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10 Ways You Ruin His Day (and 10 Ways You Ruin His Self-Control)

I originally made this list as character notes for future stories — I love digging deep into their dynamics and really breaking them down. But honestly? I couldn’t not share. Would love to hear your thoughts too: what do you think drives them absolutely mad, and what turns them into helpless fluff puddles? 🖤

🍎 Top 10 Things That Make Caleb Absolutely, Irrevocably Mad

1 He doesn’t know where you are Even when it makes sense. Even when you’re safe. Even when he’s on the far side of a tunnel with no signal and too much time to think. The silence eats at him, turns every breath into a countdown. By the time he’s back, no one on the base dares talk to him until you’re in his line of sight again.

2 You come home with a bouquet of flowers from another man It’s not jealousy, really. It’s… fury dressed in olive green. You’re standing there, smiling, saying some poor man gave you flowers because you saved his life. Great. Fantastic. Caleb’s thrilled that his girlfriend is both competent and accidentally irresistible. But now he has to pretend this isn’t bothering him while mentally comparing the man's face to strategic punching surfaces.

3 You climb on unstable furniture to reach something You know, nothing fancy—just a stack of books on top of a chair that’s on top of a bench. And you? Balancing like a gremlin in fuzzy socks. He walks in and suddenly the war flashbacks begin. You think it’s funny. He thinks it’s a workplace hazard, and you are the HR violation.

4 You rearrange his model planes He adores you. Worships the ground you walk on. Would throw himself in front of an oncoming dropship for you. But if you dust his shelf and dare to reorder his starfighters and aircrafts by vibes instead of model number? He's already rewriting his will. In blood.

5 You do something reckless and then smile about it You say “relax, I had a plan.” He hears: “I almost died, and I’d do it again, because I’m cute and unstoppable.” That smile? That grin you give when you know exactly what you did and you’re proud of it? That’s why he needs stress meds. And maybe a punching bag with your face on it. (Lovingly.)

6 You casually mention the girl he used to date You say it with a smirk, like it’s just some harmless teenage memory. But he doesn’t see her—he sees you. You, standing in the doorway that day. You, catching him with her, both of them half-undressed. And you looking at him like something cracked between you. Back then, you were off-limits. You were the girl he wasn’t allowed to want. So he wanted someone else. Easier. Safer. And now, years later, you bring it up like it’s nothing—while he’s still trying not to remember how badly he wished it had been you.

7 You weren’t his first kiss—but worse, he wasn’t yours It never comes up. Not out loud. But he remembers. Vividly. The hallway. The way your face lit up. The boy leaning in. You smiling. And Caleb—watching from across the room, fists clenched, jaw tight, playing the role of older brother when his whole body screamed mine. You never talk about it. But he never forgot. Never will. Because that moment should’ve been his—and someone else took it first.

8 You walk away during a fight, or shut down emotionally You call it “space.” He calls it “psychological warfare.” You shut down. He short-circuits. Nothing drives him more insane than trying to fix something while you’re actively ghosting him across the living room. He’d rather you screamed. Threw something. Anything. But this quiet? This distance? That’s the one thing he doesn’t know how to fight.

9 You cry—especially if it’s because of him And then he’s done. Game over. His spine straightens like he’s under military command and his entire soul just went through the paper shredder. You cry, and suddenly he’s the villain. You say “it’s not your fault,” but that doesn’t matter. He’s already rewriting the past and taking full responsibility. And yes, he’ll suffer in complete silence. Like a man.

10 You secretly try to uncover what he’s hiding from you You call it curiosity. He calls it a breach of protocol punishable by full emotional lockdown. You think you’re clever. He thinks you just walked into classified territory barefoot, blindfolded, and with a target on your back. You were never supposed to see that side of his world. And now that you have? He doesn’t know whether to yell, hold you, or lock you in a room with military-grade firewalls and a blanket.

🍎 Top 10 Things That Turn Caleb Into a Complete Fluff-Mess

You wearing his dog tags / uniform shirt / flight jacket Instant puddle. No chance. He sees you in his gear and his brain just... shuts off. All he can think is mine mine mine, and he gets this dumb, soft little smirk like he’s trying so hard not to combust.

You falling asleep on him—especially mid-conversation You’re curled into his side, mumbling something about dinner plans, and then: silence. He looks down, sees you asleep on his chest, and that’s it. Whole day ruined. Cancel all missions. He’s not moving.

You bringing him coffee exactly the way he likes it—without asking That quiet, thoughtful act? Hits him right in the soldier-shaped heart. He doesn’t even know how to process being taken care of, so he stares at the cup like it just proposed to him.

You absentmindedly touching him—fiddling with his fingers, tracing scars, playing with his hair He pretends he doesn’t care. He does. He cares so much he forgets how to breathe. Just turns into a warm, red-eared statue trying not to whimper.

You whispering “I trust you” or “I feel safe with you” in a soft moment Core memory unlocked. He stores that one like sacred intel. Will literally whisper it back to himself at 3 AM when he’s lying awake, missing you. It breaks him in the best way.

You clinging to him in your sleep / pulling him closer without waking up Caleb.exe has stopped functioning. He will lie perfectly still for HOURS if it means not disturbing that moment. Bonus points if you mumble his name while doing it.

You defending him when someone questions his methods or past He’s used to being the shield—not having someone stand in front of him. The second you raise your voice on his behalf? He falls in love with you all over again. Might even cry. Secretly.

You gently helping him out of his gear after a long day Soft hands on his buckles. A kiss to his shoulder. A low “You’re home now.” That’s how you make a Colonel melt. His fingers twitch like he wants to worship the ground you walk on.

You surprising him with something dumb and heartfelt, like a handmade gift or bad sketch of him He acts gruff—says “the hell is this, Pips?”—but then puts it in his locker or keeps it in his chest pocket for missions like it’s sacred treasure. Because it is.

You calling him “baby” / “handsome” / “sweetheart” when he least expects it He acts like it’s annoying. It is not annoying. It turns him into actual butter. If you do it with a teasing smile? He short-circuits. Might drop something. Might combust. Definitely blushes.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne’s Calm Snap Like a Microsurgical Thread

You ignore his instructions when you're sick You had a fever of 102°F. He left explicit care instructions—bed rest, fluids, minimal movement. You, sweating and glassy-eyed, decided this was the perfect time to rearrange the furniture. When he came home and found you dragging a bookshelf across the room “because the light felt wrong,” he genuinely considered sedating you. Not as punishment. As damage control. For both of you.

You order greasy fast food instead of going somewhere “nutritionally viable” He offered to cook. You said no. Twenty minutes later, you’re eating fries from a paper bag while half of it spills on his clean table. You grin. He stares. Not angry at the food. Angry because you rejected his precision, then settled for processed chaos.

You leave wet towels on the floor after every shower He’s not sure when it started. Day three? Day five? But every time he walks into the bathroom and steps into cold, soggy cotton, something in him fractures. You claim you “forget.” He suspects a psychological experiment.

You casually mention spending time with male friends You think it’s harmless. Lunch with Caleb. Training advice from Xavier. You light up when you talk about them—and that’s the problem. Zayne doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t raise a brow. But the sudden over-fixation on his email inbox says everything.

You receive a speeding ticket. Forty miles over the limit. You wave it off like it’s a funny little anecdote. He sits in absolute silence, calculating the stopping distance of your car vs. standard reaction time at that speed. You think he’s judging. He’s actually trying not to scream.

You poke his ass. Specifically, between the cheeks. You call it “affection.” He calls it “emotional terrorism.” He flinches like he’s been electrocuted, whips around with murder in his eyes—and you’re giggling like a gremlin. Later, you regret nothing, but your thighs may beg to differ.

When you diagnose him with internet psychology You’ve read one book on attachment styles and watched three reels about emotional unavailability. Now you’ve decided he has "clinical avoidant tendencies with a hint of fear-based control fixation." He stares at you, deadpan, like he's about to perform your autopsy.

You keep spoiled food in the fridge and expired meds in the cabinet You say “it doesn’t smell that bad” or “maybe it still works.” His eye twitches. His gloves are already on. He’s not even mad at you—he’s mad at entropy. You’ve become its agent.

You watch reality shows. About infidelity. Willingly. You claim it’s “just background noise.” But he walks in and hears someone scream “that’s not even your baby, Kyle!” and your eyes are glued to the screen. His soul briefly leaves his body.

You washed his white lab coat. With your pink unicorn pajamas. It’s not just the color. It’s the betrayal. The symbol of his clinical neutrality now smells like bubblegum and looks like cotton candy. You say it’s cute. He looks personally violated by the washing machine.

🩺 Top 10 Things That Make Zayne Soft Against His Will

You bring him lunch at the hospital He never asks. You just appear—arms full of neatly packed containers, face lit up like this isn’t the third double shift he’s worked this week. He complains about the timing. The smell. The disruption. And then eats every bite with frightening focus. You leave. He stares at the empty container like it’s proof someone still believes he’s human.

You quote him back to himself like a philosopher You remember something he said weeks ago—some throwaway line about time or structure or entropy—and you drop it casually in conversation, like it’s wisdom from an ancient text. He doesn’t know how to react. You turned his logic into poetry, and he’ll never recover from that.

You wear the little seal keychain he made He didn’t think you’d keep it. Let alone turn it into your everyday keychain. But there it is—always with you, worn smooth from touch. You twirl it absentmindedly while talking to him, never noticing the way his gaze lingers. Never realizing how something so small can hit him so hard.

You put a photo of the two of you on his desk It appears one day. No fanfare. Just… there. A moment frozen in light, sitting quietly beside his surgical reports and diagnostic schematics. At first, he moves it to the edge. Then back to center. Now it lives next to his pen. He doesn’t talk about it. But it’s the only object on that desk he wipes clean with his bare hand.

His work shirt smells like you You borrowed it that morning, wore it while dancing around the apartment with wet hair and no real purpose. Hours later, when he pulls it on between rounds, the scent hits him like a loaded memory. He short-circuits mid-button. Everything feels warmer than it should.

You leave your phone with him while you shower No password. No hesitation. You toss it into his lap with a breezy “can you clear out whatever’s making it lag?” and vanish behind steam. He sits there, phone in hand, suddenly trusted with everything. He opens nothing. But the fact that you’d let him? That’s the part that shakes him.

You ask for his opinion on minor discomforts A papercut. A weird freckle. A suspicious sneeze. You hold out your hand, utterly serious, asking what he thinks. It’s laughable. Ridiculous. And it absolutely wrecks him. You could ask a dozen others—but you ask him. Like he’s the one who makes things better.

You’re on top He likes control. Precision. Strategy. But when you climb into his lap, all instinct and fire, hands braced on his chest and lips already parted—his brain stops cooperating. There’s something about you taking the lead that makes him unravel. Quietly. Violently. Completely.

You argue with him about complex theories—and mean it You don’t just nod. You push back. You challenge. You quote sources he hasn’t thought about in years. You spark. You flare. And he watches, fascinated, lips twitching with something dangerously close to pride. No one does this. No one dares. But you? You never flinch.

You whisper “I love you” in your sleep It’s not loud. It’s not even clear. Just a faint breath in the dark, like a dream half-remembered. But he hears it. Every time. And though he never says a word in return—not while you're sleeping—his fingers tighten around your waist like he's anchoring himself to the only thing that matters.

🎨 Top 10 Things That Make Rafayel Absolutely, Irrevocably Annoyed at You

You told him his painting was “nice” You stood in front of a piece that cost him three sleepless nights, a minor existential crisis, and two broken brushes—and said “Nice.” Just like that. No gasp, no poetry, no tears. He aged five years on the spot. Somewhere in the distance, a violin cried for him.

You dragged him to a cat exhibit You thought it would be cute. Enrichment. A bonding experience. Instead, he spent the entire time perched on edge, eyes darting like prey. You said “they’re just kittens.” He said nothing. He was too busy making sure none of them came closer than ten feet.

You cleaned his studio You thought you were being helpful. But you moved The Pile. The sacred, unholy, perfectly calibrated mess. Now he can’t find his favorite brush, and also he’s deeply offended by how cheerful you looked doing it.

You didn’t reply to his messages for over an hour He sent three texts, one meme, and a “thinking of you 💭” voice note. You replied 67 minutes later with “sry was showering.” By then, he’d already decided you were breaking up with him, joining a cult, or possibly dead. He had a whole monologue planned. And now you’ve ruined it.

You cut your hair He loved your long hair. Adored it. Worshipped it. You showed up with a sharp little bob and said “it’s just hair.” It is not just hair. It is the collapse of a visual era. He’s still adjusting. And by adjusting, he means mourning with wine.

You made fun of his driving You muttered “technically, you were meant to let the tram go first” He muttered “technically, silence is golden.” His driving is instinct. Vibe. Energy. If you didn’t want drama, you shouldn’t have sat in the passenger seat of a man who parallel parks like he’s in a ballet.

You woke him up too early He went to bed at 4 a.m. because inspiration struck. You woke him at 7:12 like it was nothing, and said “you have that interview, remember?” He does remember. He also remembers specifically telling you that if he ever falls asleep before sunrise, you are to let him die peacefully, cancel all earthly obligations, and throw his alarm clock into the ocean where it belongs.

You hid your phone screen when a message came in You were probably teasing. Just being playful. But now he’s spiraling. Who was it? Why the secrecy? What do you have to hide? Congratulations—you’ve just activated his inner opera villain.

You got jealous Which is absurd. He’s the one who invented possessive affection. But you being jealous? That makes him unreasonably indignant. What do you mean you “didn’t like the way that gallery girl looked at him”? Of course she looked. But he didn’t see her. He saw you.

You burned the bacon You say “it’s fine.” He says it’s charcoal. The entire kitchen smells like culinary war crimes. And now he’ll have to burn incense and replant three garden beds to recover emotionally. Who even let you near the stove? Who hurt you? Was it… the bacon?

🎨 Top 10 Ways You Accidentally Turned Rafayel Into a Purring, Love-Drunk Work of Art

You massage his head He’s mid-rant. Arms crossed. Absolutely furious about the lighting in that gallery. And then your fingers slip into his hair—and just like that, the war is over. His entire body melts like he’s been tranquilized. He’ll deny it later, of course. But the way he leans into your hand? Case closed.

You claim him in public It’s an art gala. He’s dressed to ruin people. And then you slip your arm through his, fingers just tight enough to say mine. You smile like a goddess. He pretends he’s unaffected. Inside, he’s writing vows in ten languages and considering printing matching business cards.

You actually listen to his advice He knows he can be dramatic. Unfiltered. Emotionally volatile. But when you sit there, really listening, nodding like his words matter—you destroy him. Suddenly he’s not the chaos. He’s the compass. And that? That’s love.

You share every detail of your day over dinner You talk about everything—the lady at the store, the funny email, the awful latte. You give him your day like a story, like he’s the only one you wanted to tell. He leans in, listens too closely, files away each emotion like a collector of rare art.

You’re always down for his wildest ideas It’s 3 a.m. He wants to hike 2.5 miles along the beach, take a boat to a tiny island, and watch the sunrise with wine. You say “give me five minutes.” And just like that, you become the only person worthy of his wildest, most beautiful chaos.

You let him photograph you Nothing compares. Not awards. Not praise. Nothing rivals the moment you look into his lens—bare, unfiltered, unashamed. Especially when you’re nude, glowing, and laughing like the world doesn’t exist. That’s when he falls in love with you all over again. And again. And again.

You let him choose your dress You come out in the one he picked. Elegant. Perfect. You spin for him. And the way he watches you? Like he made you. Like you’re the gallery and he’s the only one with the key. It’s not fashion. It’s trust. And he adores you for it.

You sing when you don’t know he’s home Wearing socks and earbuds, dancing with a broom, serenading your way through burnt pancakes. You’re off-key. Glorious. Real. And he stands in the doorway, silent, just watching. Because in that moment—you’re not posing. And he’s never loved you more.

You take care of him when he’s sick He has a fever of 99°F and insists he’s fading. You bring tea, stroke his hair, whisper that he’s “very brave.” You don’t mock him. You take his dramatics seriously. He will never forget it. He may also write you into his will.

You join him in the bathtub without asking He’s already halfway submerged, music playing, steam curling in the air—and then you slip in behind him, no warning. You nudge your legs around his hips, hand him your shampoo, and let him wash your hair while you giggle. He tries to act unimpressed. But when he starts kissing your toes? Yeah. You win.

✨ Top 10 Behavioral Anomalies That Triggered Xavier’s Internal Alert System

You break an agreement—even if it's “just a small one” It’s not about control. It’s about structure. You promised. And when you bend the rules—just slightly—he doesn’t react outwardly. No visible shift, no sharp breath. But something behind his eyes goes cold. Because for him, even small deviations mean recalculating everything. And that means risk. To you.

You create drama “just to get a reaction” You push. You poke. You escalate. And he gives you… nothing. No outburst, no flinch. Just that flat, unreadable stare while he mentally exits the room. He doesn’t get angry—he just shuts off the part of himself that wants to stay.

You refuse his protection—on principle You call it independence. He calls it a strategic vulnerability wrapped in pride. He won’t argue. He’ll just be one step farther back the next time, quietly cataloging how to stop caring just enough that it won’t kill him if something happens.

You call him cold—especially when he’s holding himself together for you You see stillness. He feels restraint. You accuse. He remembers what it takes to not become the darker version of himself. If only you knew how much energy it took to stay composed. If only you knew it was for you.

You’re late Five minutes. Ten. No message. No explanation. And his pulse ticks upward—not with impatience, but with pure, trained alertness. He starts looking for signs. Traffic reports. Emergency alerts. By the time you arrive, he’s smiling. But it’s the tight kind. The kind that says never again.

You skip training You’re tired. You had a long day. You say you’ll make it up later. He doesn’t argue. He just recalculates survival probabilities and mentally adds you to the list of people who might die because they were unprepared. And he will blame himself for letting you get soft.

You pull away from his touch when you're angry It’s not the rejection. It’s the meaning behind it. He reaches out—small, careful, calculated—and you shut the door in his face with a single backward step. He doesn’t try again. He doesn’t ask why. But the space you leave behind? It echoes.

You use a photo of Lumiere as a bookmark You think it’s cute. Maybe even sweet. He sees it—and freezes. He’s not jealous. Not exactly. But the idea that you might admire that version more—the legend, the mask, the sharpness—it unsettles something deep. Something he can’t name.

You secretly believe you’re not good enough for him You never say it out loud. But he sees it—in your deflections, your nervous jokes, the way you doubt his love like it’s a glitch. It doesn’t anger him in the usual sense. It just…hurts. Because you’re the only one who never had to earn it.

You throw yourself in front of him during a mission It’s instinct, you say. Split-second decision. You didn’t even think. And that’s the problem. He does. Always. Every variable, every movement, every risk is accounted for—except you breaking formation to protect him. You think it’s brave. He sees it as catastrophic miscalculation. Not because you acted without logic. But because you decided his life was worth more than yours. And that? That’s the one conclusion he refuses to accept.

✨Top 10 Things That Quietly Break Xavier’s Walls and Leave Him Unreasonably Soft About You

When you start reading the same book he’s readingYou don’t announce it. You just show up with the same title, a few chapters behind, and start casually asking questions. He plays it off. But inside? He’s spiraling. Because this—this—is how you speak his language. Silently. Precisely. Together.

When you knock on his door like you’re trying to break it downIt’s loud. Impatient. Inappropriate for the hour. But he knows that knock. That rhythm. That you. You need him. Not his solutions. Him. And somehow, that chaos pounding on his door feels more like home than anything else.

When you hug him from behindYou wrap your arms around his torso mid-task, face pressed between his shoulder blades, palms splayed across his chest like you’re anchoring yourself to something ancient and steady. He stills. Every time. Like someone just whispered a secret to his bones. He never asks why. Never moves away. He just tilts his head slightly—listening, as if your silence said everything he needed to hear.

When you touch his sword (the actual weapon, calm down)He never lets anyone handle it. Not even for cleaning. But your fingers skim the hilt, gentle, curious, reverent. And somehow… it’s okay. You’re not just touching steel. You’re touching him. And he lets you.

When you act like a little girlYou scrunch your nose. Say something ridiculous. Blush like you didn’t mean to. And he watches—utterly disarmed. Because he knows exactly what you want. You want him to carry you. Wrap you up. Keep you safe. And he will—without hesitation.

When you join him on a morning runYou complain. You lag. You swear this is “not your vibe.” But you still show up. Same hour. Same route. And when you match his pace for those few precious minutes? He doesn’t say it—but he’s proud. Painfully proud.

When you share your dreams—and say “we”You’re rambling. Light spilling from your words. Talking about the future, the maybes, the next steps. But you don’t say I. You say we. And that sound? That tiny shift in grammar? It settles deep. Irrevocable. Permanent.

When you make matching braceletsYou say it’s silly. Handmade. Slightly uneven. There’s a charm shaped like a rabbit. He never takes it off. Not in combat. Not in sleep. It rests against his wrist like a pressure point—and grounds him better than anything else.

When you remember his habitsYour shopping list always includes his cinnamon. His brand of shampoo. The exact instant noodles he pretends not to love. You don’t make a show of it. You just know. And that knowing? It destroys him in the softest possible way.

When you trust him completely in bed—even when his darker side surfacesThere’s a moment—quiet, charged—when the softness shifts. He waits. Watches. Braces for resistance. But you don’t pull back. You open your hands. Arch into him. Let him take control without fear. That? That’s what breaks him. Not the pleasure. The trust.

🖤Top 10 Things That Push Sylus Into Maximum Sarcasm and Mildly Homicidal Disapproval

Your outdated, unreliable weapon Yes, he gets it. It’s vintage. It’s “standard issue.” It’s approved by the Hunters Association. Congratulations. That won’t matter when it jams and gets you killed. Every time you return one of the sleek, upgraded firearms he hand-delivers like he’s your personal armory concierge, he has to resist asking if you've already made a draft of your death wish. Alphabetically sorted. With floral headers.

You chew gum—and pop it It’s not the gum. It’s the snap. The sudden, violent pop of sugary air bubbles that hits his trauma response like a trigger. He knows it’s just a noise. His shoulder still twitches. He’s this close to reaching into your mouth and extracting the gum like a gentleman. A very sarcastic, deeply annoyed, half-feral gentleman.

You try to shake your tail (him) You use stealth tech. You block your signal. You go dark. Adorable. You’re forgetting that the very system you’re relying on was developed by his own syndicate. The only person who ever really evades Sylus is Sylus. And maybe the cat that lives under his car. But not you. Never you.

You don’t introduce him as your boyfriend to your old classmates You panicked. He gets that. You called him “a friend.” And now he’s deeply committed to the bit. For the next seven days, every time you said anything, he replied with “Of course, as your friend…” in front of waiters, dealers, and one extremely confused ambassador. You only managed to shut it down by hastily posting a photo of you two with the caption “my boyfriend and the love of my life.” Acceptable recovery. Barely.

You refuse to use his resources His private jet? Untouched. His cars? Collecting dust. His black card? Sitting unused like some kind of insult in your purse. You say you’re “independent.” He says you’re actively offending his entire lifestyle philosophy. Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is to ignore an entire walk-in wardrobe prepared for you in his estate? Honestly, it’s almost admirable. Almost.

You once smoked a cigarette, and he saw it He didn’t say anything. At the time. Just looked at you. Silently. Like someone had drop-kicked a kitten in front of him. He’s not judging. He’s just picturing your lungs in an ashtray. And adding another page to your death wish list.

You speak in riddles and expect him to “get it” You want something—time away, a trip, his attention—but instead of asking, you sigh dramatically and murmur, “It’s fine. I guess some people just don’t want to escape the city with their girlfriends…” He blinks. Slow. Dangerous. “Was that a request, a riddle, or an emotional booby trap?” If you want something from him, Kitten, try using nouns and verbs. Not cryptic guilt puzzles.

You suggest another woman would be “perfect for him” It’s a joke. Offhand. Barely a breath. But your voice wavers—just slightly—and that ruins it. He doesn’t want her. He doesn’t want options. He wants you. And now, thanks to your charming lapse in self-worth, he has to waste the rest of the evening reminding you that this face, this power, this entire empire already belongs to someone. Guess who.

You sneak up on him You never mean to. But somehow, you're always the one person who slips past every alarm, every trained instinct, and ends up whispering behind him when his brain is still in kill mode. It takes everything in him to not react on pure reflex. You think it’s cute. He thinks it’s potentially catastrophic.

You don’t believe him when he says he’s fine Yes, he’s bleeding. Yes, his shirt is soaked. But he said “it’s a scratch,” and when he says that—he means it. His body heals like a myth. Your worried face? It makes something in him ache. Because the real wound isn’t on him—it’s in you, for thinking he’s anything less than unbreakable.

🖤 Top 10 Things That Make Sylus Dangerously Soft for You (And Yes, He’s Keeping Score)

When you finally spend his money It started with coffee. Small. Harmless. But the alert hit his phone and, for a moment, he genuinely wondered if his card had been stolen—until he saw your name. And something in him shifted. Not because of the cost. Please. He could buy the city it was brewed in. No, it was the fact you used it. You. Willingly. Now? You’re bolder—little dresses, shoes, jewelry you don’t need. And every time you do, he rewards it like you just proved you understand the assignment: what's his, is already yours.

When you give orders to his men like you're the boss You don’t ask. You instruct. Calm, certain, completely in charge. One of his men hesitates—just once—while you’re directing them to rescue a terrified kitten stuck in a tree. Sylus doesn’t interfere. He just watches, arms crossed, a grin tugging at his mouth as armed professionals scramble to obey you like you're the patron saint of lost animals. Somewhere in his mind, he’s already fitted you for a crown. With tiny cat ears.

When you secretly pet Mephisto The mechanical raven used to drive you insane. Now? You’re sneaking him treats and absentminded scratches under the jaw. Sylus sees it. Says nothing. But deep down, he knows: if you’ve accepted the bird—you’ve accepted all of him. And that’s lethal. To him.

When you make him a playlist You never explain them. Just send a link and say nothing. But he listens—every time. Alone. In his car. In the bath. Eyes closed, calculating your every choice like it’s encrypted intel. Each track? A hint. A mood. A coded message from you to him. He doesn’t ask for them. He just waits for the next one. And when it arrives, he treats it like gospel.

When you leave a trail of chaos in his car Your hair on the seat. Your gum wrappers in the cup holder. The seat so close to the wheel he practically has to fold in half. And the music? A full-volume love ballad ready to ambush his eardrums at ignition. It's obnoxious. It’s inconvenient. It’s perfect. His life, now featuring you.

When you eat from his plate You swore you weren’t hungry. You said “no carbs this week.” And now? You’re stealing fries from his hand and dipping into his steak sauce like it’s your birthright. He doesn’t stop you. He just watches you chew with that look that says: mine. forever.

When you talk and talk and talk Something happens. You spiral. Words spill. Thoughts tangle. You’re not even aware you’re rambling—but he is. He listens to everything. Stores it all. Because there’s something magical about your voice when it’s unfiltered. You don’t realize it, but he falls a little harder every time you forget to censor yourself.

When you crawl into his lap while he’s working He’s in the middle of paperwork. Calculating things. Dangerous things. And suddenly—you. Right there. Knees on either side, arms around his neck, like the world’s most beautiful interruption. He tells himself he needs to finish. But his hands are already on your hips.

When you call and ask for help A jar. A stuck zipper. A ride. It doesn’t matter. You’re a trained hunter—you’ve faced things with claws, fangs, and no name. But you still call him. Because you want him. And that? That wrecks him in ways he’ll never admit. He’s already on his way before you hang up.

When you scream his name right before you come There’s a lot he’s proud of. His empire. His power. His record. But nothing—nothing—satisfies him more than the moment your voice breaks open with his name. Like prayer. Like surrender. Like he’s the only thing in your world. Which, of course… he is.

Morning after Long Work Days

CONTENT: a little suggestive ... which it is not as this will get a Part 2. Fluff, sleepy weepy. Mainly FLUFF and Comfort...

The first rays of sun slipped through the closed curtains illuminating the room in a warm yellow orange glow. I have been up since a long time but not able to move or shift and my arms and legs have numbed out by now. Why you may ask…

Well, the problem is, there is this 6ft boyfriend of mine practically sleeping on top of me and I don’t have a heart to wake him up or move him and just … I have giving up at this point. This has been going on since 4:30 am, but one thing I can say, he looked peaceful enough for me to just …… (deep breathe) appreciate him.

The sunlight hit his face just at the right angle to illuminate his features, Xavier lays on my chest, like an ethereal god. The last few days were hard for both of us with the amount of wanderer appearance and night duties we both pulled through, barely resting and just going on and on. And looking at both of us walking around like zombies at the association, Jenna at last called us to her office and told us to get a leave. Both me and Xavier didn’t remember how we returned home or if we ate anything or even bathe. I just remember somehow, I got those leather straps and work clothes off and just wear one of Xavier’s hoodies and shorts and falling on bed, and then as I drifted off, I did feel a oh so light kiss on my forehead and being enveloped in a warm embraced and soon I was out like a light.

And now, here I am being crushed by my 6ft boyfriend Xav, who looks much better and I am happy that he got is much deserved rest. This sweetheart of mine couldn’t even take a proper nap in past 1 week. Looking at his face, his mouth just slightly open, his chest going up and down sync with my heartbeat, his arms hanging loosey around me, legs dangling off and his face on my neck. It felt good to be trust like this by a person. A person, even if everyone says “Xavier is the best hunter out there, Xavier this, Xavier that…” treating him as something dangerous, or a lethal weapon, but in the end of the day, he is too a person who needs to rest which he doesn’t get much due to his active hearing or alertness. Therefore, seeing this idiot of my bf, forgetting the world and sleeping soundly like a baby on top of me, yes, he a person to me first before he is the best hunter in Linkon.

Thoughts like these were running wild in my head as I slowly caressed his head and ran my fingers through his hair. Letting out a heavy sigh and deep in my thoughts, I didn’t feel him shift closer to me until I felt a soft and feather like kiss on my neck followed by him nuzzling his nose and sniffing me.

“Stop that brain of yours from overthinking, its going to break soon enough.” He said softly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I asked him letting my fingers graze his back, along his spine which sent a shiver down his body as he shifted again and at last faced me.

“Why you up now?” he said nuzzling into my chest like a literal cat and a laughter bubbled out of me.

“OH, my handsome sweet pie, love of my life, cutie of a boyfriend.” I said pampering him with kisses on his hair and forehead... getting cute aggression just by looking at him and how soft and cuddly he looked.

“Ahhhhh ahhh…. Nooooooo…. Not yet” he said with a shriek as I attack him and embrace the shit out of him, murmuring words of nothing and everything, and he tried to protest that he didn’t like being pampering, but THIS IDIOT LIKED IT. I knew it. He acted as he repelled it but leaned more closer to me as I continued on with my playful assault on him. And he did let me, until I found my arms being pinned on my side.

“Seriously Xav…” I looked at him. Those night blue eyes looking right at me. There was a gleam to it, a liveliness to it which was gone this week. I let out a deep sigh, kissing his crown saying “Welcome back my prince charming” with a small smile.

He stilled for a moment, before relaxing again, “Why welcome me back? I was here…”

“Yeah, you were, physically, but mentally you were exhausted as f… and ya” I said caressing his head and scratching his scalp lightly ‘but that liveliness and happiness was not there… which are back again as you … I hope you did get some good sleep?”

“SOME GOOD SLEEP? No... I had the best sleep of my life today honestly. “He said with a laugh and at last rolled off me. I grunted slightly shifting to my side and saw him looking at me.

“What?”

“It looks painful” he said with a amused face.

I playfully hit his head ‘Its all your fault but ya ... I don’t mind it” I smiled at him.

He embraced me again kissing my nose and then my lips before I stopped him. “Not now… you smell and I don’t remember if we brushed out teeth or what not … Sorry”

“You denied me KISSES? And even EARLY IN THE MORNING? I have been betrayed.” He said with a exaggerated sigh “Betrayed by my own star… what a terrifying thing to wake up to. This is not my reality. Come here … lets sleep again and wake up in our reality where you let me kiss youuuuu” he said trying to hug me again but I slipped past his arms and sat up.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T GET UPPPP…... Plweaseeeeeee”

I let out a laugh, “Idiot… get up now. We didn’t bathe yesterday and I feel dirty all over.”

He looks at me with his classic smirk… “Are you perhaps suggesting something to me sweetheart?”

“MAYBE… but my idiot of a boyfriend won’t get up so…” I trailed off and got up from the bed to go to the washroom.

Soon after, I heard a knock on the washroom door and then saw Xavier’s face poke out, “Is the offer still valid yet?’

..........................................................................................

Sooooo.. even if i am swamped with college works due to exams and having writers block since forever, I made a line art of xavier yesterday night and

EARLY IN THE DAMMASS MORNING MY INSPIRATION HIT ME LIKE A SNOWSTROM

Hopefully you guys will this 😅, wanted to write a fanfic for so long and I at last did...

Might post this on AO3 🫣😵‍💫

But whatever

ENJOYYYY

sorry i'm just a man and can only spare one set of clothes per drawing

me when someone experiences voilence and the lesson they learn is kindness

イケメン

📖⬅⬅⬅

11.11 ~ Pocky Day

Read ⬇ then ⬅ (I'm sorry, I know my doodle formats are all over the place every time X'D)

=====

A little continuation from a doodle back when Unique Aftertaste was announced. Just so happen that it's also 11.11 atm, aka Pocky Day (in Japan) xd

Poking Xavier and headpats ~ ♪(´▽｀)

📖⬅⬅⬅

===

Based on a quote in-game when you poke Xavier one too many times and he says he'll let you touch a plushie instead 🤭 But as we all know, Xavier being Xavier... he definitely wants MC's touch all to himself hehe

Pancakes at Sunset

content: fluff, xavier x reader, soft teasing, domestic, cozy vibes

word count: 893 words

requested by — @sadfragilegirl

now playing: Best Part by Daniel Ceaser ft H.E.R

You place the plates on the table as Xavier settles into the chair beside you. You had cooked pancakes with bacon and eggs—definitely not your usual dinner choice. The savory scent of sizzling bacon mixed with maple syrup still clings to the air. It’s oddly comforting, but also… well, odd. It was already dinner time.

Xavier glances at the spread, then up at you. One brow arches, his golden eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. “Breakfast?” he says, tone smooth and relaxed, like velvet draped over mischief. There’s no judgment there, just that usual playful cadence in his voice that makes your stomach flutter—more than it probably should.

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Yeah. I was craving it.”

“Craving,” he echoes, slowly, drawing the word out like he’s tasting it. His fork hovers over the pancakes for a moment before he stabs into them. “That’s a new one.”

You tilt your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He takes a bite, chews thoughtfully, and swallows. “Just that you usually go for something more… balanced. You’ve never made breakfast food for dinner before. This is a bold choice.” He gestures to the pancakes dramatically, like he’s hosting a cooking show. “An unprecedented one.”

“Maybe I just wanted comfort food,” you say, folding your arms and trying not to smile.

“Or…” He trails off, leaning back in his chair, fork spinning between his fingers. That sly smirk starts forming—the one you know all too well. “You’re being weird lately.”

Your brow lifts. “Weird?”

“Yeah. You’ve been… emotional. Sleeping a lot. Getting all huffy at me over nothing—don’t think I didn’t notice you almost cry when we ran out of strawberry jam.”

Your face warms. “That was a traumatic moment, thank you.”

He chuckles, low and warm. “And now pancakes for dinner? Something’s up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Maybe I just missed you.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He falters for half a second, eyes softening, that teasing edge dipping into something gentler. “I missed you too,” he says, sincere and quiet.

And just like that, your heart stumbles.

But then—he’s grinning again. “Still… this isn’t just missing me. You’re like… glitching.”

You scoff. “Oh, shut up.”

“I mean, first the jam, now the pancakes? You’ve been acting like a walking mood swing.” He props his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s next, singing to the plants? Crying over a commercial again?”

“It was a dog reunion ad, Xavier. You cried too.”

“That’s beside the point.”

You take a deep breath and lean back in your seat. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He doesn’t even try to deny it. “Because now I get to ask the big question.”

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. “What?”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice, but still laced with that teasing edge. “Are you… pregnant?”

You nearly choke. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it would explain the weird cravings, the naps, the moodiness.” He waves his fork like he’s presenting evidence. “You’ve been late too, right?”

Your cheeks flush instantly. “You are not seriously—”

“I’m just saying.” He takes another bite, talking through the mouthful. “Maybe there’s a little me in there already.”

You drop your fork. “Xavier.”

“What?” He’s laughing now, head tilted back just slightly, the kind of laugh that feels like a warm breeze—easy, light, completely him. “You’ve been looking at baby clothes on your phone too.”

“That was one time and it was an ad!”

“Sure it was.”

You throw a napkin at him. He catches it mid-air with a casual flick of his hand and smirks. “Reflexes of a starship pilot.”

“You’re impossible.”

He leans forward again, eyes crinkling at the corners with the fondness he always tries (and fails) to hide. “You know, if you were pregnant,” he says softly, “I’d take it in stride.”

You blink. “You… would?”

His voice turns warm, serious for a beat. “I’d be terrified. But I’d also be all in. No running. No hesitation. Just me… and you… figuring it out.”

Your chest tightens in the best way. You hadn’t really thought about that. At least, not seriously. But now, hearing him say it, tease it—mean it—it sends a pulse of warmth through you that pancakes alone couldn’t have managed.

Still, you roll your eyes. “Well, I’m probably not. I’m just… late.”

“Mmhm.” He hums, biting into a strip of bacon. “For now.”

You point a finger at him. “Don’t start nesting. We’re not naming anything.”

He grins devilishly. “Too late. I’ve already got five options for a girl and seven for a boy.”

You groan dramatically and cover your face. “I’m never making breakfast again.”

“You say that now,” he murmurs, sliding his chair closer so he can wrap an arm around your shoulder. He kisses your temple, a whisper of warmth against your skin. “But wait till the cravings hit again tomorrow.”

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The teasing continues until the plates are cleared and the night grows soft around you. And even though you’re sure you’re not pregnant, the way he looks at you… the way he smiles like he already sees a future unfolding with you in it—maybe, just maybe—you let yourself imagine it too. Just a little. Just enough.

Thank you for requesting! Requests are open. Reblogs and liking would help a lot!! Thanks for the past support. My heart is warming. - Zane 𖹭

At last i did start my fanart of Xavier. ..

Lets goo.....

😛😛😝 but i dont know when i will finish it ...

😅😅

"Shut up!" - LaDS reactions.

LaDS boys reacting to you screaming at them to shut up.

Summary: How hard can it be to ask for a little peace and quiet when you're finally having a little bit of time for yourself? But they dismiss your request and have the audacity to pester you even further.

These are short stories, about a tired MC who keeps being called out to work, and whenever they're free they go out with the boys and spends no time to chill at home to recharge. So they snap.

Xavier - pt. 1 - 637 words

Rafayel incoming...

Caleb incoming...

Zayne incoming...

Sylus incoming...

• You're enjoying a much deserved break, sitting on your sofa and catching up with your games. You're finally able to log in, after it took hours to update the missing content.

• You'd taken a shower thinking it would help you pass the time, only to realise you missclicked the update button, once you came out refreshed.

• This time you made sure it started downloading before looking away.

• You decide to make a little trip to the convenience store to get some of your favourite snacks, but they were all out of it.

• Defeated, you come back home and prepare some tea, logging in and laying comfortably on the couch.

• The doorbell rings and you stand up to open it. Xavier greats you and makes himself at home. It's not that you don't want him there, but you'd spent the whole day together the day before, now you just wanted some time to think of nothing else and Xavier was someone that constantly demanded your attention.

• In the end you just go back to the couch, taking the controller and getting into your game.

• Xavier sits next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder and pressing himself into you.

• “Babe, I'm finding it difficult to play with you like this.” It comes out worse than you intended it to but he doesn't seem to register your tone. “Xav, please, just move a little.”

• He pouts and moves away. You sit back and get into a battle that makes you want to throw the controller at your screen. Your builds are all wrong for this one and you can't seem to find what's the problem.

• Feeling completely ignored, Xavier stands up and walks away. You feel him move but pay no attention to it, your focus on the task at hand.

• Sudden noises come in from the kitchen, his voice going “oh no, no nononono-” your patience is running low and the day hasn't been playing into your favour.

• “SHUT UP!” You scream at him, storming into the kitchen. You see his stunned face, but the state of your kitchen only senda you over the edge. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down. “Please, leave.”

• He leaves, defeated and still processing your outburst. You've never raised your voice at him like this. You don't go back to your game, instead take the time to cool down by cleaning the kitchen

• You notice the ingredients and realise he'd been trying to bake your favourite cookies. You sigh deeply, your heart clenching at his mindfulness. You shouldn't have screamed at him like that.

• As you finally sit back into the couch, the doorbell rings once again. It's him again. You open the door and look at him regretfully. “I'm so sorry Xav, I shouldn't have-” he cuts you off with a bear hug. “It's fine. You're clearly having a bad day and I'm definitely not helping out.” Pulling away, he tugs you in, gently guiding you to the couch.

• “Here.” He hands you a grocery bag. “What's this?” you look into the bag to find your favourite snack and some coffee cans, the kind that you usually have. You look up at him. All the frustrations and feelings from the day washing over you, making your eyes water instantly.

• He sits next to you and pulls you in for a warm hug, patting your head. “It's fine, take it all out.” Once you're finished, you go to wash your face. When you come back you see Xavier with the controller in hand, checking your teams. “Have you not set the artifacts back to the correct characters after last time?” suddenly you remember the bet you made with him the last time you played. You'd mixed up the characters’ builds to see who would win against more bosses like that.

past your bedtime.

"You never told me you knew about mythlogy." — "You never asked." You struggle to sleep during bedtime. Xavier has just the trick to send you straight to dreamland. - 779 w. not proofread.

cw.: nothing. just sleepy xavi

It’s 1 am when you give up on trying to sleep. You toss and turn on your side of the bed in hopes to find a comfortable position to maybe, if your body is merciful enough, take a nap before you have to get up again.

You’re sore, your back hurts from the mission you’ve finished in the afternoon and your feet throb at the slightest contact with the ground. Exhausted is what you are. You came home sure you’d fall asleep in a second and yet, here you are, still wide awake when the digital alarm on your bedside table hits 2 am.

You almost feel sorry for Xavier, who’s currently lost deep into dreamland, for moving around so much beside him. Oh how you envy his ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. You toss and turn for a while longer, going static when your ears perk at the sound of Xavier snoring softly in his sleep, a pair of strong arms snake around your torso and trap you close to him like the perfect little emotional support pillow. 

Accepting you won’t be able to move around anymore, you stare at the shape of his peaceful sleeping face in the dark, bits of his hair illuminated by moonlight seeping through the thin curtains. Struggling under his embrace as gently as possible, your hand leaves your chest to comb his blonde hair out of his face in affection. Xavier’s breath hitches, not tense, but surprised at the contact in his half-awake-half-asleep state.

You choke on a yawn trying to escape your lips as Xavier’s lashes tremble and his sleepy eyes meet your wide awake ones. 

“Why are you still awake?” You can barely see but you just know there’s the tiniest frown forming in his face. 

Afraid that if you move, you’ll make him lose his sleepy state, your hand freezes in place but never leaves his hair. “Can’t sleep. Sorry- did i wake you up?” You whisper.

Xavier has always been your knight in shining armor with the looks of the most stunning prince ever. And even though you’ve said multiple times you can stand up for yourself no matter what, he insisted that he’ll always be there when things get messy. So why are you, of all people, worried you’re interrupting his sleep? 

“why didn’t you wake me up earlier is the real question. C’mere” He mutters, his voice laced with sleep. Closing the space between you two, he pulls you closer by the small of your back.

“Xavi- go back to sleep, i’ll fall asleep soon-” It’s already impossible to make wide awake Xavier finish reports so you worry what a pain it’ll be to get him to get anything done in the morning if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

“Do you know the story behind ursa major and minor?” He interrupts you with no ceremony, yawning at the end of his question. 

“Xavier- we have work in the morning, now is not the time-” — “Shhhh…” A kiss is placed between your brows.

“Once upon a time…” — He starts slowly, like he’s reading a bedtime story to a toddler. When Xavier has something in mind, it’s impossible to change his mind. Stubborn man he was. 

“…The beautiful maiden Callisto had an affair with Zeus, and they had a son named Arcas.” A kiss to your forehead. His hand snakes under your shirt to trace light patterns on your back.

He yawns but continues anyway. — “To protect them both from his jealous wife Hera, Zeus turned both of them into bears, grabbed them by their little tails and threw Callisto and Arcas  into the beautiful skies.” 

Now it’s your turn to yawn, eyelids droopy with tiredness. His voice could be a lullaby on its own, everything about Xavier had a sense of… gentleness, love. Every touch of his fingertips on your back was an act of adoration, the slow kisses on your skin painting a constellation of his own making on your face.

“Because of that, their tails stretched out and can be seen to this day in the night sky.” He concludes.

“So ursa minor is Arcas and ursa major is Callisto. And they have twenty nine stars in total. Oh and-” At the sound of your slow paced breath makes him go quiet and a tiny, proud smile plays on his lips.

It doesn’t take him long to also fall asleep, never does. Curling impossibly close to your body, he takes a deep breath in your hair, inhales the fresh scent of your shampoo and presses a good night kiss on your hairline before falling into a deep slumber once again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading! (*´▽`*)

The night is still young... and here i am sitting and rethinking everything ... i love xavier... and like him before i even played the game and i couldn't pin point exactly what drew me to him the most .. even after sylus and caleb came out ... i am loyal to this man ... a bit too much

And now i can play the game and ya .. just..

It is very well written about his characteristics and his personality and i do know and have seen to tumblr how people mischaracterize him ..

Well.. after everything .. the man underneath all the mask is who i resonate and relate to and love as well.. even if he is a game character .. he bring comfort and joy to me and lightens up my day even if by 10 per cent ..

I would say.. this man is also an introvert and doesnt really like talking about himself therefore ..

The original person whose writing i am reblogging

Hats off in trying to understand him and put it so beautifully in words ...

Enjoy my rant about this man

As much as I also laugh and joke about Xavier being jealous of Lumiere, I also absolutely get it. So be prepared because I have THOUGHTS.

✨ In defense of Xavier ✨

I cannot speak for all his jealousy, but I can speak on my own interpretation. Unfortunately, since I joined in October, I completely missed his Lumiere myth. I also don’t want to spoil myself too much in case I get the rerun, so some of this is just my own interpretation based on his character.

But I don’t think Xavier is explicitly jealous of *himself,* guys. I think when he asks “Who do you like more, me or Lumiere?” He’s not asking it literally. He is asking the main character, he is asking us as the player, “Do you like me or do you like the mask I wear?”

Now, I’m biased. I actually wrote a drabble on this concept for Victoria with her first (and still canon!) love interest from Ninjago, Lloyd. There’s some character parallels here I won’t go into detail with. But that was a topic the two had to navigate at first. Being the object of so many peoples’ affections while in an alter ego can absolutely raise a lot of questions. And in this example, Lloyd was wondering if Victoria was in love with the persona he has to put up for public perception, or the person he truly was. Of course Victoria loved him for him, not for the mask.

I think Xavier is doing the same here.

Xavier is a crown prince. He’s a vigilante. He’s a hero. But at the end of the day he is XAVIER. He’s gone through so many jobs, so many roles, he’s worn down many different masks. Someone falling in love with the mask is the last thing he wants. I was discussing this with my therapist the other day, that’s something that drew me to both Rafayel and Xavier.

They both have masks, literal and figurative, that they hide behind. Falling in love with the mask does nothing. It’s the person underneath that’s more important. It’s why Rafayel asks “Will you still love me, no matter who I become?” It’s why Xavier asks who the main character prefers, him or Lumiere. It speaks to my own life as someone placed on a pedestal, constantly wearing a mask of perfection and untouchability. It irritates me when people claim to have feelings for me when they haven’t found the person behind the mask. It shows they’ve fallen in love with an idea of me, not with who I am as a person.

I’ll gladly make jokes about his own jealousy too, but there’s a lot more to it. It frustrates me to see all of the love interests mischaracterized or even outright demonized.

So, in defense of Xavier, when he asks if you like him or Lumiere more, keep in mind.

Are you in love with the man, or the mask?

You get gravely injured instead of the LADS boys

with [chubby reader]

[chubby reader, don't like it, don't read it]

Summary: You jumped in front of them during a fight and got severely injured instead.

warnings: extreme injuries, angst, blood, crying, comfort, fluff, gn! reader, reader and the boys fight together against wanderers/ criminals and are already in a relationship, probably ooc because we haven't seen the boys when they're extremely worried yet, if you work in the medical field beware, extremely inaccurate

⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Xavier:

Xavier's wrapped his muscular arm around you and he helped you as you limped forward. Every step felt like another slash to your thigh and you whimpered out. You jumped in front of Xavier without any hesitation; he was distracted. He didn’t see the sharp weapon coming. You on the other hand did. You saw it coming, and jumped in front of him like a fool. Dizziness surrounded your vision, and you exhaled shakily as dark spots danced around your vision. You collapsed to the ground and felt Xavier's arms around you. He pressed his pretty hand firmly against your plush and bloody thigh and you cried out in pain as you tried to shove him off. Xavier's hand tightened and tears began rolling down your face. You knew that he was just stopping the bleeding, but in your woozy mind it was the biggest betrayal. Xavier yelled something into his phone , which you couldn’t understand. He gripped your face tightly and gently smacked against your cheeks, but you didn’t respond. You just smiled and you took in his features.

His usual soft expression was sour. He breathed heavily, causing his chest to heave quickly. Xaviers sky blue eyes were dark and wet, his nosrils flaring with every shaky inhale. His mouth was pulled into a frown and formed words you couldn't hear before your eyes rolled backwards and you slumped back.

When you woke up again, you laid in a white hospital bed. The pungent odor of disinfectant invaded your nostrils and a soft beep sounded through the room. Your looked around in confusion and followed the tubes going in and out of your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw messy blonde hair slumped on your hand. Xavier. His face was buried in your palm.

You called out his name and Xavier immediately jumped out of his seat. His hands were trembling and his mouth was slight agape. His clothes were messy and dark purple crescents grazed his undereye. Xavier opened his mouth but the words were stuck in his throat. Not even a single squeak could be heard.

"Xavier?", you croaked out carefully and watched his expression. He looked down to the floor when silent sobs raked through his body. Your eyes widened and your heart squeezed painfully. Xavier’s lip trembled and tears rolled down his face. He furrowed his eyebrows and his trembling lips were pulled into a deep frown.

“Why did you do it?“, he asked you quietly.

You looked at him and before you could respond Xavier walked towards you in quick and heavy strides. He firmly grasped your shoulders and very gently shook you.

“I asked you something. Why would you do that?“, Xavier spat out. “Never do that again. I could never live with myself if you.. Oh god, please. Please, please, please. Don’t ever do that again. Not for me, not for anybody else. Okay? Please.“ Xavier’s angry voice turned into one of pure despair and his hands left your shoulders. He grabbed your hands with trembling hands. His long and slender fingers wrapped around your soft ones as he buried his face in your hands. You let him cry his heart out.

Your leg will recover form this injury. However, the image of you laying in a pool of your own blood will never leave Xavier’s mind. You jumping in front of him because of his own incompetence. Its unacceptable. The memories haunted his deepest nightmares and he‘d never forgive himself for it.

• during remission, Xavier treated you like a doll. He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t but he couldn’t help it. You’re so precious to him and he almost lost you. He was very gentle and loving with you (not that he wasn’t loving before) and he helped you wash yourself. It was a bit difficult for you to take care of yourself because of your leg, but Xavier will be there every step of the way. Sometimes, he laid awake at night and couldn’t stop replaying the scene of you getting hurt. The absolute despair and fear he felt at the thought of losing you. He’d stroke your cheek and cuddle your round body into his. Sometimes he’d even shed a fear tears.

Zayne:

You didn't even know how it happened. One minute you and Zayne were fighting side by side against the wanderers and in the next, the wall next to Zayne collapsed. Your heart dropped to your stomach and everything around you seemed to slow down. The debris fell too quickly for you to call out to Zayne and warn him, so you ran without any hesitation. Everything that happened after was just a mere blur. You pushed him out of the way and felt as if a million sledgehammers landed on top of you before you were out like a light. The last thing you heard was Zayne yelling out your name.

You woke up with a violent throb in your head. It felt like somebody was splitting your head into two pieces and the blinding light didn't help at all. You looked down and found yourself in a clean bed. Your eyes popped up and saw Zayne's broad back. His white button- up was crumpled and his sleeves were rolled up unevenly, which exposed his scarred forearms. Zayne's dark hair was tussled and he was checking the scans of your body. You moved and a sharp pain shot through your head and through the right side of your body. You winced sharply and exhaled shakingly.

Zayne's body froze; his scarred hand hovered over the scan and his shoulders tensed. Yet, he remained still and didn't turn around. You both just sat in silence for a few seconds until you called out to him.

"Zayne?", your voice was very raspy.

He exhaled softly and turned around to face you. He looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot and he had deep eyebags under his eyes. A few parts of his body were covered in bandages and plasters. Zayne took a few shaky steps toward you, but then stopped dead in his tracks and cleared his throat.

"You-", his voice cracked and his lip trembled. He looked down to the ground and closed his eyes. Zayne clenched his jaw and exhaled deeply. He looked up again and his expression was emotionless.

"You are severely concussed and have suffered some fractures. Your remission will take a few months, but you will heal. The fight ended well. The wanderers were taken care of, and nobody else was hurt." Zayne explained monotonely, his gaze focused on your medical records.

"Alright", you responded raspily and you winced at the pain in your head.

"I've given you painkillers just before you woke up, they should kick in soon." He responded in the same soft and monotone tone and you sighed. "Zayne, are you okay?"

"Don't ever do that again."

You blinked up at him in confusion and he finally looked up from the records. Ice crystals formed around his neck and he stared intently at you. You're beginning to miss the time where he wouldn't look at you.

"What? You mean save you? Of course I would do it-"

"Baby, please." He begged. A few unintended sobs bubbled out of his chest and his shoulders shook as he continued to cry silently. He buried his face in his hands as his shoulders kept heaving.

You stared in shock. You've never seen him cry, especially this hard. Even when he was sad, he usually kept his icy facade up.

"If it ever comes down to it, please, please, just let me die. Don't ever make me live through that fear again. Please. I can't take it. When I had to remove all the debris from you, not knowing whether you're alive. No, just don't." Zayne replied, his voice was almost completely gone and the tears had dried on his face.

You slowly sat up and ignored the throb in your head. Zayne watched you and helped you up. You opened up your arms for him and Zayne immediately buried himself in your plush chest as your thick arms engulfed him. He cried silently into your chest and you ran your fingers through his dark hair.

"I'm sorry, shh. I'm really sorry."

• during remission: he'll of course be your doctor (let's not talk about the ethics of that) and take care of your healing process. He'll supervise your every move almost obsessively. Zayne will be extremely strict regarding the process and won't give into your cute little faces. Not this time. He'll wash and massage your pretty round body for you almost daily. Once you start feeling better, he'll punish you during sex. It'll be deep and intimate. You scared the absolute shit out of him and he needs you to never do that again.

Rafayel:

You laid on the ground with a deep burning sensation across your chest. What just happened? You were fighting with Rafayel and then..

The painful sensation in your chest doubled and you whimpered out in agony. Your head turned to the side and you saw Rafayel fighting with vehement vigor. His moves were aggresssive and powerful as ripped the wanderers apart. After he finished them off, he ran in your direction.

"No,no,no. No, youre okay. Fuck! You're okay.“ He pressed his hand against your ample torso and agony ripped through you. You screamed out in pain and immediately tried squirming away, but you were unable to do so. Tears ran down Rafayel's face, but he pressed down further and ignored your screams. He held his phone to his ear and called somebody for help, but you couldn't be bothered to listen further. You focused on Rafayel's hand, though; Rafayel's hand, which pressed down on your chest earlier was extremely bloody and you stared at it in shock.

Rafayel followed you gaze and shook his head. "You're totally fine. The paramedics are coming, okay? They'll be here soon. Just stay awake, stay awake for me. Cutie, please."

You nodded and widened your eyes. Rafayel nodded and pressed his lips to your forehead. "Perfect. Just like that. Just stay awake with me and then when the paramdedic come, we'll just go home. Fuck." His voice broke at the end and you nodded. You widened your eyes yet again and ignored the pain in your chest. "You shouldn't have done it. It would've just hit my side. I would've been fine." Rafayel gritted out.

"It’s my job as your Miss bodyguard, isn’t it?", you asked weakly. The pain in your chest was thankfully dissappearing, but so was your of the awareness of everything around you. Rafayel's eyes snapped to you and his jaw dropped. His face was pale as he stammered out. "No. No, I didn't want-".

Sirens blared in the background and Rafayel was ripped out of his thoughts and exhaled shakingly. "Thank God. We're okay, alright? Just hold on for a bit longer, we'll be okay soon. Please."

Your eyes started to close. "No! No, its okay! They're almost here. Please, stay awake." He cried out as you lost your consciousness.

You woke in the hospital room and saw Rafayel by your side. Around your chest were bandages. You winced out and Rafayel's eyes snapped to you. He smiled softly and stroked your cheek. "Hi, cutie. How are you doing? The doctor said it'll leave a nasty scar, but remission will be a breeze."

You smiled at him. "I'm okay, and you?"

Rafayel looked straight ahead for a few seconds before looking back at you with a weak smile. He held up a thumb and you chuckled drily. "If I knew I could get you to shut up, I would've ended up in the hospital sooner." Rafayel exhaled through his nose but remained quiet otherwise. His shoulders dropped and he looked down to the ground. He looked utterly defeated and you could not take it.

"Rafayel-", he interrupted you quietly.

"You're fired." Rafayel leaned over and set his chin down on the back of his hands.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but he stayed quiet throughout. You rubbed his back and he closed his eyes. "I didn't tell you to be my bodyguard, so that you could go ahead and sacrifice yourself for me. I hired you so that you would be around me, not so that you can die a morons death." He mumbled, his voice soft.

You wanted to reply sarcastically or say something that'll make him laugh, but you just couldn't.

"Rafayel, I'd do it aga-", Rafayel interrupted you while shaking his head. His face was adorned by a soft and genuine smile. "I know you would, but this will never happen again. I won't allow it. I won't even allow the opportunity to arise. Don't worry. I'll make sure it won't happen again."

• during remission, he'll slowly start behaving like his normal self again. He'll be fun and will make you laugh, but he was so very deeply affected by the situation. He'll be more aggressive towards potential threats and doesn't allow you to defend yourself. It'll take some time for him to let you do any dangerous activities (if ever), but you both slowly heal. He buys you beautiful flowy gowns and clothes that don't rub against your scar, and he will paint your new body in ever single position you could think of. He quite literally worships you; feeding you while you're propped somewhere comfortable, rubbing oil on your scar and other parts of your rounded body.

Sylus:

You woke up and saw Sylus‘ furious face above you. Your ears were ringing and your shoulder felt like it was on fire. Sylus‘ clenched his jaw and yelled something to somebody on the other side of the room. You couldn’t hear it, though. You couldn’t hear anything due to the ringing in your ears. You remember what happened now. Sylus talked to some of his “business partners“ and they turned out to be rats. They pulled the gun on him faster than Sylus could pull out his own. He was caught off guard- once. He was careless one time. And you jumped in front of him when they pulled the trigger.

The metallic taste of blood hit you and you felt something pour out of your mouth. You looked up at Sylus in confusion, his chest heaved quickly and he furrowed his eyebrows. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. He looked.. scared. Sylus has never looked scared before.

You lost consciousness and woke up in Sylus‘ room. You were bandaged properly and wore clean oversized clothes. You had an IV- injection and looked around the room.

Sylus sat on his black couch with a glass of wine in his hand. He quietly drank it and looked out of his window. You smiled fondly and called out his name, your voice husky.

His head turned to yours and he smiled softly. It didn’t reach his eyes. He stood up and slowly walked over to you. His evol slowly engulfed you. It felt firm on your un-injured parts and gentle on your chest and shoulder area. He looked down on you with an unreadable expression.

“What happened?“, you asked him and tried to wiggle your feet. Everything seemed normal.

Sylus hummed softly, his husky voice low. “You took a bullet for me and I killed the attackers. I was careless. That won‘t happen again. A doctor patched you up and that’s it.“

You raised an eyebrow at his abrasive tone and he raised an eyebrow at you. His face was expressionless and he leaned down to your ear. He kissed the shell of your ear and gripped your cheeks between his large hands. His grip was firm and he gently turned your face towards him.

“Don’t ever play the hero again. Recklessness is stupid. And you’re not stupid. You’re clever. Don’t do it again- I‘m serious. Not for anyone else, and especially not for somebody like me.“

“Sylus, I love you. You would do the same for me and-“

“Yes. Yes I would, in fact. So let me repeat this again.“ Sylus leaned back toward your ear and whispered in it. “If you do that again, I’ll kill a person. Your noble sacrifice will have been for nothing. And if you happen to die during one of your heroic missions, you can’t even begin to imagine the damage I would do to the world. And you can trust me on that.“

You gulped and looked at him. Your heart raced and the monitor beeped. Sylus immediately relaxed his face and sighed. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed your temple. His lips stayed there for a long time and you blinked up at him.

He stroked your cheek and kissed you softly.

“Asshole“, you mumbled and Sylus chuckled against your cheek. The vibrations made you smile and Sylus put his hand on your plush stomach.

“You really, really scared me.“ Sylus mumbled softly.

“Sorry“, you replied and Sylus helped you sit up.

• during remission: Sylus will service you in any way he can. He‘ll cook for you, bathe you. He’ll buy you any instrument that you may need for physical therapy and will do all of your exercises with you. Will not get upset at all if you snap at him when you’re in pain. He‘ll massage your scars and will offer sexual remedies. Though, he will never be this careless again. The memories of you laying in your own pool of blood will haunt him til he dies.

Caleb:

You were pretty confused. Yesterday, you and Caleb fought side by side against criminals. They were vicious and dangerous, but Caleb and you were managing well. Well, until you jumped in front of Caleb and got flung against the wall in his stead. Your back took the brunt of it and you were out like a light immediately. When you woke up yesterday evening, they told you that the damage was minor. Your back was extremely badly bruised, but it could’ve turned out so much worse, so you were very happy. The reason why you were confused was why Caleb wouldn’t show up. It was after- visiting hours yesterday after your surgery, so that wasn’t all to surprising, but he didn’t visit you today either.

You were being released today and walked out of the hospital. You sighed and saw a a tall man in a familiar uniform waiting in front of the hospital. Caleb stood in front of you in his colonel uniform. His face was emotionless and he looked at you from the top of your head to your shoes.

“Caleb, Hi.“ You greeted in confusion.

“Are you okay?“, he asked monotonely and you raised your eyebrows and nodded. He sniffed and nodded. Caleb bent down and took your bag and started walking.

“Okay..“, you replied in confusion and trailed after him.

You reached the car and he put the seatbelt on you and drove the two of you home. He still hadn’t said anything and stared at the road. When the two of you reached his house, he helped you up the stairs. His hand wrapped firmly around your wrist and he slowly led you over to the bed.

“Okay, do you wanna tell me what’s going on with you or should we just pretend that everything is normal?“

You sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Caleb stood in front of you and clenched his jaw. He looked down at the ground with tight fists and his lips wobbled. Your eyes softened and Caleb fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his face and he pressed his face into the plush of your thighs. He sobbed his heart out as his shoulders shook. You gently stroked over his scalp and let him cry.

“Don‘t you ever fucking do that again. It doesn’t matter if it happens to me, but it can’t happen to you- it just can’t. Fuck. There’s no me without you. Just kill me if you had to choose between the two of cause I’d follow you anyways. Please just don’t-“, you interrupted his rambling and cupped his cheeks. He cried and leaned into your touch like a puppy and you stroked away the tears under his eyes.

“I‘m okay, it’s just a bruise. A big one, but just a bruise nonetheless.

Caleb sniffed and wiped his tears. He looked up at you and took of your shirt. Caleb slowly rose and walked over to face your back. He let out a scoff and you looked at him. His eyes were laser focused on your injury and he didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he pulled out his phone. He took a picture of your back and then gently nudged you until you laid on your stomach.

“I have something to do, but I’ll be back right after. Do you need food? Painkillers? Do you need to pee?“, he asked and you sighed.

“You‘re leaving again? You already weren’t there yesterday.“ The words tumbled out before you could stop them and his breath hitched.

“The only reason why I wasn’t there is because of the same reason now. I swear to you on everything that I’ll be back after this. I’m so sorry that you were alone today.“

You nodded in agreement and he leaned over and tenderly kissed the rolls of your back. “Get some sleep. I’ll take care of the rest when I get back.“

Caleb reached his work building and walked quickly through his office and saw the criminals from yesterday. They got away after he heard the crack of your body against the wall. Caleb shook himself out of that nightmarish scenario and looked at the beaten and bloody criminals in front of him. It took the entire day, but he finally found them. Their lair wasn’t as well hidden as they’d hoped. He crossed his arms over his chest and pulled out his phone. He opened up the gallery to reveal the picture he took of your injury and he showed it to them.

“Remember that? Cause I do.“

Caleb stared at the picture until he memorised every single detail of it and and put it back in his pocket.

“I remember every single thing about it.“ Caleb tilted his head to the side and used his evol to apply pressure on their backs. The criminals started screaming and Caleb smiled. He needed to hurry up, you already felt neglected by him.

When Caleb made his way home after he finished up his business, he found you in the same position he had left you in. Your injury was still exposed and he stared at it. This was his fault. His shame and his burden to bare.

“Caleb?“

“Yes, pipsqueak?“

“I think I was wrong. I do need your help to pee.“

He chuckled softly and helped you sit up. He gently grabbed your hands and led you to the bathroom.

-during remission: pretty much nothing changes. He‘ll still do most of the chores around the house (because he wants to do them) and will feed you, cook for you, bathe you, and do the laundry. He‘ll never tell you about what he did to those men and you never ask him. Some nights the memories of your bruised body keep him awake, though. On these nights he‘ll want to bury himself in your ample chest and never leave.

Tf.... i shouldn't laugh.. but

🤣🤣🤣

It was funny make this lol

Friendly reminder that Solo Leveling has a sequel called Solo Leveling: Ragnarok and you should totally read it because

you can see glimpses of Daddy!Jinwoo

you get to watch Jinwoo's baby boy Suho growing up and being the hot shit that he is (like father like son)

but most importantly, you can finally have the sexy villain you've been waiting for.

he's cute

but also hot

he's sexy

but also freaky

he's obsessed with baby suho (FIRST BL SHIP IN SL ??????????)

and he's CRAZY powerful like actually god-like

and ofc we love a gaslight king

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ how they kiss you — love and deepspace

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

genre. fem! reader, making out (quite sexual), body fondling, established relationship

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

there's always a subtle silence before you happen to feel it— you know? the way zayne watches your lips like he's studying anatomy again— not clinically, silly! but reverently, like he might carve the shape of your mouth into his memory.

so precise, so devout, it borders on madness. soaked in tension and lust— quite obsessive, don't you agree? almost grotesque in how deeply he desired you.

the man leans in, close enough for his breath to ghost over your skin as he abruptly stops, catching himself in the same course of action he tends to take, every damn time.

zayne held himself back like the act of restraint was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into you completely, succumbing to those pretty, warm lips of yours as something deep inside of him broke that night.

he's going deeper before pressing into your lips at last— his psyche, his shadows, the way the hunger on his tongue felt different than anyone else's as he cups your face like he's afraid of shattering it, mouth crashing into yours.

not messy, not wild, instead, devastatingly precise— and every stroke of his warm muscle felt like it's been rehearsed in secret, fantasized about in sinful dreams as his hand slides down your throat, thumb resting on your pulse like he's checking it— not for medical reasons, but for control.

the kiss deepens and sharpens at the edges of each lap and suckle of your bottom lip between his teeth as his body presses you to the nearest surface with a force just edging on subtle bruising— and when your fingers suddenly thread into his hair to taste him more, when you pull him harder into you— he groans low, a sound rattling from somewhere hidden and forbidden, yes, like something sacred within him was being exposed.

and well, in that exposé, zayne finds a terrible, exquisite relief in each slip and slide of your tongues intertwining, bodies stroking each other as though this was the only way he's ever known how to feel alive.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier touches you first— although not to grope, yet to ground himself with his palm on your shaking hip while his other hand brushes against your soft cheek, and that look on him which was revealed next haunted you— like he's seeing a future he doesn’t believe he deserves.

slow, searching, his lips coax across your bottom lip, the tension behind each suckle on it unbearable as he continues to trace yours like he's adamant to make it everlasting. your boyfriend grunted like restraint stretched thin inside his frame, like one more kiss might tip him over the edge into something more, well, feral? ugh, but he holds himself back of course. 

yet just barely.

those kisses you shared weren't just random pecks here and there, they felt like confessions, truly, like a collapse of two loving hearts forming a dance of possession— each movement sharpening to the truth of what this relationship meant to him, all of it rooted in desire and lust, shadowed with emotional gravity and physical intensity of hands squeezing your flesh.

and you felt it, all of it— the tremble in his fingers, the quiet threat of his teeth brushing just behind every soft tug at your lip, as though even the smallest motion could unravel him further.

you arch into him, obediently feeling the low, guttural sound that escaped his throat— a half moan, a sound so faint it could almost be mistaken for a prayer, whispered to no god at all, but to the madness he cannot escape.

your lips stay close at all times, breathing hard against each other with foreheads pressed together, "i don't want to hurt you," his voice, thick with restraint, was taken hostage somewhere between a confession and collapse, yet his hands disobey him at last— sliding beneath your shirt with a quiet desperation, mapping the ridges of your shape like he's meant to be.

truly, if you let him keep going with those addictive kisses, he'll worship you until he forgets where he ends and you begin.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

hands in your hair, rafayel's lips were already open and panting, breath warm and uneven and jaw slacked, well, it's all then and there with no waiting, no warning— just the sudden, dizzying sensation of being devoured by the man you loved.

his tongue was everywhere on you— teasing you, curling and invading your mouth as he moans into your parted lips, pulling your lower lip between his teeth and laughing when you gasp out in slight shock— quite literally, the man loved to push you over the edge, he lived for the sweet, little responses you'd grace him with in return.

from being tangled in your hair to squeezed within your clothes, rafayel slides down further to cup your ass, squeezing the addicting mounds of flesh as you wince into his hold, "ugh, you taste like a bad decision," he smirks, whispering against your mouth, yet already leaning right back in.

before you could even response to him he kisses you harder, deeper, lapping and lapping and lapping his hefty tongue against your own as your hips were grinding against him just enough to make the room spin and your eyes roll back into your skull.

without a doubt, every second with him felt like falling and screaming and shattering all at once— fast at that, disoriented and inevitable when all you needed is for him to imbed you with his scent until there was nothing left of you to claim.

it's there when you realize that rafayel tasted like the sweetest sin that has ever existed, not kissing to seduce, but to ruin— and make sure you’re begging him for it.

for a slight second he pulls away just enough to look at your lips and what he's done to them— and would you look at that? your boyfriend adored the lusting sight of swollen, glistening, needy lips parted and puffed up, "baby, you're gonna be the death of me."

rafayel says it like it's a promise.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you can’t call this a kiss— no, not with the way sylus's mouth drags across yours like he's already lost the war against wanting you.

to call it a claim would be closer though, but even that sounds too civilized. there is nothing civil about the way his tongue parts your lips— wet, scorching, impatient, nothing gentle in the sting of his teeth catching your mouth, just enough to pull breath from your lungs and copper to your tongue.

he tastes it— even better, tastes you— and it makes something violent bloom in his chest as he growls out embarrassingly loud, not like an animal but like a man who's tasted divinity and was furious that he ever lived without it in the past.

his grip on your hips tighten as he drags you against him, feeling you up like shame didn't exist in his vocabulary, in fact, it quite literally didn't.

not a flicker of hesitation, not even the illusion of pause— only the dreadful inevitability of a hunger given form around his tongue, his lips moving with the certainty of something long premeditated, as if his body had been waiting its entire life for permission to devour you.

he doesn’t ask for allowance to be rougher, sylus knows he doesn’t need to.

his mouth licks into yours with a frenzied rhythm, like he’s trying to bury every unspeakable thought inside your throat as every shove, every bitten gasp, every ragged exhale that leaves his body was a hidden confession disguised as a dominating sin.

the man was not delicate. he was not kind. but he was true.

terrifyingly, brutally true.

furthermore, his tongue traces a wet line from your bottom lip, creeping toward your jaw, then dipping lower to your neck— infused with desperation and something dangerously raw.

his teeth find your skin at last— not out of need, no, but out of some dark impulse deep hidden beneath his heart, as if marking you up was the only act left that can prove he existed, that he's here, tethered to a body that's already unraveling.

"you have no fucking idea," he pants, his breath a jagged rhythm against your skin as if the act of inhaling and exhaling was the only thing that kept him secured— each exhalation a tremor, a faint admission of the madness threatening to spill over.

he smirks, "what you’ve done to me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

in the language of a yearning man, caleb doesn't speak— instead the silence clung to him like a second skin, as if words would shatter whatever fragile shell still held him upright.

as an alternative, his hands found your waist as he exhales deeply from his mouth when he feels your body— yet tentative at first, but with a pressure that deepens and sharpens, afterwards he leans in to kiss you.

not in a haste, no, not like a man chasing basic pleasure, but like a man aching with his mouth against yours— slow, burning, unbearably tender.

his lips taste of quiet torment, of years spent repressing the thing now trembling beneath his touch and the longer it goes on, the more unraveled he becomes— now here, his breath falters, his jaw tenses and when his tongue brushes up against your own needy one, it is with such aching slowness that it felt like a sin.

he grips your jaw softly, almost fearfully, as if he cannot believe you're letting him touch you as his other hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants— fingertips skimming over your bare flesh and squeezing at it like he's utterly worshipping you.

more and more, you want more but the kiss breaks open, becoming wet and open-mouthed, desperate and messy and ugh— caleb cannot stop and neither can you, even less when you whine at him all quietly and overstimulated, the kind of sound which made a man fall on his knees.

okay, he should pull away, correct? uh, before you'll both be unable to stop and take it further, you see the truth in that?

well, he doesn’t.

and neither do you.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

Pairing: Xavier x mc

Cw: angst, mentions of captive bird, spoilers for Caleb’s story, threats of violence, Xavier being protective, use of nickname Starlight, comfort, probably other stuff

A/n: I love Xavier so much, I just finished the Caleb story and the entire time I kept thinking that Xavier and Sylus would never do that. Zayne probs too but he’s not my favourite. Anywho, enjoy the Xavier fic, might write one about Sylus soon.

——————

Xavier’s knee bounced. Up and down and up and down and up and down. His heart raced, faster and faster. Whether it be nerves or anxiety, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both. He hadn’t seen you for a week, the last he had heard from you was that you were going to Skyhaven for a mission and you would be back. That’s it. No other communication, nothing from Jenna, Tara had no clue where you were, and Simone wouldn’t spill.

Over the past week, he had barely been able to sleep, he was so worried. After hearing about the explosion by the overpass, his anxiety spiraled further at the thought of you getting hurt. He knew you could handle yourself, his trust in you was beyond words, beyond measure even. He had seen you in countless fights, had seen you take down coutless wanderers, but he was always by your side. He was there to step in if you ever got hurt, and that’s where his anxiety stemmed from. He needed you by his side, not for your own sake, but for his.

He on his couch, waiting for something. Today was supposed to be the day you were to come home. He also knew Skyhaven was hard for you, after all, your childhood best friend had lived there. His heart tinged a bit, some jealousy creeping up through the anxiety. He pushed it aside for now, he had bigger things to focus on than his petty jealousy. His phone dinged, a light melody that he only used for you. He picked it up immediately and checked the text.

“I’m back.”

“R U home?” His breath quickened, he needed to see you.

“Yes.”

“Can I come see U?”

“Please”

He stood up. He grabbed his wallet, the book he had been reading, and the two new stuffies had caught at the arcade while you were away. He still needed his teacher with him, even after his near fifty tries a day, he only caught the two. He teleported to your front door. He needed to see you as soon as possible. He needed to be close to you, and hear your voice, and be in your presence.

He knocked three times, and unlocked the door. He called out your name and saw you by your windowsill, look out at the sky, with a solemn look on your face. You looked over at him, and a small smile grew. He knew something was off. Your emotions were always easy for him to read, you never put any effort into hiding them when he was around. He put down your stuffies on the couch, along with his book and approached you.

“How was your trip?” He stood next to you, trying to be a calm and comforting presence. Someone you could lean on. And you did, you leaned into his side a little and look into his soft blue eyes. You felt safe beside him. You felt a lump form at the back of your throat, and felt your eyes sting a little as you tried to hold back your tears.

“It was rough,” you managed to get out. A singular tear fell, and he noticed it immediately. He wasn’t sure what to do. He felt the panic creep up his throat, his eyes widened and he reached out to wipe it away.

“What happened?” His voice was measured and hardened. Ready to go after whatever had caused your pain. To stop whoever had hurt you. To protect you.

“Caleb… is alive.” More tears fell, your complicated emotions were clear on your face. Anger, fear, some resentment, longing, and pain. Xavier knew all of those well. He also knew what this would mean for you. Your childhood best friend, the one you had mourned, the one you had cried yourself to sleep over, was alive.

“What?”

“He was alive this whole time Xavier, and he’s involved with Ever. And he…” you trailed off. Xavier’s eyes quickly examined your face, and he knew something else had happened. He was not going to push, he was going to wait until you told him yourself. He, however, was more than ready to kill the bastard again if it meant keeping you safe.

“What did he do to you?” His voice, was comforting to you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and let the tears flow. He held you tightly, unwilling to let you go. He didn’t experience what you experienced, he knew something had happened. He did not want to let you go through it alone.

“He drugged me with cold medicine. He trapped me in his house… he isn’t the same person I grew up with. He’s not my Caleb…” he stilled at that. His anger grew. You could feel a shift in Xavier’s demeanour, unlike with Caleb, you weren’t scared. You knew Xavier like the back of your hand, you had spent so much time with him. You know him now like you used to know Caleb. You held on tighter to Xavier, afraid that if you let him go, he would become a different person too. That you would loose him. Xavier’s hold tightened exponentially, and he was ready to go, to hurt Caleb. Put him back into the ground because, what he did to you, the pain he had caused you is not okay. None of it was okay. Anyone who caused you pain, regardless of it being your childhood best friend, did not deserve to be in your presence ever again, breathe the same air as you, be near you. Xavier would expect the same if he ever did that to you.

“He… did what?” He managed to ground out, through his clenched teeth, and his arms clutched you closer.

“He wanted to protect me, he said…” you sobbed out.

“Oh Starlight,” he tried to pull away a little but you wouldn’t let him. You didn’t want to see the pity on his face. “Hurting you like that isn’t protection.”

You nodded into his neck. He let go of you briefly a grabbed your legs to wrap them around his waist. He picked you and walked over to the couch. Beside the stuffies and all. Regardless of how he felt in the moment, the anger brewing under his skin making him feel like a restless animal, he knew you needed him more.

When he tried to pull away to see your face you let out another sob and clutched further. “Please don’t leave me Xavier.”

He huffed at that, and finally forced your face away from his neck. He placed his forehead against yours. Your bleary eyes stared back into his, deep sorrow and anger sketched into his features. There was no hint of pity. Your relief washed over you.

“I would never, in a million years leave you. You are the only one for me in the entire cosmos. I will always be by your side,” he cradled you close. “Can I kiss you?” He muttered so softly you almost missed it. You nodded.

He pressed his lips softly against yours. It was nice and peaceful, his touch was gentle. He pulled back, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You sighed and leaned your head against his chest. He swayed you back and forth. When your breathing evened out, his suppressed anger came to the forefront. A man was about to die. Xavier was going to kill the man a second time, the man who dared to hurt you.

everything about this memory was perfection but i couldn’t stop thinking about this part 🥺🌟

𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟

Pairing: LADS Men (All 5) x Fem!Reader Prompt: The moment they realise they want to spend their whole life with you Words: ~1.3k || 200-300 per LI Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Established relationship A/N: Highly recommend giving Urban Zakapa's "Nearness is to love" a listen to capture the mood! I need to be love like this smh

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

⊱ 𝕏𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

Xavier has always wondered why he willingly abandons a good slumber and ignores the sting and soreness in his body just to see your face after every challenging mission.

“𝐷𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑐𝘰𝘰𝑘 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒?”

The lines of concern etched on your forehead deepen when he hasn't touched the porridge, all while swiftly checking to ensure you haven’t missed tending to any of his injuries.

He realises then, that you opening the door after the first knock, with a home-cooked meal waiting for him even before the first rays of dawn, is why he always seeks you out first.

This is the person he wants to witness a lifetime of sunrises with, the one he never wants to see weighed down by worry due to his line of work.

Words fail him, so he gathers you in his arms. Revelling in the way your body moulds perfectly against his.

“𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝑙𝘰𝑠𝑒.”

“𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙,” you chide softly, eyes flicking up to meet his.

The concern in your gaze tugs at something deep within him.

Xavier now understands what it is to be unconditionally loved—to be so genuinely cared for that someone would worry about his well-being above all else.

“𝐼 𝑝𝑟𝘰𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑏𝑒 𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝘵 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝘰𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝘵𝑖𝑚𝑒.”

Your eyes soften. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝘰𝑛 𝘵𝘰 ℎ𝘰𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒.”

The sensation of your fingers threading through his hair is pure heaven, and as you hold him tighter, you express that this embrace requires no further validation.

⊱ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕝

Bathed in hues of molten gold and fiery amber, Rafayel watches you set up the dining table with his aunt and Thomas, a scene he will cherish until his very last breath.

The laughter of his favourite people mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves is music to his ears.

“𝑅𝑎𝑓, 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑠𝘵𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒,” you call out. Tucking your hair behind your ear as the salty breeze whips strands across your face.

If only he could immortalise this scene on canvas, Rafayel muses.

But he knows that a painting would never do justice to fully conveying the true essence of this beauty.

“𝛭𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝘰𝜈𝑒𝑑, 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑠𝘵𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝘰𝑚𝑒𝑛𝘵?” The quiver in his voice doesn’t go amiss by anyone’s notice as he approaches.

Thomas quirks a questioning brow, while his aunt's gaze softens, her smile somehow knowing as she glances between the two of you.

Normally, he would have a response ready as Thomas quips about the champagne warming, but not this time. 

Not when everything else other than you fades into insignificance.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he pulls you in a tight hug as soon as you both are away from prying eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒,” his voice barely above a whisper, “ℎ𝘰𝑤 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑓𝘰𝑟𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟?”

You gently draw back and hold his cheeks, adoring the crimson spreading onto his face and ears, before murmuring tenderly against his lips, “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒.”

At that very moment, it feels as though his heart might combust.

As if every whispered longing he's ever had has come true.

⊱ ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖

Perplexed is what Zayne always imagined he would feel—wishing to spend the rest of his life with someone is a huge commitment after all.

But now, his heart overflows with nothing but contentment and peace.

With his glasses and book perch on his lap, he attentively listens as you animatedly vent about one of your coworkers, sitting cross-legged beside him on the bed.

“...𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝘰𝑟𝑟𝑦, 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝘵 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝘰𝑛. 𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑏𝑒 𝘵𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦.”

Zayne frowns, cursing himself as you mistaken his prolonged silence and composed demeanour for indifference.

Setting his stuff aside, he draws you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as your arms circle around him.

“𝐿𝘰𝜈𝑒, 𝐼 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝘰𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝘵𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝘵𝘰𝑝 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑔ℎ𝘵𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑚𝑒.” 

A small content sigh leaves his lips as you nestle closer to him, the warmth of your embrace seeping into his very soul.

Long fingers gently stroke your hair as you voice out concern about adding to his mounting stress with your words.

“𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “𝑌𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝜈𝘰𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝘵 ℎ𝘰𝑚𝑒. 𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝘵𝘵𝑒𝑟, 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝘰𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒.”

Sometimes he wonders if he truly deserves the depth of love and understanding you provide, a treasure more valuable than any he has ever known.

He is not an easy man to love, yet you wholeheartedly embrace his complexities.

In that quiet moment, with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtain, he knows with certainty that you occupy a space in his life that no one else can fill.

⊱ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤

“𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝘰𝑙𝑢𝘵𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝘰𝘰𝑛!” your voice trembles with fury as you cock your gun at him. “𝑊ℎ𝘰 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝑎 𝘵𝑟𝑎𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦? 𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑!”

Despite having just slain dozens of degenerates and currently staring down the barrel of your gun, Sylus’s head is oddly silent.

The sight of his enemies’ blood staining your clothes, your hair tousling messily from its ponytail, and the blazing intensity in your eyes—every detail captivates him completely.

Fuck him, you’re perfect.

Exasperated by his grin, you continue calling him all the names in the book: reckless idiot, brainless fool, dumbass…

But he’s your idiot.

Sylus watches your eyes widen as he closes the distance between you, your mouth opening to protest, “𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑘𝑖—” but before you can finish, he discards your gun aside with alarming speed, lips crashing against yours with a fervour that matches your fury.

It’s not a gentle kiss, it’s an explosion of emotions; a release of all the anger, fear, and love that has been building up.

“𝐼’𝑚 𝑠𝘰𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢,” he says breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours.

Strong hands pull you closer, and he smiles, sensing your fury starting to dissipate as you melt into his cocoon. “𝛢𝑠 𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝘵, 𝑛𝘰 𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝘵𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒—𝑢𝑠—𝑑𝘰𝑤𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑦.”

When you respond to him with another creative jibe, calling him a “𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑘-ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝘰𝑎𝑓”, his deep laughter booms through the room.

No one else can and will challenge him like you do, and he lives for it.

Caught in the back-and-forth of your wit and spirit, craving the spark you kindle within him with every word.

⊱ ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕓

“𝐶𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑏!”

The moment your wide smile graces your features upon spotting him down the store aisle, it robs out all the oxygen in his lungs.

Caleb has always known that this relationship is different from his past ones—the thought of seeing you in his future teasing his brain occasionally.

But when you skip to him, with excitement dancing in your eyes, it hits him that he will give everything just to witness that radiance again.

Every day for the rest of his life.

“𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒!” You slip your hand into his and intertwine your fingers together. “𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝘵𝑒𝑚 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝜈𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝘵 𝑢𝑝 𝑠𝘰 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ.”

He’ll let you lead him to whichever section of the market, and he'll damn well help you get whatever you want, even if it’s questionable whether you need it or not.

Another mini planter for your succulents? Sure, he’ll even buy all of the different designs for you.

When you ask him if he’s alright, noticing his dazed expression, he straight up pulls you into his embrace and kisses the top of your head, murmuring, “𝐼 ℎ𝘰𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝑙𝑙 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑔𝑒𝘵 𝘵ℎ𝘰𝑠𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝘵𝑒𝑚𝑠.”

If he is misty-eyed amidst the bustling grocery store, it doesn’t concern him in the least.

You smile up at him in confusion, noticing the sentimental mood in his eyes. Standing on tiptoes, you give him a quick peck and melt in the warmth of his arms, feeling the beat of his heart against your cheek.

No other place feels as secure and comforting as being in each other’s arms.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

Thank you for my request that has written. It was hot as heck!

Anyway, I am currently in a difficult moment so I wish you can write a comforting fluff of Xavier after she faced difficult moments (or moments that don't go as well and as planned from trying to buy tickets in advance online even she is quick that the seats are completely full to dealing such drama with friends or anything that upsets her)

Hope you have a wonderful day. I wish we can talk more often sometime. 🌟

hello!!! im so glad you enjoyed your request, and im so sorry that you're feeling upset and i really hope my next writing can help you!!!! youre lucky im feeling rly active today LMFAO so lets get to work!!!

.  𓂃 ଓ ۪   ݁ WHEN THE WORLD FALLS APART, I STAY 𓈒      x

SUMMARY: after a day filled with disappointment and emotional strain, you come home defeated. xavier senses the heaviness and offers quiet, unwavering comfort—no questions, just love. in his arms, you finds solace, he reminds you that even when everything else goes wrong, he will always stay.

CW: this piece includes themes of emotional distress, disappointment, and interpersonal conflict (e.g. friend drama, feeling overwhelmed). while the story is ultimately comforting and supportive, it touches on moments of emotional vulnerability and frustration. reader discretion is advised for those sensitive to these topics!!!

WC: 1.1K!

NOTES: for any xavier fans who are just feeling a bit down in the dumps rn . . . reqs are open if anyone want something similar with another character!! (doesnt have to be l&ds)!

The rain had started hours ago. Not a dramatic, cinematic downpour—just that steady kind of drizzle that made everything feel heavier. The kind of rain that matched the weight of a day gone completely wrong.

It had started with something so simple. Xavier had been excited all week—hell, maybe even longer. There was this event, something you both had been talking about forever. Something that should’ve been easy. Just a few clicks, some fast fingers, and the tickets would be yours. But when the page finally loaded—seconds after the timer hit zero—it was already over. Sold out. Not even a single seat left. The screen mocked you with its red lettering while your heart dropped.

And that had only been the beginning.

After that, it was like the universe decided to pile it on. A conversation with a friend had turned unexpectedly sour—passive-aggressive words, little jabs that cut too deep, and the kind of tone that made it clear something had been festering for a while. You tried to be patient, tried to talk through it, but somehow it twisted and escalated, and suddenly you were left with that horrible, hollow feeling. The one that came from wondering if you’d just lost someone who once felt safe.

By the time you made it back home, the silence felt like too much. Too loud. Too sharp. You dropped your bag by the door, didn’t bother to pick it up, and all you could do was sit on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at nothing, overwhelmed.

That’s when Xavier came in.

He didn’t barge in with noise or questions. He just stepped in quietly, gently closing the door behind him like he already knew—without you saying a word—that today hadn’t been kind.

He saw you, and his face softened instantly. “Hey,” he said, voice low and warm, as if even his tone was trying not to disturb the fragile threads holding you together. “Didn’t even get a hello text. That bad, huh?”

You didn’t even answer. You just nodded once, your lips twitching as if you might try to smile but couldn’t quite make it happen.

Xavier walked over and crouched down in front of you, one knee on the carpet, the other arm resting lightly on your knee. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his fingers curling softly around your hand, grounding you. “I’m here. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Your throat tightened, and you blinked fast, trying to fight the sting in your eyes. But Xavier noticed. He always noticed.

Without waiting for permission, he moved up onto the couch, tucking himself beside you, pulling you gently—carefully—into his arms. It wasn’t one of those dramatic movie hugs. It was quiet. Steady. He cradled you like he was built for it. One hand at the back of your head, the other curled around your shoulders, and his voice soft and close to your ear.

“Today can go to hell,” he said lightly, like he was trying to make you smile, even just a little. “Honestly, I’ll write a very strongly-worded letter to the universe. Something passive-aggressive and full of glitter so it never forgets.”

You let out a breath—something between a laugh and a sob—and he held you a little closer.

“I know how much you wanted those tickets,” he went on. “And it sucks. It really, really sucks. You were fast, you did everything right, and still—it didn’t happen. That’s not your fault. You didn’t mess up.”

You shifted slightly, resting your forehead against his shoulder, the scent of him—something warm and familiar, like lavender and the cotton of old t-shirts—helping slow your racing thoughts.

“And then your friends,” Xavier whispered, as if speaking it too loud would make the pain sharper. “God, I’m sorry. That’s the worst part, isn’t it? The people you think will always be soft with you, and suddenly they’re sharp and distant. That kind of hurt gets deep.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he pressed a loving kiss into your hair.

“But I want you to hear me right now, okay?” His voice was calm, steady. The kind of voice you could fall asleep to. “This one day doesn’t define anything about you. Not how capable you are, not how loved you are, not how strong. It’s just… a bad day. A really bad one. And you’re still here. You’re still breathing. That’s brave, you know.”

You didn’t answer, but your body relaxed a little, your weight leaning into his more freely. He felt it and smiled gently, rubbing small, lazy circles into your back.

“We’ll find something else,” he promised. “Another event. A better one. One with even more ridiculous merch tables and overpriced snacks. And you won’t have to fight the internet for it, because we’ll camp out, or I’ll build a bot, or I’ll buy from a sketchy guy named Greg on the street corner. Whatever it takes.”

You gave the softest laugh, and he tilted his head to look at you. “There’s that sound I love,” he whispered. “God, I missed that sound today.”

Xavier pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around the both of you in one smooth motion, his arm still around you like it belonged there—and it did. He shifted so you were lying down together now, legs tangled, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay around me,” he said. “You don’t have to be anything but real. Cry if you want. Be quiet. Rant about everything that went wrong. Or just lie here. I’ve got you either way.”

And so you stayed like that. Not talking. Not moving much. Just breathing, slowly syncing your breath with his, feeling the warmth of his hold chase away the lingering cold of the day. His fingers played lazily with yours, and his thumb stroked the back of your hand in the kind of rhythm that told you he could stay like this forever.

Eventually, your heart started to ease. The weight in your chest didn’t vanish, but it didn’t feel so unbearable anymore. Because you weren’t holding it alone. Because Xavier was there—solid, warm, unshakably kind—and somehow, that made everything just a little bit better.

Even if the world had been unfair today.

Even if people had let you down.

Even if the tickets were gone and the drama stung and nothing had gone to plan.

Xavier stayed. He stayed, and he loved you through it.

And for now, that was enough.

That was everything.

Ｌｉｋｅ Ｘａｖｉｅｒ

ac. jnkbabys (edited)

I am very normal about him

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

A Very Good Day🍃

Prompt : In a cozy mountain chalet, you and Xavier escapes the chaos of everyday life, enjoying lazy mornings and homemade breakfasts. Genre: Fluff Warnings: slight suggestive content Words count : 1506

The small things you notice when you wake up is the gentle warmth of the sun warming the white sheets, the sweet breeze slipping into the room through the French window making the curtains fly before settling into the crook of your neck, and the comforting smell of breakfast in the making.

It’s mainly this smell that pushes you to get out of this cozy bed, your appetite being stronger than your need for relaxation. You escape the covers, taking a moment to stretch before leaving the bedroom.

It was going to be a very good day; you were sure of it.

Your bare feet caress the wooden floor of the chalet you rented in the mountains at three hours from Linkon City, you were told it was the best spot to stargaze at this time of year. You wanted to spend time with your boyfriend without having to think about all the responsibilities you had back in Linkon, the last year had been hectic enough. Well, no use thinking about it for now, let's get back to your boyfriend.

As you step into the room, the smell you were following since you were awake washed over you, but now you could distinguish it more subtly, it was a mix of bread toasting, the smell of red beans and scrambled eggs. There was some jazz playing in the background, and you could also feel the heat of the sun reverberating through the windows of the living room, the kitchen of the rental being open, it opened directly onto this room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your eyes finally paused on the back of Xavier, and what a back, he was wearing a plain white t-shirt clinging to his skin in some place, probably because of the steam who had gradually settled in the room. Your eyes travelled down his body, his soft hair, his strong arms, those little shorts that highlighted his legs... and not only his legs. You approached him discreetly, before sneaking your arms around his back, nestling your face against him, smelling the perfume you bought him for the new year. His body tensed up a little before letting out a soft, husky laugh as he took one of your hands to kiss it. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead” he whispered before letting go of your hand.

“You’re the sleepyhead in the relationship” you teased, squeezing him a bit tighter. It was common knowledge that Xavier slept a lot, but you didn't hold it against him, he was one of the best, if not the best, Deepspace Hunter.

“Maybe but you’re the one waking up after me, so you’re the official sleepyhead today” he responded smiling before going back to his cooking. You stood on tiptoe to look at what he was doing, resting your head on his shoulders to find some balance, he was folding some dough.

"What are you doing?" you asked, trying to reach for the dough but unable to grab it as his body acted like a dam between you and the dough.

“Some Red Bean Buns, with some toasts and scrambled eggs… don’t touch” he said laughing, pushing gently your hand away.

“Please” you purred, pressing a kiss against his neck and sliding a hand under his shirt, caressing his belly and tracing his abs.

He melted against your touch, grabbing back your wrist and holding it against him. “No, you go back to bed, and I handle the breakfast, I promise I won’t burn anything this time.” He turned toward you, moving your hand to his upper back before crouching slightly, sliding his arms around you and kissing your lips softly.

 It was your turn to melt, you closed your eyes, losing yourself in the kiss before you felt a thick texture on the tip of your nose, you opened back your eyes in surprise, looking straight into the mischievous gaze of the culprit.

“What is it?” you asked, pouting before moving one of your hands from under Xavier’s shirt, touching the thing on your nose and looking at the reddish-brown paste on your finger.

“Red bean paste, I told you I was making buns, right?” he replied before licking the tip of your finger. You looked at him like he just killed someone. “Why do you look at me like that?” he smiled, pinching slightly your cheek.

“You just tricked me and then you steal my paste, who am I in love with ?!” you joked, taking a step back dramatically, clutching your imaginary pearls.

“A monster, now go back to bed” he said, rolling his eyes with an exasperated smile.

“I’m going back to bed because I decided to, not because you told me” You said with a face falsely annoyed, leaving the room before coming back a few seconds later, sticking your head out from behind the hallway wall. Xavier tilting his head back to look at you.

“I love you” you grinned before disappearing behind the wall, walking down the hallway you heard him replying to you. “I love you too!” he exclaimed loudly enough to make sure you heard him. Xavier usually had a soft-spoken tone, so as you let yourself fall on the fluffy bed, you can’t stop yourself from kicking your feet and giggling.

Ten minutes had passed since you went back to bed, you were scrolling on your phone while enjoying the sun. You heard the door opened, his back walking before the rest of his body as he walked into the room backward, turning around once the door was closed.

“Good morning, again, Miss” he walked toward the bed, holding the plate carefully, settling down on the cover, making sure not a thing spilled. You looked at the plate more closely, there were some of those delicious buns he was making,a few toasts, some with jam and butter and others with avocado and salmon, the scrambled eggs were in a big egg-shaped bowl.

“Look at this feast! You outdone yourself!” You grab his arm pulling him in bed, next to you, his weight making the glasses of juices almost spilling. “Oops, sorry” you said as he carefully leaned back against the headboard.

“But you didn’t even eat anything yet.” he grabbed one of the buns, splitting it in half and giving you a piece of it, the smell was divine.

“Mmmh, that’s so good!” you moaned as you took a bite, the soft dough and the red beans paste melting against your palate.

“If you continue to make those noises while we eat, I think we will have to postpone breakfast for a few hours.”

You almost choke as you looked back at him, he was innocently tilting his head before starting eating his bun.

“Xavier! You can’t say that while I’m eating!” you laughed, playfully hitting his arm.

“I did breakfast, I have all the right my dear.” He kissed your cheek before reaching for the juice.

You spend the rest of the morning eating those delicious delicacies, while speaking about everything and teasing each other, as always.

It was now the afternoon, a little rain was cooling the weather, the breeze still moving the curtains of the room. You and Xavier held each other close, your head resting on his shoulder, one of your legs wrapped around his, his arm around your shoulders while the other was holding a book. You were helping him, turning the pages when he needed to.

“And done.” He put the book on the bedside table, he had just finished the new book he bought at the library last week.

“So, was it as interesting as you thought?” you asked, hugging him tightly.

“Yeah, it was but I have a more interesting right…” he touched the tip of your nose “here.”

He turned toward you rapidly. You let out a yelp of surprise as he positioned himself in such a way that you ended up beneath him. He didn’t waste a second before trailing a series of soft kisses across your face. When he finally kissed your lips, you pulled him into a more languorous kiss, your legs wrapping around his waist pushing him into you.

His hands found his way under your shirt, while yours ended up on the back of his neck. His warm hands were a contrast with the coldness of your body, making you both shivered.

 You tried to pull back from the kiss to catch your breath, but he trapped you bottom lip between his teeth. “I guess” a kiss “the breakfast” a kiss “was not enough” another kiss “for you because I feel like you trying” an encore kiss “to devour me” you ended up saying breathlessly, a smile on your face.

“What can I say?” He nestled his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m an insatiable man’’ you felt him smirk against your skin as he said that before you felt his hands travel down your body.

It was going to be a very good day; you were sure of it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A/N : it was my first long fic i hope you all enjoyed it ! 💖

Absence Makes The Heart

Xavier had really done it now.

You were used to him disappearing for hours, for days, sometimes even for weeks, all with no contact. This time, he’d been gone a whole month. And you vowed, if he wasn’t already dead, you’d kill him. Or worse. You’d simply disappear yourself. See how he liked it. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Xavier couldn’t find you.

At first, he thought you’d simply wandered off again. You had a tendency to be distracted by every street performer you heard, every afternoon market you passed by, every shop display you laid eyes on; any time there was anything that had life, that had shine, you were there, paying your time and attention to it. And he took great pride in being the only person who could find you, each and every time. Maybe you’d posted a picture of your coffee and he’d caught a glimpse of a partial store sign in the background. Maybe you’d mention that you were stuck in abnormally high traffic and he remembered a parade nearby. But either way, rain or shine, he’d find you, like it was always fate’s intention to have you back in his arms. 

But not today.

Today, it’d been three hours, forty-six minutes, and seventeen seconds, and he still could not find you. He was getting desperate. He’d been gone for an entire month and had done nothing but imagine the glow in your eyes or the curve of your smile when you finally welcomed him home. He never imagined that maybe one day he’d come home and you wouldn’t be there. 

He hoped he was just imagining things when he got a notice that your last transaction was a large withdrawal of cash; he prayed that there was still time for you to stumble through the doors, grinning sheepishly, as you admitted you’d caved and bought a farm, or something of the sort. But the clock ticked away, the sun set and rose and then set again, and you still weren’t home. 

He lay on your bed, trying to will you into existence beside him, as he clung to the lingering scent of shampoo in your sheets. He stared up at the ceiling, letting his thoughts consume him, not bothering to get up even to humor his growling stomach. 

Why had he stayed away so long? He couldn’t seem to remember now. There was always something for him to tend to, something that couldn’t wait, something that only he could do, but now, as he lay in your empty apartment, missing your warmth, missing your light, he wondered what it was that could’ve been so important that he couldn’t spare the time to check in and reassure you that he was okay. To reassure him that you were okay. And now he had no idea if you were even alive.

You wouldn’t answer his calls, you wouldn’t answer his texts. He wasn’t even sure you had your phone on you, because he couldn’t track your movements. What were you doing? Where were you going? What were you thinking? Were you mad at him? Of course you were mad at him. You always hated how he had a tendency to take on the world by himself, how he took risks no one else would take and carried burdens no one else would shoulder.

Wherever you were, however far you’d gone, he hoped that you were okay and that you still had room in your heart to forgive him. You were always forgiving him. Forgiving him for taking the last dumpling, forgiving him for oversleeping and missing your breakfast date, forgiving him for hiding his wounds from you. Of course, you gave your forgiveness in exchange for pinky promises of better behavior and bribery, but you’d always forgive him at the end of the day nonetheless. He wondered if you’d still forgive him now. Or if your forgiveness had an expiration date and he was just one month too late. 

When a week passed and you still hadn’t contacted him, he started to lose his mind. He was used to being alone, from going on missions alone, to traveling the soundless, boundless expanse of deep space alone, with his thoughts as his only constant companion. But you were always at the end of that path. You were always where he was trying to go, who he was trying to save. And now he was completely without you. And he had no idea what to do with himself. He swore to himself that if he ever saw you again, he would never leave your side. He would plant himself beside you, breathe when you breathed, walk when you walked, and be no farther from you than your own shadow; it was decided. Now, if only you’d show up. 

Frustrated by his own helplessness, he plopped down onto your couch, nestling himself among your many plushies. He looked at them for a moment, remembering the moment he’d won them all for you. You’d thrown your arms around his neck, beaming brightly, before declaring to everyone in the arcade that “Xavier’s the absolute BEST!” He smiled as he remembered the way he’d carried you in his arms like the bride he’d always intended for you to be, with the plushies sitting all snug on your stomach. Now he lay beside them, feeling a sense of loss. 

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” He asked a nearby teddy bear. 

He took the bear’s lack of response as a sign to continue. “I see now why she hates when I leave without her. This…this is terrible.”

The bear gazed on in what Xavier could only assume was sympathy.

Xavier sighed. “Do you think she hates me now?” 

The bear remained silent.

Xavier slumped. 

Then his phone beeped and nearly shattered the sound barrier. He’d been moping in silence all week and now that silence had finally been broken. He scrambled for his phone in an instant, almost dropping it in the process.

His screen only displayed one word: No.

He blinked at it. “No? What does that mean? No…you aren’t coming home? No, what?” He murmured to himself as he pondered the mysterious text. 

Another beep. No, I don’t hate you.

His eyes widened. He looked down at the bear. 

“You know something, don’t you?”

Silence. 

Trying to hide his smile, Xavier then flopped back against the cushions, using his arm as a shield over his face before proclaiming, “It’s a shame that I have no way of communicating with Y/N. I was just thinking I’d make her favorite meal for dinner.”

No response. 

Maybe she knew that despite his best intentions, whether it was her favorite or not, whether it was her kitchen or his, all his cooked meals had the same end result. Maybe it wasn’t enticing enough for her.

“I suppose I could just eat these plushies for dinner. There’s no one around to stop me if I just decided to chop them up into pieces and boil them into a stew.” He teased.

His phone beeped. You’re resorting to threats now?

He grinned at the bear, his eyes now finding the nanny camera that had been oh-so-carefully transplanted onto one of its buttons. “So, you coming home now?”

Are you sorry?

His eyes softened. “I am. Very sorry.”

You won’t do it again?

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… I’ll do my best next-”

Xav. You won’t do it again. Or the next time I’m gone, it’ll be for much longer than a week.

He gave a resigned sigh before smiling again. “Alright, I won’t do it again. I won’t leave unless I talk with you first and I’ll take you with if I can.” He held his breath as he awaited your response.

The seconds felt like eons and the eons just reminded him of the space between the two of you. He wished he was holding you instead of clinging to your plushies for even a hint of your scent. He didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t come home soon. If you didn’t answer him. If you didn’t forgive him. 

Fine, good enough. But stay out of my kitchen; you set it on fire last time. I’ll make dinner.

He let out a breath of relief.

You were coming home at long last.

Ko-fi

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The little wolf 🐺

Eury working his way up from poverty to become Odys second in command and wooing Ctimene is my roman empire all over again

Polites and Ody ♡✨

"All you have to do is not open this bag." "HERMES?!"

Finished some silly art for "Dangerous!"

This has a lot of little details, including: Polites' microphone has a Winion, Poseidon's trident is behind him, and Ody and Penny have their rings.

Pedí ayuda para los personajes a mis seguidores en IG y muchos coincidieron en que Poseidón era el derrotado JAJDJAJAA