgency in the older man’s tone. Ivan would never call him unless it was serious and usually there was only one reason why he would. 

“An Abomination has attacked a young woman in a cafe. Nightstar Cafe. One of those oldy diners that open till early morning.”

Ivan doesn’t hear Zayne’s sharp breath, nor is he there to see how terrified the younger man looks, turning his gaze to the sleeping woman next to him.

“A young woman? Was she blonde?”

He can feel Ivan frowning on the other end. “How did you know?” 

Zayne concocts a lie. “I saw the cafe in passing. Is it serious?”

“We have no visual on the Abomination and neither on the girl. We’re stuck and we need your help. Only you can track her down.”

Zayne racks his brain, thinking of his apartment that’s almost an hour away from yours. If he could get to his tracking systems quickly, maybe there was still time to solve this case…

“Alright,” he made up his mind. “Give me half an hour to find her. I’ll alert you to her whereabouts.”

Ivan breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Zayne.”

“Do not mention it.” He clicks off the call, turns to find you still fully asleep. As quietly as he could, he stands and gets ready, dressing in a nondescript black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, bundling up with his trench coat to keep the autumn chill at bay.

Just as he’s about to grab his bike keys, he hears you stirring.

“Zayne?” 

Your voice is fringed with exhausted curiosity, bleary eyes blinking and trying to pin onto his figure in the total darkness.

He’s next to you in a heartbeat, bending down to place a kiss on your forehead. “I have an emergency. You stay here and rest, alright? Wait for me. I’ll be home for you soon.”

You could only nod obediently, watching him rush out of the room; the front door closing behind him with a loud thud. 

Wondering what could’ve spurred Zayne into such a frantic mode, you close your eyes, about to drift off when you hear a knock. 

Woozily, you get to your feet, stifling a yawn. The hem of his too big shirt brushes your thighs, and you rub your eyes, frowning when the knocks get more insistent.

“Coming,” you call out, and trudge to the front door. 

Peering through the security monitor, your heart skips a beat when you notice your best friend on the other side, her expression wild; eyes darting down the hallway and jaw strained.

“Serina? What’re you doing here at this time?” 

Your voice carries out to the front, and you hear her over the security intercom.

“Babe, please. Let me in. Something terrible has happened. I can’t explain it, but I need your help.”

She sounds afraid and terrified, and your heart squeezes in fear when she glances down the hallway again, as if she were being chased.

Without another thought, you unlatch the door for her, and she comes barreling in, sinking to the floor the second you shut the door closed.

You fall to your knees next to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Squinting in the darkness, you faintly make out splotches of darkness on her tank top, and it’s not until you switch on the lights that you notice it’s blood. 

“Serina!” you gasp, and in the brightness, her irises have completely pin pricked, only a thin ring of blue surrounding them. 

She grabs your hands, tugs you closer to her face. Your heart is about to fly out of your chest, and you fight back, trying to break free from her grasp.

But, she’s fueled by fear and something else—something which ramps her paranoia up to concerning levels.

“Man. Wanderer. He hurt me. Tried to kill me. I ran… I ran here. I had no idea where else to go.”

Her words slur and clash in a cacophony of confusion. You can’t make heads or tails what she’s trying to say, but you attempt to piece it together for her sake.

“Hold on, hold on. Breathe.” You grab her thin shoulders in your white-knuckled grip, trying to shake the fear out of her. There was no time for confusion; you needed to know exactly what happened to her. “Start from the beginning, please. I can’t help you if I don’t understand.”

Without warning, tears fill her eyes and she pitches her head forward, breaking into silent sobs. 

Your arms automatically wrap around her, pulling her into your embrace. She cries, screams and wails, breaking down in total fear.

“It’s okay,” you soothe her, like how you had soothed Zayne many, many times in the aftermath of his nightmares. “You’re fine. You’ll be safe.”

She shakes her head, hiccuping incoherently. “He hurt me. He cut me with his teeth. I—” A full body shudder goes through her. 

Alarmed, you rock back on your haunches, eyes wide and locked on her pinched expression. “Serina, are you okay—?” 

The words die on the tip of your tongue, and you instinctively stand up, backing towards the wall when you notice her eyes starting to glow a bright purple.

“Serina—!”

She curls onto the ground, crying out in pain. Her body starts to writhe, and a gruesome crunching sound cracks through the air.

Too late to escape, you watch in horror as her body convulses, the bones of her spine breaking and twisting. Her skin turns a revolting shade of purple, and spittle froths down her mouth.

Before the petrifying purple light entirely consumes her body, she manages to hoarsely cry out two words which shakes you to your core: 

“Save me.”

SOBS im sorry to have to cut it here but it was too long </3 last part coming soon !! reblogs and feedback are sincerely appreciated 🩷

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy my concept, repost my stories or translate and post them to other platforms

[acciotaitlynn]

⤵

⟣ Dawnbreaker Zayne x reader

⟣ Sexual content, 18+, unprotected sex, so soft i made myself cry

⟣ 1,500 words

⋆⁺₊❅.

Your body felt unanchored, as if you were gliding weightlessly through the bleak expanse of the studio apartment with Zayne at your side.

Your surroundings blurred into the background—a shabby couch faced a makeshift projector in a lonely room, with a lone window where a single jasmine bloom rested on the sill.

The room was shrouded in darkness, save for the moon's comforting glow as it spilled across the floor and softened the shadows. Outside, the world mirrored this desolation, quiet as a breath, the skeletal frame of Linkon City stood towering in the distance.

The sensation of weightlessness persisted as Zayne guided you toward a small, unnoticed room. Candlelight seeped through the doors narrow crack, drawing your hand toward the door knob with a sense of urgency you couldn’t explain.

Softly, his hands brushed your hair aside, his touch cradling your face as he kissed you gently. “Do you trust me?” His question was simple, yet left you bewildered—surely he knew the answer.

However, the insistent pull toward the closed door lingered, so you calmed yourself with a slight nod. Zayne’s voice was soft, it was barely there—“I need your trust now more than ever. What lies beyond that door wont make sense to you. But please, hold on to your love for me.”

His words left you tilting your head gently, eyes wide with curious uncertainty. Your curiosity nudged your hand toward the door again, and this time, he let you proceed.

The wooden door creaked softly under your touch, swinging open to reveal a dimly lit room. It was just as bare as the last, holding only an iron bed draped with a worn black comforter.

A flicker of black caught in the corner of your eye, leading you to gently drift toward it. Confusion welled up as you turned—Zayne stood before you, but with a change of clothes; He had swapped his formal slacks for well-worn pajama pants and a cozy black sweater.

“Zayne?” you whispered into the air, your voice gentle and almost weightless, uncertain if it had reached the figure who offered no reaction in return.

Suddenly, a gentle presence was behind you—arms encircled your waist, pulling you close. Though you could see Zayne standing before you, you knew without a doubt that it was him who held you, without needing to look.

You remained still in his arms, your gaze locked on the presence by the window, as if it alone held significance. he pressed a gentle kiss to your ear, murmuring, “I need you to take care of me.” with those words, he vanished.

Left in the stillness, you observed the figure before you, who certainly looked every bit like Zayne. Your bare feet glided silently across the floor until you stood before him. You tilted your head and whispered—”Zayne.” not as a question, but a statement. You understood the figure needed to hear it.

His voice, though touched by an unfamiliar melancholy, was a familiar soothing caress along your skin. “I am not Zayne.”

You approached him softly, without hesitation, cupping his face and looking into his eyes. Eyes so sad that it pained you—it was almost unbearable. You poured every ounce of your love into your stare, drawing him closer.

Your voice was steady as you repeated, more resolute, “Zayne.” You could see he doubted you, felt the conflict in his as he trembled beneath your touch. He seemed as if he wanted to move away—but he stayed.

Drawn to him, you pressed your lips gently against his. He froze, eyes widening, emotions spilling over—disbelief, fear, desire. But as he searched your serene eyes, his trembling subsided just a little. His gaze lingered on your lips.

You could sense his desire to draw closer, yet he held himself back. When you kissed him again, it was deeper, and he melted into it with a soft sigh.

Despite his hesitation, you guided him to the edge of the bed. His expression was filled with uncertainty, almost as if unsure of how to proceed. Suddenly it because clear—This Zayne had never known love. “I need you to take care of me.” echoed in your mind as you traced the lines of his face.

You placed delicate kisses on his skin, his eyelids closing to accept them. The sigh he released when your lips met his was filled with agony. He still hadn’t touched you, his hands gripping the comforter tightly. You softly unfurled his fingers, guiding them to your cheek. “I need you, Zayne,” you pleaded. “Please, touch me.”

Your admission seemed to surprise him, prompting him to lift his other hand to cradle your face. Searching your gaze, he finally surrendered.

This time, he pressed his lips to yours, his touch reverent. You pressed your body against his and he kissed you again and again until both of you were breathless.

As you gently pulled away, you held his gaze, slowly removing your top—the unfamiliar shirt you wore was somehow tied to the Zayne before you. His eyes followed it’s gentle descent to the floor. You stood bare before him, overwhelmed  by the grief and longing in his gaze.

Tenderly, you lifted his sweater, letting your fingers glide over his chest. His eyes followed every movement—watching your hands trace his skin, your lip catching between your teeth, your eyes taking in his form with hunger. As you placed kisses to his skin, your lips made a mark over his heart.

Meeting his  gaze, you whispered, “so you know that this was real.” Tears brimmed in his eyes, and as they spilled over, you captured them with your lips. You eased him back against the headboard, straddling his thighs.

He grinded against you with a soft whimper as he felt your damp heat soaking through his pants. You gently brought his forehead to yours, grinding against him in a slow, steady rhythm. His eyes grew heated as they roamed your body, taking their time to memorize every inch.

You brought his hand to your breast, guiding him to knead it firmly. A soft groan escaped his lips as he squeezed harder, and your whimper lit a fire in his eyes. He captured your breast in his mouth while his hand attended to the other. With each movement, his touch grew bolder, his hands gripping your hips as he gently guided you against him, his mouth never straying from your chest.

You tilted his face gently, meeting his serene, lust-filled gaze. The sight filled you with indescribable joy. Lifting up, you helped him free his length, wrapping your hand around his shaft and covering it in his essence. He blushed fiercely—but as you licked your fingers clean, you hoped to ease his worries; the heat in his eyes made it clear that it had worked. His low groan when his skin connected with yours was utterly perfect.

Slowly, you eased him into you, feeling every inch as he pulled you close, resting his head on your shoulder as he bottomed out. His body trembled beneath you, and you felt the gentle patter of his tears on your skin. You lifted his chin again, locking eyes with him as your hips began to move in a steady rhythm.

His hands traced the contours of your body, but his gaze remained on yours. He filled you completely, fitting perfectly within you, as if you were made for each other. His tears continued to  fall freely. You paused, an unspoken question in your eyes. His gaze was open and sincere when he whispered, “I will miss you even more, now.” Your own tears brimmed over as you held him tightly, promising with all your heart, “I will find you again, Zayne."

Entwined so tightly, it was hard to distinguish whose tears were whose as they mingled on your skin. Your bodies moved as one, every touch and kiss infused with overwhelming grief and passion. His name escaped you in a broken sob, echoing into the still night. Together, you reached your peak; Zayne pulling you hard against him as his warmth filled every inch of you. He couldn’t stop kissing you afterward, his touches more fervent that ever, silently pleading for this moment to last.

You reassured him softly, “I won’t leave you. Not tonight." Again, you somehow knew this to be true—you had the entire night to share your love. He relaxed with a soft sigh, drawing you to the bed and wrapping you in his arms.

His touch held no hesitation now. He kept you close, wrapped in his embrace, as the night unfolded. You showered him with love, pouring everything you had into each moment.

You stayed together as long as possible. Time seemed to stand still, with the moon perpetually suspended in the sky. As exhaustion crept in, and you both succumbed to sleep, Zayne’s arms instinctively tightened, clinging to you.

You were certain he heard your whispered vow, “I will find you again, Zayne” Upon waking his gaze met yours knowingly, with a faint bruise above his heart—an unspoken acknowledgement to what you both understood.

A distant memory lingered: a whispered “Thank you” as sleep had beckoned you away. 

[odoraful]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 𝐩.𝟏

zayne's last dream has left him shaken and he hopes to meet you again to reconcile his fears

content: dawnbreaker!zayne x reader; a direct continuation from zayne’s anecdote 'still in the dark'; ~1k words a/n: spoilers for ‘still in dark’ so if you haven’t read it yet be warned! read part 2 here reading bgm ♫ Prologue V - The Weight of History's Presence

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Though it had been days since that last dream, the shocked expression on your face has since haunted Zayne. 

You aren’t Dr. Zayne. Who are you?

He’d been afraid to fall back asleep again since. Those dreams he once coveted so much, desperately hoping for your warm embrace, now became a source of fear for him. In every fleeting moment you shared, he thought he’d done everything right. He played the role of that smart and reliable partner just for you. 

It had all been perfect until that last dream. 

The days from then on stretched endlessly like taffy. Zayne filled in his time doing anything he could to silence his fears. He thought often about activities Georgie would have enjoyed and made himself plans with the young boy in mind. Trying new sweets at the dessert shop, reading beside the jasmine flower field in the plaza, watching the sun set from his apartment window. Detective Ivan seemed to have kept his promise, and the public whispers of Dawnbreaker fizzled away, leaving Zayne free to carry out his duties in complete anonymity. He’d sometimes finish his day off with a visit to Georgie and his mother’s graves. During the night, he’d stay awake for as long as his body could handle until he was overcome with fatigue, passing out wherever he sat.

He found that no dreams would come if he slept this way. 

The impracticality of this type of living did not faze Zayne until he stared at his own reflection in the mirror one day. He had heavy bags under his eyes and a pallor to his face that made him almost unrecognisable to himself. He gripped the edge of the sink, a sudden nausea making his head spin.

It was foolish to continue like this. He needed to see you again. 

Perhaps he should try and talk to you without the guise of this doctor. If the dream had allowed you to speak out, then surely it would give him the same ability. He would explain himself to you, prove that he was the person you loved. These dreams he had since he was a child had shaped his entire worldview. He moulded himself to be yours. Surely, with your presence in these dreams also, they must mean something to you too. 

Yes, that would be the most sensible course of action. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

For the first time in a while, Zayne gave himself a proper night routine. Though, the flavourless nutritional liquid he downed for dinner did little to quell the anxiety in his stomach, and washing his face with cool water could not banish the heat from his cheeks. 

His mind was filled with rehearsals of what he would say to you as he laid in bed. In his periphery, he made out the dim, red glow the numbers of his alarm clock casted across the dark room. Zayne read in a medical fact sheet that it took a person around fifteen to twenty minutes to fall asleep. Turning to look at the clock, the numbers that read 23:18 dazzled his vision. 

He closed his eyes, the afterimage of the red numbers remaining behind his eyelids. His final thoughts were a plea to the stars above to let him visit you again, before he let his subconscious pull him deeper.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Zayne did not know how he arrived here, but he now stood on a gravel path beneath archways of curling shrubbery. The greenery was well manicured with small white flowers. As he inhaled, he was surprised to find the light scent of jasmine in the air. A small piece of familiarity that calmed his senses.

Stepping out from the shade and onto grass, he realised the dream was set in a garden. Benches were scattered around to provide viewing seats for the flowers, which, Zayne noticed, seemed to only be variations of different types of white flowers. Close by, there was a river dotted with clusters of lily pads and white petals that gently drifted along the surface. A bridge over the river led to a green roofed pavilion suspended atop the water. Zayne was so accustomed to his own drab and dark world that it almost hurt his eyes to gaze around this idyllic scene. The sound of indistinct chatter surrounded him, however, there were no signs of other people around no matter where he turned, save for one person he spotted standing on the grass.

Zayne exhaled a shaky breath.

A pale blue dress that stood out against the flowering white buds flitted around your legs, though his own clothes did not rustle against any breeze. Sunlight illuminated your skin, though he could not feel any warmth from its rays. His dreams had strange ways of carefully crafting his desires. You had an expectant expression on your face, glancing about in search of somebody. Zayne’s feet felt like dragging weights as he forced himself to walk, fighting off his fear of closing the distance. 

Your expression turned to delight when you saw him approaching. You waved at him, grinning. Something twisted inside him. How long had it been since he’d seen that smile? 

He put up a hand hesitantly in greeting. 

You began to walk, almost skipping towards him. Zayne almost backed away, startled by your enthusiasm. 

Only metres apart now, you suddenly froze, eyes going wide. Zayne didn’t move a muscle, feeling his own body lock up. The background chatter dissipated, as you opened your mouth to speak. The world turned silent as if in anticipation for the words you were about to say. 

“It’s- it’s you again.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[kamisatomay018]

Now as sad as I am about the pure angst with my precious baby Zayne, I am also extremely puzzled by just what this story brings to us.

My first guess was that this is Dawnbreaker Zayne, naturally because of his clothing and his black ice in the evol. But then there is the fact that how did he manage to cross literal timelines and dimensions? How did he find MC or vice versa? Or is this a glimpse of his past, of how HIS MC died? Whatever this may be, if this is Dawnbreaker Zayne with MC, y’all better be prepared with tissues because this shit will be HEARTBREAKING.

My next thought was about this being our Doctor Zayne, since the narrative is most certainly his tone of talking and uk, Akso hospital and all that stuff. That would also explain his closeness with MC with the way she’s holding his hand and cheek. BUT HOW DID HIS EVOL TURN BLACK??

90% I feel like this is truly dawnbreaker and this is gonna be so fucking heartbreaking because wdym he said “When I can’t wake up”

SIR DONT YOU DARE GO ALL SLEEPING BEAUTY ON ME ISTG-

PLEASE WHICHEVER ZAYNE THIS IS JUST LET ME LOVE ALL OF THEM MY POOKIE DESERVES SO MUCH LOVE😭😭😭

[wolfofcelestia]

🔞Zayne headcanon

In normal, everyday situations, he keeps all his feelings, desires, and weaknesses inside under a clean, professional facade.

But when he’s sweating, panting, and fucking you into the bed, he’s a complete mess. The first sign of him letting go is when he slowly slides his cock into you and he feels your tight, slick walls welcome him in. A quiet “fuck…” floats off his lips.

The first time you hear him curse, you almost think it was just your imagination, but soon you learn that this is real him- a desperate, hopeless, mess of a man, all for you.

He doesn’t hold back his moans. He can’t. They just come out of him as he picks up his pace, and every fiber of his being sparks to life- all for you.

His kisses become sloppy as his breath becomes more ragged and his moans and gasps and words of lust and affection spill from his lips like a whirlwind of desire.

You’ve never heard him say such things, and you’ve certainly never heard him use such vulgar words. But they are the only way he can convey the extent of his feelings for you and how unbelievably good you’re making him feel right now.

His voice isn’t soft. Nor is it quiet. He wants you to know just how much he loves you, how he wants you, and how much he wants to keep you to himself.

And you relent, you surrender to this other side of him you’ve never seen before as his cock hits just the right spots inside of you again and again until you’re both gasping for air, clutching onto each other in a frenzy of lust and unshakable love.

[lovelaughsimp]

Dawnbreaker??? More like break my spine from dusk till dawn. I'M GONNA COMBUST WHAT IS GOING ON? IS THIS EVEN REAL???? AM I DREAMING?

[its-de]

Only the real zayne girlies

Can tell the difference between Doctor zayne, the foreseer, and the dawnbreaker from his voice

[dawnbreakersgaze]

The way this line kind of ruined me

"As long as there's the mountain and Zayne"

Be it Dr Zayne and the mountain that stole his best friend William, where he watched him die the most agonizing and painful death possible while he struggled and failed to help him and carries that death through nightmares still

Or the Foreseer and the mountain that kept him prisoner by chain and thorn for god knows how long, not only denying him the basic needs of socialization and freedom, but taunted and weaponized his love for mc countless times

Or Dawnbreaker and the metaphorical mountain of bodies and burdens he's forced to shoulder on a psyche and ego that is so paper thin it's almost transparent, just strong enough to do the work that no one else is willing or capable of doing but for how much longer can he sustain it

Zayne and His Mountain

There is a reason this song is my #1 Zayne song 🔗🔗🔗

[lavlynyan]

Rewatching the trailer and just noticed that hole thing behind him. Maybe MC did fell into Dawnbreaker!Zayne’s universe? 😨