Latest Posts by xavierfrogprincess - Page 6

Benediction -a drabble

❤︎  tags and content: public sex, wall sex, f!reader x xavier ❤︎  author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo  

The alley was narrow, carved between two flickering holo-ad boards and draped in the perpetual dusk of N109’s underbelly. Neon spilled like spilled ink across the puddles at your feet, reflections rippling with every breath you took—each one more shallow than the last. You weren’t sure how you ended up here, only that Xavier had found you first.

Not Xavier, not now. Lumiere.

His mask gleamed faintly under the weak light, a curve of silver and glass that obscured half his face but did nothing to dim the intensity of his presence. He stood too close, his gloved hand braced against the wall near your head, caging you in with nothing but heat and proximity. Your back pressed into the cold concrete, chest heaving, every nerve singing in anticipation.

“Someone could see,” you whispered, the words caught somewhere between protest and plea.

Xavier tilted his head, the visor casting soft light across your flushed skin. “Then don’t be loud.”

You swallowed, throat dry.

His other hand found your waist, slow and deliberate, fingers trailing the curve of your side like he had all the time in the world. Beneath the leather, his grip was commanding—not rough, but possessive in a way that made your knees ache to bend. You hated how easy it was to melt under his touch. No, not hate. Craved.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, voice low and unreadable.

“You’re… really close,” you managed, eyes darting to the mouth barely visible beneath his mask.

“You asked me to come,” he reminded you, and there was no cruelty in it—just the truth, heavy and quiet.

And you had. An encrypted message, a traceable risk. You’d said you needed to see him. You hadn’t said why, only that it couldn’t wait. And now, here he was, with the patience of a ghost and the intent of a man unraveling.

His hand slipped under your coat, dragging up the hem of your shirt, fingertips ghosting over bare skin. “You’re warm here,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Xavier…”

“Say it again.”

His voice wasn’t harsh. It was reverent. Like the syllables of your name in his mouth were prayer and profane all at once.

“Xavier,” you gasped as his hand dipped lower, beneath the waistband of your pants, the drag of leather exchanged for the glide of skin.

His mouth hovered over your ear. “You’re soaked.”

Mortified, you tried to shift, to press your thighs together, but he had you pinned and pliant with only one hand. Your face burned, and Xavier didn’t miss it.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he asked, his lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “Tell me.”

He groaned, the sound guttural and grounding, then he found you with his fingers—slow and certain. You moaned, soft and broken, head tilting back against the wall.

“That,” he said. “Right there.”

Your hips bucked into his hand, the friction perfect and terrible. Your breath hitched, your nails scrabbling at the fabric of his coat, desperate to anchor yourself to something as his fingers worked you open with devastating patience.

“Xavier—”

“You’ll take me here,” he said, voice iron beneath silk. “Say yes.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

His breath caught, and for a heartbeat, he stilled—then his hand was gone, and you almost cried at the loss.

But then he was freeing himself, and your thighs spread to accommodate the press of his body against yours, his heat, his weight, the impossible stretch as he sheathed himself inside you in one, controlled thrust. You bit your lip hard enough to bruise, eyes wide, back arching off the wall.

“Shh,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound calm anymore. “You have to be quiet.”

He started to move, a pace slow and deep, deliberate, grinding his hips just right—making sure you felt every inch, every drag and pull. He watched your face with open fascination, even behind the mask. You knew his eyes were on you, memorizing every gasp, every flutter of your lashes.

Your head fell forward, forehead pressing against his shoulder. He was still in his coat, you realized distantly. Still half-armored like a soldier in the middle of war. And still, he held you like you were something precious, ruined and holy all at once.

“Please,” you whispered, though you didn’t know what for.

“I know,” he said, and then he shifted the angle, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist, and you broke.

The orgasm hit like starlight, like falling into gravity and being caught, your body shaking, breath escaping in silent sobs as he drove into you with a low, reverent groan.

He followed seconds later, with your name on his lips like benediction.

You stayed there, bodies pressed close, the alley quiet save for your ragged breaths.

Then Xavier slowly withdrew, fixing your clothes with gentle hands, fingers lingering like he didn’t want to let go. He tugged your coat closed, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Still warm here,” he murmured.

You nodded, dazed. “Thanks to you.”

His mouth curled faintly.

Then, just before he disappeared into the shadows again, he whispered, “Call me next time. I’ll come faster.”

I AM SCREAMING ...

Someone save me

N v m i am beyond saving

I need this man in my life .... ahhhh

Kill me

🫠☺️🥴🥹

Masquerade Rendezvous

❤︎  tags and content: masquerade ball, hidden identities, oral, rough sex, wall sex, ferality, f!reader, feral xavier ❤︎  author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo  

The Hunter’s Association masquerade was meant for indulgence, for secrecy, for one night where masks and titles didn’t matter. But when you accept a dance from a man draped in white and gold going by Lumiere, you don’t realize what you’ve started. He’s magnetic, controlled, dangerous—leading you through waltzes, through whispered challenges, through a slow-burning game of tension that neither of you are willing to lose.

But when you whisper his name in the dark, the game ends. And Xavier? Xavier doesn’t like to lose.

The ballroom gleamed under the flickering glow of chandeliers, their golden light refracting against the cascading crystal strands that hung like frozen rain from the vaulted ceiling. The Hunter’s Association had spared no expense for tonight’s masquerade—gilded arches, velvet-draped tables, and an endless sea of masks concealing sharp eyes and sharper intentions.

The air was thick with the scent of spiced wine and warm candle wax, mingling with the distant notes of a string quartet that played something slow, something indulgent. A place built for spectacle, for indulgence, for the careful dance of pretense.

You had expected formality—stoic conversations over expensive champagne, the subtle weight of duty pressing into your spine as you navigated the political undercurrents beneath every greeting. But this… this felt different.

The Association’s best and brightest moved like ghosts through the room, their identities swallowed by the night’s elaborate disguises. Rich silks, dark brocades, the glint of gold threading through the sea of bodies. It was intoxicating in a way you hadn’t anticipated—the anonymity, the blurred lines between colleague and stranger, the way the night whispered promises of something reckless, something dangerous.

Your gown was regal, woven from deep midnight blue that shimmered with every step, the fitted bodice dipping scandalously low before spilling into layers of flowing silk. A crown—delicate but commanding—sat atop your masked visage, the final touch to your carefully curated disguise. A queen, untouchable.

Or so you thought.

Because then you saw him.

Across the room, dressed in the ridiculous, theatrical splendor of Lumière himself—white and gold embroidery cascading down his tailored coat, gloved hands moving with effortless grace as he accepted a glass of wine from a passing server. He was tall, poised, his silver hair falling in soft, deliberate waves over the high collar of his costume. The mask obscured his face, but the sharp line of his jaw, the composed stillness of his posture… something about him sent a shiver down your spine.

And when his gaze lifted—cool, assessing, burning even through the layers of decorum—you felt it. The inevitable pull.

The masquerade was meant for secrecy. For pretending.

The night spun around you in a blur of gilded masks and whispered laughter, the symphony swelling as bodies moved in perfect time. You had taken the hand of a stranger—a man whose name you hadn’t asked, whose face was obscured beneath a mask of silver filigree—and let him pull you into the slow, intoxicating rhythm of the waltz.

It was easy to get lost in the music, to let the careful choreography lull you into a false sense of security. Your partner’s grip was firm but not possessive, guiding you through each measured step as you swayed beneath the grand chandeliers.

Still, something felt… off.

Like the moment before a storm breaks, when the air thickens, charged with something unseen.

You felt it before you saw it—an unmistakable presence at the edge of your periphery, someone watching, waiting.

And then, just as your partner spun you in a graceful turn, your gaze lifted—straight into the piercing blue of a masked man dressed in white and gold.

Lumière.

He stood just beyond the reach of the dancers, one gloved hand resting lightly against the gilded railing, the other holding an untouched glass of wine. His presence was undeniable, though he hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. He didn’t need to.

Something about the way he watched you—calculating, amused, intrigued—made the room feel smaller, the air warmer.

Your partner murmured something polite, something about how well you danced, but you barely heard him. Because Lumière had moved.

He placed his glass down with meticulous precision, then stepped forward, cutting through the swirling figures with effortless grace. His stride was slow, deliberate, like a man who already knew how this would end.

When he finally reached you, he didn’t look at your partner. Didn’t acknowledge him at all.

Instead, he extended a gloved hand toward you, tilting his head just slightly.

“May I have this dance?”

It wasn’t really a request.

Your partner hesitated, torn between politeness and the unshakable sense that he had already lost.

You inhaled, pulse thrumming against the delicate line of your throat. And then—without a word—you placed your hand in Lumière’s. His fingers curled around yours, warm even through the silk of his gloves.

The masquerade swallowed you both whole.

<hr>

Lumière pulled you into the dance with the kind of effortless confidence that suggested he’d done this before—many times. His grip was sure, guiding, not forceful, but leaving no doubt as to who was leading.

And yet, the moment your palm settled against his shoulder, the very moment your bodies aligned in the measured closeness of the waltz, something shifted.

The masquerade blurred.

Your world shrank to the point of contact, to the warmth seeping through his gloves, the slow, calculated press of his palm against your waist.

He moved like someone who had memorized the language of motion, each step a silent command, each turn a quiet conversation. He kept a respectful distance, but it didn’t matter—not when the air between you felt charged, thick with something neither of you had named yet.

“You dance well,” you murmured, voice low enough that only he could hear.

Lumière’s lips curled into something close to amusement. “You sound surprised.”

You tilted your head, gaze flicking over his mask, searching for something beneath the disguise. “I expected someone in a costume like yours to be a little less…” You trailed off, letting the thought hang between you like a thread waiting to be pulled.

His grip on your waist tightened, just slightly. “Less what?”

“Disciplined.”

The faintest chuckle—low, rich, indulgent. “I assure you, discipline has its benefits.”

Heat licked up your spine before you could stop it.

The waltz continued, but the dance was no longer just about the music. It was about the way his thumb skimmed the fabric of your gown in a barely-there stroke. The way his breath fanned against your temple when he dipped you, holding you suspended for just a second too long. The way your body responded, leaning into the moment before sense could catch up to instinct.

The first song ended and neither of you moved to step away.

The strings swelled again, and without a word, Lumière adjusted his grip, seamlessly carrying you into the next dance as if the thought of parting hadn’t even occurred to him.

You should have hesitated. Should have stepped back, should have broken the spell before it tightened its hold.

But you didn’t.

You let him keep you close, let the slow, deliberate motion of the dance unravel something inside you.

“You’re not asking my name,” you said after a moment, studying him from beneath the edge of your mask.

He hummed, thoughtful. “Would you give it to me if I did?”

A slow smile curved your lips. “Would you?”

Lumière’s head tilted just slightly, considering. “Names are dangerous things at a masquerade.”

“So is this,” you countered, shifting just a fraction closer, your bodies nearly brushing with every measured step.

The air between you crackled.

He exhaled, slow and controlled, as if keeping something at bay. Then, after a pause, he murmured, “Then perhaps we shouldn’t name it.”

The dance continued.

You had forgotten the world outside this moment, outside the way his fingers pressed against the small of your back with each turn, outside the almost imperceptible way his chest rose and fell just a little too sharply when you exhaled against his throat.

Two strangers in the dark, playing a game neither of you wanted to end.

But the music was winding down. And as the final note lingered in the air, a question hung between you—unspoken, heavy. Would you leave this dance behind? Or would you follow wherever it led?

Lumière’s hand slid from your waist. His fingers traced the edge of your wrist, featherlight, as if testing the weight of a decision.

<hr>

You weren’t prepared for the moment he let go.

The music had barely finished settling into silence when his fingers slipped from yours, the warmth of his touch evaporating as though it had never been there at all. No parting words, no lingering glance, no indication that the last two dances had meant anything beyond the rhythm of the waltz. With careful precision, he stepped away, retreating into the crowd with the kind of quiet grace that made it seem as though he had never existed in the first place.

The ballroom didn’t falter in his absence, didn’t still or quiet or even acknowledge that something—someone—had been lost to the sea of masked figures and gilded artifice. The string quartet continued, seamlessly weaving the next melody into the fabric of the night, and around you, dancers reassembled, switching partners, reforming lines, their conversations uninterrupted by the ghost of a man who had been there only moments before.

But you felt it. The absence of him. The space he had left behind.

Your hands, still curled slightly as if expecting to find the shape of his gloved fingers lingering in your palm, felt empty in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Your breath was uneven, your body still attuned to the careful way he had held you, the deliberate way his grip had tightened just slightly when you leaned too close, the way his voice had curled around you with quiet, unmistakable intent. Walk with me, he had said, as if the outcome of this night had already been decided.

And yet, he was gone.

Not in some dramatic, attention-drawing departure, but in the way a shadow dissolves beneath shifting light—there one moment, blurred the next, retreating into the edges of the world as though he had never truly been part of it at all.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That this had been nothing more than a dance, a fleeting moment of indulgence in a night designed for such things, that you had no reason to feel the slow, curling frustration creeping up your spine, no reason to scan the room as if searching for something you had no business searching for.

But no matter how many times you reminded yourself of these things, you couldn’t stop the way your pulse betrayed you.

It was ridiculous, really. You didn’t even know his name.

And yet, despite your best efforts, despite the way you forced your expression into something composed and unbothered, despite the way you accepted the next hand extended toward you with the same easy grace as before, you couldn’t stop your gaze from flickering back to where he had once stood.

You were a queen tonight, untouchable, regal, above the game of masks and fleeting glances.

And yet, for the briefest of moments, you had felt hunted.

The night moved on without him. Another song played, another glass of wine was placed in your hand, another masked figure leaned close with idle conversation you could barely register, and yet the sensation of searching for something just beyond your reach refused to loosen its grip.

You wouldn’t chase him. That much you knew.

But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t the only one searching.

Somewhere in the depths of the masquerade, obscured but not lost, the man in white and gold was still watching. Still waiting. Still allowing the tension to stretch and simmer, to settle just beneath your skin, to become something that would not fade so easily.

Because this was not over. Not yet.

The masquerade moved around you, swirling in gilded opulence, but the haze of music and conversation felt distant, dulled beneath the lingering pull of something unseen. You had let another dance slip through your fingers, had let another conversation pass without truly hearing it, had let another glass of wine be placed in your palm without tasting it. It was becoming absurd—this sensation, this restless hum beneath your skin, as though something had unsettled the very balance of the evening and left you reaching for something just out of sight.

You needed a moment. A breath. A distraction.

The refreshment table stood along the edge of the ballroom, a long, lavish spread of imported wines and crystalline glasses arranged beneath the warm glow of candlelight. It wasn’t the wine you truly wanted—wasn’t even the moment of respite you claimed to be seeking—but it was something tangible, something to occupy your hands and your mind while you exorcised the ghost of a man you had no business thinking about.

Your fingers trailed absently along the stem of an untouched glass as you approached, reaching for the deep, velvety red of something dark and rich, something that might chase away the warmth that had settled in your bones during that last dance.

And that’s when you felt it. Not a touch, but the weight of attention.

It was instant, visceral, the kind of awareness that struck without warning, creeping down your spine with a slow, deliberate certainty. You didn’t need to look to know—to feel—that someone was watching you. Not in the way one might steal a passing glance at an intriguing stranger, but in the way a hunter watches its prey, waiting, unhurried, assured in the knowledge that there would be no escape.

You lifted the glass, bringing it to your lips in a practiced motion, slow, unbothered, unwilling to betray the way your pulse had shifted into something uneven, something entirely too aware.

But curiosity had already won.

You turned your head just slightly, just enough to let your gaze flicker over the gathered tables along the ballroom’s edge, scanning past costumed figures and polite conversation, past the blur of faces you had no reason to linger on—

Until you found him seated at one of the smaller tables, half-shrouded in shadow but unmistakable beneath the flickering candlelight, was Lumière. He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t so much as lifted his own glass in greeting. He was simply watching.

Elbow resting against the arm of his chair, fingers curled beneath his jaw in a position of casual, effortless ease, his mask concealing all but the sharp line of his jaw and the faintest curve of his lips. He didn’t beckon, didn’t tilt his head in invitation, didn’t offer any indication that he had been waiting for you—

But you knew. You could tell he had. And worse than that, worse than the realization that he had anticipated this moment, that he had known you would seek respite here, was the quiet, undeniable truth creeping into your chest.

You had been waiting for him, too.

You set your glass down with careful precision, the delicate clink of crystal against marble swallowed by the hum of conversation around you. He hadn’t looked away—not once—hadn’t so much as feigned the courtesy of glancing elsewhere, and that alone sent a slow, simmering warmth curling beneath your skin.

If he was waiting for you to pretend not to notice, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, tilting your head just enough to let the light catch the edges of your mask, gold filigree gleaming beneath the chandelier’s glow. It wasn’t a question, wasn’t some breathless observation of a woman caught off guard—it was a challenge, a deliberate acknowledgment of the pull neither of you had chosen to ignore.

Lumière—if that was even his real name, which you doubted—didn’t startle, didn’t shift, didn’t so much as blink in feigned innocence. He only smiled, slow and knowing, as if pleased that you had finally decided to call him on it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, as if that alone explained everything.

A lesser woman might have flushed at the shamelessness of it, at the way his voice dipped low, smooth as velvet and just as dangerous. But you were not a lesser woman. You only lifted your glass once more, taking a slow sip of wine before setting it down again, gaze steady.

“Many here are beautiful,” you pointed out, the edge of a smirk curling at your lips. “And yet, you’re still looking at me.”

He exhaled softly through his nose, a quiet sound of amusement, but he didn’t deny it. “I am.”

“Why?”

His fingers tapped idly against the table, a single measured beat, before his voice dipped just a little lower, the weight of his attention pressing against you in ways that had nothing to do with physical proximity.

“I enjoyed the way you danced.”

It was simple, almost benign, but the way he said it—slow, deliberate, the words rolling over his tongue with something bordering on indulgence—made it clear he wasn’t speaking only of waltzes and carefully choreographed steps.

A warmth settled in your chest, creeping downward, curling around your spine like something electric. You should have left it there, let the words hang, let him keep waiting, let the anticipation stretch just a little longer.

But you were feeling bold. You leaned forward slightly, resting your elbow against the table, fingers ghosting over the stem of your glass. Your voice, when it came, was soft but certain, each syllable laced with quiet intent.

“I can move in other ways.”

The flicker in his gaze was immediate—sharp and assessing, as if measuring the weight of what had just been offered, deciding whether to take the bait or let it drift.

He took it.

“I have no doubt,” he murmured, his head tilting just slightly, as if imagining it already, as if mapping the possibilities in the space between words.

The warmth beneath your skin deepened, pooling low, dangerous in the way a drawn bowstring thrummed with tension before release.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The ballroom spun on around you—music, laughter, the clinking of glasses—but it might as well have been another world entirely.

Lumière’s gaze flickered, something dark and unreadable shifting behind the polished ease of his expression, his fingers still idly tapping against the table in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. He was considering something, weighing it carefully, as though calculating the exact moment to strike.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he stood.

The movement was fluid, effortless, like everything he did, his gloved hand extending toward you with the same quiet command as before. There was no question of whether you would accept.

“Dance with me,” he murmured, the words barely louder than the hum of music behind him, but they sank into you like a whisper against bare skin.

Your fingers slid into his without hesitation, and the moment his grip tightened around yours, your fate was sealed.

He pulled you onto the floor with practiced ease, guiding you back into his arms as though you belonged there, as though every other dance before this had been nothing more than a rehearsal for this moment. The world narrowed once again, reduced to the slow, intoxicating rhythm of movement, of the subtle press of his palm against your back, the gloved fingers curling just slightly around yours as he led you through the sweeping turns.

This dance was different from the others.

Slower. Heavier.

Less about technique and more about the way your bodies moved together, the way the air between you felt charged, the way his fingertips traced the smallest of patterns against your spine with every step.

His breath was warm against your cheek, his lips so close to your skin that you swore you could feel the phantom press of them, the teasing suggestion of something withheld, something just out of reach.

“You make it difficult to look anywhere else,” he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear.

A slow, deliberate shiver worked its way down your spine, but you didn’t falter, didn’t hesitate in your response, tilting your head just enough to let your lips nearly brush the edge of his jaw.

“Then don’t.”

He exhaled, something low and pleased vibrating deep in his chest, and for a moment, just a moment, you swore he was going to kiss you right there, consequences be damned.

His hand at your back slid just a fraction lower, the hold just a fraction tighter, his head dipping just slightly as though drawn forward by something beyond reason, beyond choice, beyond even himself.

And then he stopped.

Close. So damn close that his lips hovered just above yours, his breath warm and steady, but he held there, lingering at the precipice, waiting.

For you. For permission. For a request, an invitation, a demand.

The space between you felt razor-thin, your pulse a betraying drumbeat against your ribs, the warmth of him sinking into your skin, unraveling you bit by bit until there was only one possible outcome.

“Take me somewhere else,” you whispered, the words slipping past your lips before you could think better of them, before you could remember why you shouldn’t.

Something flickered in his eyes—satisfaction, hunger, a silent finality—before his grip tightened ever so slightly.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask if you were sure. He simply took your hand, and without another word, led you away from the dance floor, away from the crowd, away from the golden light and into the shadows where no one could see.

<hr>

The world beyond the ballroom faded into insignificance the moment he led you past the grand arches and into the dimly lit corridors that stretched beyond the golden glow of the masquerade. The murmur of voices and music softened into a distant hum, swallowed by the quiet hush of the hallway, where the air was cooler, thicker, charged with something far heavier than the weight of candlelight and whispered laughter.

You had barely registered how far he had taken you before he moved.

In one fluid motion, he turned, pressing you back against the cool marble wall, his body closing in, surrounding you, his gloved hands bracketing either side of your waist. It wasn’t rushed—wasn’t careless or impatient—but deliberate, controlled, a slow, measured inevitability that made the anticipation coil low in your stomach, winding tighter with every second he held back.

And he was holding back.

You could see it in the way his jaw tensed, in the way his fingers flexed ever so slightly before settling at your hip, in the way his gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes as if committing every detail to memory.

For a man who had spent the evening watching you, who had danced with you like he already knew the shape of you, who had drawn you away from the crowd without hesitation—he was giving you a chance to stop this.

You weren’t going to take it.

With a slow inhale, you reached up, gliding your fingers along the edge of his mask, just enough to feel the warm skin beneath, to trace the sharp line of his jaw, to savor the way his breath hitched at the contact.

He made a sound—low, almost a growl—and then his restraint snapped.

His mouth was on yours before you had a chance to exhale, crushing, demanding, his body pressing flush against yours as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The warmth of him sank through the layers of fabric between you, the heat of his breath, the press of his chest, the firm grip of his hand tilting your chin just enough to deepen the kiss.

You melted into him, letting the urgency of his touch unravel you, your hands sliding beneath the lapels of his coat, fingers curling into the fine embroidery like you needed to anchor yourself before you lost all sense of where you were. He tasted of wine and something darker, something intoxicating, something that made your knees weaken just as his hand slid down your waist, pulling you closer, as though any remaining space between you was unacceptable.

He kissed you like he had been waiting all night.

And you kissed him like you had, too.

But even with the way his mouth claimed yours, even with the way his hands traced the curve of your body in slow, possessive strokes, even with the way your breaths tangled between desperate, heated kisses, you could feel it—the hard press of him against your thigh, undeniable, insistent, aching.

You smiled against his lips, a slow, wicked curve, and then—without breaking the kiss—you let your hands slide lower, skimming over the smooth brocade of his coat, down to his belt, down to where he was already straining against the confines of his clothing.

He sucked in a sharp breath, breaking away just enough to meet your gaze, his pupils blown wide behind the mask, his lips parted, his body tense beneath your touch.

“Careful,” he warned, voice low, rough, frayed at the edges of restraint.

But you only smirked, sinking slowly—deliberately—lower, your hands already working at the fastenings of his belt.

“I thought you liked the way I moved,” you murmured, looking up at him through the dark lace of your mask, watching the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers curled against the marble, the way his chest rose and fell in a sharp, uneven rhythm.

His jaw clenched, breath shuddering. “You’re going to—”

“Shh,” you soothed, pressing a kiss just below his navel as you freed him from the constraints of his costume, reveling in the way his muscles tensed beneath your hands, in the way he exhaled sharply, already fighting to keep himself steady.

The moment your lips ghosted over his skin, just beneath the fine embroidery of his coat, you felt the sharp intake of his breath, the way his fingers curled against the marble like he was already struggling to hold himself together.

Good.

He had spent the entire night watching you, guiding you, leading you into the palm of his hand with deliberate ease. Now, it was your turn to unravel him.

You sank lower, letting your nails trail over his hips, feeling the slow, delicious weight of his cock press against your palm, thick and hot and already aching. A sharp exhale escaped him, his head tilting back just slightly, exposing the taut line of his throat, the barely-there tremor in his breath.

You couldn’t stop the satisfied hum that curled in your throat, reveling in the way he twitched beneath your fingers, in the way his entire body coiled with restraint, in the way he was trying—desperately—to stay composed when you could already feel him slipping.

“I thought you were disciplined,” you murmured, tracing your tongue along the groove of his hipbone before pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his skin, your breath fanning warm against him.

His hand moved before he could stop it, fingers tangling into your hair, not forcing, not guiding—just holding you there, like he needed something to keep him grounded. “Don’t test me.”

But that was exactly what you planned to do.

You glanced up at him, taking in the sharp set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths that weren’t nearly as steady as he wanted them to be. He was barely holding on, teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and you wanted to push him over.

So you did.

Your lips brushed the head of his cock first, featherlight, just enough to make him suck in another breath, his fingers tightening in your hair. Then, without hesitation, you parted your lips and took him into the heat of your mouth, slow, deliberate, savoring the way his entire body shuddered the second he felt the wet, silken glide of your tongue.

“Fuck.” His voice was low, wrecked, a single, bitten-off curse that made arousal pool between your thighs, made you press your own legs together as you hollowed your cheeks and took him deeper, letting him feel the slick drag, the deliberate tease of your tongue along the underside.

His control was slipping. You could feel it.

The way his hips jerked ever so slightly, as if fighting the urge to thrust deeper. The way his breath came shorter, uneven. The way his fingers flexed in your hair, torn between keeping himself steady and ruining you.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You pulled back, slow and teasing, letting your lips drag against him before flicking your tongue over the head in a light, taunting stroke. His breath hitched, his grip tightening, his head tipping forward as if he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to tease him like this.

“You’re shaking,” you mused, voice sweet, lips brushing against him as you spoke.

His jaw clenched. “I swear—”

But whatever he was about to say cut off with a sharp inhale as you took him into your mouth again, this time deeper, your fingers tightening around his base as you let the slick heat of your throat pull him in.

That was it. That was the moment he broke. A low, guttural sound tore from his throat, his fingers curling hard in your hair, his hips pressing forward before he jerked himself back, as if forcing himself to stop, to regain control before he lost himself entirely. But it was already too late.

His free hand shot down, grabbing your arm, pulling you up before you could blink, before you could gloat—before you could even breathe.

His mouth was on yours in an instant, devouring, punishing, kissing you like he needed to claim you, like he had to remind you exactly who had been in control this entire night. His grip was tight, possessive, dragging you against him, letting you feel the heat, the frustration, the barely-contained desperation rolling off of him in waves.

Then, suddenly— 

He was shoving himself back into his pants and pulling you with him, backing you toward the nearest door, his steps quick, determined, his breath still ragged against your lips. You barely had time to register the cool wood against your back before he reached for the handle, shoving the door open, and pulling you inside.

The door slammed shut behind you. And now you were really alone trapped in the dark with the man you had just broken.

The second the door slammed shut, you barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you.

No more restraint. No more careful control. No more of the measured, deliberate touches he had kept himself confined to all night.

He snapped.

His mouth crashed against yours in something closer to a claim than a kiss, his hands already gripping, taking, roaming with a desperation that sent a fresh wave of heat rolling through you. His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you against the door as if he could brand himself into your skin, as if he needed to feel every inch of you beneath his hands before his mind fully unraveled.

And oh, was it unraveling.

Gone was the composed, mysterious stranger from the ballroom. Gone was the poised man who had watched you with quiet amusement from across the dance floor. In his place was something raw, something feral, something that had been straining against its leash all night and had finally been set loose.

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" His voice was low, wrecked, barely more than a growl against your lips, his breath hot and uneven as his hands yanked at the fabric of your gown, fingers curling in the delicate silk as if he had half a mind to tear it straight from your body.

You didn’t answer—couldn’t—because the moment your lips parted, his teeth grazed your jaw, his mouth dragging down the column of your throat, open-mouthed, hungry, sucking a deep, bruising mark against your skin that sent a sharp pulse of arousal straight to your core.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice rough, his grip tightening as he rolled his hips against you, letting you feel exactly how hard he still was, how much your little game had ruined him. "Tell me this is what you wanted."

"Yes," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, your head already spinning from the sheer heat of him, from the way he pressed against you, overwhelming and all-consuming. "Yes—fuck, yes—"

That was all he needed.

His fingers ripped at the ties of your gown, pushing the fabric down over your shoulders, shoving it past your hips until it pooled at your feet in a shimmering heap, leaving you bare beneath him. His breath caught for a fraction of a second, like the sight of you had knocked the air from his lungs.

He spun you before you could process it, shoving you up against the door, your palms slamming against the wood, your body arching instinctively at the feel of his chest pressing flush against your back.

"Stay right there," he rasped, his hand sliding up your spine, fingers curling into the back of your neck, holding you in place, his lips grazing your ear, voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "You want to tease me? Make me wait? Drag me to the edge just to watch me fall?" His teeth scraped against your throat, his hips grinding against you in a slow, devastating roll that had you whimpering. "Fine. Now it's your turn."

You barely had time to draw in a breath before his hand slid down, between your thighs, fingers pressing against your slick heat with a teasing, infuriating laziness.

"Fuck," he exhaled, voice wrecked, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for a half-second as he felt how wet you were, how ready you were for him, how your body had been waiting for this just as much as his had.

You squirmed, pushing back against him, needing more, but he just laughed—low—before pulling his fingers away just as quickly as he had touched you.

"You don’t get to be impatient now, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging his mouth down your shoulder, sucking another bruise into your skin as his free hand pinned you against the door. "You started this."

Your hands curled into fists against the wood, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as he toyed with you, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your inner thigh, everywhere but where you needed him most.

"Please," you gasped, arching back against him, begging, not even caring how desperate you sounded, not caring that he wanted you like this, that he was relishing the way you were starting to unravel beneath him.

"Please what?" His voice was taunting, amusement curling at the edges of it, but there was a strain beneath it, a barely-leashed hunger that told you he wasn’t far from breaking either. "Use your words, sweetheart."

You whined, pressing back against him, hips rolling, your body aching for relief. "Please, Xavier—"

He froze. For the first time since he had touched you, he stilled. A sharp inhale. A beat of silence.

"What did you just say?"

Shit.

Your heart stumbled, your entire body going rigid, your mind catching up far too late to the name that had just slipped past your lips.

Xavier.

Not Lumière.

Not some stranger.

Xavier.

As if confirming the horrifying, thrilling, devastating realization, his fingers tightened around your throat, just enough to make you shiver, just enough to make sure you were listening.

He leaned in, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, his voice impossibly dark, impossibly wrecked.

"You knew?"

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a demand. A command for the truth.

Your breath hitched, your pulse hammering beneath his grip. "No," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper, the confession slipping past your lips before you could stop it. "Not until just now."

Another sharp inhale. Another beat of silence. Until– he laughed. Low. Dark. Dangerous.

And before you could react, before you could say anything else, before you could process the fact that the man wrecking you against this door was the same one you had fought beside, worked beside, known—

His grip yanked you back, spun you around, and his mouth was crushing against yours, claiming you, owning you, ruining you.

"You should have never said my name," he growled against your lips, voice wrecked, threaded with something almost feral, something that sent a violent shudder racing down your spine. "Now you don’t get to fucking breathe without saying it again."

Gone was the teasing, the slow, measured strokes of a man savoring his victory. Now, there was nothing but hunger—nothing but the sharp, desperate edge of need as he wrenched you away from the door, his grip punishing as he walked you back, step by step, until the backs of your thighs hit the nearest surface, a heavy wooden table that groaned under the sudden force of your body being shoved against it.

Your gasp barely had time to escape before he crushed his mouth against yours, consuming you, devouring you, his hands already shoving at what little remained of the delicate fabric clinging to your skin.

"Xavier—"

The sound of his name against your tongue made him snarl, his fingers tightening at your hips, bruising in their grip, claiming, because now he knew, now there was no veil, no mask, no carefully curated illusion between you.

It was you. It was him.

And he was about to make sure you never forgot that.

Your thighs barely had time to part before he was between them, hands gripping the backs of your knees, spreading you wide as he dragged you closer, the blunt heat of his cock pressing right against your dripping cunt, teasing, taunting, not yet pushing in, but making sure you felt it, making sure you ached for it.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low, guttural, his lips brushing against your jaw as he throbbed against you, as he let you feel just how hard he was, just how fucking wrecked you had made him.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, your breath coming sharp, uneven, a desperate, pleading sound slipping past your lips as you rocked against him, needing him to move.

"Xavier," you gasped, a plea, a prayer, a surrender.

His grip tightened.

"Again."

"Xavier—"

The word had barely left your mouth before he thrust, burying himself inside you in one brutal, devastating stroke that tore the breath from your lungs, that sent white-hot pleasure lancing through every nerve, that had your fingers clawing at his back as you choked on a scream.

"Fucking louder," he snarled, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, his hands gripping your thighs harder, spreading you wider, holding you open for him as he pulled back only to slam into you again, dragging another wrecked, gasping Xavier from your lips.

He was relentless, driving into you with a force that sent the table beneath you creaking, the sound of skin against skin, ragged breaths, and his name filling the empty space of the room.

"You wanted this," he growled, his hand sliding up your body, fingers curling around your throat, tilting your head back so he could watch you, so he could see every inch of your face twisted in pleasure. "Wanted to fucking ruin me, didn't you?"

"Yes—fuck, yes—"

His grip tightened, his hips snapping forward, hitting deep, pulling another helpless, trembling "Xavier—" from your throat, and his eyes darkened, something dangerously satisfied flashing behind them.

"That’s fucking right," he rasped, pounding into you now, his rhythm raw, desperate, claiming. "Scream it for me. Let the whole fucking masquerade know who's fucking you."

Your nails scraped down his back, your body arching, every nerve singing, every inch of you burning, stretched and full as he drove you higher, pushed you closer, forced you right to the edge—

Unitl he took you over.

Your orgasm slammed into you, a sharp, violent wave that shattered through every inch of your body, a sobbing "Xavier—" tearing from your lips as your walls fluttered around him, gripping him like a vice, pulling him deeper, harder, making him swear beneath his breath as he chased his own undoing. And then, with a sharp, guttural groan, he broke, his body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling into you in sharp, jerking thrusts, his name still trembling on your lips, wrecked and ruined in the only way it ever should be. For long moments, neither of you moved, bodies tangled, chests heaving, his forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and hot against your lips.

Then—slowly, still buried deep inside you—Xavier laughed. Low. Hoarse. Dark with satisfaction.

"Fuck," he rasped, pressing his lips against your throat, letting his teeth graze over the bruises he had left behind, his grip still firm at your waist. "What the fuck have we done?"

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers threading into his hair, still barely capable of thought, still feeling wrecked in the best possible way. You hummed, a slow, satisfied sound curling at the edge of your lips as you tugged him closer, dragging your nails down his scalp.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The only sounds in the dimly lit room were the heavy cadence of your breaths, the distant murmur of music still filtering in from the ballroom, and the slow, satisfied hum you let slip as you lazily dragged your nails through Xavier’s silver hair.

His head was still tucked against your shoulder, his body pressed warm and heavy against yours, his arms bracketing your waist as though letting go simply wasn’t an option yet.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice rough, hoarse, still thick with satisfaction as he nuzzled against the curve of your neck. "Fuck."

You laughed softly, still feeling wrecked in the best possible way, still feeling the delicious ache of him deep inside you, the remnants of your pleasure humming through every inch of your skin.

"That bad?" you teased, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his temple, the small gesture almost tender despite the absolute destruction he had just delivered.

Xavier let out a low, wrecked groan, his grip tightening around your hips like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull you closer or start all over again.

"That good," he corrected, his voice still raw, still utterly ruined, still settling into something dangerously satisfied.

You smirked, shifting slightly, reveling in the sharp inhale he took as you clenched around him, still warm, still full, still soaked in the mess you had made of each other.

"So," you murmured, pressing your hands against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. "Ready for round two?"

Xavier froze. You saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched, the way his entire body tensed like a man seconds away from losing whatever shreds of restraint he had managed to claw back in the past minute.

"No," he said, voice strained, like he hated the word even as he forced it past his lips.

You blinked. "No?"

His hands tightened on your waist, his head dropping forward as he exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was physically trying to regain control.

"Not here," he ground out, his voice dipping into something dangerously low, something threaded with something almost pained. "Not in a fucking supply closet—"

Your laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, the sheer absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

You had just been wrecked—utterly ruined—against an old wooden table in what was, apparently, a supply closet, at a masquerade ball hosted by the Hunter’s Association, by a man who, until tonight, had been nothing more than your coworker.

And now, now, he was drawing a line?

"Xavier," you wheezed, gripping his shoulders as you shook with laughter, "now you have standards?"

His hands flexed against your skin, his jaw clenching so tight you thought he might crack a tooth. "I have always had standards," he muttered, offended, but his voice hitched slightly when you shifted against him again, clearly testing just how strong those standards were.

You grinned. "Uh-huh."

Xavier growled, a low, warning sound that made your stomach flip, but when he lifted his head, his eyes were heated, his pupils still blown wide behind the faint glint of his mask.

"You want round two?" he murmured, his fingers trailing slow, dangerous circles along the dip of your waist, his voice dropping to something just above a purr. "Then I’m taking you back to my place, where I can actually—"

He cut himself off, his nostrils flaring slightly, his gaze dragging over your thoroughly ruined form before his fingers dug into your skin, his restraint visibly fraying at the edges again.

You arched a brow, waiting, breath catching slightly as his gaze lingered on your lips, then dipped lower, like he was already imagining what he was going to do to you when he got you alone again.

"Where you can actually what, Xavier?" you teased, voice sweet, but your smile was anything but.

His grip tightened as he stepped back. You immediately whined, your body protesting the loss of his warmth, of his weight, of the way he had fit so perfectly against you.

"Xavier," you complained, trying to tug him back, but he only grinned, still utterly wrecked but determined, the sharp glint in his eyes promising ruin if you so much as challenged him right now.

"Get dressed," he ordered, buttoning his coat, exhaling through his nose like he needed to physically force himself to look presentable again. "Before I change my mind and fuck you here again."

Heat flooded your body all over again.

You huffed, shifting your sore limbs, bending to reach for the crumpled mess of your gown—only to realize, with some degree of horror, that the delicate ties and fragile silk were completely shredded, torn apart by the very same hands that were now adjusting the cuffs of his elegant sleeves like he hadn’t just ruined your entire evening ensemble.

You turned, glaring. "Seriously?"

He barely glanced at you, completely unbothered, straightening his collar with a satisfied, lazy smirk.

"Looks like you’re stuck in my clothes," he mused, already peeling off his coat, tossing it over your shoulders before pulling you flush against him one more time, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, low and smug,

"Let’s go home, y/n."

Star Gazing

Xavier x Reader

Sweet nights, him holding your hand, the world didn’t matter. You were both on the ground staring up at the stars, your boyfriend, Xavier, gently rubbed small circles on your hand.  Everything was perfect, he loved telling you about the different stars and constellations, you've never seen your boyfriend so happy. 

“Look! There, the constellation of Leo,” Xavier said happily as he pointed at the stars. You tried to see it, but you only saw many stars.  He didn’t have to know that, though; he was having the time of his life, and that was the only thing that mattered to you currently.   

“Did you know that Leo was one of the earliest recognized constellations in the sky?  Back then, the summer solstice was observed exactly in this constellation.  Which means it begins the flood of the Nile in Egypt.”   He said as he looked at you, as he was so eager to show you his knowledge. 

You nodded, showing that you were listening to his talk as he yapped about the stars.  “Is that so?” You responded, looking into his eyes.  He nodded eagerly as he smiled again, you saw the little sparks of light of his evol dancing around you guys.  He was telling you random facts or just amazing things about space and different exoplanets that exist.  

“There's a theory of a 9th planet, yet they say that this planet is far away and it is bigger than Jupiter.  This theory was started due to you needing things on two sides to balance something out. Which would be the same as the solar system.” He explained, looking far into the distance.  Silence grew between both of you only the wind was heard.  Then he turned around to look at you. 

“My star…” He said, looking at you, his eyes showed a soft look at you. “There are billions of different stars out there..Yet I found the only star that really matters to me.”  He spoke gently, his words with deep affection as he gently put a strand of hair behind your ear. 

᧔o᧓ comfort .ᐟ

xavier love and deepspace fluff/slight angst! x female reader. comfort fic. reader is in a deep depression. ong this is js based on me. she feels so empty but keeps going like a robot. xavier helps her feel better. i just wrote this for comfort to myself because i havent been feeling well at all.

Xavier didn’t question why today you seemed to crave his touch and attention more than usual. Normally, affection flowed freely between you and your boyfriend, but lately, an unshakable heaviness had settled in your heart, dimming your once vibrant spirit. Despite your unwavering love for Xavier, nurtured and deepened through time, the weight of depression had become an unwelcome companion.

You lounged in the bedroom of your shared apartment, having not left bed since the previous afternoon. Xavier noticed the deterioration, how you stayed awake till morning, slept through the day, and needed reminders to eat. When he checked on you, concern etched in his features, you waved him off with a feeble excuse about needing a break from hunting, urging him to focus on work.

How was he to continue his day knowing the woman he cherished was in pain? He knew better than to pry when you weren’t ready to open up, fearing it might worsen your state. Yet today, when he returned home, you greeted him at the doorway in one of his hoodies and shorts, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Miss you,” you whispered, seeking solace in Xavier’s embrace. He held you tightly, his voice a comforting balm as he asked, “How are you today, my love?” Tears welled in your eyes at his tenderness, and as they spilled over, Xavier gently lifted you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

His murmured reassurances were soft as he laid you down, his hand soothingly rubbing your back. “I’m here. I won’t leave,” he promised, his caring gaze a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. Gratefulness swelled within you for a boyfriend as attentive and loving as Xavier.

Quickly shedding his work clothes for comfort, Xavier slid under the covers beside you. His skilled hands encircled your waist as he drew you close, pressing kisses to the crown of your head. You clung to his scent, fingers tightening on his shirt as if afraid he might vanish. Tears continued to streak your cheeks, each one a testament to the ache in Xavier’s heart. He leaned closer, kissing away your tears, silently urging you to speak.

“Sorry for pushing you away lately,” you finally began, your voice cracking with emotion. Xavier shook his head gently, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears. “You don’t need to apologise, angel.”

“I feel so lost, Xavi... I don’t understand what I’m feeling... I love you, that hasn’t changed, but I feel drained, empty. I feel like I’m just going through the motions, like a hollow shell. I push you away because I’m terrified of dragging you into this void with me. I feel selfish that you take care of me like this, like some sort of burden.”

Xavier listened quietly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. When you finished, he caressed your hips tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Never feel terrified about ‘dragging’ me anywhere. Whatever you’re going through, I want to be there with you. I love you deeply, and I’ll be patient. If you need space, I’ll give it. If you want me close, I’ll stay. If you want to stay in bed, wear my clothes, I’ll support you every step.”

His eyes held yours with unwavering sincerity, offering you his heart and strength. You hiccupped through a smile, feeling a weight lift as Xavier’s words enveloped you in warmth and security. “I love you,” he whispered again, his touch tender against your tear-streaked face.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, leaning into his touch. Xavier kissed you lovingly, pouring his heart into the moment, promising silently to be your anchor in the storm until the darkness lifted.

“If you feel like a void, let me fill it with everything I have to give,” he murmured against your lips, sealing the vow with a kiss.

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS AND KISSES

warning(s) mention of insomnia, comfort, established relationship, pet names, food/eating, physical touch and affection

synopsis xavier gets a call from you in the middle of the night. you have a last minute sleepover to help soothe nerves and connect more with your silver-haired lover! . ⟡ authors note a request from @sadfragilegirl hope you enjoy and sorry for the long wait! ⟡

the relationship between you and xavier was a new thing; a bit awkward and fidgety in the beginning, but blossoming and soft. you were used to his distinct smell of lavender and fresh laundry drifting through your apartment, the twinkle of his blue eyes, and his soft laugh that spread sparks of warmth through your body.

tonight, you were missing his presence. your apartment felt foreign and the silence all too loud. you bit your lip in the darkness of your room, finger hovering over the call button of his contact. you both had just finished a hard mission earlier today and decided to part ways for the night to rest and recuperate.

but the spot beside you in the bed felt too cold, empty of his long limbs and soothing voice lulling you to sleep. now, that sleep refused to come, and you tossed and turned until you finally bit the bullet and pressed call.

“what’s wrong?” his voice, still thick with sleep, immediately answered the phone. you could distinctly hear the rustle of linen bedsheets shift as he sat up, patiently waiting for your response.

you chewed your lip before answering, embarrassed beyond belief and nervous that you completely interrupted his rest. “I…well, I can’t sleep. was wondering if you could come over tonight—?”

you waited with bated breath, heart beating in your chest as there was a pause. then, “I’m heading over now. want me to bring some snacks?” you didn’t even have to respond— you heard the rustle of your favorite chips he kept stocked in his kitchen, making you giggle softly.

“see you soon, xavi.”

“I’ll be over soon.”

you occupied yourself with tidying up a bit before his arrival, setting comfy blankets and pillows onto the couch. you both loved soft mood lighting, no glaring overhead lighting to be seen, so you even lit a few candles around the surfaces of your apartment.

soon, you heard the distinct rap of your boyfriend at the door. you couldn't help a little thrill buzz through you in anticipation, quickly padding to the door and opening it with a flourish.

there stood your loverboy in fluffy checkered pajama pants and a plain white shirt, still rubbing sleep from his hazy blue eyes. his arms were wrapped around a bag of chips and a blanket.

you grinned up at him and a loopy smile greeted you back, as you then pulled him into the apartment with a click of the door. “y'know I gave you a key so you could come in yourself,” you teased lightly, watching as xavier dumped the assortment of objects onto the dining room table before turning back to you.

“I know. but still…” he murmured back, still wiping at his eyes before wrapping his arms around you for a hug. you greatly accepted it, immediately feeling better with his arms around you.

“I didn’t disturb you— did I?” you whispered after a beat, still a bit nervous at disturbing your cat-like boyfriend from his slumber.

in response, you felt the chuckle rumble through his chest before you heard it. his arms pulled you impossibly closer and lithe fingers soothed down your waist.

“silly, of course not. I missed you too, it was hard to sleep in my bed.” he confessed easily, patting your head affectionately when you pulled away to glance up at him. love is what you found in his eyes, steady and pure and adoring.

“so what should we do first?” he mused, yawning into your ear and practically leaning his full body weight onto you. you fought a dopey smile from breaking across your face, enamored by his relaxed aura he openly showed to you.

“skincare!” you clapped your hands together, startling him a bit as you pulled him to the bathroom. you pushed a pink my melody headband onto his head, securing his silver locks back. you fitted a kuromi one onto your head as he stared into the mirror.

“why do I get the pink one?” he questioned after a beat.

“because you’re adorable and cute, just like my melody.” you answered smoothly, grinning through the mirror as xavier’s cheeks immediately blushed a light pink. he rubbed the back of his neck as you laughed, setting the various bottles and ointment on the sink. he followed your instructions slowly, until you both walked out with matching hello kitty face masks.

“xavi, look over here!” you hummed excitedly. when he glanced over, you quickly whipped out your phone and took a picture with lightning quick reflexes.

he let out a startled gasp, playfully reaching for your phone as you laughed and twisted away from him. “hey!”

“now all our coworkers will know how cute you are at home. not the stuck-up they think, huh?” you purred, smiling as xavier groaned and slumped onto you again. you stumbled for a second under his weight, laughing once you realized this was another one of his tactics to get you to hand over the condemning evidence.

“I’m just joking. I have to keep your cute side all to myself,” you pouted, setting the picture as his contact photo instead. “this’ll do.”

xavier perked back up at that, but not before pinching your cheek as a warning. “‘m a little hungry. let’s make some cookies?” the silver-haired boy piped up, pulling you into the kitchen as you nodded eagerly. there was no way you were going to turn down his chocolate chip cookies— you had quickly realized that he was an astounding cook, able to make most anything from scratch, and his cookies were the best.

you hummed out a soft alexa, play favorite comfort song as you both maneuvered around each other. naturally, you found yourself sitting on the countertop watching as his distinct silver-hair moved back and forth. light conversation easily flowed between you both, and all you could feel was peace.

soon xavier came over to you, slotting between your legs and holding a finished cookie to your lips in a silent request. you obediently bit down, chocolate warmth and a nutty goodness spreading throughout your tastebuds. xavier’s eyes twinkled at your satisfactory hum of approval, popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

after removing the face masks and setting the cookies on a plate to cool, you both ended up wrapped in a shared blanket on the couch. a movie cut down on low played quietly in the background as you snuggled up closer to xavier’s distinct warmth.

“thank you for coming over,” you whispered up at him. he hummed back softly, setting his chin on your head as he gazed down at you.

twinkling eyes met you back. “of course. anytime you need me, I’ll be here. now let’s get some sleep.”

and sleep came easy again.

© SWEETEAAS 2024 do not repost/edit/copy my works. જ⁀➴ reblogs are appreciated!

LET THE LIGHT IN 𖤓

warning(s): anxiety attack, overthinking, rushed thoughts and emotions, use of y/n, angst/comfort

synopsis: xavier isn’t new to all of this, but he’s been noticing that the demanding pace of hunting Wanderers is starting to take a toll on you, his missions partner. he finds you spiraling and tries to assist, as best he can, whilst also trying to convey just how much you truly mean to him. ⟡ authors note he’s so yummy clueless boy with a soft spot for you supreme i love him okay byee ⟡

you can’t breathe.

you can’t breathe and your heart is beating frantically, trapped, a little bird against a cage, frenzied. you can’t breathe and the world has just turned on its axis.

your thoughts are ramped and you can’t breathe and your chest hurts and there’s a million things to do and — oh, what about that paperwork strewn across your desk, waiting to be filed? or that document you still need to do research on, and oh, didn’t captain jenna inform earlier that the squad had another meeting in ten, and didn’t you plan lunch with a fellow hunter at 3:00 and —

you feel a hand on your shoulder.

you turn and his blue eyes ground you.

his usual stoic face, flat of most emotions, is pinched at the corners. his eyes flicker across your features, scanning for physical injuries and the cause of your stress.

“are you hurt? y/n?”

he found you hunched in a corner, form tight and shoulders shaking. you may break any minute now, the tampered dam in your chest pushing and pushing and pushing till you feel you may choke.

xavier’s hand is warm, too warm on your shoulder.

you pull away from him. his voice keeps you close. you know how you sound right now, how your own voice sounds shaky and an absolute mess. “I— I can’t” your voice breaks off into a sob, and he’s there. “no— no it’s okay. it’s okay. what happened? I’m here, okay?”

his words sounded fuzzy in your head, distant and drowned in a fizz of bubbles. you take small, hiccuping gulps of air. you feel small. this was embarrassing. why are you crying right now, in front of xavier, of all people? he’s the top hunter in the association, unparalleled strength and a intuitive knack for the blade. he rarely ever shows signs of strain, which only makes you self-conscious as his blue eyes continue to flicker over you in worrying silence.

you jolted as you heard boots click outside, coming towards the break room you both were in. furiously you tried to wipe your tear-stained face to no avail, your shoulders still shaking. xavier raised his hand to you, hovering, hesitating, before softly murmuring “I’m going to get us out of here, okay?”

you felt a tingling sensation along your body and a white flashing light — when you blinked open your eyes, you found yourself sitting on a plush beige couch. the lighting was low, save for a few lamps and the distinctive smell of lavender you had grown accustomed to.

did he. . . just teleport you to his house?

your eyes flickered along the cozy display of warm mood lighting and modest decorating. in another situation, you would’ve laughed at how his home so easily mirrored him. you were definitely avoiding xavier’s presence, but he didn’t demand your attention. he had silently gone in the kitchen, returning with a steaming mug of tea and a box of tissues.

he sat down a respectful distance next to you, setting the tea on the wooden table in front of you and handing you a tissue. you silently eyed the cat themed coaster as he did so — cute.

“. . .y/n?”

you bawled up the white tissue into your fist, already feeling your bottom lip betray you and quiver. something about the way he uttered your name, soft and careful and delicate and full of concern, broke you. those blue eyes steady on you — a brilliant sky waiting for you to jump. to fall.

to trust him, fully.

the aloof man had a pull on you that you couldn’t describe in words. at first it was simple admiration as a fellow hunter. . .but it had blossomed into something more. you wanted comfort — you wanted him.

so you fell.

you collapsed into his chest, voice cracking and breaking along the seams as you sobbed, soaking the front of his hunters uniform. you expected him to pull away any minute now, grossed by your waterworks.

xavier didn’t. instead, his melodic voice quietly shushed you, rubbing circles into the small of your back. he pulled you closer, tucking your head underneath his chin in a smooth motion. his palms no longer felt too hot, but warm, familiar.

his voice spoke, both quiet and somehow taking up all the space in the room. “all of this hunter business can get to be a lot. for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. the best one. truly, I do.”

he held you together, molding your cracks with warmth and light and love in the form of his small smile.

you leaned off his chest to fully regard him, knowing you looked a puffy mess but not carrying, lost in the smell of him and the movement of his chest underneath the pads of your fingers. you wanted to hang onto every word he was saying now — breathed in the little enclave you two created.

“so don’t suffer in silence anymore, okay?” his cheeks were dusted a light pink, moving a piece of hair from your face. “this might be inappropriate for the job but, well, I… I care about you. more than a missions partner. more than I can ever put into words.”

his eyes were different, softer, kinder — the same look you thought you imagined he would give you after a successful mission together. he would always quickly look away if you caught him, rubbing at his nose with that nervous habit of his.

“xavier… what are you trying to say?” you croaked out hesitantly, heart dangerously beating in your chest as he comfortingly ran a hand down your stiff arm.

he cleared his throat, pale skin flushing a bit warmer at your direct stare. “I’m saying… let me take care of you, y/n. not just in battle but everyday of your life, of our lives.”

tears pricked in your eyes again, and you nodded, not trusting your voice as you looked into his blue eyes. he let out a content sigh in response, pulling you closer to snuggle his face against your ear.

“I don’t doubt your capabilities xavier, but will you truly be able to take full care of me? I really like those arcade plushies,” you teased lightly after a beat, feeling your body relax into his.

his eyes sparkled with mirth at your lighthearted joke, tightening his grip around you with a small laugh.

“…maybe you’ll have to get the plushies yourself. I’ll accompany you anytime for moral support. now, how about we call in sick for the day and take a nap together?”

“gladly.”

© SWEETEAAS 2024 do not repost/edit/copy my works. જ⁀➴ reblogs are appreciated!

(a.n) — my first time writing for love & deepspace ! this game has me in a chokehold and I wanted to take a spin at writing the bunny boy :3 personally, im on chapter 6 so sorry if there’s some inconsistency in his character — this is simply my take on him <3

— taglist: @prttyangelz @elusivemoon to feed my fellow love & deepspace fanatics (degenerates) 😌

It's just one of those times of the month... where it just HURTS and all you want is to just be in bed and hug something comfy _(:‚‹」∠)_

𝙃𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙈𝘽𝙀𝙍𝙎 (QP1)

Decided to post my brainrot/self-indulgent quick prompt on how the LIs handle MC's period... because, well, I’m dealing with the emotional rollercoaster myself right now...

After a long day at work, you step outside, only to find him waiting for you. Confused, you approach, wondering why he’s here, and he studies you intently before checking his phone.

It’s the first day of your period.

Xavier brightens (not literally) the moment he sees you.

“Hey. How was work? Are you feeling okay?”

You tilt your head, confused by his sudden concern. Before you can ask, Xavier glances at his phone, scrolling for a moment before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

“It’s, uh… that time of the month, right?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant. “I just wanted to check if you needed anything.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulls a small bag from behind him. Inside are your favorite comfort snacks, a fluffy heat pack, and a bottle of warm tea.

“I wasn’t sure what would help, so I got a little bit of everything.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes full of warmth. “And, uh… if you need distractions, I found a cute cat café nearby. Thought it might help.”

His concern is pure and unassuming, and he’s not teasing, not overbearing, just genuinely wanting to make you feel better.

Zayne watches you closely, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. When you look at him confused, he sighs, as if expecting this reaction.

“You tend to forget to take care of yourself,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and glancing at his notes. “It’s the first day of your period.”

You initially assumed it was just a regular stomach ache.

“You usually get cramps around this time. Have you eaten?” He states it like a fact, like something he’s committed to memory as part of his duty to take care of you.

Before you can even respond, he pulls a small bag from behind him—inside are heat patches, painkillers, and your favorite snacks.

“I don’t want you passing out on the way home,” Zayne says, voice gentle. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”

He doesn’t make a big deal of it. He just makes sure you’re taken care of. Because, to him, that’s what love is.

Rafayel doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. As soon as you approach, he checks his phone before speaking.

“You’re late.”

You blinked in confusion. “Late for what?”

He looks at you, unimpressed. “To take care of yourself, obviously.”

Without another word, he hands you a neatly packed bag. Inside is a precise selection of herbal teas, pain relief patches, and a carefully balanced meal.

“I researched the best remedies,” he states matter-of-factly. “And that is you should rely on me more.”

Well… it’s the closest thing to an admission that he worries about you... very much.

Sylus grins the moment you spot him.

“Took you long enough.” He lifts his phone, scrolling lazily before stopping. “Looks like I got the timing just right.”

You frown. “Timing for what?”

He slings an arm over your shoulders, walking you toward his parked motorcycle. “For me to kidnap you. Thought I’d save you from work misery and get you some comfort food.”

You halted him with a frown, and he released you.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m a very attentive man.” He crosses his arms, tilting his head. “You always get extra grumpy around this time, so I figured I’d do something about it.”

“I'm not grumpy—” Your words were cut off as he gently patted your head.

“I got a whole day planned… comfort food, bad movies, and all the attention you can handle.”

Before you can protest, he grabs the helmet and secures it on you, his usual cocky smirk softening just a bit.

“Don’t argue, sweetie—just let me spoil you today.”

He might play it cool, but the fact that he remembered your cycle down to the day? That says more than his words ever could.

Caleb holds up his phone, wiggling it between his fingers like it’s some grand reveal.

“Today’s a special day.”

You just stare at him, then he leans in closer, voice dropping into a whisper.

“Pipsqueak, don’t tell me you forgot again.”

You looked confused as he let out a low chuckle.

“Your period started, didn’t it?” His teasing grin widens when you gaped at him. “What, don’t look at me like that. I keep track of the important things.”

He tucks his phone away and steps closer, his hand ghosting over your lower back.

“I was wondering if you’d need me to carry you home. Or…” He leans in, lips just by your ear. “...if you’d rather be pampered in bed.”

You gave him a quick smack on the arm, earning a chuckle from him. Then, he ruffles your hair before slipping a warm drink into your hands.

“Drink up. I can’t have you suffering on my watch.”

Hope you all like it, and maybe it helps a bit with period stress and discomfort too! Which one do you like most, and why? Let me know!

How to take care of your on-period girlfriend

During that time of the month, you receive special treatment from him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader

with Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne and Caleb.

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, pain & comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k4

ಇ. Note: Some details in this fic are inspired by in game Tender Moments.

ಇ. Requested by Mỗi ngày nhặt một anh làm chồng and an anonymous reader on my ask box.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such discomfort in your lower belly and an aching feeling throughout your body. You knew it was that time of the month; in fact, it was a few days late due to recent work-related stress. You didn't expect to have your period today, so waking up at this hour with discomfort all over your body was quite uncomfortable to you.

Your hand found the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Rafayel has left you several messages and missed calls. Perhaps you fell asleep without realizing it due to fatigue. You decided to get up and use the bathroom for a while. That's when you discovered you were missing what you needed most at home.

You grumbled and switched the phone screen back on. You were reluctant to disturb him at this time, especially because he was attending an exhibition in another city and you were not sure if he had returned yet. But you were upset and missed the times like this when he took care of you. Just before dialing his number, your phone rang.

"I've seen you online for a while. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Rafayel's voice rang out from the other end of the line, full of energy still. You just answered with a few short phrases, summarizing the current situation for him and told him that you were about to go out and get the necessary supplies.

"Just stay there." Rafayel stopped you. "Do not go anywhere. Wait for me."

You were a little confused why he had told you to stay home. But just now, you were too tired to have the strength to ask. Besides, you could not go out in this state, when you just wanted to faint on the floor.

You washed and changed into a new set of pajamas. Luckily, you found a spare sanitary pad left over in the closet that was sufficient for your needs. As soon as you got out of the bathroom, you heard the front door open. Rafayel appeared there, with a bunch of bags wrapped in both hands.

“How are you now? Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, primarily to reassure him. But glancing at your pallid face, he knew you were lying. And you were taken aback when he arrived here, at this hour.

“Didn't you leave Linkon for the exhibition a few days ago?”

“That event was nothing special. I was on my way home when you called. I stopped to get you a few things before coming here.”

"Just a few things?" You gazed at the mound of items Rafayel had just purchased and set on the floor. "Why does it look like you bought everything in the store?"

Rafayel grinned at you. He softly aided you in getting down, leaning your back against the cushion and placing your feet on the couch. After that, he began taking out everything from those bags, which startled you a lot.

He had purchased you sanitary products in the form of pads, panties, tampons and even menstrual cups. One of each type and brand. There were also several pain relievers, vitamins and more. When he noticed your amazement, he said:

“Since I don't know which type you usually use, I bought one of each.”

Rafayel laughed. And you, even though your face was pale, felt so content due to his silliness.

“You could have just asked me.” You responded.

“I won't be able to see your surprised smile then. Since I've made you laugh, I must be a fantastic boyfriend, right?”

You slumped entirely back on the couch, still laughing but murmuring: "You must be a fantastic fool."

Lemurians' bodies are not like humans, you appreciated Rafayel's efforts to learn about your cycle and care for you in this manner. He plopped down on the couch next to you, lifted your legs and placed them on his lap. His slender hands rubbed them gently.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt much. Just mild cramps.”

Rafayel nodded. He still remembered you often got cramps in your legs every time your period came. He continued massaging your legs before moving on to your tummy.

“What about this place?”

When your lower abdominal contractions resumed, you let out a tiny cry. Rafayel immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“I-It's okay…” You tried to smile. “I'll probably feel better after a good rest.”

Rafayel's expression shifted slightly. His hand returned to your lower abdomen, continuing to gently rub it. “There you go again. Just say you're hurt when you're in pain. No need to try to act strong in front of me. Did you forget about our agreement last month? Whenever you have your period and are so weak like this, I will become your bodyguard.”

In the lying position, you could see half of Rafayel's face illuminated in the warm glow of the nightlight. His eyes were both concentrated and kind as he continued to ease the pain in your stomach. Suddenly, you couldn't help but jab your finger into his face. He pouted and puffed out both cheeks. Just like a puffer fish.

“Okay, it's all my fault. Now I will let Rafayel take care of me without worrying that I'd bother you.”

"Good. Even though I don't know how to take care of humans, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!”

Rafayel joyfully grasped your hand and kissed the palm to make it less cold. He continued rubbing your abdomen, singing a melody that put you at peace.

“Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here, right next to you.”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 

As a child, you imagined your knight arriving in shining armor on a white horse.

It turned out that your knight did not have a horse, but rather a white Hunter's uniform and a coat that he had just removed to wrap around your waist.

It happened when Xavier and you had just finished dealing with the Wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon City. Late at night, an unusual incident occurred. You hurriedly arrived to take on the task, unaware as that time of the month had come.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied with work to remember when your period would start. After finishing the task, you were dismayed to realize that the blood on your dress was not the blood of the Wanderers at all.

Xavier discovered it through your frightened eyes and trembling body. Immediately, he took off his coat, wrapped it around your waist to cover the blood stains, and even carried you a long way home on his back.

Your arms were wrapped around Xavier's neck, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. You felt so embarrassed to let him catch you in such a messy state. However, Xavier continued to soothe and console you. He said:

"It's not a problem at all. You don't need to be embarrassed about this very normal thing."

Even though it still did not feel right, you said nothing more. You were exhausted enough, and your aching body was screaming for a rest.

Xavier took you back to your apartment. You thanked him profusely and quickly went to take a shower. After that, sensing the silence outside, you assumed that Xavier had returned to his home. Unexpectedly, you caught a pack of painkillers on the table. Next to it was his phone.

You did not intend to peek, but because the phone screen was still on, you accidentally saw the content that Xavier was reading: How to take care of your girlfriend during her periods.

You chuckled to yourself. It turned out Xavier was learning how to take care of you. Then, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the phone back.

“Are you done? Take your pill now."

Xavier gave you a cup of warm water. You smiled: "I thought you went home."

He slowly dropped himself into the seat next to you. “You are so hurt. How can I go home?”

"I'm alright. I'm going to sleep soon, tomorrow I'll feel better.”

Xavier did not seem to take your word for it. He grasped your hands.

“Aren't you going to be in pain for two or three days to a week?”

“Did you just read that on the internet?”

Xavier pondered for a time before nodding: “I... am not very familiar with these things. But I'll stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile. Xavier got you a painkiller. After taking it he let you lean on the sofa, held your hands tightly, rubbed and breathed on them to bring some warmth.

After a while, your lower abdomen started to hurt. Xavier expressed concern as he noticed your expression:

“It hurts a lot, doesn't it? May I give you a massage?”

He waited for your approval with a nod before placing his hand on your tummy. He gently stroked it clockwise and inquired: "Is this better?"

You shook your head. One hand pointed to the lower abdomen, somewhat below where Xavier's hand was lying. “Here.”

“I see.”

Xavier's fingers went lower, causing you to flush slightly. Xavier said again:

“I only have two hands. One is warming your right hand, the other is massaging your belly. What should I do with your left hand?"

You gazed down at your hand. It wasn't chilly enough to warrant staying warm, but Xavier insisted on it. He also came up with a new idea:

“How about you put your left hand on me.”

You were astonished for a second. "Put it… on you?"

"Yes. Here..." Xavier raised his shirt slightly, showing his abdomen, and glanced at you with anticipation. You sheepishly placed your hand there, and he pulled his shirt down again. “Is it warm?”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. The warmth from his body made you feel heated within. Xavier proceeded to rub your hand and belly. Your hand, which had been put on his body for a short period of time, now became restless. It crept gently upward, to where you could feel his heartbeat quickening.

Xavier stared at you, considered for a time, then said nothing. Since he had let it slide, your hand glided down, past a layer of firm muscles, and then a bit further…

“If you continue to be so naughty, I'll get angry.”

Xavier leaned close to your ear and murmured, his tone irritated, but his gestures seemed to lean heavily on you.

Your fingers twitched slightly as you attentively watched Xavier's slightly furrowed expression. He went on to say: "When I'm angry, it will be quite terrifying. So be a good girl for me.”

Your hand, which was resting in Xavier's, was drawn to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses against it with heated breath. His eyes darkened somewhat; perhaps it was simply the light. You whispered an apology and returned your hand to its previous position. Xavier gazed at you with a small smile.

"If you're sleepy, just lean on me."

"Yes." You responded gently, placing your head on his shoulder and yawning loudly. No matter what the situation was, with him by your side, you would always be safe.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 

You were astonished when Zayne showed up at your door late at night after his shift. Seeing your pale and fragile appearance, he asked you to go to the bedroom for some rest. After faltering a few steps, you nearly collapsed to the floor.

Fortunately, Zayne's dominant arms caught you in time. With one quick movement, he lifted you up with ease.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

Zayne said, and you obediently followed. He carried you to your room, put you on the bed, and drew the blanket over you.

"Give me your hands." You placed your hands on his. Zayne stroked your hands briefly to warm them up before placing them beneath the blanket. "I will make you some tea. Remember to keep yourself warm."

You nodded sheepishly. Your eyes followed Zayne's wide back as it vanished beyond the bedroom door, and you wondered how he knew you were on your period.

You were not convinced this was a coincidence since Zayne prepared you a cup of jujube tea that he had brought with him. He used to give you that drink on days like this. He said it would make the pain less severe. And it was true.

"Drink this. Then eat the red dates, too."

Zayne handed you a cup of tea that he had just blown to cool down the heat. He sat down next to you on the bed. You ate a jujube, turned to look at him, and noticed his palm was already open in front of you.

“Spill it out here.” He said. You looked at him for a moment and then did what you were told. Zayne smiled with satisfaction, patted on your head, then took back the almost empty cup of tea from your hand to it on the night table.

“Feeling better?” Zayne inquired pleasantly as he assisted you in lying back on the bed. 

You smiled faintly and said:

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit better.”

He laughed at your childish behavior. “If it hurts too much, you'll have to go to the hospital.”

You frowned and shook your head vigorously.

“Don't want to? If so, you need to get a good night's sleep. When you wake up, you will definitely be better.”

You gently tugged on Zayne's arm, whispering: "So... Can I get special care from Dr. Zayne? That way I'll get better faster..."

He looked at you with smiling eyes then nodded. You shifted slightly to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him to lie next to you. He instructed. He said:

“Turn around. Then slightly bend your knees closer to your stomach.”

You did what he told you. Your back turned to him, and very soon, you felt the warmth from his body enveloping you.

Zayne embraced you from behind. One of his hands went under the pillow to lift your head up a bit, the other was placed on your stomach. His hand appeared to be large enough to cover your entire stomach. With a delicate touch, his hand began to travel in a circular rhythm on your lower belly.

At first, you felt ticklish and heated given the embarrassment caused by his touch. In addition, Zayne's steady breath was blowing on your hair from behind. He asked:

“Feeling better yet?”

"Yes." You replied softly. “Doctor Zayne's hand is so warm…”

You caught his quiet laughter. He pressed his body closer to you, while you just wanted to hide your face in the pillow. Then, you suddenly remembered what you had wanted to ask him just now:

“How did you know my period would start tonight? You even brought me tea.”

“Can you guess how?”

“Hmm… Let's see. You knew the exact date last month even though I didn't tell you about it... And the month before that too..."

Doctor Zayne allowed you to think about it for a minute. Zayne's knowledge of the days your menstrual cycle would start was most likely due to his perfect memory. Thinking about this, you turned around and his lips brushed your forehead.

"Eh…"

You froze for a second. Doctor Zayne gazed at you. He was so near that you forgot what you were about to say.

"You've got the answer yet?"

Your face became as crimson as the jujube tea. His breath danced over your cheeks as you responded:

“Um… I already knew the answer… Dr. Zayne is so busy, yet he still remembers my cycle?”

“I remember everything related to you.” Zayne spoke, his expression very serious and full of concern. You reluctantly turned aside.

"T-Thank you…"

You noticed Zayne's body pressing closer to yours. He buried his face in your hair and the nape of your neck, his hand continuing to rub your lower abdomen. He whispered:

“Get well soon. Although I hope that what makes you better is not painkillers or tea… but me…”

The corners of your mouth stretched out, smiling so widely that you could not close it. You grabbed his rough hand that was placed on your stomach and replied:

“Doctor Zayne has always been my elixir!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

The door to your room opened in the middle of the night, and Caleb emerged, blocking the entire entrance. He was holding a hot compress bag, a glass of milk, and sanitary pads.

"I'm here to rescue you, Pipsqueak."

Caleb turned on the nightlight to see your pale face and unkempt hair. You were writhing on the bed, in anguish from your period. You could only send him a text message with the strawberry emoji and a sobbing expression. He arrived at your bedside about five minutes later.

He assisted you up, gave you some painkillers, and then pressed the hot compress bag on your stomach. You frowned.

"Do you need to be so harsh with someone who is sick?"

"It's on you for not listening to me. Even though you knew you were about to start your period, you still had the urge to drink lots of cold drinks. You only listen to me when you're in pain?"

You grimaced and rolled over on the bed. Due to your sudden movement, you got cramps in your shoulder blades. You cried loudly for help. Caleb just sighed in helplessness. He helped you lie upright again and rubbed your shoulders.

“If I'm not here, who would you whine to?”

Since you knew Caleb was home, you texted him. However, you did not say anything after that. The anguish had utterly drained you. Caleb couldn't stand to torment you any longer after knowing about your situation. He leaned you on his lap and helped you sip your pain reliever and warm milk. The hand on your back kept rubbing you.

"Is it so painful? "Can you try to get some sleep?"

You replied by shaking your head. Caleb patted you some more. "Then I will stay here with you. Okay?"

This time you nodded. Caleb drew you closer. He removed the hot compress bag from your tummy and began rubbing it with his hand. All of a sudden, your childhood came back, when you had your period for the first time and Grandma was not home; there was only Caleb. Even though you had learnt in advance that all girls would have to go through her period every month, you were nevertheless terrified when it arrived. Fortunately, Caleb was by your side. He raced to get sanitary pads for you, poured hot tea, and helped you warm your hands and feet.

At that time, you were really timid. And perhaps from there you saw the differences between you and Caleb. Both of you were no longer innocent children. This unusual feeling also steadily grew since. 

"Lucky you're here…" You whispered, a hand softly tapped on Caleb's.

"Of course. I'm always by your side, pipsqueak." He responded, then lavished you with several delicate kisses on your hair.

"Caleb… Don't disappear, okay?"

Surprised, he said, "Where can I disappear to?I still have to comfort you with your favorite meals tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" You instantly recalled having a date with Caleb at the amusement park. But this unexpected menstrual cycle ruined that plan. "I'm sorry…"

"No problem." Caleb stroked you on the head. “You can compensate me another day. For now, you just need to rest well.”

“But I still feel like it's my fault… It's been a while since you could have a day off, yet we can't go out…”

Caleb smiled gently. He tucked your loose hair behind your ear. When he looked into your eyes, he said:

“If you're bored, we can watch the series you like together tomorrow. Or play some games.”

Upon hearing that, your mood brightened a little. You loved spending with Caleb, whether it was a date outside or just hanging out at home. They all brought joy to you.

Caleb placed a kiss on your forehead. He went on:

“Don't think too much about it. Go to sleep now so you'll have the strength to bother me again tomorrow."

You laughed. Caleb was always such a teaser, but that was the reason why you were so happy around him.

Coaxing you for a while, when you started to fall into a deep sleep, Caleb whispered softly in your ear:

“Being able to come home and be with my pipsqueak, that's the best kind of vacation for me.”

hi this might be a strange ask😔 as a girly who bleeds like a faucet and experiences tremendous pain when on her period, i wonder how the Lads men would react to a blood stain when they wake up in the morning? And take care of their beloved having cramps and other symptoms... okay thank you!!🩷🩷

Period Stains + Period Comfort- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader summary: when you stain the bed sheets/ blankets + period comfort genre: fluff fluff + comfort a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ dun worry this is not a weird ask at all bc i genuinely think they're gonna be so caring this time (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ the reaction to the blood stain is below the headcanons ! i hope it was alright and that you enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

This absolute angel will be taking care of you every single day of the week. He sometimes can get a little confused because your cramps can be unpredictable. Sometimes they fade away and other times they return immediately so he’s sticking by your side the entire time until every single one of them goes away. From snuggles to feeding you to your favorite meals and snacks until you need a little space from him. He hates to see you in pain and he’ll do everything he can to make this entire week easier for you.

He might go overboard on buying your favorite snacks that you two might not even finish the entire month. He might even buy something on his way there that reminded him of you as a little gift to make you cheer up

Whenever cramps hit, his hand gently spreads across your lower abdomen, soothing away the tension and untangling the knots in your muscles. He kneads softly and if it’s not enough, he’ll lay in between your legs, offering a comforting pressure and his warmth to relieve the pain away. He'll leave some kisses on your lower abdomen and stomach even though it might not fully relieve the pain.

When your mood swings hit, he’s never fazed at all. He’ll listen patiently, letting you talk through your feelings and every frustration that comes up. To him, it’s never a burden.

────

The iron grip that Xavier had around you in the morning was strong, even more so than usual when you try to slip out of bed. As much as you want to stay in his arms, you notice a glimpse of a faint stain at the sheets from last night reminding you of your period. Gently, you try to wake him up, planting soft kisses along his skin and caressing his cheek.

“Five more minutes..” He mumbles, nuzzling into your touch. A warm blush spread across your face as you told him that the sheets had been stained. Slowly, his eyes flutter open while loosening his hold on you. As you both got up and started to pull the sheets off, he stopped you, shaking his head softly. “It’s alright. Go freshen up,” He smiles softly, “I’ll take care of the sheets.”

You quickly freshen up in the bathroom, hurrying to change out of your pajamas and into your new ones, hoping to at least help Xavier with the bed. But as soon as you step out, the sheets have already changed and the bed looks as fresh as it did when you first laid down. Even the plushies on your side of the bed were neatly placed back.

Xavier soothes out the sheets, his focus shifting towards you the moment you walk in. His expression softens with concern, “How are you feeling? Does it hurt a lot?” Before you can answer, he’s guiding you back carefully toward the bed, his hand resting on your lower abdomen with a comforting pressure. “How about we order in  some food? Anything you’re craving? Pick whatever you want.”

Zayne:

When Zayne is around during your period, you don’t have to worry about anything. The house will be clean, meals will be made or delivered, and you’ll be fully cared for.

Despite his busy schedule, Zayne always makes sure to take care of you as much as he can. You don't have to worry about running out of supplies or sweets because he's already gotten them for you. and Zayne never runs out of sweets. He’ll go through his calendar to make sure you have everything you need before your period starts. He’ll have everything you need such as things like pads/ tampons, heating pads, or medicine to ease the discomfort.

Sore boobs? Bra is unclipped, removed, and his hands are quickly on them, kneading them softly and gently. Whispers in your ear, "Is this alright?" "How does this feel?" which makes ovulation come by way quicker

Whenever nausea hits you during your period, he’s quick to make you a soothing cup of ginger or peppermint tea, or anything that will help you settle your stomach. When hot flashes happen, he’ll become your personal ice back to help you cool off.

During his breaks, he’ll check in on you and to see if you’d like a sweet treat later when he gets home. Even if you don’t want any, he’ll make sure to pick something up for you.

He also shares some helpful tips he’s learned about menstruation, like how to position a pillow a certain way in between your legs to ease your cramps when he’s not around and when he is there, he’ll replace the pillow with himself. If you’re up to it, he might suggest some light yoga or some walking. He’s learned that certain stretches can relieve pelvic pressure and he’ll do them all with you.

────

Your eyes flutter open, the comforting warmth of Zayne enveloping beside you. His hand rests gently on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles as he reads. You groan softly, a sharp familiar ache stirs on your lower abdomen, hoping it’s just a stomach ache and not the possibility that it might be the start of your period.

Zayne’s gaze shifts towards you, setting his book down on the nightstand. “Good morning. How are you feeling?” He asks softly. “Today could be the first day of your cycle. I suggest you freshen up and check.” Zayne had been tracking your cycles since the beginning of your relationships, his predictions had been right most of the time. The moment you shift out of bed, you felt that familiar discomfort flowing down between your legs, confirming he was in fact right.

As you move toward the bathroom door, he grabs a fresh set of clothes for you, closing the door behind you with a soft click as he tends to the small stain left behind on your shared bed. He had noticed it before you, not drawing attention to it so you don’t have to worry about a thing.

You quickly freshened up and changed, hoping he hadn’t noticed the stain but as soon as you opened the bathroom door, he was calmly tending the bed already. Before you could speak or apologize, he was already ahead of you. “I changed the sheets,” He said softly, “I’ll make you some tea.” He gently pulls you closer to him, pressing a soft and reassuring kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to stain the bed.. I should’ve cleaned it.” Zayne shook his head, his lips curving into a gentle small smile.

“You don’t need to be sorry for something you can’t control. It’s natural. Now what would you like for breakfast?”

Rafayel:

Rafayel becomes your personal heating pad, carefully using his evol to warm your lower abdomen just enough to bring you comfort and to get rid of your cramps.

Cuddles with lots of soft feather-like kisses that make you giggle from how it tickles but not to the point where you’re squirming uncontrollably. He playfully talks to your abdomen as he slowly massages it. “Free her! She’s had enough! Let me take her pain!” to lighten your mood during discomfort

Rafayel never misses a chance to shower you with compliments. He knows how you might feel icky or uncomfortable with yourself during this time so he makes sure to lift you up instead, reminding you how beautiful and strong you are. He’s not letting you forget how deeply he loves and appreciates you.

He’ll also have some medicine in stock if you need it, bringing you a cooling compress to gently press against your forehead whenever your head hurts/ hot flashes

Bubble baths with him are a must. He knows how intense your cramps can be from knowing how much your cramps affect you and he believes a warm bubble bath will help. He’s super gentle, running his hands through your hair while soft massaging your lower abdomen to provide soothing relief.

────

Your eyes flutter open, the soft sounds of seagulls calling from outside the window stirring you awake from your sleep. Rafayel is already awake, propped up on his elbow, his gaze fixed on you with a soft smile. He watches as you stir awake, his heart warming at the sight beside him.

“Good morning cutie,” The corners of his lips slightly crinkled at the corners as he watched you. As much as you want to soak in this peaceful and intimate moment with him, that sharp pain in your lower abdomen makes you curl further into a ball, a small groan escaping your lips. The discomfort makes your face scrunt up and Rafayel immediately notices. “Aww, is it shark week already?” He teases, gently cupping your lower abdomen before massaging it in slow, soothing circles. “How about a bubble bath? Maybe that’ll help.” 

The two of you slowly get out of bed, the flow of your blood makes the discomfort even worse. As you glance down, your heart sinks when you spot a stain on your side of the bed, making you feel a little embarrassed. Rafayel notices at the same time and gives you a reassuring smile as he reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. “Dun worry. I’ve got it covered. I’ll take care of everything.” He flashes a playful wink as he guides you toward your shared bathroom. “And I’ll make sure to take care of those sharks for ya later, promise.”

He helps you sit on the edge of the bathtub, adjusting the water to just the perfect temperature. While you settle in, he quickly leaves the room. You hear the soft rustle of the sheets being pulled away as he tosses them into the laundry bin and he later comes back holding a fresh set of clothes for the both of you.

“I’ll make sure the bed’s all fresh when we’re done.” He leans down, kissing your forehead, his lips lingering for a second before he pulls back. “I’ve got it all covered cutie.”

Sylus:

Sylus makes sure to put a lot of effort to make sure you were absolutely comfortable. He’ll provide as many meals, snacks, pillows, and blankets as you need. Whatever you want, he’ll provide it all for you. There’s no need for you to lift a finger or even a leg this week.

Anything you crave? He's already got it or it's on its way in a few minutes. If you want him to prepare a meal he'll make it for you or he'll get a personal chef to make it for the both of you so he can stay by your side.

If you’re dealing with a headache, he’ll close the curtains and dim the lights before pressing soft kisses to your forehead. After that, he’ll grab you some medicine to ease the pain and make you a cup of tea to make it all go away.

Sylus understands the pain you’re in and how sluggish you feel. Without hesitation, he curls up beside you, his warmth enveloping you. He showers you with gentle kisses, whispering soothing words.

He gives you all the massages you want. His large hands are heavenly on you, massaging any area that you want relief. It’s so soothing that it has your eyes fluttering shut as the tension melts away under his touch.

If any tears start to fall and you can’t explain why, he’s there by your side. He murmurs sweet things and reassurance to your ear and later pampers you if it makes you feel better.

────

You wake up to a dull ache in your lower abdomen, curling closer to Sylus to seek comfort in his embrace. Your limbs tangle together and though it should bring you relief, it doesn’t ease the sting. As you shift, you feel the dampness through your pajamas, your stomach sinks with the idea that you might’ve stained his expensive sheets.

Not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber, you gently stir Sylus awake. His eyes flutter open slowly, his muscles relaxing to see you. “Hmm..? Since when did you start waking up earlier than me sweetie?” His voice low and raspy, pulling you even closer to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

You hesitate for a moment before explaining, “I think I might have stained the bed..It might be my first day..”

He pulls away slightly, “You think you stained the bed?” He places a hand on your lower abdomen, his fingers slowly try to massage the ache away. “How much does it hurt right now? Can you walk?”

You give him a small reassuring smile, “I should be fine..just uncomfortable.” His touch lingers for a little longer before he nods.

“Go change, I’ll take care of everything.” His voice stays calm and reassuring. Despite your offer to help, Sylus shakes his head with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get it done.”

By the time you return, Sylus has nearly finished changing the sheets. You walk over to him, trying to help smooth out the sheets, a small frown tugging at your lips as you worry about the stain going through the mattress. “What if I ruined the bed? I didn’t mean to..”

Sylus turns to you, a soft chuckle escaping him. He steps closer, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before pressing a soft kiss, his lips grazing your hair. “It's just a bed sweetie. Besides, what matters is that you’re okay. I’ll handle everything here. Just focus on getting some rest.”

Caleb:

Caleb is experienced in this area when it comes to taking care of you during your period. He’s been there since the very beginning of it all. He remembers exactly what type of pads/ tampons you use and it’s second nature for him to pick them up from the store without a second thought. He’s never uncomfortable walking through the feminine care aisle at all.

He makes sure to pick up the snacks you love and doesn’t hesitate to text you if you were craving anything specific so he can pick it up before he comes home. He also picks up ingredients for your favorite meals, knowing the comfort of a delicious home cooked meal will bring a smile to your face.

Speaking of food, he’ll prepare you some warm and comforting meals that he knows will help you feel better. He’ll make sure you eat every single bite, gently encouraging you not to skip any meals.

He’ll come into your room with a tray of ice cream, loaded with your favorite flavors and toppings. “Hey pip-honey, I got you some of your favorite ice cream. I’ll make you whatever you want. I can whip up a sundae for you even if it’s just a Thursday."

He hates to see you in pain, it breaks his heart. He’s silently cursing the universe for making you go through this, wishing he could take it all away. But for now what he can do is stay by your side, massaging you as long as you need. His hands are gentle and steady, warming up heating pads and placing them on your lower abdomen to give you some relief. As he does this, he softly murmurs sweet reassurances in your eat and that 'Caleb’s here to help you through it.'

Caleb handles your mood swings pretty well and has so much patience. He never minds if you’re feeling grouchy or irritable. Whenever your emotions get the best of you and you snap a little, he’s always there to listen, letting you vent about anything you have a problem with.

────

“Hey..hey pipsqueak..” Caleb murmurs as he brushes a lock of hair from your face. “Juust for a second.. I need you to wake up.” Your eyes flutter open and that familiar sharp ache in your lower abdomen makes you wince, instinctively curling into yourself. “Does it hurt? Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom?” You shake your head, not wanting to get up from his embrace just yet.

“mm..what’s going on?” You mumble sleepily.

“I need to change the sheets real quick,” His voice a little sheepish. “Then you can go back to sleep. I’ll make you some breakfast and you can stay right here okay?” You sigh as a gentle protest but nod. As you slowly sit up, the discomfort of the flow makes itself known as you make your way to the bathroom.

You’ve grown up together and something as natural as this could not make him see you any differently. He’s seen it all, the awkward moments, the cramps, the emotional and physical mess you’ve been through. Despite the discomfort you feel, he’s always there to help and tries his absolute best to make this easier for you. 

He quickly strips the bed, changing the sheets to something more comfortable and fluffing your pillows just the way you like them. By the time you step back into your room, freshly changed, the bed is already made up neatly.

“There,” He says with a bright smile as his gaze locks on you. “All nice and cozy just for you pipsqueak.” He pulls you back into bed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Now, get some rest. I’ll take care of everything else.”

cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

a/n: also the caleb and the sundae part is a reference to a tiktok im still trying to find it bc i have to many edits saved-

here's a post i wrote that's similar to this! only all four of them for now When You're On Your Period

my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist Pg.1 , Pg.2

09/29/24; 02:45pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you’re on your period ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel + bonus

when sylus found you curled up in bed, unable to move or utter a sentence that didn't begin with a whimper-

he knew that it was that time of the month once more, causing you to trap yourself in a cocoon made from your blankets while surrounded by your favorite plushies. after finishing his routine for the day, sylus adjusts his tie, rufescent eyes filled with sympathy for you. with a gentle hum of your name, he settles himself beside your cocoon, feeling his added weight make the mattress dip in response.

you weakly peek at him from beneath the confines of your comforter, making sylus chuckle in response as he gently brushed back your hair. "hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

"i could be better..." cue another whimper escaping from you, the sudden jolt of pain felt rippling across your abdomen as you curled up even further into your cocoon. with a sigh of your name, sylus leans forward to press a lingering kiss against your hair.

"i know how painful this is for you, so you just remain in bed for as long as you need to. alert luke or kieran if you need anything, and i'll make sure mephisto keeps an eye on you as well."

"don't you think that's overkill, sy?" your grumbling words manages to earn a chuckle from sylus, with him leaning down to press another lingering kiss against your hair.

"please, nothing is too over the top for me, especially when it comes to you, darling."

while sylus wished for nothing more than to remain by your side as you went through so much pain, he had a busy day ahead of him and responsibilities he could not quite drop at the last minute. with his itinerary in mind, he says his goodbyes to you once more before leaving your shared bedroom.

while leaving the mansion, he gives luke and kieran strict orders to leave you alone and remain on their best behavior, reminding them that they were only allowed to enter his bedroom if and when you needed anything. the twins both give him a mock salute, promising him that they would take care of you and protect you when needed.

the hours go by, and despite the several meetings and conferences he attended with potential clients, his mind would always inevitably go back to you. when moving from place to place, sylus would stop by a gift shop or store, picking up some items he knew you would need.

by the late evening, sylus returns home with numerous bags in his hand. kieran was the first to greet him, letting out a low whistle. "wow, can i just say whipped much?"

"shut it." sylus grunts at him, demanding that he alert the cooks so that they can prepare dinner for you. giving him another mock salute, kieran's laughter was heard echoing throughout the hallways, making a vein pop against his forehead.

taking great strides towards the room, he opens the door, feeling his prior annoyance disappear and the way his heart melts with empathy for you. you were still settled in bed, with the blankets wrapped around you. "i'm home, sweetheart."

"sylus...!" happiness was seen in your gaze when you get out of your cocoon, making his heart race at the mere sight of you. he joins you in bed, pulling you into his lap while giving you the various bags. you giggle, setting aside the feminine pads, eyes taking in the various snacks he had bought for you. upon feeling an ice cold carton, your mood becomes significantly better seeing your favorite flavor of ice cream. you end up grabbing the ice cream as you tossed aside the lid and dug into it with the provided spoon.

your lover chuckles in amusement, tracing the tip of his nose against your hair, "do you feel better now?"

"yes." you answer him with a giggle, cuddling your body even closer to his as you felt the aches and pain of your period slowly melt away while in his embrace.

"ah, i see that you are menstruating."

heat was felt against your cheeks when zayne notices your sour mood and the blood stains seen against the sheets. this was your first month living together with him, and despite how you couldn't help or control the intensity of your cycle, you still felt embarrassed.

"s-sorry, i should have slept with a towel beneath me. i'll be sure to wash-"

but zayne cuts off your nervous rants while saying your name in a stern (but gentle) tone, "there's no need to feel embarrassed. what you're going through is just part of a female's anatomy. it's something you can't control, and i'm not upset with you at all."

you pout at him, hiding your face beneath the blankets while speaking to zayne, almost dejectedly, "i guess you're right."

zayne sighs, looking away from you all while adjusting his tie. "i have to work soon, will you be alright by yourself?"

you meet his gaze, your heart racing with anticipation. deep down, you wanted to experience what it was like to be in zayne's embrace, having him comfort you through your pain and discomfort that came with your cycle. yet, you didn't want to be a selfish girlfriend, or have him dislike you when your relationship was still so fresh and new to you and him both.

"n-no, i think i'll be fine, zayne. i'll see you tonight, okay?"

zayne gives you a stiff nod, already closing the door to your bedroom before stepping outside. you felt a little disappointed, watching as zayne left you with little hesitation. with plans to pout yourself to sleep, you let out a huff and ducked your head beneath the covers, curling into a fetal position to help with easing the excruciating pain that came with your cramps.

you were ready to close your eyes when the door opens once more, revealing zayne. sitting up in bed, you run a hand through your hair, trying to hide your pout, "what is it? did you forget something?"

he shakes his head in response, "no, it didn't feel right to leave you here all alone. even if i did go to work, my mind would be preoccupied with you and your sad face."

you were about to deny that you felt sad at the thought of him leaving, yet the words refused to come out of your mouth. instead, you watch as zayne takes off his tie, unbuttoning his shirt before rejoining you in bed.

"don't worry." a soft chuckle was heard against your ear, "i already called in and decided to use one of my pto days. another surgeon will take my place for the day, and i'll come back in a few days, when you feel better."

it takes you a herculean effort to hide your grin, and when you couldn't handle it anymore, you hid your face within his chest. "but you're the best cardiac surgeon akso hospital has."

"and there are other competent surgeons as well." zayne answers you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

as he rubs comforting circles against your abdomen, you felt your eyelids grow heavier. unable to remain awake, you fell into a peaceful slumber while in zayne's embrace, smiling in your sleep when you felt something soft pressed against your hair.

a soft moan was the sole form of communication you could manage when xavier wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling your jostling movements against the shared bed.

"hey, what is it? what's wrong?" his voice was thick with sleep, blue eyes lazily looking down at you and how you were practically clinging to him. another whimper was heard coming from you, with your body practically curling up against his.

"sorry, these cramps seem to hit me at the worst times." you manage to admit to your hunter boyfriend, making his eyes go wide when he sees the spot of blood against his sheets. he hears another whimper coming from you, and finally decides to pull you even closer to him. knowing that you were in pain makes xavier hyper-focused on helping you feel better.

"sssh, it's okay, i'm here, i'm here." xavier adjusts his hold on you, purposely cradling your body against his. with your back pressed against his chest, he allows the palm of his hand to flatten against your abdomen, trying to massage the cramps that you felt.

with his gentle massages and soft words of reassurance, you visibly began to relax, letting out a soft moan while pressing yourself even closer to his chest. no words were spoken as xavier continues to comfort you. "it's late at night, so there's not much i can do, but when morning comes, i can take you out to get breakfast at your favorite café."

your pain manages to ease up, allowing you to practically melt against him. feeling drowsy now, you give xavier a nod, turning around so that you could hide your face within his chest. "mhmm, sounds good... xavier."

the young hunter chuckles, pressing one last kiss against your forehead, taking a moment to admire your sleeping features before closing his eyes once more, not daring to let you go as he keeps you pressed against him.

rafayel was able to sense when it was that time of the month for you. you didn't have to complain about your pain or how uncomfortable it was.

in fact, your lover actually takes a break from work, setting his artworks to the side while tending to your every need. him spoiling you so much makes you utterly giddy, unable to contain your happiness as rafayel took care of you during your time of need.

from ordering all of your favorite foods, to hand feeding you your favorite desserts, it was easy to say that he treated you like a queen while in his care. and it was thanks to his thorough care that you found your monthly cycles to be much more bearable.

at the end of the day, rafayel keeps you in his embrace, stripping both you and him of your clothes before preparing a bath for you. while the porcelain tub fills with water, the artist takes a moment to select your favorite scented bubbles before pouring it into the warm waters.

as the bubbles began to multiply with the rapidly filling water, rafayel shuts off the faucet, giving you a mischievous grin before entering the tub with you still in his arms. your giggles echo throughout the bathroom, and you felt so content and happy while hiding your face within the base of his throat.

with a hum of your name, rafayel places the palm of his hand against your naked abdomen, his touch becoming much warmer than usual. even though the slight heat was something that was new to you, you basked in it, allowing the heat to course through you, taking away the pain.

"rafayel... what- what are you doing?"

you feel the way your boyfriend shrugs, pressing a kiss against your damp hair, "i used a bit of my evol to warm my hands... it's something that i've been trying to perfect to help you in situations like this."

you were now filled with love for him, eyes gazing at him with absolute adoration. with your body practically seeking rafayel's warm touch, you eagerly press yourself closer to him, basking in his rich chuckles as he meets your gaze, leaning down to give you a searing kiss that conveys the depths of his love for you.

"don't you think you're being a bit too overdramatic?" caleb calls out your name in an exasperated manner, but you could only manage a weak glare at him in response.

"i am not being too overdramatic, i'm in serious pain right now, caleb! but of course, you wouldn't know since you never had to deal with this type of pain." your words send a wave of empathy through him, and he figured that you were right, that he didn't know what you were going through.

your boyfriend lets out a sigh, eyes trailing over your figure as you remained hunched over and curled up in bed. knowing that you were probably in too much pain to move, he starts searching through your apartment, grabbing the necessary items before bringing them to you.

"alright, time to scoot over." you grumble and whine some more, making room for caleb all while letting out soft whines here and there. caleb manages to place you within his arms, taking advantage of his strength when he sits up in bed, placing you on his lap while allowing you to cling to him.

he opens the cold bottle of water, offering you two tablets of your pain medicine to take. even through your pouts, you take the medication and swallow both tablets while draining the water bottle. along with the medicine, he offers you a bag of snacks he had bought for you earlier, unwrapping them for you. as he offers one of the snack cakes to you, his smile widens, watching as you cutely bite into it.

"that's my good girl." he teases you, cooing at you as you could feel the heat against your cheeks. enjoying just how close you were to him, caleb presses several kisses against your cheek, not stopping until you were left a giggling mess.

"how about we just stay indoors, and i can order some chinese takeout for both of us for dinner tonight?" your boyfriend asks you all while gently massaging at your tender abdomen.

you hum in agreement to his plans, already opening a chocolate bar as you bit into it, all while leaning into his form. basking in his warmth, you relax while in his embrace, already feeling better as your lover spent the entire day taking care of you without a single complaint.

and you couldn't have been happier at the fact that you had managed to capture the heart of someone so perfect.

end notes: i am on my period;;; and i am d y i n g 🫠 i would love to have these lads men spoil me in my time of need,,,,,, currently unedited but i’ll make any changes once this is posted ♡

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

This brings comfort rn 😭😭😭

🗡️ “That time of the month again?”

because we all know that periods suck and characters are not immune to the horrors 🗡️ prompt list of comforting actions

Character A is bedridden from the cramps and Character B becomes their living heating pad (cuddles with arms wrapped around the waist >>>>)

B buys A their favorite chocolates a couple days before their period starts and keeps beverages with electrolytes on hand

A takes a day off to rest, bingewatch some episodes of a good show, and care for themselves (maybe do some yoga, and by yoga I mean curl up in the fetal position for a couple hours)

B thinks that making a nice bath for A will help and prepares everything for when A gets home (A laughs and explains why that’s not a great idea)

Searching for Shark Week’s episodes online to deal with shark week in person, but getting distracted by cute animal shows

B can’t be there for A in person so they send A $30 to cover extra snacks and/or medicine

Instead of getting emotional over posts online, A digs out an old book series and gets emotional over that (they are reliving their childhood, they swear it’s cathartic THEY SWEAR)

A can’t sleep with the back pain so B gives them a light back massage with several check-ins to make sure the noises are in relief and not pain

B keeps the lights dim and and TV volume low as A battles a headache

All meals are made with ahead of time and cravings humored (“You can’t just eat straight salt.” “I know that, which is why I’m putting all of it on this.”)

A asks for B to get more pads/tampons at the store, B calls and sends many pictures as they try to figure out what will work best for A

B quietly scrubs out any bloodstains from A’s clothes as they do laundry (and they’re really efficient at it, why are they so good at getting blood out of clothing—)

A snuggling up with their pet who knows the exact spot to be in for maximum comfy (B thinks it’s adorable and takes a picture to show A later)

“I’m sorry if I’m not really conversational right now…” “Dude you’re on your period and barely slept last night, you’re good. We don’t have to talk, we can just chill.”

B brings home a machine for homemade ice-cream and all the ingredients needed for A’s favorite flavor (they spend the evening making it and declare a “dessert before dinner” day for when periods strike)

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader Prompt: “No, you can't stay here.” Words: ~1.1k Genre: Angst, No Comfort Notice: Some spoiler of Xavier's Myth, Shooting Stars, although not entirely aligned

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

He staggered back, clearly surprised by how your muttered words reverberated loudly in the otherwise dimly lit room. Cerulean orbs searched for yours skilfully, eyes bright as they were when tracking Wanderers in the darkest of nights.

“What did you say?” A hint of disbelief was palpable in Xavier's voice.

You stepped away from the shadow, hands trembling as you struggled to steady them. Despite anticipating this moment, when confronted with reality, you found yourself questioning whether you could truly accept your sacrifice without harboring any regrets.

“I said, no, you can't stay here.”

Revelation dawned on him. Despite Xavier’s frequent drowsiness, he remained inherently sharp. It was one of the attributes that had made him a highly respected hunter.

“How long have you known?”

“Enough time to understand the over-complicated truth.”

Irritation briefly flickered in his eyes. He looked at the thinning veil behind him, clearly cursing the other party that stepped through it earlier. “Jeremiah told you.”

“I was the one who convinced Jeremiah to tell me everything. You shouldn’t kick his ass when you see him again.”

Xavier couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at that. Jeremiah, though physically not imposing, could defeat anyone on mind games. That’s why he brought him along on the mission as he needed a logical partner.

He couldn’t comprehend why Jeremiah had agreed to divulge the secrets they swore to keep between themselves—especially to the one person he had hoped would never uncover the truth.

“Besides, you’re not as secretive as you thought, Xav.” You gave him a small, sad smile. “I guess that's what makes us human, right? Despite not being a normal one, having an aether core-fused heart, or having lived for a hundred years, we still can’t stop ourselves from showing our deepest desires during moments of vulnerability. I used to believe that she was your unforgettable first love or perhaps an ex who taught you a crucial life lesson. However, that’s just me shying away from the undeniable.”

As much as you had steeled yourself for this moment, your vision began to blur, and Xavier was fast to engulf you in his hug. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his lithe but muscular figure, feeling his warmth and further breaking your heart.

He buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath to blanket himself in your scent like he always did.

“That’s not true,” his voice came out shakier than he intended.

“But it is, Xavier. You don’t know how many times you called out to her in your sleep. Or sometimes when you look at me, I can tell that you don't truly see me for who I am in this current existence. You can’t deny this, because in doing so, you’re also hurting her…me.”

You had to force your head up to fully face your light. Xavier wouldn’t let you step away from him.

Gently cupping his cheeks, you urged him to focus on your next words. “Face it, Xav. Your queen and I… our resemblances are solely physical. We’re two entirely different persons, made up of distinct personalities. If she was the reason why you were in this timeline in the first place, you cling to the hope of going back to her one day, don’t you? You wouldn’t abandon her eternity, right?”

His hug tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said after some time, head bowed in shame. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Truly, deeply sorry for making you feel less than your worth.”

Despite his painful acknowledgment, you found yourself relaxing, accepting your fate. Xavier's thumbs gently wiped away the tears that had escaped from your eyes.

“But you’re going to be here all alone,” his voice cracked, almond eyes cloudy. “I can’t go back and live peacefully knowing that.”

“If what Jeremiah told me is the truth, I have left you more than once. It’s your time to experience having someone be there when you’re back. This is the time to redeem myself, even when the timeline has gone haywire.”

Xavier shook his head furiously. “We won’t know if the alternative aether core would work. If I go back and learn that I will lose you again and Philos, I would rather stay here with you in the past.”

“You know it will work, that’s why you were so insistent on sending Jeremiah back alone with it, and selfishly waiting at the other end just to make sure it disappears, an indicator that Philos has accepted the aether-core. You know how much Jeremiah wants to go back there, and for everything he has done for you, you believed it was your turn to help him. I can’t take you away from her; it’s not right. It’s not my time to have you.”

“What difference does it make when I’m also willingly leaving you here? You understand that once I step through that veil, we’ll never meet each other again in this timeline.”

As if aware of its existence, the veil dimmed. You eyed it wearily, realizing that the swirling vortex of electric blue and silver had turned almost transparent.

“Xavier,” you sighed when he cupped your hand, reveling at the contact, “we both know that my time in this realm will end, I can’t be immortal here. I would rather face the certainty of our eternal bond in another dimension than linger in the fleeting confines of this world.”

You placed your fingers against his lips, silencing his upcoming argument. “You do realize that if you abandoned me in the future, I would despise you, don't you?" you made a playful comment to lighten the mood, but he was miserable. Filled with guilt and disappointment that he couldn’t control the situation.

You guided his head down to meet your lips halfway. As both of your lips touched in a bittersweet embrace, a silent farewell woven into each tender touch. The palm pressed against his heart felt its rapid beats.

“Goodbye, my light. Be happy,” you whispered those words to his lips.

Xavier should have known that whenever you were around, his caution melted away. That was his greatest weakness. He registered the force that caught him entirely off guard a second too late.

Xavier reached out his hand, losing momentum. “Y/N! Wait—!” he called out, voice tinged with urgency.

As his body was hurled into the closing veil, it snapped shut, swallowing his unfinished words. Sobs wracked your body, each wave of emotion sent your body crashing to the wooden floor.

Moonlight peeking through the windows cast its glow upon the intricate gold of the gigantic frame before you.

Where the veil had shimmered moments before, there was now only emptiness, revealing a cold cement wall that stood as a cruel reminder of the end of a chapter you could never revisit.

While seemingly nearly empty every night, a profound silence enveloped Philo Flower Store differently. Vibrant blooms began to wilt, their once lively hues fading into desolation, while the lush vines that once cascaded down nearby buildings now curled and browned.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

ℂ𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕫𝕖

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.2k Genre: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort Notice: Mentions of infidelity, blood, and wound, Y/N is not MC A/N: @brailsthesmolgurl requested angst, I hope this one is painful enough 💔 May or may not consider writing a part 2

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

Clang!

The sound of the thrown stick echoed across the training room. A pair of cerulean orbs locked with yours, amazement reflected in their depths.

“That’s a lot of pent-up…energy,” your partner—professionally and romantically—fixed his attention on the wooden stick grazing his Adam's apple as he spoke.

If it was your hunter scythe, his skin would be sliced open.

You lowered it down, the adrenaline rush fading as the throbbing sensation in your knee took over. A sharp stab of pain that left your whole leg numb.

Ungracefully, you collapsed to the floor. Xavier’s hand was on your side in an instant, seeing how your face had crumpled in agony.

“You have a lot on your mind.” He felt you tensed, yet didn’t stop massaging your knee. His touch continued to work its magic, sending ripples of relief through you.

“I’m losing my touch, this desk duty is weakening me.”

“You just literally disarmed me,” he reminded, “Does this have to do with the team assignment?”

Whenever a new batch arrived, they were divided into groups with senior hunters overseeing their missions initially.

Xavier's involvement was to be expected, much like your own participation before the injury.

“Do you have anything against a particular recruit?” he treaded carefully.

You had nothing against the woman—whom you later discovered was Dr. Zayne's childhood friend and suspected the stoic doctor had a soft spot for—when you saw them together in a café a few times. In fact, she was quite a lovely woman.

What unsettled you was Xavier's uncharacteristic ease in opening up to her, despite his usual reservations with strangers.

“No,” you answered genuinely, “but do you have anything you’d like to tell me?”

Xavier’s fingers paused. “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know, Xav, you seem distracted lately.”

How could you miss the way his eyes sought out the junior hunter every morning when she arrived, even when you both were engaged in a conversation?

Or how could you miss his unmistakable comfortable stance as he interacted with the hunter, when the ring of her laughter filled up the bullpen?

His eyes slid sideways. “I need to focus on supervising the recruits, Captain Jenna's counting on me.”

Drawing closer, Xavier reached out, hand tenderly cupping your cheek. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant.”

He noticed you biting down on your lips, wearing them out. It was the first time he had seen you visibly unsettled.

“If this is truly affecting you, I can ask someone else to take over my place.”

“No, it’s fine.”

You wouldn't allow yourself to be the reason he stepped back from his responsibilities, even if it meant sacrificing your own peace of mind.

“Just... please, talk to me if there's ever something on your mind,” you urged softly.

Xavier pressed his lips gently against your forehead. Even as the warmth of his kiss enveloped you, it couldn't dispel the pang of unease gnawing at the edges of your thoughts like it normally did.

The gnawing uneasiness, though, was justified.

With each passing day, his subtle mentions and veiled references of her painted your conversations.

It became even more apparent as your keen eyes caught glimpses of the growing sparkle in his gaze, the way his eyes slightly lingered on her, speaking volumes.

It might have gone unnoticed by others, but not you.

Not when you had once recognised the same tender looks directed towards you, before the two of you became a couple.

“Will you, for once, stop bringing her up?”

The room plunged into a tense silence, even the rhythmic tick-tick-tick of Jeremiah's fingers typing came to a sudden halt.

“Uh I’ll step out—”

“Jeremiah, sit down,” your tone was firm, leaving no room for refusal.

Jeremiah, halfway rising from his seat, abruptly sat back down with a plop! onto the chair beneath him.

Perched at the edge of Jeremiah's desk, you faced Xavier across the wooden table, the recent activity on the No-Hunt Zone forgotten as he got startled by your harsh remarks. Mouth slightly hanging open as he didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

“Tell me, Jeremiah, did he or did he not have been casually mentioning her for the past fifteen minutes?”

The poor guy had his eyes ping-ponged between the two of you. Torn between defending his longtime friend or you—the second person he would trust his life with.

“He did,” Jeremiah eventually admitted in a tiny voice, sinking even lower into his seat upon receiving a look of exasperation from Xavier.

In a way, you felt relieved knowing that the creeping vines of jealousy within your heart didn't merely blind you to making things up.

Grateful, that someone else had also come to realise it, validating your feelings.

You watched as Xavier's eyes finally bore into yours, uncertainty swimming in their depths.

Whatever emotion reflected in your eyes caused his breath to falter, finally making him aware of the jagged rift that had gradually formed between you.

“It’s been a couple of months now. You sure there’s nothing you’d like to tell me?”

Despite the cool front, you were aware of the pain piercing your heart.

The weight of embarrassment from having Jeremiah witness the unraveling of something that had once felt solid, so unbreakable.

Xavier took a daring step, as if to bridge the gap. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could finish, yours and his hunter watches lit up red, signaling an urgent notification. A warning voice thundered not a second later.

「All available senior hunters are to report back to UNICORNS Massive Metaflux fluctuations detected at Stormcrown Summit」

With a quick “Catch you later” tossed back to Jeremiah, you were already on the move the moment the first words reached your ears.

Xavier stepped in front of your 310HM, a dangerous move as you were mere seconds away from twisting the throttle. “Please, your knee can't handle it. You'll only end up hurting yourself.”

“Now is not the time to suddenly show concern for me again,” you retorted sharply.

As you revved up the engine, he stepped back, his face troubled. And you left him behind, knowing fully well he would make it back before you either way.

The bustling HQ buzzed with urgency as hunters within a 25km radius received the emergency alert. Frantic voices and swift footsteps filling up the walls.

Walking straight to Captain Jenna, you were greeted with an all-too-familiar grimace; the same expression she had worn when she caught you in the training room instead of attending physical therapy for your injury.

“Senior hunter Y/N, reporting for duty.” Your gaze met hers head-on.

The captain sighed, slightly shaking her head as if to clear the mounting stress. “We are in dire need of all hands on deck. Some senior hunters are away on missions far from Linkon, and we’ve resorted to sending some of the best recruits.”

Despite having earned her approval, she still gave you a warning look.

“You head back when your knee starts hurting, and”—her stern gaze warned you that there would be consequences if you ever considered defying her command—“you are not to wander alone without a partner.”

Your hand instantly reached out to one of the passing hunters, luckily snatching someone you had worked together with in previous missions occasionally, noting their above-average skills.

The fluttered brows of Captain Jenna didn’t go amiss. A look of confusion passed between her and the hunter, questioning your choice of a different partner than the usual one.

Towering trees at the Stormcrown Summit were shrouded in mist, casting an aura of unpredictability over the landscape. The occasional rustle of leaves heightened your senses further, escalating the tension of the unknown lurking within.

A very much missed surge of adrenaline fueled your body as you ventured deeper into the dense forest.

“I’m surprised that you did not choose Xavier as your partner,” your companion—Adrian—initiated a conversation after the two of you eliminated some roaming Mist Knaves.

“He is busy supervising the newer guys.”

"Seems to be warming up faster than he normally would, isn’t he?"

Damn it, you forgot how one of his best skills included perceptiveness. 

A short distance away, Xavier’s group made their way towards the clearing. The worried glances cast in your direction didn’t go unnoticed before the gigantic trees obscure your view.

“It’s very unexpected of him,” Adrian commented, watching the exchange between you both.

“People change,” you bit out, fully aware that you had fallen into the trap, indirectly confirming that something had indeed happened between you and Xavier.

The conversation was cut off when several Velox Venators leaped out from behind the thick foliage.

Their agility presented a challenge after spending time confined to the desk.

“As much as I love having you back on the team”—your partner’s voice rang out as he leaped back, avoiding the swing of your obsidian scythe cutting through the last beast’s tough silver hide—“it would be a shame to see you permanently sitting behind a desk after this.”

The sudden pouring thunderstorm had made the ground mushy, amplifying the pressure on your knee. Concealing the grimace of discomfort became futile at this point.

You followed his instruction to rest once the danger was cleared up, welcoming the temporary bliss of taking the pressure off your knee.

Just as you were about to truly relax, the urgent shouting of one of the hunters crackled through both of your hunter's watches, jolting you back to attention.

「Requesting backup at coordinates 45.6789° N, 87.6543° W 2 injured hunters, surrounded by Elite Wanderers, recruits extraction needed」

Profanities escaped Adrian’s mouth as he followed your leading figure closely behind, navigating through the woods with the programmed coordinates in the watch.

As you reached the clearing, you took in the scene before you. Several senior hunters had come to aid, engaged in a battle against a handful of Thunderoars.

That explained the abnormal thunderstorm.

However, a movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention, drawing your focus to a lone female hunter facing a feline predator. Its build was unusually large compared to the ones you typically encountered.

The beast had curled its tail, its sharp edge gleaming with an ominous sheen, poised to strike.

“Shit!” You sprinted forward as you watched her moment of hesitation. A hesitation that could kill her.

White, blinding pain shot up your leg as you lunged forward, pushing the recruit from the line of attack.

The searing pain in your abdomen came next, stealing the air from your lungs.

There wasn't enough time to dodge the razor-sharp tail as you staggered both from the momentum and the uneven, soft terrain.

The ground rumbled as thorny vines quickly encircled each of the Spurtail’s legs, ensnaring it in a tight grip. 

Even amidst the haze of agonizing pain, your Evol reacted, defending its owner.

You pushed through the pain, striking the Wanderer’s broken protocore shield as it trashed against the barbed tendrils that had nearly swallowed its form.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you as the Spurtail deteriorated. The earth tilted and your knees buckled, scythe slipping from your grasp, clattering to the ground.

When the tell-tale sign of darkness crept into your vision, a glimmer of light danced off a familiar light-ash blonde.

His long legs raced towards you. Running, running, and running…

Past you.

“Y/N, Y/N! Are you still with me?”

Captain Jenna’s face appeared in your line of vision, lips set into a grim line.

When was your back lowered to the ground?

The sky above had cleared up, you realised. A stark difference from the gloom descending upon your heart like a heavy rain.

“Come on, Y/N, you gotta stay with us. You're stronger than you thought.”

The agony intensified as you registered a pair of hands pressing down on your abdomen. A guttural groan ripping out of your throat.

Pearl-red blood, your blood, stained her hands as she tapped your cheeks, desperate to have your focus on her.

“Hey, you can’t leave us, do you hear me?!”

The darkness was almost overwhelming at this point, the words that Captain Jenna shouted becoming incoherent in your ears.

For the first time, you witnessed a look of terror overtaking her eyes as they briefly flickered down to your abdomen once again.

It was unsettling. The mature woman was not one to show such raw emotion frequently.

As your head drooped to the side, you caught a glimpse of his outline crouching beside the female hunter you had pushed away.

Close in proximity, yet intolerably distant.

There was a longing for those blue orbs to be the last thing you looked at before the darkness consumed everything. 

Even with the soothing hum of the medical equipment in the backdrop, a sense of alarm began to creep in as you felt the shift in the air.

“Didn’t the nurse say no visits?”

It only took one air evacuation, just like in those action movies and medical dramas, for people to flock to your bedside once you were out of the ICU.

On the third day, you asked the nurses to refuse any visitors, craving solitude.

“I… may have walked past them.”

By “walked”, it meant that he had teleported to the room. There wasn't a sound of the door opening and closing.

Adrian’s self-blame was predictable, given that he was supposed to stick with you during the mission.

Captain Jenna’s shift from relief to light scolding didn't come as a surprise either.

Even the junior hunter’s profuse apologies were manageable.

Seeing Xavier’s guilt-stricken face several steps away from your bed, however, unleashed a whirlwind of emotion you weren’t sure you were ready to cope with.

“I should have been the one in that bed, not you.”

Your laugh was devoid of humour. “Why? So you can be her hero instead?”

“No!” Distress was evident in his voice and posture as he rushed towards you. “You shouldn't have to endure this. You shouldn't even have joined the mission.”

“We get hurt, it’s part of the job.”

“You almost died!” voice cracking, he collapsed into the seat beside your bed, head buried in hands.

Years of knowing Xavier and that was the first time you had seen him crumble. Gone was his usual calm exterior, replaced by a broken man, drowning in regret.

Even then, your battered heart couldn’t stop the trembling remark, heavy with disappointment and anguish, from escaping your lips, “Yet you ran past me.”

Doe eyes, bright with unshed tears, snapped to yours.

People had said that traumatic events may lead to memory loss, but that day was etched vividly in your mind, each detail imprinted like a nightmare festering in your brain.

“Y/N—”

“Anything you say will not change the fact that things will never be the same between us.”

His face fell, mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

Finally, he settled on a meek plea, “Please forgive me.”

You breathed out, slowly adjusting your position on the bed. Face laced in discomfort as you felt the stitches being tugged.

You were lucky, so to speak, as the Spurtail’s strike narrowly avoided any internal organs. But, the gash was pretty deep, resulting in a significant amount of blood loss.

“Did you know that you used to look at me the same way?” the words tumbled out, a rhetorical question that had been lingering on the tip of your tongue for far too long.

He couldn't refute anything.

A sad smile painted your lips. “That should’ve been my only warning, yet I still hopelessly had faith in you.”

If it was possible, the guilt etched on his face deepened. He couldn’t miss the shift to past tense in your words, a bold declaration of the trust he had shattered.

“Whether you realised it or not, you’ve made your choice, Xavier. It’s time to put an end to this—to us.”

The blooms that Jeremiah had placed on the windowsill the day before suddenly lost their luster, mirroring the drastic change in emotion happening within you.

Xavier’s eyes flickered to the pot, helplessly watching the wilted petals droop, surrendering to the vines creeping up from the soil and entangling them with their thorny embrace.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” his words hang heavily in the air.

You didn’t tell him that he was wrong. No, the deep wound he had inflicted could never be healed by words alone.

Eyes fluttering closed, you were determined to keep the tears at bay. “Please close the door on your way out.”

After a few weeks that felt excessively long, you eventually received the green light to return to work.

The desk will be your friend longer, unfortunately, until you fully complete the knee therapy and succeed the reevaluation exam, as per Captain Jenna’s order.

Adrian, still feeling at fault, was determined to fill you in with what had happened while you were gone. Including the gossip.

You were the least surprised to hear about the relationship between Dr. Zayne and the recruit.

If the doctor’s visits during your hospital stay—expressing multiple gratitudes for saving his childhood friend and making sure you had the best care—weren’t any indicator, then you might as well be dense.

“He’s been very closed off,” Adrian remarked as your eyes strayed towards Xavier.

The lone hunter was back to distancing himself from everyone, taking solo missions and not talking unless prompted to.

He was just doing what he did best: tracking down Wanderers and not socializing.

But, you noticed the freshly brewed coffee every morning on your desk, made just the way you liked it.

You noticed the hot packs appearing whenever your face pulled in discomfort from the stiffness of your knee.

Noticed that he never left before you, even when he had the rest of the day off after returning early from a mission.

Noticed, the stolen glances he sent your way.

Was it because he felt consumed by guilt? Or was it because he had to swallow his own bitter pill, watching someone he cared about chose another person?

“They still have your favourite egg tarts.”

Startled, you looked up from the monitor to see Xavier setting two food bags on your desk.

It was the first time he had spoken directly since your return.

When you saw him leave earlier, you thought that he had finally given up and gone home, as you persisted in gathering information about the threatening Elite Wanderer well past working hours.

Even Captain Jenna left first, leaving you alone in the bullpen as the night shift went to grab dinner.

“Thank you,” you murmured gratefully. You opened the bags to reveal a sandwich in one and the egg tarts you used to enjoy together in the other.

Without hesitation, you handed him one of the pastries before he could step away. His eyes widened slightly before accepting it with a faint smile, a sight you hadn't seen in so long.

In the dimly lit room, Xavier’s eyes gleamed like the depths of the night sky, each gaze resembling a twinkling star in a vast galaxy.

It would have been easy to give in to those eyes, to his profound concerns.

But the scar left a permanent mark.

And you were still not able to distinguish whether its sight reopened an old wound or if it proved that you had truly healed.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

"Wake up, Osamu..."

uhh, dazai loses his ability for a day so he can pet the big cat <3

I maybe an alien or a ghost honestly.. but am real 🤣🤣🤣

its 6 30 am here .... 🥲

Thanks for tagging me -first time got tagged🥲😭 i do have friends .. on tumblr who r real cuz ....irl friends.😃

@sylusbigapples - idiotic real person but would stay in a fictional world much rather

Uhm so I'm doing this.

So apparently there's a lot of fake ass people on Tumblr who will just interact with you for comments and or followers or attention. So uhm I'm tagging ppl and they repost this and tag their moots too pls.

@fishtheflowerchomper

@fishgutzz

@notrighttonight

@tygerlilyrotsaway

I def would tag more but I've just interacted the most with these individuals :3

Please be real moots! I love u all anyways lmao

Flower prompts exchange

For @tillichan

Amaryllis- How would they act if you got sick or injured? How do you take care of them if they get sick or injured?

Xavier is somewhat of an airhead not gonna lie. Unless it concerns his lover aka you. When you get sick he’ll act somewhat like a mother hen but not a very good one. Xavier will insist on giving you some obscure medicine that he swears always helped him get better. That’s when you break it to him that…

“Xavier…baby…you are basically an alien”

Will he listen? Yes. Will he take it into consideration? Not really. Especially if the sickness lasts and isn’t getting better.

“Hey drink this tea I made you. Is there some medicine in it…? Maybe. Come on I even added honey so you can’t feel it!”

Now for food…Give him a star, this man learned how to cook your favorite dishes and even healthy snacks! Did he spend weeks training in his apartment and became the bane of existence of the fire department? Why are you asking questions you don’t want to know the answer.

But yeah, Xavier absolutely refuses to let you, his princess, do anything other than rest and get better when you’re sick. Unless it’s walks to have more fresh air. You even saw him speaking with you cat and dog, a serious expression on his face to explain the situation.

“Okay listen you two. She’s sick. Which means she needs to rest. You can’t demand snacks all the time now, yes I’m speaking to you adorable cat. Your mission is to cuddle with her, keep her warm and warn me if she’s trying to do chores. I’ll take care of the food- Why did you two whine?”

Even your animals fear him handling food. But as you can see, he takes over everything. Preparing tea just the way you like it, making sure you rest, even handling your responsibilities if possible. He is lowkey good at taking care of your garden. Your cat and dog immediately gravitate toward him, sensing his protective presence, and he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he makes sure they stay close, knowing their warmth and company bring you comfort.

At some point, he sits beside you, his presence both grounding and reassuring. If you struggle with the discomfort of being sick, he quietly soothes you, whether through reading aloud, playing soft classical music (he probably figures you’d appreciate that, given your background), or just staying near enough that you know you're not alone. And though he won’t admit it outright, you catch glimpses of how deeply he cares—like the way his brows knit together when you cough or how he lingers a second longer when tucking the blanket around you. Even when you’re sick, Xavier insists on cuddling. His excuse?

“I haven’t gotten sick in years. I doubt you can give it to me”

Famous last words.

Now if you’re feeling unwell due to an injury…it’ll be the same except he’ll have a guilty look in his eyes and will be more protective afterwards if it’s not a house injury of course. Xavier can’t help but think that this could’ve been prevented.

Now now now…a sick Xavier is a very stubborn Xavier. He’s still in denial that he got sick. It’s worse if he got injured, he’ll try to hide it but one of your animals will snitch on him by rubbing against the exact spot. Xavier will stay silent when you scold him for the reckless behavior. But you can see in his eyes that he’s touched by the concern and will let his guard down, letting you take care of him in his vulnerable moments.

By the way, if he gets sick right after you, he’ll tease you about it.

“Ah I seem to have caught the same illness as you how strange. And at such close interval. Perhaps this is the famous in sickness and in health”

Does he insist on taking his weird medicine? Yes. And they work on him because again it’s for his specie. So Xavier stop trying to argue.

It takes some effort to make him rest, but your patience and soft insistence are impossible to refuse. You prepare a warm drink for him, making sure it's not too sweet since you know he prefers subtle flavors. Your touch is gentle when checking for fever, but your concern is unwavering.

While he rests, you bring your cat and dog to sit near him, their calm presence acting as an unspoken comfort. You don’t overwhelm him with chatter, but you keep an eye on him, occasionally teasing him when he tries to downplay how bad he’s feeling. If he so much as tries to work while sick, you’ll give him a knowing look, one that silently says…

“Love. I dare you to accept that mission. I know you’re just looking for an excuse to buy snacks…ah ah! Don’t try to argue about this. Just sits down and sleep”

When he finally gives in and rests, you sit beside him, reading aloud from a book you know he might enjoy. The warmth of your presence, the softness of your voice, it’s more soothing than any medicine. And though he might not say it outright, the way he eventually closes his eyes and allows himself to relax tells you everything.

Xavier gets better rather fast. You’ve never seen a man rush faster to buy snacks in so called secret…But he also gets you a huge bouquet of flowers and your favorite food from the few restaurants that you like.

Begonia- Their reaction to you wearing their clothes

The moment Xavier sees you wearing his clothes, he freezes. His sharp eyes flick over you, taking in the way his jacket or shirt drapes over your smaller frame. There's no immediate reaction, just a pause, like he’s processing something he didn’t expect to affect him this much.

Then, his expression shifts. His eyes widen, mouth agape. Then he furrows his eyebrows. If you’re paying close attention, you might even catch the way his ears tint faintly pink.

“…did you lose your clothes? Not that I mind. I never thought my shirt could become such a cute dress”

Tease him about it. Maybe spin around or casually pull at the oversized sleeves. You’ll notice him trying to keep his composure in check. But ultimately failing.

“Did you pay for the rental? Or are you planning on excusing it with your cute face? You know what. I’ll forgive you if you pay with cuddles and wear my jacket so it smells more like you…”

Cue to him wrapping his arms around you for a long afternoon. He can’t properly explain it but it just makes him so happy when it’s you wearing his clothes. Despite Xavier often lending his clothes with no second thought to others, from now on he’ll refuse to do so unless it’s dire. He sees it as a you two things.

Fun fact, Xavier sometimes purposefully let you forget your jacket so you can wear his. He’s not being sneaky.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♥︎ FAMILIAR GLOW

── . ✦ WORD COUNT : 2,945

── . ✦ PAIRING : Xavier x Fem!Reader

── . ✦ SUMMARY : He takes his anger from a mission gone wrong out on you when all you tried to do was talk to him.

── . ✦ CONTENT WARNINGS : fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used for reader, use of 'y/n', angst + hurt/no comfort, use of petnames (honey), swearing (fuck, shit), depictions of injuries (cuts and bruises), minor depictions of blood.

── . ✦ AUTHOR'S NOTE : sorry for the repost... IN MY DEFENSE- i didnt even mean to POST THE FIRST ONE. BUT TUMBLR DOES THIS STUPID THING WHERE IT THINKS IT'S SILLY AND CHANGES THE 'SAVE DRAFT' BUTTON TO 'POST' BUTTON *bangs head into the wall*

── . ✦ WANT TO SEE MORE? Masterlist ⋮ 'Console Me' Masterlist

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Xavier languidly opened the front door to his apartment, being met with complete silence — apart from the usual bustling of Linkon City that never seemed to rest — and complete darkness — apart from the lights from the other buildings in the city surrounding the apartment building and the bright full-moon outside the windows. He pulled his phone from his back pocket to check the time. 23:35.

“Y/N must be asleep...” He thought, placing his right hand on his left shoulder and slowly rolling the sore joint in a circular motion after placing down his keys in a tiny dish on the console table a few feet from the front door.

“I suppose that it's for the better, though.” His body was littered in fresh bruises in various hues of deep purples and blues and lacerations of varying lengths and depths that were still leaking small beads of blood, soaking through his bandages and — apart from the blood — pristine, tightly wrapped sterilized gauze. He could barely move without every single muscle and joint in his body screaming at him to stop.

He knew that it was better that you didn't see him like this, since it would've definitely distressed you too much if you had to see him like that. He knew that you would notice his discomfort in the morning and begin to ask questions, but he luckily had a few hours to figure out how he was going to explain his state to you, while also downplaying the severity of his injuries as to not make you worry too much.

A few days prior, when Xavier was assigned the mission, you had begged him over and over to let you join him, adamant that it wasn't a good idea for him to go alone. He thought that your concern for his safety was cute and he watched you ramble on and on about his health with hearts and stars — quite literally — in his eyes.

Now, he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that you didn't join him. Good, because otherwise it would've been you littered with lacerations and bruises just like him; or bad, because if you had gone with him, all of his injuries could've been avoided because you would've been there to help him beat the wanderer.

He ran an aching hand through his silver hair while making his way to the couch with slow, dragging feet. He grimaced when he brought his hand out of hair and turned it over to inspect the back of it, noticing the large, reddish-purple bruises littering his knuckles and the valleys in between his fingers.

“Now it just looks like I've gotten into a bar fight...” Xavier sighed and flexed his hand, feeling the bruised skin stretch and a stinging pain compared to that of thousands of pins and needles repeatedly poking into his flesh.

“To be honest, I don't know which one would be worse in Y/N's eyes...” He chuckled lowly with a slight shake of his head, wondering which scenario would elicit a more displeased reaction from you.

“There's no way I'm going to be able to hide this from Y/N...” He muttered, bringing his hand up to his chest and rubbing the palm of his other hand over his bruised knuckles, squeezing his eyes shut when he felt a small stinging sensation pulsing from the bruises.

Xavier walked over to the couch and began to slowly bend his knees with his hands on his knees, trying to alleviate the pain that was gnawing at every single ligament in his body as he sat down on the couch with a strained groan.

God, that wanderer really did a number on him...

How could he let the mission botch as badly as it did? It was supposed to be an easy mission that shouldn't have taken him more than thirty minutes at worst to complete, but a measly miscommunication between Xavier and the Hunters' Association resulted in Xavier misinterpreting that he would be battling a low-ranking wanderer, one who's behavior would be so predictable that he could defeat it with his eyes blindfolded.

But it was, in fact, not a low-ranking wanderer. It was an Elite Carmine Talon, one of the toughest that he's ever had to battle, and he had to battle it alone.

Normally, even a Carmine Talon would be relatively easy for him to defeat; but he was so caught off-guard by it when it first appeared that it completely threw him off his groove. For the entire duration of the battle, Xavier was horribly disoriented and scatter-brained, resulting in him getting tossed around the battle vicinity like a ragdoll.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, slowly running his hands over his face and taking a deep breath. He debated whether he should bring up miscommunication between himself and the Association to Captain Jenna, because even if the miscommunication was small, it did nearly cost him his limbs more than a few times since he was highly unprepared for — and caught completely off-guard by — the Carmine Talon's ambush.

“Xavier?” Your soft voice brought his train of thoughts to an immediate, screeching halt and broke the silence in the living room from behind him, and he turned around a bit too quickly — almost as if he was startled — , immediately regretting it once searing bolts of paint shot throughout his entire body, down to the furthest tips of his fingers and toes. He hissed at the stinging sensation and involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut, before slowly opening them up again.

“Hey, honey...” Xavier muttered lowly, stiffly turning his upper body back around on the couch to face forward again, feeling the stinging pain gradually start to subside again.

Xavier missed how you furrowed your brows as you took notice of his pained expression and disheveled— almost distressed — appearance when he turned back around. His usually neat hair was tousled; little strands of silver fly-away hairs standing in every direction imaginable, catching the faint glow of the moonlight shining through the thin gossamer material of the curtains.

“You look like you've been in a bar fight.” You quipped with a teasing smile, walking over to the couch and slowly sitting down next to Xavier. Xavier’s lips twitched up in a a small smile, so small that you would not have noticed it if you weren’t watching his face with the utmost adoration.

He was still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen; even when his body was covered in large, dark bruises, pristine — except for the blood specks already leaking through the gauze's woven sheer — bandages and his clothes were caked in dirt-marks and rips, revealing the red abrasions decorating his skin underneath.

“I'm assuming that the wanderer you fought was not a low-ranking wanderer, was it?” You softly giggled with an amused smile, bringing your arm up to rest your elbow against the backrest of the couch and rest your cheek in the palm of your hand.

You brought your other hand up to gently run your fingers through his hair to try and flatten the straying strands. Xavier pulled away almost instantly when your fingers touched his scalp, and you involuntarily pulled your hand back, confusion — and a flash of hurt — swirled in your eyes.

“Xavier?” Your voice was soft — only loud enough to barely exceed the meaning of a whisper — and carried a tint of hurt. ‘Am I annoying him?’ ‘Does he want to be left alone?’ ‘Should I leave?’ ‘Should I have never gotten out of bed in the first place?’ Your train of thoughts stilled when you felt a soft, warm hand encase your own that was still hovering in the air from where you’d pulled back.

“I'm sorry, honey,” Xavier slowly brought your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle, feather-light kiss over your knuckles, “I'm just... really, really sore...”

“Oh...” Obviously you knew he was sore; look at the state of him! You’d be more concerned if he weren’t in any pain.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need a warm compress? Or a cool one?” You stood up from the couch and began walking in the direction of the kitchen. If you couldn’t make his pain completely disappear, you could at least try to help and minimize it; even the smallest bit of pain-relief would be enough to reassure you that you were helping.

“Um... no, I'm alright, thank you...” Xavier’s voice was soft; softer than it usually was. He looked down at his hands for a second, slowly running his middle finger over the dark bruises lining his knuckles. Your soft steps came to a stop just as you were about to pass the kitchen island

“Actually... could I maybe just get a cup of water, please?” He slowly brought his eyes up to meet yours, and your heart momentarily shattered at the exhausted look swirling in his deep blue eyes.

“Of course.” You sent him a caring smile — which he was too exhausted to return — before turning around and going to grab a glass cup from one of the kitchen cabinets.

The soft rippling of cold water flowing from the faucet and gathering in the cup resonated throughout the hauntingly quiet apartment. The silence was awkward and felt crushing as you and Xavier always had something to talk about, even if it was something as simple as a funny post one of you saw on Moments. You didn’t say anything though; you knew he was tired, and probably a little bit embarrassed at the damage that the Carmine Talon had done to him.

Turning the knob to bring the flowing water to a stop, you turned around with the cup wrapped between both of your palms, walking back over to the couch to slowly sit down next to Xavier. You nudged the cup in his direction with one hand holding the bottom of the cup and the other wrapped around the body of the glass cup, and he brought a faintly trembling hand out to grab the cup while keeping the other splayed on his knee. You watched him heavily bring the cup up to his lips and tip the cup back to take a sip, his adam's apple bobbed up and down as the cold water flowed down his sore throat.

“I’ll go get the bath running so you can freshen up, and in the meantime, I’ll help you remove your bandages and we can change them when you’re done with your bath, okay?” You rested your hand over his own on his knee with a soft smile

Xavier only nodded with the rim of the cup still pressed against his lips, though he had tipped it back so the water was no longer touching his lips. His eyes flicked back at the floor, dancing across winding patterns of the white oak wooden floorboards.

You gave his hand a few gentle pats — careful not too tap directly on his knuckles in fear of making the bruises decorating those areas sting — before standing up and walking in the direction of the en suite bathroom in Xavier's bedroom. Technically, it was yours as well; since you slept in his apartment more than you slept in your own.

In the bathroom after twisting the knob to let the warm water begin to flow and gradually begin to fill up the room with warm steam, you heard the sound of glass shattering against wooden floors from the living room and your socked feet nearly slipped on the smooth bathroom tiles as you rushed out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and into the living room to see what happened.

Grabbing onto the bedroom’s doorframe to balance yourself as your feet came to an abrupt halt once you were stood on the threshold of the living room, your eyes widened upon spotting Xavier stood over a pile of shattered, scattered crystals of glass in a puddle of water with his head hung low and fists clenched at his sides.

“Xavier, what happened?” you walked over with hurried steps to stand in front of Xavier and examined the shattered glass shards on the floor, not exactly toe-to-toe with him but close enough for him to be able to see your feet without having to lift his head.

“Why won’t anything go my way today...” You heard him mutter, and you looked up with confusion visible in the crease between your furrowed eyebrows, only to still be met with his silver bangs still dangling over his eyes, concealing his eyes from you.

“What are you talking about?” It was just a cup, why was he saying that nothing was going his way today?

Well, there was the mission that went south, but none of that was his fault in the slightest and this also wasn’t the first time that a miscommunication such as this one had happened, but he was never this upset about it before.

“Everything’s going wrong today...” He hissed through gritted teeth. You could see his fist visibly tighten in its clenched position, and his fists began to shake from the pressure of his nails digging into his palms.

“Like what? It’s just a cup, Xavier. It’s not the end of the world.” There was humour behind your voice since you didn't quite grasp the seriousness of the situation, and this only added fuel to the fire quickly growing in Xavier's eyes.

“It’s not ‘just’ the cup, Y/N! Everything’s gone wrong today!” He finally looked up at you, and the humour quickly disappeared from your voice once you noticed the scary amount of ire swirling behind his eyes. “The cup practically flew from my grip the second you left the room; and the mission botched because the Association can’t seem to get their god-damn information straight and now it looks like I don’t know how to properly do my job!”

“There’s no need to yell at me, Xavier,” You brought your hands up in a placating gesture to try and alleviate his anger. “And what happened today really wasn’t bad enough for you to conclude that everything's going wrong. Don’t you think you’re overreacting a little?” Your question held absolutely no malice and he knew that; it was a genuine question since while what happened today wasn’t exactly ideal, you didn’t feel like it was enough for Xavier to act out like this.

“Overreacting?!” His eyes widened in disbelief at your way of phrasing it, then the flame of rage returned in his eyes, burning even brighter than it was before. “Of course you would think it wasn’t that bad since all you did today was lay around and do nothing!” Your mouth fell open in absolute disbelief at what he just said. This was your first day-off in months, and the last thing you did was lay around all day. You were out running errands for hours, you deep-cleaned the apartment and helped one of your friends build a shelf in the apartment a few rooms down the hall from your own. You were doing everything but laying around.

“What are you getting so mad at me for? It’s as if you’re saying it’s my fault that the mission botched!” You weren’t serious when you stated that last part, but your heart plummeted into the deepest point of your stomach when he didn’t deny it.

He stayed silent when you said it, and you felt your hands begin to shake at what he was basically insinuating. It was as if he was saying ‘if the shoe fits’.

“Wow...” You laughed in disbelief, finding his innuendo so utterly ridiculous and offensive that you could’ve sworn that it was a joke if the tension in the air wasn’t so thick that even a chainsaw couldn’t cut through it.

“Low blow, Xavier. Low, low blow.” You scoffed and turned around to head for the direction of the front door, completely missing the way the flame of rage immediately extinguished in his eyes once he realized what it was that you concluded from his silence.

‘Shit,’ He thought, ‘That wasn’t what I meant!’, He wanted to chase after you and let you know that that wasn’t what he was thinking. He’d never think like that. Ever. So to think that he made you think that he was blaming you for the Association's mistakes made his heart shatter into an unfathomable amount of pieces.

You grabbed your keys from the tiny dish on the console table and harshly shoved the key into the keyhole, gripping the handle once you heard the key click in the keyhole.

“You know, Xavier...” You muttered with your head down, rapidly blinking your eyes when you felt the familiar sting of tears start to well up in your waterline, “I never knew you thought that lowly of me.”

You twisted the doorknob counter-clockwise, feeling the subtle latch disconnect from its hook in the wall, “I would've told you if I knew that the Association's wanderer prediction was false...” You opened the door and stepped over the threshold, feeling the lump in your throat swell as a salty tear ran down your cheek.

“Stop thinking so lowly of me...” And with that, you pulled the door shut behind you.

Xavier fell back down on the couch after watching the door close behind you, ignoring the physical pain in his body since the emotional anguish he was currently going through exceed the physical pain tremendously.

He ran his hands over his face, moving over his forehead and moving his hair away from his eyes in the process. ‘What the fuck did I just do...’

© aeyuriameow. All rights reserved. DO NOT copy, modify, translate, plagiarize or repost ANY of my work on ANY social media platform. DO NOT claim my work as your own. DO NOT mention, promote or recommend my work on ANY social media platform outside of Tumblr. Violators will be prosecuted in accordance with the law. I currently ONLY post my work on Tumblr under the username @aeyuriameow.

My first fic in years. If there is any error, let me know.

Prompt: You had begged Xavier to roleplay as Lumiere. He refused multiple times until he finally gave in.

...

"Is this the meeting you had been expecting?" One of his hands on your throat while the other rested on your hip. You were trembling at his contact. You had been waiting for this moment and all your mind could think about was your husband's touch.

"Lu-lumiere!"

He even kept the mask on, you could not see him but you could feel how possessive he was getting by the second and how he was starting to enjoy it as well. Lumiere leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear, beating it.

"Is this what you like?" His grip getting stronger "You like being touched by another man, whore?"

The word sank in, it was the first time he called you that. You knew what you were asking for when you begged for him to act as Lumiere but that word, whore, strung a nerve.

"MC?" Xavier's touch lighten up as he felt you tensing up.

"I am not a whore..." A tear, then another and another. Your cheeks were now a river, tears falling into the mattress "I am not a whore" you bit your lip.

He pulled off from you, tossed that damned mask and spin you around. Maybe he had gotten a little carried away when he had hear you calling him Lumiere.

"No!" His arms wrapping around you as a cocoon "You are no whore. I am sorry..."

"You called me a whore" you were not looking at him, eyes full of tears and shame. Did he really thought that you were a whore or was something on the spur of the moment? In any case, you did not like it. "Do you think I am a whore?"

"No" he took one of your hands and kissed it, seeing that you did not pull away, he fell back on the bed "I would never think that about you" his hands traveled around your body giving you comforting squeezes "You are the most precious star in all the universe... I got jealous when I heard you call me Lumiere"

"But you are Lumiere!" You hit his chest "You shouldn't be jealous of your own self!"

Xavier sighed. How he could explain his jealousy, his love for you? He had lived for centuries, gave up his tittle for you, had see you fall in love with other man in the past, the thought of you want him to pretend to be someone else, even for one night, made his chest burst with jealousy.

He looked at you, the marks he had left in your love making, the way your skin glittered by the sweat due to all the work he had made you do, his gaze rested in yours. Your eyes shimmered with sadness, a sadness he had also put in there.

"I am Lumiere" he brushed your hair out of your face "But I don't want to be Lumiere with you. I want to be Xavier, I want for you to look at me and say my name"

Your hands reached for his, taking them to your chest. Your beating hard under his palm was a confession of your love for him.

"Xavier, I only love you" your eyes burning into his "I asked you to be Lumiere because you are Lumiere. I don't want any other man in my heart that it's not you"

Xavier's heart beat faster as the words left your lips. He should have know better, he should have already know that you were his, the wedding band on your finger should have been proof enough.

"I am sorry that I called you a whore" his hand moved to your face, brushing away the rest of the tears "How I can made it to you?" His hands rested in your hips, unsure if you would like to continue with your nightly activities.

Your lips met his cheek "I want for my husband cuddle with me until I forget Lumiere's offence... Also, get ride of the suit"

Xavier smiled, his lips looking for yours. Xavier spent of the night showing you with love until the sun came up. Lumiere's custom already forgotten in the floor.

starstruck.

coming home drunk and showering xavier with kisses

short fluff <3 inspired by this lol

Xavier wondered what you were doing. He's at home, observing his fitness watch app when he noticed that your heart rate has been picking up. It's nothing alarming, but it makes him curious about what you could possibly be up to at this time of night.

He got his answer two hours later when Tara knocked on his door with your arms wrapped around her shoulders, giggling uncontrollably about something.

"Thank god you're here." Tara passes your swaying body over to Xavier, who then steadied you by putting one hand on your waist and another on the small of your back. "She kind of drank a little too much, so..... good luck and good night!"

"Huh?"

Soom after Tara vanished, Xavier felt his cheeks being squished by two cold hands. "Ooohh, no way! You look just like this guy that I like!"

"...oh no."

During the last ten minutes, Xavier has been trying to get you to drink water.

"I'm not drinking that love potion!"

You keep running away from him and occasionally bumping against his furnitures and the walls of his apartment.

You were giggling while looking over your shoulder, trying to see how far he is from you when suddenly, you bumped into....Xavier.

"Wha- how did you - " You suddenly gripped his shirt. "Oh, Xavier! You're not gonna believe this! Someone who looks just like you wants to give me a love potion! I think he might be Lumie- ah!"

Xavier threw you over his shoulder and did his best to hold tightly as you wiggled dramatically to free yourself from him. "I just want to give you some water."

He set you down on the couch and got on one knee in front of you so that he could give you the glass of water.

You blinked and stared at him with wide eyes, pupils dilated and body petrified.

Xavier tilted his head. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" The moment his hand brushed against your cheek, you gasped and recoiled. "Hmm?"

"...pretty...."

/////////////

You woke up with the worst headache of your life. You're never drinking ever again.

You say that every time you get drunk, but you really mean it this time. It doesn't matter how good the drinks are - you can only have one drink from now on! No more!

"Ugh..."

You opened your eyes and recognized Xavier's bedroom. You're wearing your pajama shorts and one of Xavier's comfortable shirts that's enveloping you with his scent.

Xavier is still sleeping next to you, back facing you and face partly buried on his pillow.

You wanted to stay in bed for a little longer and cuddle with him, especially since he always looks extra soft in the mornings, but your dry mouth is forcing you to get up and hydrate yourself.

And so, you dragged yourself to the kitchen. Along with a pill that'll help with your hangover, you took a big gulp of refeshing cold water.

"Good morning." a tired voice greets you through a yawn. "How are you feeling?"

You turned around to face Xavier and immediately choked on your water.

"PFFFFTTTT - "

You coughed and spat out some water, putting a hand on your throat as you felt it burn slightly.

"Are you okay?!"

Xavier ran over to check on you, giving you a closer look at his body's....modifications. He's only wearing his pajama pants, so everything else is out on display.

"That's...."

Xavier realized you're gawking at him - specifically at the lipstick stains all over his face, neck, and chest.

The kiss marks are the same shade of red that you wore last night when you went out with Tara and Simone.

"Oh god..."

Your right hand reached for Xavier's face and your thumb started to wipe one kiss mark on his cheek.

You almost forgot about it, but now the faint memory of you peppering kisses all over Xavier is slowly coming back to you.

You just remembered him looking so dazzling and you were overcome with the urge to kiss him.... a lot, apparently.

"You could've at least wiped them off before falling asleep."

Xavier smiled and shook his head. "I don't mind them. You were having a lot of fun and it was helping you calm down. I'm glad I was able to help."

"Ugh. I'm never drinking again."

"That's what you said last time." Xavier laughs, nuzzling his face against the hand that was wiping him. "But it's okay. As long as I'm your only victim, I don't mind taking care of drunk you."

"Hey, I can't sleep..."

Xavier mumbles something in reply, totally incoherent to you. He reaches for the lamp on the nightstand next to his side of the bed, and a warm glow fills the room. He yawns, and he sits up in bed, leaning against the headboard, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Okay, come here, then."

He pats his lap twice. You stare at him, and then at where he was patting.

"You want me to sit on you?"

He raises an eyebrow. "No. Come put your head here."

You oblige and lie down with your head in his lap. He reaches for something else on the nightstand - it's a book. He flips open to a page and clears his throat.

"Once upon a time–"

You can't help but laugh out loud, and you end up shaking the whole bed. Xavier clicks his tongue and shushes you.

"I'm trying to read you a bedtime story, if you don't mind."

"Okay, okay," you concede. "I'll be quiet. So quiet."

Xavier continues, putting on a storyteller voice. "There was a young girl whose mother had sadly died, and she lived with her father whom she loved dearly..."

He continues with the story of Cinderella, and you're enthralled by all the voices he puts on for the different characters. They sound ridiculous and ill-fitting, but you're entertained nonetheless. All the while, one of his hands is in your hair, gently brushing his fingers through it. The other holds the book, and in the moments where he takes the hand in your hair to flip a page, you instantly miss it - you would be happy for him to read a page over and over again if it meant keeping his hand right where it is. There are a couple of times where he yawns, and it's contagious - you yawn along with him.

"... and they all lived happily ever after. The end."

Xavier closes the book, but you turn over in his lap to look up at him. You push your bottom lip out in what you hope is a cute pout. "Can you read me another one, please?"

He rolls his eyes, but obliges, and opens the book again. He flips around for a little bit before clearing his throat again. "This is the story of Sleeping Beauty..."

You're not sure when it is that you doze off, but the next time you wake, sunlight is streaming through the gaps in the curtains. Your head is still in Xavier's lap, his hand still resting in your hair. The book he was holding is next to him on the bed, opened to a random page, and you can hear him snoring lightly. You turn, just a little bit, to take a look at him. His eyelids are twitching just so slightly, his mouth moving as if in conversation with someone in a dream. You feel a warmth spread across your chest, your heart beating just a little faster. Sleeping Beauty indeed.

II ▷ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 — " orion's home "

part 2 of the 𝐥&𝐝𝐬 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 [other parts: zayne, rafayel, sylus]

— exploring Xavier as a father, both of your children’s relationships with you and their Dad, as well as delving into their passions and personalities

note: each LI has different MCs, meaning each child/ren of the other LIs have different mothers and aren't related

ᴛᴀɢꜱ: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, crack; xavier has some insecurities and secrets, recessive genes (take this as it is trust me), maybe a little canon-divergent bc of some hc inserts of xavier's myth lore, canon-timeline inaccuracies (?) bc of pop culture references, dirty jokes/references

❥ a/n: finally posted 😭 this has been in the drafts for too long.. if u want a tag in the next part, which is rafayel's, just let me know!! im planning on a permanent taglist post soon but i wanna finish this mini series first 🫶🏼 i apologize for the grammatical errors and if the character is a bit ooc as this is my interpretation of them. pls be nice c: and i absolutely appreciate every reblog and comments 🥺💗

0:03 ───|────────────────────────

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 has two sons, and definitely a present father to them. He never truly gave much thought about having kids with you in the first place, more content on having you all for himself. He wouldn't have a child unless you wanted one, seeing how you would look longingly at children and their families laughing together, and a part of him started to consider it as well. He's glad he did, because now he has his own personal constellation he calls home, you at the center, starlights that motivate him everyday. Given his own upbringing, he will never force his sons to do something they truly don't like and let them follow their heart’s desire. He had some insecurities at first, seeing he's never had a good relationship with his own father, fearing he might turn out the same as him. With enough reassurance from both you and his sons, he grew more confident that yes, he is a deserving dad and a great father despite the inevitable ups and downs.

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 

The eldest son, looks a lot like Xavier mostly because he's got the same puppy eye shape and face structure, but oddly he doesn't get any of you or Xavier's eye colors

Xavier is taken aback the moment his son first opened his eyes, cradling him in his arms, his breath caught for a moment

It's something Xavier thought he'd hoped to never see again, ironically; a distant memory he's buried away, memory from home

But when Lance's eyes—a shade of forest green, gleaming into jade under the sunlight, like an eternal spring—look up at him with innocent wonder, the resemblance of his father’s eyes stops there.

Xavier can't help shedding a tear or two.

You didn't question it further, knowing enough about his past at this moment. The look of aching familiarity in Xavier's gaze was all it took to have some understanding

Xavier grew up being told he resembled his mother a lot more—his overall soft features and crystal blue eyes—something he was more grateful for, but genes sure are.. funny.

Lance loooooves Xavier's presence so much as a baby (even until his teen to adult but he’s never saying that out loud)

You would struggle putting him to sleep some nights alone when Xavier is somewhere on a solo mission

His cries seemed endless as you tried everything, from feeding him, to changing his diapers, to swaying him with a lullaby, yet nothing seems to work

Xavier comes home, utterly exhausted from his mission. He goes straight to Lance in your arms, sensing your own stress and exhaustion, wanting to help

You insist he needs to rest too, but the moment he's taken his son in his arms, the cries almost instantly settles down

“Sshhh, Dad's home now, baby. Let's sleep now, okay?” Xavier whispers as he gently sways him, the movement you were trying to emulate. He places a feather-light kiss on Lance's forehead, and like magic, he's asleep.

You stare at Xavier in awe.

Since then, it's been kind of a thing that Lance immediately just falls asleep faster in his dad's hold

Even when he grows into a toddler, he treats his dad like a beanbag (Xavier doesn't mind, not at all. It’s very welcome, encouraged even)

He would curl himself silently on his lap and immediately be knocked out. It was their shared routine. 

You have a dedicated album for those moments that’s honestly an accurate montage of Lance’s growth. Every week there's a new wallpaper of them on your phone

Your personal favorite was when Lance is holding onto him like a koala bear and Xavier's splayed over the playmat like a starfish, sleeping without a care in the world

But then Lance hits puberty

So it gets awkward from then on, since he was growing taller by the day, gaining inches above Xavier's own height

“My baby is so big now..” Xavier pouts playfully, ruffling his hair.

Lance sighs. “Dad, can you not say that.. please..” But he makes no move to stop him anyways.

Xavier gets slightly upset over it. In his perspective, he can never be too old or too big to be his nap time buddy

You and Xavier call him your baby even well into his teens much to his dismay

The more he grows taller, the more he's a victim of being mistaken for Xavier's older brother

It's funny at first but Lance is like “🤨 Isn’t he supposed to be 40 something?”

When both you and Xavier are away, toddler Lance was left to the trusty babysitter Uncle Jeremiah

It seemed like a hassle at first but Lance was so quiet, too quiet even sometimes just playing by himself.

Jeremiah would get him to open up by telling random stories from other planets and such

Lance's favorite was him talking about Lumiere's exploits, because it was so highly detailed unlike other stories.

Learned to make flower crowns from scraps. You get one every time you come to pick him up.

“Look, Mommy is princess!” Lance would say proudly as you hold him, wearing the daisy flower crown you received from him. 

Xavier smiles, leaning to place a kiss on both you and your son's cheeks. “No, Mommy is our queen, and you're our prince.” 

Best believe teen Lance is the no. 1 Hater when he catches you and Xavier being loveydovey. he just finds it so cringe.

He's giving you both a nasty side-eye as you laugh at his disgust

He's quite athletic, but he used to hop from sport to sport because he can't really a feel to what he likes the most

A natural genius, the one that sleeps at the back of the class but somehow still gets one of the highest grades in their batch 

He's unaware that he's the campus crush because of his weird intimidating but cool aura but in reality they have noooo idea he's a loser geek.

It’s really just his bitch resting face (courtesy of his mother), which image shatters when he smiles, bunny teeth and a small dimple on his cheek. 

Very reserved. Doesn’t keep secrets but won’t share about himself until you ask. Like he would casually tell you he survived jumping off a cliff and give no context until you ask.

More of a listener than a yapper, so he’s seemingly dry to talk to but will remember every single thing you say

He’s learned to read people really well–an empath if you will–an ability he inevitably developed when his dad had a vault full of secrets and masked emotions.

He was bluntly honest as a kid, growing more tact as he matures later on

Although he can take hints about what others feel/think, it doesn’t mean he’s a pushover if they’re crossing a boundary, He’s not a people pleaser in terms of he’s not trying to fit into whatever norm is going on, just doing his best to live true to himself

Other than napping, his favorite past time as a kid was sword fighting with the endless collection of lightsabers he's got, battling against you and/or Xavier

It kind of becomes actual training sometimes, and you BET Xavier's old ass be saying:

“When I was your age, I already know how to parry.”

You give Xavier a look. “Honey, he's 6.”

Star Wars becomes his personality for the inevitable part of his childhood

And you bet you were the one spoiling him with all that merch. Lance's favorite was the Millennium Falcon lego set. He cried opening that Christmas gift

Inherited his massive geekiness from you 

His core memory was sitting on Xavier's shoulders, his hands clutching his father's hair, you looping arms with Xavier side by side, as a Lego Star Wars parade marched on, fireworks in the background

Starstruck for an entire month after that

Loves it when you also tell stories about Lumiere at bedtime (unbeknownst to Xavier,) eyes twinkling and all.

Then he would also add his own stories he heard from Jeremiah, and you both just yap until you fall asleep

So respectful when he asks to borrow your Lumiere figurines.. and you LET him, which says a lot because those babies are expensive

Needless to say, Lance is also a talented swordsman, quite inspired to follow both of your footsteps as hunters

Your favorite memory of him was when you brought toddler Lance with you one time to the Hunter's Association, just to surprise Xavier for his birthday (yes, the man is still working, but you had a cake prepared for him and all)

The boy was a bundle of awe and wonder, loving how cool the hunters looked despite being shy to talk to them

He was literally being cooed and coaxed by your coworkers with candies and it was so cute to watch his round cheeks and ears become rosy from the attention

Xavier finally finished his mission, body growing heavy with exhaustion as he returned to HQ to fulfill his report. He settles down a bench, getting comfortable against the wall and about to lull into a nap when a loud voice echoes.

“Soooo, Lancey, who's your favorite hunter?”

Xavier shot up his seat, wide awake, the drowsy weight on his eyelids evaporated. He stumbled in his feet slightly from standing up too suddenly. Confusion knitted his brows. Why was his son here? Or was it another Lance?

He's now noticing the empty desks and his colleagues gathering around presumably his son. Slowly, he comes closer from behind, unnoticed by your officemates. 

“But I have more than one favorite..” Lance says, and Xavier's ears perched. He found himself tiptoeing over the crowd trying to spot Lance. A smile graces Xavier’s face after spotting Lance– eyes glued on the floor, hands fidgeting over the candies given to him. He was sitting on your lap, hugging him in place, and you were smiling from ear to ear, your gaze on your son. Lance was slowly getting more comfortable, the shyness seeping out of him.

“Oohhh, so if you have to rank them then, what would it be?” someone quips, and your coworkers hit the dude’s shoulder playfully for the ‘scandalous’ query. 

But it gets everyone curious, even both you and Xavier.

“Hmm.. it's Daddy and then Mommy and..” Lance mutters, and everyone is gasping dramatically, including you.

“Mommy’s lower than Daddy in your list?” You pouted in mock sulking, and it had Lance panicking a little.

“N-noo, Daddy's in third, and then Mommy is second, and then first is Lumiere!” 

Everyone's laughing and hollering now.. except Xavier.

You finally notice him, standing as still as a statue–clear, utter, guttural, mind-shattering distraught in Xavier's face, and it unfortunately made you laugh harder that your stomach began to hurt. You swear his soul left his body.

Lance was confused why it was so funny to everyone, nervously laughing, then he also spots Xavier. He beams, a vibrant signature bunny smile with his two front teeth, and Xavier almost forgets he didn’t just rip out his heart a few seconds ago.

“Dad!” Lance hops off your lap, rushing over to embrace him around his waist. Everyone was cooing at them, greeting Xavier a happy birthday but he didn't really register them. His ears were still ringing from the revelation.

Xavier bends to his knees, giving him a proper embrace back. Lance looks up at him, still smiling, until he notices the pout on Xavier’s face.

“Dad, don't be sad..” Lance pouts too, patting Xavier's had the same way his father would if he was upset. Xavier nuzzles against his tiny hands.

“But why is Dad in third place..” Xavier asks, and you're dying at the back because his puppy eyes were at work. Everyone else was snickering to themselves.

But Lance wasn’t Lance unless he says his truth.

Lance tilts his head, thinking to himself. “Because.. um.. I don't know if Dad can beat Lumiere..?”

(Cue a series of ‘oooohhs’, and you scold them, telling them to go back to their stations now, and they do after much persistence.)

“Lanlan—now Dad's actually sad now.” You try to intervene before your son continuously bluntly destroys his Dad's heart.

“But why? My dad is still the best Dad in the whole universe.”

Lance states it like an undisputed fact, and Xavier's heart swells so much it tightens his chest.

Because Lance wasn't Lance unless he's saying his truth. 

(Cue a series of ‘awwws’ from everyone in their desk cubicles.)

To him, that matters more than any hunter ranking. A deep part inside Xavier he's been holding for years is finally exhaled, filled in turn with relief. Lance never talks a lot, but when he does he really means it. In the void in Xavier's chest, was a star that burned brighter twinkling in the pattern of your laughter at that moment—he is another major star in Xavier's personal constellation, unabashedly warm and tiny, spring in his jade eyes and Lepus in his smile, contained perfectly in his embrace.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry—No cry!” Lance stammers as Xavier's eyes water, hands flailing on his face to wipe them, but Xavier thinks to himself that Lance has got nothing to apologize for.

Xavier just embraces him closer, face buried on his son's shoulder. He smelled of strawberry kids liquid soap and baby powder—home.

“Dad's very very happy, baby.” Xavier mutters, muffled by his clothes. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, my love,” You greet, inching closer with a lit birthday cake. The radiance of your smile in that moment couldn't be dimmed by anything.

Lance jumps excitedly in his grasp. “Oh yah! Happy birthday, Dad!” 

That declaration was the best birthday gift he could ever receive. 

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 — “Axel”, “Sandy”

youngest son, born 10 years after Lance

An unplanned baby (because of Freakvier) and the reason why Lance would give the both of you a nasty side-eye when you're both too lovey-dovey

“I thought Axel's favorite sleep buddy would be me, but now Lance has a mini-Lance the Koala Bear, part two.”

“Don't worry, honey. You're still my favorite pillow.” Xavier leans to kiss you, tender and soft, swallowing your giggles and the ‘you’re so cheesy’ you were about to say.

Lance walks in on that ill timing again, tangible disgust on his face, and with the meanest tone, he lets out—

“Ew.”

You're laughing, as Xavier pettily embraces you tighter, shameless that he's caught again. “You can knock you know, baby.” he says.

“Firstly, this is the living room. Second, one sibling is enough, please.” 

“Lance!” You throw a pillow at him, and he just catches it.

“I’m not joking, Mom!”

Incredibly touchy since birth, doesn't get lulled to sleep other than when he felt he was skin to skin contact every time

Axel is a mini you with freckles reaching until his back, matching your face structure and hair, big blue eyes like Xavier's, but a deeper shade, with hints of brown in the middle

The reason his nickname is Axel was because when he was in kindergarten to lower elementary, he kept misspelling his name as “Axelander”

You, Xavier, and Lance later understand it was because he is dyslexic

The nickname stuck because Lance was kind of a bully as a kid (aren't all older brothers really) and would never stop calling him that.

Axel never took it to heart though and finds it funny.

It takes a lot to actually upset him, because he's sometimes unnaturally optimistic about everything. Imagine Laios from Dungeon Meshi? Yeh. That.

Although Lance has absolutely 0 tolerance when other kids would bully him seriously with the nickname. That's only his privilege.

In actuality, Axel doesn't really realize he was being bullied at all and was just happy his peers were talking to him

Sandy was your nickname to him, because his favorite place in the playground park was the sandbox and he gets absolutely dusted quite literally.

Lance actually has multiple nicknames for him. These include but aren't limited to: “Axelander Sanderson the Great,” “Sandman Eater,” (he ate sand at one point) and his favorite, “Axelotle”

Does not care that you and Xavier call him their baby until his adulthood. 

The most creative comeback this boy can muster is.. “Uglancelot” and “Lame-cy” which doesn't even offend him it's just funny attempts

Despite that, he's actually very close to his brother even between you and Xavier, since he's taking care of him when you're both away on a mission

Unlike his brother and father, isn't easily sleepy; a light-sleeper.

His favorite pastime as a kid was recreating WWE moments on the mattress with any of you three.

And he looooves taking the Wanderer roleplay when they play swordfight with lightsabers

Because this baby’s special interest is Wanderers!

He would be listening to Lance and You rambling about Lumiere and he would ask more about what kind of Wanderer he defeated.

The little man's treasure was an encyclopedia of Wanderers he received from Xavier in his 10th birthday

He cried, yes. You took a picture and it's Lance's favorite one of all time.

Axel would bug you, Xavier, or Lance with questions or just asking help if he can't read a word properly the entire time

He has the whole contents ingrained in his memory since then. He can and will recite it given the chance just to annoy Lance.

Of course he ended up with more and more Wanderer related things, from books to figures to actual pictures

Learns to be secretive as hell because Lance tends to be super nosy when it came to his business and can read anybody like a book, a pamphlet even

Like father, like son I suppose

He still gets busted by dear bro though

Needless to say, this boy is loser geek doubled

Would be competitive as hell with video games against his dad and brother

The King of Rhythm Games, no one can beat him in that field.

Actually more of a social butterfly than Lance, but sometimes assumes everyone is his friend even when they're questionable people (why Lance gets worried sometimes), it was worse as a kid

Is not a people pleaser but pleased around people type beat

His comfort movie series is How To Train Your Dragon

Influenced his ultimate dream of befriending a Wanderer, preferably also a Dragon-type

Horrible with swords, but a great marksman from almost any long ranged weapon` 

Would playfully steal you away from Xavier when Lance is doing his 😒 face again at you both being.. sus

Has a trouble magnet streak, absolutely stressing the hell out of everyone, especially Xavier

But Axel’s puppy eyes are the puppiest to puppy eye no other puppy can actually eye, ever (this isn't making sense but that's the point), so he almost gets away with it every time

Like you think you already built a tolerance from both Xavier's and Lance's double kill puppy eyes when they're trying to get something they want

But Axel's puppy eyes are a whole other level. It was heartbreaking and knee buckling, and you know damn well that Lance and Xavier uses him as last straw 

And it still actually works to your dismay

The privilege as the youngest, Lance would grumble

Imagine having to live with three pleading puppy eyes everytime you say no. You must be a strong woman.

Xavier though? Well..

Xavier should be mad, really. He already knew this boy’s tactic very well. He can already hear both you and Lance berating him already in the future just after this.

Axel was left under Jeremiah’s care as per usual after school, as the boy absolutely loves the greenhouse and chattering with Jeremiah in general. You confirmed you would be home later than usual, Lance was preoccupied with training for the Hunter Licensure Examination, so that left Xavier with the task to pick him up from Philo. He planned to take Axel out to the arcade, something they haven’t gone to in a while and the 11 year old has been insisting on getting the new plushie for you when you get back. Xavier even went on a quick trip from the store just to get him his favorite yogurt drink, a small smile on his face.

Which slowly dissipated after the scene Xavier witnessed just outside the flower shop window

By one of the lounging tables, Axel was sitting rigidly, had his head drooping down that his hair masked his face, and his knuckles paling from squeezing his own knees. Across the table was Jeremiah, palms rubbing all over his face in what seemed like exasperation. 

When Xavier caught on his son slightly trembling, the confusion brewing in him quickly burned into something else.

“What am I supposed to tell your dad—” Jeremiah groans, but gets cut off by Xavier bolting inside, the welcoming jingles of his shop door rattling violently. The gardener paled before the all too familiar tempered glare Xavier was throwing him right now.

“Tell me what?” Xavier spat, hurrying over Axel’s side, placing a careful hand on his back, but the sudden contact made Axel jolt, his face shooting up to look at him–big eyes swollen red from tears and snot–and something was crumbling in Xavier’s ribcage, eliciting an eye twitch.

Slowly, he turned his head towards Jeremiah in an unnerving manner, a terrifying look in his eyes as he utters again, “Tell me what?”

Jeremiah swears he’s had more close brushes with death whenever it comes to dealing with Xavier instead of actual apocalyptic cosmic threats, and this was no different. After an elongated sigh, he began to explain the situation.

Apparently, Axel found a way to get into the Hunter’s Association Database through Jeremiah’s computer for more in depth information of Wanderers, and apparently it alerted an alarm system from HQ sending Jeremiah’s computer a warning that it would seize everything that was in that device–all including some access to.. their past, if they did not stop and identify themselves. Xavier didn’t need that part elaborated, knowing Jeremiah’s crucial role in their expedition, and in all honesty? Xavier didn’t really care much about matters pertaining to that after everything he has now, until..

“He used [Name]’s ID and account to log in.”

Axel stiffened, his arms wrapping around Xavier’s waist flinching into tension, face digging into his side. Xavier’s soothing caresses slowly drew to a stop when he registered what he just said. Dread crept in his nerves when he remembered earlier this morning how You were going frantic the entire time on where the hell You could have lost Your ID while running late.

“Axel..” Xavier sighed, petting his hair, “..baby, look at me right now.”

He didn’t, shaking his head as he started to hiccup again, keeping his face stuck on his side now damp with tears. Xavier pulled him away slowly, kneeling down to meet his son’s eyes, but now it was glued on the floor as he fidgeted in his seat in guilt.

“I’m not mad..” Xavier cupped his face, wiping his tears that slowly continued to tear in his heart. “Just tell me the truth and I will help, okay?”

“I-it’s–I–” hic, “I did–It’s true,” Axel sobbed, “I-I’m sorry–Sorry, Dad–”

“Sshh, it’s gonna be fine, alright? Let’s go home–”

“N-no!” he blurted, puffy, terrified eyes now meeting Xavier’s own. He clutched his father’s hands, shaking. “Don’t–don’t tell Mom, please?”

In all honesty, he was going to tell you the situation, as you both were past that stage in your relationship of keeping secrets–especially this kind. You already knew about his past, your shared ‘history’ with him, so this shouldn’t be that much bigger right?

But there it was, a pleading gaze of a deep blue–spheres of weeping Neptunes–eyes anyone can drown in. It drove Xavier’s instincts to just cradle him in his arms for as long as he can away from everything overwhelming–consequences be damned. 

He is a responsible father and a husband, but he is also just a man.

“Dad, please? I-I promise I’ll make up for it..” Axel continued to plead, sealing the deal for Xavier’s left resistance.

“Alright. But I’ll hold onto that promise right now..” Xavier gave him a stern look. “Don’t ever do something like this ever again, promise me, because I will tell your mother. You’ll have.. Different consequences for now, but.. I want you to remember this. Promise?”

“I promise.” Axel swore, calming down from his breakdown as Xavier pulled him into a proper embrace.

An exasperated sigh tore through their little moment, followed by a clearing throat. The two looked over to the source on the other side of the table.

“I think.. There’s also another one you need to say sorry to, baby.” Xavier nudged his son.

“I’m sorry, Uncle.. Please don’t hate me.”

And who is Jeremiah to do so when he looks at him like a kicked puppy who can do no wrong? He is also just a man.

(The two leave the shop after Xavier secured Jeremiah’s secrecy, going for the ice cream and arcade hang out like Xavier planned. He also made sure to clarify and sort the alarm with HQ with a quick call along the way. At the end of the day, they both go home in a happy note like nothing ever happened as Xavier returned Your ‘found’ ID.)

12:28 ──────────────────────────|──

ꜰᴜɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛꜱ !!

Lepus is the Hare or Bunny constellation. It was a bird turned bunny by the goddess of spring, Ostara to escape the hunter. It rests under the foot of the Orion constellation.

Orion the Hunter is a huntsman in mythology and is often referenced due to the Orion's Belt. He is cursed to be a constellation, forever stuck in the sky, hunting something he can never reach alongside his two Canis Majoris and Minor hunting dogs, all because of his arrogance

Axel was born in the Winter Solstice (December 22)

You can take these facts however as you please ☺️😌.. ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

acc tags: @cordidy @dann-acalle thank you for your support and patience!!

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Not now!

Notes: masterlist \ Part 1

Summary: Your husband is calling you, but a little gremlin keeps declining it.

Tag: @teewritessmth @mitskunicheesecake @rcvcgers @vspxriddles @iloveh4nge

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Zayne

Zayne sat in the doctor’s lounge, his phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the call ring. Once. Twice. Then—

Call Declined.

His brows furrowed slightly. His hands, steady enough to perform the most delicate heart surgeries, tightened around the phone. He tried again.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Zayne exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip relaxing, Maybe you were busy. You were probably playing with Elias or cooking dinner Mayne in the shower? He wasn’t the type to overthink, but something about the repeated declines made his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t happy about.

Still, he didn’t want to be a nuisance or cause you unnecessary troubles. He wasn’t the type to text “Call me” like other husbands either, He just sat there for a moment, staring at his phone, before getting up and heading back to work.

He had patients waiting.

Back home, Elias sat cross-legged on the couch, his tiny fingers curled around your phone. Every time it vibrated, his eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he pressed the red button.

“Papa’s calling,” you pointed out, watching from the kitchen as Elias, without a second thought, hung up again.

He didn’t say a word. Just held the phone like a little dragon hoarding treasure.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked over, sitting beside him. “Sweetheart, why are you declining Papa’s calls?”

Elias finally looked up at you. His expression was unreadable—so much like Zayne’s that it almost made you laugh. After a moment, he mumbled, “He’s busy.”

You blinked. “That’s why you’re hanging up on him?”

A short nod.

Your heart softened. Elias was a quiet child, much like his father, and even at four years old, he had an odd way of thinking. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t being stubborn. In his little mind, he just thought he was helping.

You smiled and ran a hand through his soft raven colored hair. “Baby, Papa wouldn’t call if he didn’t want to talk. He’s probably on a break and missing us.”

Elias frowned slightly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He shifted on the couch, staring at the phone. “…Oh.”

You chuckled. “Should we call him back?”

Elias hesitated, then nodded.

Zayne was halfway through reviewing a patient’s chart when his phone vibrated.

Incoming Call: My Love

His fingers moved instinctively, answering before the first ring finished. “Hello?”

“Papa.”

Zayne blinked. It wasn’t you. It was Elias.

The little voice on the other end sounded almost… guilty?

“Elias.” Zayne glanced at the time. “You should be in bed soon.”

A pause. Then, in a quieter voice, “…I hung up your calls.”

Zayne froze. He hadn’t expected that. His first instinct was to ask why, but before he could, Elias continued.

“You were busy. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Zayne’s grip on the phone tightened. He looked down at his hands, But right now, his own heart ached in a different way.

He wasn’t good with words. Never had been. But there was one thing he knew.

“Elias.” His voice was firm, steady. “You never bother me.”

Another pause.

Then, a quiet, “…Oh.”

Zayne exhaled. “Is Mama there?”

You took the phone, laughing softly. “Your son thought he was being considerate.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.” His voice was softer than usual. “Tell him he can always pick up my calls.”

“I think he understands now.” You turned to Elias, who was now curled against your side, looking deep in thought. “Say goodnight to Papa.”

Elias hesitated, then muttered, “Goodnight, Papa.”

Zayne swallowed. He wished he was home.

“Goodnight, Elias. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Zayne finally stepped through the door that night, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, and Elias was asleep in his room.

Or so he thought.

As he passed Elias’ door, a tiny voice mumbled, “…father?”

Zayne stopped. Slowly, he pushed the door open.

Elias was sitting up in bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Zayne hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. But he walked inside, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with his small hands and grabbed onto Zayne’s sleeve. Not saying anything, just… holding on.

Zayne stared at him before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Then, without a word, he gently rested a hand on his son’s head.

It wasn’t much.

But for them, it was enough.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Xavier

Xavier stood in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, his sword still dripping as he exhaled. The fight had been over in minutes—another nest of Wanderers cleared out.

He wasn’t in a hurry to return to headquarters. Instead, he yawned and pulled out his phone, pressing your number.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Xavier stared at the screen, brow twitching slightly. That was odd. He tried again.

Call Declined.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn’t a man prone to overreaction, but something about his own family declining his calls irritated him. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe you were busy. Maybe—

He teleported.

One second, he was in a ruined village surrounded by monster corpses. The next, he was in the living room of his own home.

The sight that greeted him made his left eye twitch.

Leo and Livia—his five-year-old twins—were sitting on the couch, your phone between them, giggling.

Livia saw him first. Her eyes widened, and she smacked Leo’s arm. “Abort mission! Papa’s here!”

Leo nearly dropped the phone. “Crap.”

Xavier didn’t speak for a moment. He simply stared, exhausted, disappointed, and vaguely impressed all at once. “…You two.”

The twins immediately shot to their feet, but it was too late. He was already in front of them, towering over their tiny forms. His sword was still strapped to his back, his hunter uniform stained with dried Wanderer blood.

They didn’t look scared. If anything, they looked ready to bolt.

“…Explain.” His voice was even, calm—but that made it worse.

The twins exchanged glances before Livia, ever the mastermind, said, “Mom said you were busy!”

Leo nodded rapidly. “Yeah! You were fighting monsters, right? We didn’t wanna bother you!”

Xavier sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples. “You declined my calls.”

Livia pouted. “Well… yeah.”

He inhaled deeply. He was not good at this. Discipline, affection—none of it came naturally to him. He could gut a monster in seconds, but parenting? That was an entirely different battlefield.

He crossed his arms, giving them a firm look. “That’s not happening again.”

Leo groaned. “But why? You never talk much anyway!”

Xavier blinked. He squatted down to their level, eyes narrowing. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Livia elbowed Leo. “Idiot. Now we’re really in trouble.”

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted beyond belief. He should just pick them up and force them into a timeout—he had the strength for it. But before he could, Livia clapped her hands together.

“Leo, Plan B!”

Leo gasped. “Yes, Plan B!”

Xavier frowned. “What the—”

Before he could react, Livia sprinted left while Leo ran right.

Teleportation was an option, but honestly? He was too damn tired. He just sighed and walked toward the kitchen, knowing exactly where they’d end up.

And there you were, standing at the counter, watching the chaos unfold like it was a normal Tuesday.

Without looking at him, you asked, “I take it you figured out why your calls weren’t getting through?”

Xavier leaned against the counter, exhaling. “Your kids are demons.”

You raised a brow. “My kids?”

He gave you a tired look. “They didn’t get it from me.”

Before you could argue, the sound of a crash echoed from upstairs.

A beat of silence. Then Leo’s voice: “I’LL FIX IT, I PROMISE!”

Xavier closed his eyes, counting to ten.

An hour later, the twins sat on the couch, pouting as Xavier stood in front of them. He wasn’t a loud father. He didn’t yell. But his silent disappointment was somehow worse.

“You’re not getting out of this,” he finally said.

Livia crossed her arms. “It was for a good reason.”

“It was for a stupid reason.”

Leo kicked his legs. “But we didn’t wanna distract you.”

Xavier sighed, rubbing his face. “…You’re my kids. You can always talk to me.”

Livia blinked. “Even when you’re fighting monsters?”

He crouched down, staring at them. “Especially then.”

For the first time, the twins looked guilty.

Xavier softened just a fraction. He wasn’t great at showing affection to kids. He wasn’t the type to hug them randomly or constantly hold them. But he reached out, ruffling their hair roughly or cuddle up with his little demons.

“Next time you hang up on me, I’m making you run laps.”

Leo gasped. “That’s child labor!”

Livia clutched her chest. “You’re cruel, Father.”

Xavier stood, sighing. “You’ll live.”

That night, when the twins were asleep, Xavier sat beside you in bed, rubbing his temples.

“I don’t know how to handle them.”

You smiled, playing with his hair. “You’re doing fine.”

He scoffed. “They don’t listen to me at all.”

You chuckled. “They do. They just like pushing your buttons.”

Xavier sighed, leaning into your touch. “…Next time they ignore my calls, I’m teleporting them into a cold lake.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sure you are.”

Xavier didn’t respond. He just yawned, closed his eyes, and finally—finally—slept.

Little Things

➤Love & Deepspace…❥Multiple!

<Summary: Kisses to appreciate their features. And/or; places I wanna smooch on the guys that isn’t their mouth.> <Content: Fluff, but also some angst that came up suddenly and I couldn’t stop, hurt/comfort, some classic “consumption” metaphors in Sylus’s. Teeny tiny bit suggestive in Xavier’s(barely.) TW; mentions of vomiting in Caleb’s, mentions of losing patients & doctor guilt in Zayne’s.> (divider by @elfbar-baby )

❥Rafayel…

  The sky had turned shades of yellow and pink, blending down over the sea’s horizon into indigos, ready to turn to the darkness of night. Stars already beginning to glimmer under wispy, thin clouds. Rafayel sat in front of a medium sized canvas, already covered in cerulean & azure blue, strokes of a hyper specific pink pigment stained the brush bristles. He made calculated, perfected strokes through the base. His wrist had begun to have a subtle pain in it, but it had yet to reach the point of which he’d complain. Whine, more accurately. Even if the pain of developing carpal tunnel was hardly tantamount with past suffering. It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle it, nor that he didn’t sometimes blame himself for the agony he’d been put in, be it his wrist or otherwise. But complaining felt good, he had the freedom to do so, no matter how aggravating it’d be.

Because she wouldn’t scold him for it. Even if his dramatics got an eye-roll or a scoff every now and again, whether she’d openly agree to it, she’d come to console him. Sometimes, either because it was a real cause for concern, or his acting was simply too good to deny, she’d actually fuss over him. Regardless if she teased him or cooed sympathetically, she’d give in so sweetly. Her hands were calloused from all her hard work, but her touch had never been softer. Much like her gaze. Even her furrowed brow held some fondness, enough to make him flush under her attention, and sometimes deny it to himself. Because it was so genuine, so honest, her affection.  He still held the fear it’d be ripped from him, and when that anxiety worsened, he’d shake his head and brush it off. Deluding himself to keep away the agony, even if it was the very thing that fueled him. A paradoxical cycle.

But she did truly adore him, even now. Sat on the couch behind him, her eyes watching his back as he sat in front of the easel. The sunset had begun to dim the room more and more, but it was still enough light to bathe him in pink hues. The movements of his shoulder, the way he’d tilt his head and lean back slightly to check over his work, the subtle movement of his hair when the breeze from the open window would graze by. 

He was undeniably gorgeous. Even people who disliked him would point that out, as if it was the only thing they could think of to find him tolerable. Her jaw clicked a little as some specific people came to mind. To her, nameless nobodies with money and skulls empty. Even when he pushed her patience, how anyone could find him as anything but something to adore, she couldn’t figure out.

He was beautiful. But to only relate it to his softened cheeks, or the fall of his bangs, the slope of his lips? A disservice beyond any kind of reason. To delegate him only to the talents he had? For every gorgeous piece of art he made, there were a million pieces of his soul she’d collect in her hands to appreciate. Perhaps selfishly keep them to herself while the less observant and deserving were too distracted by what he’d put up in a gallery. She couldn’t fathom, how in any life, in any place in space or time, there wasn’t someone already revearing him. Whether he decided to be a brat or not.

Rafayel paused slightly when he heard the shuffle of couch cushions, and the rustle of clothes. He didn’t let it distract him too much, lest he lose the flow he’d found himself in, adding the blocking of coral at the bottom of the piece. He sank back into his own art, not realizing how close she’d gotten. She’d made it a point to try and avoid staring when he was aware of her, lest he get too cocky or she expose herself too much. Was there too much at this point? There were tiny details she’d found, the smallest things that only Rafayel would know of. Him and, of course, now her. 

No one else’s eyes lingered long enough. Sometimes she felt annoyed at that, both in him and his work, when someone’s superficial opinions would leave them. Gods forbid they misinterpret him, his soul in songs or sketch. He’d brush it off most times and maybe complain to her later, but she’d found it hard to keep a poker face when by his side at events, supposed to only be his bodyguard or guest, nothing more.

The way it was left side of his mouth that’d rise first when he went to smile. The smallest freckle on his chest, or on the side of his nose. The subtle hues of blue in his purple hair, and that one piece that would never stick down no matter how much he brushed. The hangnails on his otherwise perfect hands, dried paint in the creases of his knuckles, and the oh so subtle scars. She’d seen a few on his sides, along his neck. They were so, so subtle, even she forgot they were there unless she was scrutinizing under perfect lighting. His skin was essentially flawless to the passing glance, something she’d expressed jealousy of before. But as she stared, admired, every little detail rolling through her memories… Such a mix of adoration in her chest arose, blending with a strange sorrow she couldn’t place. If she was so endeared to him, and that she was, why did she ache with emotions, heartbreak, that felt like it wasn’t even her own? Like a sorrowful ghost passing through her body. And how it worsened when she’d see those little imperfections, indents on his skin, signs he’d been hurt in the past.

Rafayel’s shoulders flinched and he barely pulled his brush away when he jolted, preventing a missed stroke. The coolness of the air, no longer warmed by the sun, was gone as the softest pressure pushed across his back. Her perfume filled the space, delicate hands placed on his shoulder and grazing through his hair. His breath hitched softly. His mouth opened to speak, tease maybe, and he went to pivot his head to question her. But then the press of a kiss, warm and softened by chapstick, right behind his ear. He flinched again, though not from the suddenness. Blood rushed through the cartilage and across his cheekbones as she pulled back, but not so much that he lost the heat of her breath. He cleared his throat quickly. “Oh, what prompted this?” He intended to be sly, but the shiver that ran down his spine was too obvious to get away with it as she did it again. He barely managed a deep breath as the hand that pushed his hair back moved to the other side, subtly pulling him to face the other way, so she could do the same to the other side. His hands had come to fall in his lap, tightly holding the pallet and brush, but too lost in the moment to realize he’d stained his clothes with pigment. His eyes fluttered when her fingers reached from his hair to across his temple, a bit over his cheek. She leaned back subtly. “You have scars back here…” She whispered, grazing over the odd shape of the imperfection. Little divots, like holes left by thread now removed. His back flexed at the ticklish feeling and the warmth her words left. “Do I? …I hadn’t noticed…” He lied. He remembered what they were from. He could’ve never forgotten. There were still times the marks ached, and his body felt like it was missing crucial pieces. But she had, and as upsetting as it was, he knew it wasn’t her fault. Not this time anyway. Still, he wasn’t expecting such an intensity in her gaze when he turned to look at her. It was only her face, beautiful as ever in cold moonlight, a sight he’d seen a million times and dreamed of a million more. A human could only make so many expressions and the eyes could only tell so little in what words wouldn’t, things left unsaid could die with them. But at that very moment, he felt it all, and it grappled the organs in his chest with a tight, unforgiving fist. She missed the agony, otherwise she wouldn’t have let herself smile so sweetly, with such reverence. Like he was still worth worship despite what he’d thrown away. The sea outside was calm. Maybe one day it’d forgive him, and look upon moments like these, and begin to understand why he did what he did. Even if not, his apologies could only weigh so much. Sorrow & pain in his soul, but damn regret. He’d never say it was regret he felt, and if he ever considered it before, she washed it away with that little peck to his temple and the caress of her thumb over his cheek. Like drawings in the sand met by the tide. Like the water swallowed up the artistry, all for itself. All for him.

❥Sylus...

  It was so rare to see the Sylus Qin vulnerable. Unheard of to the general populace, really. If they even knew his name, they’d never suspect him to have fragility. Those who did were either so moronic that the man found them boring to consider, or they were already dead. The whispers of fear filled respect throughout the N109 zone of the Onychinus Leader, the devil of the city, the fiend, were all made with the assurance that the man had not one weakness. Invincible body, unshakable confidence, immensely powerful. And while for all of them, this was true, having to make assumptions based on knowledge provided? She knew better. He was all of these things, yes. Powerful, intimidating, cunning, even sometimes fiendish. But that was perhaps only a piece of his being, a small one, at that. She couldn’t claim she knew his soul, she didn’t have the arrogance. He was still enigmatic despite being so genuine with her, especially more as of now. She still wished to know more, sometimes so much it worried her. How independent she found herself, what pride she held for what she’d overcame and achieved, with little to no help. For every doubt spoken to her, her resolve to never be caught weak or helpless hardened. Sylus had scared her when they first met, but it wasn’t really for her physical safety. It was the fact she couldn’t get over him that scared her. Admittedly, it had been Sylus who’d reminded her what it was like to feel small and anxious at the idea of being embarrassed. That moment with the fake gun the twins gave her still kept her up at night sometimes.

But, she couldn’t hate him. No matter what she did. And the longer she knew him, the less she bothered to try, even if he still dragged his teeth along her last nerve like he liked the taste of his own blood it was about to be soaked in. She needed to know about him. And it worried her sometimes how she craved him. She could at least make an excuse had it only been lust. He was a handsome man, even when she’d genuinely disliked him, it was practically the only thing she could use to keep herself from losing her composure completely. Alas, lust was but a sliver of it all. So much complexity all at once, constantly threatening to break her into shards of sharp glass from the weight, so sudden and intense. 

It was his gaze, his cologne, his voice, his presence. When he’d run his eyes over her, when he’d reach out to her so casually, when he would praise her and tease her with pet names. It was so hard to keep herself steady when he’d speak her name, oh how softly he’d say it. For every shaky, anxious mutter about the terrifying demon in the N109 zone, his name said so fearfully, the letters dripping blood and rising with black smoke. For every fearful mention, she’d have a hundred thoughts of everything that made him so darling. Each time she got him to chuckle, roped him into something that was superficially out of character, and gods when she’d catch him off guard enough to make him stumble or gasp… It was indescribable how intense the feelings she had now, seeing him trust her so much, he slept. She’d come to know when it was genuine or not. The spacing of his breathing, the relaxation of his brow bone, the steady thump of his heart. It was incredibly rare for him to sleep at night, but various recent meetings and missions, combined with her desire to see him with her limited free time? He’d been up in the day for too long, and exhaustion was something he was sadly, not impervious to. She laid on her side, elbow keeping her up, cheek rested in her palm as she watched him. It was all she could do. Should she sleep, she’d miss the sight, and whatever dreams she might’ve had with him in it weren’t enough. None of it was enough anymore.

Sometimes, her hunger for him was different, and it was usually then that she’d distance herself, even if subconsciously. Something about him pulled out a ravenous and hungry part of her that she hadn’t been aware of. He’d call it her greed when he’d seen flickers of it in her gaze, and he’d smile when asking her about it, knowing the answer already. He’d grin and encourage her to lean into it. It was hard to tell back then why. 

Now, she knew it was because he wanted to see it. Perhaps he underestimated the severity of it, how it genuinely startled her with how badly she wished to sink her teeth into him. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. She didn’t want to hurt him, she didn’t want him to ache. And so when her mouth would water and her teeth clenched, she fled, only to come back, floating in sugary scented air and a warmth in her breast bone that she couldn’t keep to herself.

Too many times did she feel them both at once, leaving her soul to writhe under her skin, clawing at itself with sharpened claws and pointed teeth. All while it’d sing sweetly, like the call of the birds in the morning he so despised. Her being in an existential plain tearing at it’s flesh while crooning delicate pleas to him to know her adoration, her endearment. A softened look with a gnashing jaw. And for fear either would be too much, for fear that the notes in the song of her devotion would lure him in, just for her jaw to clamp shut on his jugular… She kept her mouth closed entirely. No matter how much he begged for her to speak, she wouldn’t. Not until she could be sure she could say it clearly, and without the strange desire for the blood in his veins that startled her so. Even if denying herself what he offered so easily was like denying cool, clear water when her lungs were stricken with ash and the fires of the sun.

But now, her admiration was gentle, and she let herself have a taste of what it’d be like to give in. Because while letting go would be the kindest thing for him, she was selfish, and it didn’t seem like he was unaware. Even if she doubted he knew the extent. With the sun beginning to rise, she shifted her body to block its light from his eyes, allowing her to keep the moment a little longer. She raised the hand not keeping her upright and delicately traced the sharpened edge of his jaw, and across the plains of his cheeks, admiring the prominent bones. She let out a breath and the muscles in her shoulders weakened as she admired the softness of his eyelashes and the little creases on the inner corner of his eyes. The lines that’d crinkle up when she got him to laugh. There was hesitance and a subtle tremble to her fingers when her heart began to ache. He hadn’t stirred, still peaceful, and vulnerable. If he did know just how badly she wished to devour him, even if she’d savor every bite like an act of worship, then he was a fool for letting himself be so at peace by her side. But he was a smart man, and even if he didn’t know just how much she’d love to taste the blood pumped fresh from his heart, he knew good and well how much she wanted to hold him carefully. Cradle him close to her own chest, perhaps tuck him into the spaces between her ribs, keep him warm and safe there. How foolish did that desire make her? She sighed and brushed back some fallen strands of his white hair, and she couldn’t help herself as she leaned down to peck his nose. It was one of her favorite parts of his face, if not his whole being, as far as physical appearance went. The prominent hook a feature often detested by beauty standards. And while she’d hated the industry before, she’d found she adored his features so much that she’d get actively angry when she’d see it now. Once going as far as to find a way to sneakily break an electric sign outside a store in Linkon, advertising contour by denouncing hooked shaped noses. She’d punctured the lower corner of the screen with a set of heels he’d bought her, and admittedly, if that hadn’t worked? She probably would’ve shattered the whole thing.

She leaned back after the light kiss. He hadn’t moved, but his face seemed to relax further, and she couldn’t fight the curve of the corners of her lips. She let out some breaths that formed a near silent giggle. With a swallow, to keep herself composed, she leaned down to do it again, risking it all by holding his cheek in the lightest caress of her palm she could manage. Icarus’s lessons be damned, because she couldn’t even complain when she pulled back again, only to find his eyes slightly cracked open. He took in a deep breath through his nose as she twirled the ends of his bangs around her index. 

“What a nice alarm clock you are…” He said, voice gruff and a bit slurred from exhaustion. She let out an amused huff, grinning despite the crushing weight in her chest. Even if she said it hurt, with the way he nuzzled slightly into her palm, she’d never complain.

“You have a nice nose.” She said, comically understating what she really wanted to confess. Still, her pulse spiked when he chuckled a little. “Is that so?” He questioned. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment before she sighed, leaning down to peck him there again. He unknowingly let out a hum, more like a purr, of content. Only to have his breath hitch when her teeth, just barely, nipped at him. He rose an eyebrow when she leaned back. She nodded, having not forgotten he’d asked her something. “I like it.” She said calmly. Sylus’s exhale was full of memories of floral scents and the warmth of candlelight. But his gaze was on her, lounging on satin sheets, lit by the sun, making her glow like something angelic. What a contrasting sight to the darkness around her, what a wonderful sight it was.

She blinked when he reached up and poked her on the nose. “Ditto.” He yawned. She paused, only then to giggle, letting herself escape the ache momentarily. Maybe, with enough moments like this, she’d be strong enough to pull the suffocating feeling off. Then, she could let him know the extent of her desire without fear. He wouldn’t mind.

He could wait, he was patient enough.

❥Zayne...

  Autumn leaves swayed outside, trees in their planters along the busy sidewalks, lining the streets, turning into reds as the time turned. The sun’s warmth lessening by the hour each passing day. Longer and longer were darkened nights. The sky was still in the sky, but had long since rolled over the curve of the planet, and the yellows had begun to soak through the windows. It was a beautiful sight. Every sunset and sunrise was. But in passing days, no matter how much one tried to appreciate the little things, twenty four hours was plenty of minutes for stress to procure and begin to weigh heavy.

Statistics would show it. Mathematical equations of the average minutes between deaths, a common & inescapable plight on the human race. Even if they’d tempered it with amazing medical advancements. Being near death was a strain on the psyche. Be it one’s own passing, be it watching the life leave others.

As a doctor, one constantly praised for his own betterment of his industry, Zayne wasn’t any stranger to the perils of being in the field. He’d seen just about every tragedy, and of course, he didn’t wish to denounce the beauty he saw. Whether it was his own work, or the work of one of his talent colleagues. He tried his best to remember every success he’d had. He wasn’t one to dwell on the praises of others much, especially not the times he was adored by professors and the like.

Quite frankly, he’d grown to find his face twitched in a mix of irritation and exhaustion when the word “prodigy” was brought into a conversation. It didn’t feel like a compliment anymore. He knew, logically, that was the intention. He was so young for all the accomplishments he’d acquired. But not only did he get sick of endless repetition, as much as he liked routine. But it was every failure that hit him in the back and dragged him down like chain links welded to the bones of his spine, tied to the core of the earth, tugging painfully as more time passed. 

Transplants given too late, needing to tell families that even his talented, prodigious hands, skilled as they could be, wouldn’t be enough to save a loved one. The elderly, unfortunate children, mothers who’d never see their babies faces again, husbands who just couldn’t last another night. He never forgot a single one and for every success he had, it always fed a shadowy and icy creature that’d linger in the corners of any room he entered. Sharp and so frigid it burned, and when he tried to remind himself of how much good he’d done, it ensured to do its job in keeping him humble. Lest he forget he truly was just a man and no amount of skill he could hone would save him from the hubris & the wishful thinking he’d, one day, overcome what’d ruined him so many times over.

Composed as he was, the most anyone would see of his personal suffering would be the occasional slump of his shoulders when he retired back to his office. Always perfectly clean, not a pen out of place. The windows angled just enough to never get a clear view of the sun, or the stars, but only to have the room bathed in their light. Should he be lucky enough to notice how lucky he was to have that. He did his best not to wallow. He did truly try, but he was nothing but human, and the furthest from infallible. He sat in silence and stared at pages and pages of inked words, signing his name at the bottom when it called for it. A deft movement that he’d grown to do robotically. Flip, read, check, sign, stack. It might as well had been cold steel in Zayne’s shape. 

However, his world wasn’t all shadows & sharp spurs of ice hailing through heavy winds. Even if periodically he’d forget. The sun would still rise, Spring would come back, jasmine would bloom, and his reprieve would visit him.

Stepping gracefully over white tile, past a desk with a friendly wave to the woman behind it. Needing no words. The sun had begun to set and the breeze outside had begun to grow chilly, the hospital was starkly colorless & plain. But she walked with steps that bloomed in flowers behind her, and the white lights bounced off her like a prism, glowing in iridescent shattered specks of color. And while Zayne had no clue she was approaching, almost subconsciously, his soul’s dusk began to retreat. He’d set his dead steel pen in the trash, and a momentary piece of delight when he’d gone for the cup of them, and accidentally pulled one that was pink. Gold cap, a heart pattern print, and smooth gel ink. It’d helped him not get too lost in his own sorrow. And in case his metaphorical lantern in the mountain cave, signing his name smoothly on the pages in his woeful cavern, the embodiment of comfort came just in time to pull him out from under the avalanche. “Cute pen, doctor.” Her voice hit his ears like a melody breaking an ear ringing silence. Hot tea soothing the rawness of his sickened esophagus, a cat stretched out in the sun, steam rising from a bath, blankets swaddled around his skin. He hadn’t heard her knock, nor enter. But the thought of playfully scolding her lack of guest manners hadn’t even crossed his mind as his head, instinctually, raised to see her. Further seeking the soothe of her presence.

She pushed his office door shut gently. The click signifying the closing on his melancholy demons. Keeping them at a distance as she filled his prison with the scent of her perfume & her picturesque brightness of her grin. Suddenly, he found no strain on his chest keeping him from breathing. The chains that pulled him further from the heat of humanity, fires of creation and the warmth of rushing blood, all fell to the ground like dead serpents.

She held a paper bag in one hand and a singular cup in her other. She approached calmly, and heaven’s symphony seemed to be paced at the metronome beat of her heels hitting the floor. He barely remembered to respond, adjusting his glasses with the hand that wasn’t holding the pen she’d gifted him. “Mine had just died. Your gift came in handy.” He said, wearing that subtle smile so specific to his face. The one many missed at a passing glance, and what she often missed, in the other sense of the word. She could see it. Fatigue, something somber lingering in the air around him. His doctor’s coat was still on despite the fact he was sat at his desk. She knew good and well a good day at the hospital would lead him to resign the physician’s coat on the back of his chair.

She smiled back at him and stepped around him, setting the bag and cup on his desk, once he’d moved the papers over. “And this is?” He asked as she slid the cup closer to his hand. “Decaf coffee, but it’s basically all creamer, sugar, and whipped cream. And there’s some caramel in there for you.” She replied with a hint of teasing in her tone. It was still warm, and while she’d tried to wipe it away, he could see the subtle color stain from her lipstick on the edge of it.

“And where is yours?” He questioned, bringing the drink to his mouth. She chuckled as she watched as, slowly but surely, his expression began to thaw. Making sure she wouldn’t disrupt his desk, she shifted some stuff over before sitting on top of it. “I drank it on the way here.” She answered whilst digging in the paper bag. “I sincerely hope this isn’t your dinner, or your lunch. Too late for the latter, too early for the former.” He said, and she snorted and shook her head. “None of this is for me, but I ate lunch, don’t worry. At noon, no less. You should be proud of me.” He chuckled faintly and set the cup down. “Following doctor’s orders, finally?” He teased. She shook her head with a short eyeroll, fondness blooming in her chest as she grabbed hold of the plastic container contained in the bag. “I’m following Zayne’s orders. And in return, you’ll follow mine.” She instructed. She watched his face loosen further, and his shoulders brought down.

“And what orders do you have for me, doctor?” Zayne replied jokingly, to which her grin widened. She quickly pulled out the first box. His eyes fixated on it and his already widened pupils expanded a fraction further when he recognized it. “Firstly, you’re gonna need to let your shoulders relax. And to help you with that, I have some…medicine.” She held it out to him with a satisfied expression. He took it with an exhale, the corners of his mouth now stuck up, rather than stifled in a scowl. He slid the box open and as expected, an assortment of his favorite macaron flavors. “Then, once you’ve done that, you can have your reward for listening to me.” Her words made him look up again, and she pulled out a container with a single slice of cake, a plastic fork held on top of it with the pressure of her thumb. Victory fanfare arose in her head when he chuckled again, and after setting the macaron box down, he moved to remove his doctor’s coat. A habit he didn’t even realize he had, let alone something he’d figure she’d notice. Shedding the skin of his prodigal aptitude, the coat that every heavy experience in the world of medicine seemed to stick to. Leaving him without his title, and just as himself. Where she liked him best. Because he wasn’t some famous physician, he wasn’t a colorless, calculated genius, he wasn’t responsible for the lives of millions. Even if she held a deep pride for him because of all of those things, she could gush for days, perhaps years on end. He deserved it all. But, at the end of the day, Zayne was hers. And he was the more unreserved and true when she indulged that.

“I see you’ve taken the myth of doctors & dentists being enemies quite seriously.” He said. He’d taken a macaron despite his words anyway. “You’ve got plenty of time to brush your teeth later, you’ve also got the time to enjoy yourself now. I’m just making sure you don’t waste the opportunity.” She shrugged.

No matter how delicious the treats she brought were, and she wasn’t one to turn down a confectionary, she didn’t feel like she was missing out on anything. Watching him begin to properly enjoy himself with each sugary bite. She watched him with immense devotion and adoration. A feeling so deeply complex, even the most flowery language would struggle to capture it. It’d take a whole library of dedicated books written right from her heart to capture it in a physical form, and even then, each passing day they’d need to get a whole new shelf. She’d fill each one in a matter of minutes. 

She helped him step away from his duties further by talking about mindless things. Conversation flowing seamlessly and lightly through the air, and he enjoyed her chatter like one enjoyed a lullaby. He’d reckon too many composers would try for their entire lives to capture the exact addictiveness to the tune of her voice, and he was sure they’d all fail. 

He’d leaned back in his chair completely by the time he got to the cake. He sighed at the first bite, savoring the softness of it. It was only after the third bite that he realized she’d stopped talking, and he looked up to be met with the most summery gaze. She was bathed in golden toned light and it only seemed to make her glow, but as enraptured with her visage as he was, even he couldn’t miss the intensity in her own gaze. He blinked a few times and looked around at himself. He wasn’t sure what he’d be looking for, and looking didn’t give him a clue. He lowered his fork and the cake box into his lap when she stood, and he managed to swallow the bite he’d taken, on the cusp of asking what got her to look so thoughtfully. But the words clutched in his throat when she, carefully, grabbed his glasses by the temple. He managed the first syllable of “what”, but her hands on his face beat down the sentence.

Like the spark of a stray ember from a campfire, her lips pressed against his cheekbone. Soft, with a passion but not rough. And how sweet her perfume was. Invoking the feeling of nights spent admiring the lights for holidays & the times she dragged him out to enjoy the day. But when she pulled back to look at him, it brought back memories of more peaceful moments, ones between only them, only kept in their memories and whatever the stars could record. Her head on his shoulder as she listened to crickets on his patio, his fingertips over the line of her jaw, her voice whispering his name like an angel calling him to safety. 

She huffed and squished his cheeks, giving his face a little shake as she let out a sound past gritted teeth. “I cannot believe you. You’re too damn cute!” She said, as if she was complaining. Blood rushed to his ears as he stared at her dumbfounded, and once again, he could only get out the start of a word before she left him speechless again. Leaning down to kiss the softer portion of his cheek, then his cheekbone again, another closer to his jaw. There was a faint stickiness left behind, and when she managed to turn his face to give the other side the same treatment, there was considerably less pigment on her lips. He let out a mix of a snort of amusement and a scoff of disbelief when she landed a longer kiss against his cheek. She lingered this time, even rubbing her face against his own before pulling back with a dramatic sound. 

She looked rather proud of herself when she stood up, his face still in her palms. She giggled at his expression, how the redness had infected the skin under his eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “You…” He said, only to let out a sigh, glancing to the side with some bashfulness. Or maybe it was an excuse to hide against the skin of her hand. She giggled again and left another delicate peck to his temple. “You’re adorable.” She praised. Zayne took a deep breath through his nose and managed to turn to look at her. Just close enough to want, but he was only a man, and a little cowardice was something even he couldn’t escape from. But at least he could meet her gaze. How warm and darling it was. He pecked the inside of her wrist in return, allowing himself to lean into it. “You’re incorrigible.” He said with no bite. Her thumb lovingly stroked his face. “No, I’m a doctor. And based on how you look now compared to when I came in, my treatment is most effective.” She said, grinning so hard it hurt when he actually laughed. He turned to look up at her, and if she could read his mind, she’d know his gaze like this was reserved for her alone. An act of worship in a religion he’d made all himself, and what a dedicated devotee he was. “I suppose I can’t say you’re wrong.” He tilted more into her palm, melting like the frost on flowers under the dawn of a Spring day. “I feel much, much better.”

❥Xavier...

  The job of a hunter was an intense one. It was taxing & risky, and that was something every professor in the academy made clear. Not a day passed where a hunter, seasoned or new, wasn’t reminded of the perils of the job. One needed a strong mind and body, and one needed to be able to handle themselves under the most intense pressures. Those who loved the job would still attest there were times where they wondered if they could keep going. Be it the monotonous paperwork wearing at the psyche, or the burden of keeping the public safe. Most of the people that did drop out chose to because of direct contact with Wanderers. 

Monsters constantly popping up in places. Destroying things, taking lives, infecting people even. The pressure of being the frontline soldier, hoping to either kill the beasts and save lives, or use their own life as a sacrifice to give time to those who could take it down. It was a lot. And every successful mission came with its strain. Scrapes, cuts, sprains. A broken bone or mild concussion. Sometimes even strange effects that the association was constantly working on antidotes for. A most common ailment however? Bruises. Deep marks of broken blood capillaries that left a deep soreness. 

Sometimes, when one was quite gnarly, the hunters would show off their newly gained wounds around water coolers. Stories for scars and stitches, along with proud displays of how they took a whack that left an artistic stain across their skin. Most preferred to save medical leave for more intense afflictions. A giant bruise across someone’s torso did not a nearly-severed-arm make. But that wasn’t the fault of the company, shockingly. Plenty of companies existed that created a sense of pressure to hoard days off like dragons with gold. The Hunter Association wasn’t one of those. But the workers who lasted were so dedicated to their jobs, they preferred not to leave, even if it was for their own good. Practically every person in the building had the experience of loved ones or coworkers begging them to just go home & rest. 

Someone who didn’t need much convincing was Xavier. 

To his credit, he did get up and get ready to clock into work. But just a day prior, a relatively routine mission went a bit awry, and he was left a little beaten. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had it happen before. As strong as he was, Wanderers were, of course, unpredictable. However, when Xavier went to leave his apartment, he wasn’t met with an empty hallway. Instead it was his beloved upstairs neighbor. She was out of uniform and her expression was stern, hands on her hips. “And where do you think you’re going?” She’d asked him, and he’d barely opened his mouth to respond before she gently pushed him back into his apartment.

Being his partner, she’d been there. And while the mission hadn’t been the worst in the world, it was still tough. Rather than one towering, strong monster? There had been waves and waves of smaller ones. She’d handled herself well, and one thing Xavier always did that she appreciated deeply, was not underestimate her. There were various reasons over her life that people underestimated her, but she’d yet to have Xavier be one of those people. He recognized her strength and helped her, but he didn’t overtake her either. Even if he could’ve. 

That didn’t mean he’d never take a hit for her. He’d done so many times, and she, despite his protests, had returned the favor. So when the wanderers came in, wave after wave, they’d both gotten their fare share of small injuries. But Xavier had seen a movement from Wanderer Type; Thunderoar. It’s tail winding back for an attack she wouldn’t have time to dodge, and, instinctually, he’d moved to take it for her. They both walked away from the battle, but as soon as he’d gotten her to the hospital for a standard check over, he was gone. Admittedly, she was pretty annoyed when all he’d given her was a text that he was fine, just tired.

He hadn’t been lying, not really. He was able to patch himself up fine, and the bruises weren’t enough to keep him from a heavy slumber. But she definitely seemed upset with him, but not enough to yell. She’d pushed him back to his room and demanded he change back into his comfy clothes, but her hands didn’t push too hard. She scolded him when he came back and instructed he sit on the couch. Now? She was still mumbling to herself about how foolish he was while holding a bag of frozen vegetables to the worst place of bruising, his neck.

“You were already at the hospital, I don’t get why you wouldn’t just come in with me. You could’ve napped on a cot! Or at least a couch in the waiting room!” She hissed as she pushed his hand to hold the cold bag to his esophagus. She needed both of here to look him over. Xavier’s chuckle was a little wheezy and rough. He let her push up his sleeve, smiling when she clicked her tongue at the scrapes. “I didn’t need it.” He insisted, but when he spoke, his face held a visible wince.

She cringed at his voice and, even though she was still irritated, she couldn’t stay mad. “It wouldn’t have killed you to check in anyway. You got tail whipped in the neck! That could’ve been really bad.” She frowned. Her face was softened now, less furrow in her brow but a more intense downward curve to her mouth. She sighed and reached for the icy bag of vegetables, pulling it away to look at the damage. He let out a slow exhale when the uncomfortable chill left his skin, allowing him to focus on feel her body heat gave off sat beside him. Close enough she was practically glued to his side. 

Xavier rubbed one of his eyes tiredly. He was content with resting them, but she made a sound that caught his attention again. A little whine, or maybe a coo of sympathy. A mix of both. She felt a tightness in her chest as she traced the splotchy purple mark that wrapped around his neck. He was lucky it was a dull hit. Had it been a blade, his head would’ve probably come off. The mental image that stirred made her more sick than seeing the actual wound, and that broke her head even more. 

“Poor baby…” She whispered. Xavier exhaled, content, as her hand raised to cup his cheeks. Eyes closed, nuzzling into the gentle stoke of her thumb over a little scrape on his cheekbone.

She swallowed. She hated this feeling. The worry, the deep concern for him. Sure he was strong but that didn’t mean she didn’t get worried sick whenever he took on an enemy. Bad nights had her tossing and turning with anxiety. A few times, she’d forced herself awake, and she’d walk the length of her apartment. Only settling if she heard noise above. She kept any nightmares about him leaving her, in a more permanent sense, to herself. Because he’d chuckle and wave it off. Maybe he thought that’d comfort her. Seeing him so sure of himself, and sometimes it did, sometimes she just needed a reminder of how powerful he was. But then he’d get hurt and no matter how small, the reminder he wasn’t infallible made her want to cradle him in a cocoon made of clouds. 

“Xavier.” She said. Her voice was sweet but stern enough to make him open his eyes. Just enough to look at her. His brows furrowed slightly. Her expression read with too much genuine hurt for him to playfully wave it off. She was serious. “The next time this kind of thing happens, don’t disappear. It’s worrying enough when I see you get hurt, but just…leaving? You can’t do that to me.” She insisted. She pressed her thumb to his mouth when he opened it, knowing already what he’d say. “I know. You can handle yourself, it’s just a bruise, blah blah- But what if it’s not. What if it’s worse than you initially think? And- and sure, fine, maybe it’s not a big deal to you but it is to me!” She insisted.

“I…I hate seeing you hurt. It comes with the job, sure, but that doesn’t make me worry any less. Just- Imagine if I did to you what you did to me yesterday.” She asked. She waited, watching his expression shift from being in thought to an expression that could only be described as mild horror. “Exactly. My heart can barely take it when you get a paper cut, much less something like this.” She tilted his head up so she could look at the bruise again. She sighed and dropped her hands in his lap, holding his hands in her own. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t do that again.”

Xavier softened. He sighed softly, and he only took a second before he nodded. He swallowed and winced again. Admittedly, the bruising might’ve hurt a little more than he let on. “I promise.” He replied, the ache radiating through his esophagus. She smiled softly. “Thank you.” She replied, her smile faltering when the next time he swallowed, he grimaced. She clicked her tongue sympathetically again, opening her arms to him in a welcoming motion. Xavier took the change to rest his head against her shoulder, soothed by her hand running through his hair.

“Poor thing. What am I gonna do with you.” She said rhetorically. Xavier’s eyes fluttered nearly closed, though his breath hitched when he felt her kiss the blemish across his neck. The second one made him shiver slightly. When he nuzzled his forehead more into her shoulder, she giggled, amused by his cat-like return of affection. “Maybe,” He spoke through the ache. “Letting you coddle me isn’t so bad.” His admission got her to chuckle again.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll coddle you more.” She left little peppered kisses along his neck, nudging his head back with her nose under his jaw to get at his throat. Xavier’s hands clenched and his breath shook when her lips lingered on his adam’s apple. He sighed when she pulled back and held his face again, and she smiled when she recognized the face he was making. Lowered eyelids, reddened cheeks and ears, a bit wobbly. Like he was drunk. “Mmmhmm, don’t you worry. I’ll take good care of you.” She said with a little shake of his head in her hands. Xavier leaned further against her palms. “Yes please.”

❥Caleb...

  There was something amazing about the universe, that much Caleb could attest to. He’d seen it up close and personal plenty of times, sometimes enough to where one might figure he’d be sick of it. Being high in the air, amongst the stars, astounding sights and awe inspiring views. Swirling colors of stardust and glimmering lights. He’d been lucky enough to view rare phenomena and brilliant pictures in real time. He could even note some favorites, and he often spoke about them in length, almost poetically. Even if he wasn’t much for frilly words.

But whenever he’d be on the ground, he might miss the sky for a moment. In the sky, there was an ache of loneliness. On longer ventures, ones that lasted weeks, he’d even been known to question why he’d gone into the line of work he did.

He’d never forget his love of flight, planes, all of it. Of course not. He did adore this part of his job, even if he was only in the clouds and not the stars. But every time he broke the atmosphere, he’d dream of coming back home. Not for the reasons others might. He could do without his bed, he didn’t sleep very well anyway. Not for the food, even if the flight meals were stale, they did him fine. It wasn’t for sunsets, or the breeze, or the comfort of his favorite sweater. None of that was what would pull him back down to the ground. No.

His reasoning was sweet scented perfume, fruity flavored lip gloss, fleeted glances and, ironically, a melodic tone delivering scolding, nagging, and playfully immature banter. No matter how beautiful the sky was, it was that which always made him want to be home, and what kept away the desire to leave again. Even if his days on land weren’t great…like now.

“How in the hell did you manage to hide this from me? You know, you never learn!” She scoffed, both outraged and in disbelief. If Caleb wasn’t busy resting his cheek on the edge of a small trash can, spacing his breaths, keeping his inhales longer than the exhales because every breath out risked more than carbon dioxide coming out. If that wasn’t taking his focus? He’d smile. He’d grin like an idiot and playfully tease her.

Alas, he was on the verge of vomiting. He’d gotten sick, not something he’d never had, but still something rather rare. He often pushed himself too far and took care of himself too little. He had a pension for headaches, sore joints, stiff muscles, maybe a bit of a cough. The worst of it being times he’d get light headed. Admittedly, he’d fallen too many times in his own home from his knees buckling in under his own weight. But he was nothing if not an amazing actor. He saved face like it was his profession, and if he’d been more into the arts, maybe he’d make a killing at it. But even professionals broke character here and there, and he happened to let himself slip when she could see it so plainly. Hence why the universe was so god damned funny, in a cruel way. Of all the times for him to get sick as a dog, so much so even he couldn’t hide it. She had a long weekend and she wanted to spend it with him, she’d arrived unannounced and he’d never been happier. He’d done a good job. She hadn’t noticed when he’d flinch at the overhead lights or his subtle sluggishness. She’d been so excited to eat the food he cooked she hadn’t noticed how his portion was far less.

But then, he woke up with a blistering fever. It was disgusting really. The guest room sheets drenched in sweat and his skin clammy, and though he felt the heat around his eyes, he couldn’t stop shivering. He wasn’t sure what had happened to prompt her out of bed at four AM, let alone into the room he was in, and he had yet to ask despite his curiosity. He’d been less lucid then, but he remembered how she poked her head in, then her little gasp.

At the side of his bed, her hand pushing back his hair to feel his forehead. She’d said something to him in a delightfully worried tone, but he couldn’t make it out. He still needed to thank her for saving that fluffy rug when she, quick as lighting, ran for a trash can for him to unload into. It was awful, it burned, and it was embarrassing really. Even if she’d technically seen him this way before, long ago.

Every time she was sick as a child, he stepped up, arguably more than the woman his fake tombstone sat beside. He learned young how to care for her and he made it a mission, even at the risk of his own health. Only once did it switch, and he replayed those memories often when he could. He hated being sick. Every kid did, of course. But he couldn’t even call it miserable, it’d do her younger self a disservice. She was thirteen at the time and it was the first time he’d felt guilt because, admittedly, he underestimated her. So wrapped up in how he couldn’t care for her he almost missed how well she did caring for him. Even if she was young, and even if she chewed him out for his stubborn attempts at getting out of bed. Some things never really changed.

Caleb managed a little laugh, all breathy and stuffed up. He wasn’t sure what happened after he puked his guts up at four AM, though he remembered her pushing back his hair and her worried eyes. But it was morning now, enough that the sun was starting to rise, earlier than she ever liked to be up. He was in new clothes, and there was still a vague minty taste on the back of his tongue. The wave of nausea subsided enough for him to lean back into the couch, though one hand still weakly held the lip of the plastic bin.

He shuddered and only clenching his jaw would keep his teeth from chattering. Maybe she’d carried him to the couch, that mental image was certainly comical, given their size difference. But she’d gathered almost every quilt he owned, and at least three pillows for him to lay on. She was messing around in the kitchen whilst whispering to herself about reprimanding him. He couldn’t see what she was doing now that he’d laid down, nor smell it, thanks to the clogged nose.

“Honestly, what if I wasn’t here, huh? You’d just chug some sports drinks, eat a sleeve of crackers, and call it a day huh? You know, one of these days you’re gonna collapse and what then?” She rambled as she came from the kitchen. She’d gotten dressed in a hurry, he could tell. Her shirt was buttoned two buttons off, and her hair had yet to meet even the first step of her routine. He swallowed mucus with a grimace, shivering again as he watched her set a circular tray down on the coffee table.

Two yunomi cups and the teapot set on it, steam rising from them. She slid it over enough to sit on the corner of it. Just too far for his liking, but close enough that his arm could feel the fabric of her jeans. She looked at him with her mouth open to say more, but she paused and her mouth twitched into a frown. Even in his haze he could catch the way her eyes softened, and even past the wretched gravelly feeling in his lungs, he could feel adoration blossom around the disgusting illness.

“You’re lucky you look so miserable.” She said as she took out a thermometer out of the apron she wore. It was too big, because it was his. Of course she wore it better anyway, that’s how it was any time she took his clothes. “Under your tongue.” She instructed gently, having moved to the tiny sliver of cushion she could sit on, after moving his arm to rest on top of his stomach. He opened his mouth and blinked lazily. Her brows pushed together and created worry lines on her forehead as he shivered again. He melted internally when she brought the blankets higher. He smiled when the thermometer was taken away, turning from her to cough into his fist, a wretched sound. 

“I’ll be fine in a day, pip-” “Oh no you don’t.” She held up her finger and cut him off. “Don’t you brush me off, no sir. You’re cute but you’re not cute enough to get away with that, not anymore.” She looked at the tiny screen and clicked her tongue at the numbers, shaking her head as she set it on the coffee table. “You worry too much. I’ll be right as rain soon enough. You know that.” He said, and his voice sounded like running gravel through a washing machine. She flicked his nose and he made a short, involuntary whine-like sound. He barely had time to pout or look offended before she rested her hand on the arm rest behind his head, close enough to let him smell her soap despite the swelling of his sinuses. “Enough.” She stated, her voice firm, but it didn’t match her face. She looked over his features with such concern, a deep seated and genuine want for his recovery, and such frustration that he couldn’t take it seriously. Even if he’d always been like this. “You are sick.” She stated. She didn’t miss the flick of his gaze, how his eyes seemed to struggle on deciding where to land on her face. Limited the human body was, too weak to take it all in at once. She softened and leaned back a little, patting his cheek before she went for a bottle in one of the deep apron pockets. He made a face when she opened it and grabbed a spoon from the same pocket. “Don’t, you need to take it.” She said as she poured it into the spoon.

“Pipsqueak, that stuff is awful. Can’t we compromise with a pill?” He asked. “No, because this is your punishment for not telling me you were sick sooner.” She replied, capping the bottle. She leaned over him again and held out the spoon. “Caleb, don’t make me force you.” She insisted. It was playful when he refused, even if he really did hate the stuff. But by the third time he leaned away, he regretted it, because her upset was serious now.

“Okay I-” She cut him off with a look again. “Caleb.” She said, not rough, not mean. It was still sweet, even if she said it without a smile. “I know you care for me. I see it, I do.” She began in a tone that felt like soothing aloe to the burn in his veins. “I appreciate all of it, really. But we’ve been through this before. You cannot have me rely on you for everything. This is exactly why! You-” She looked away with a heartbroken expression before she composed herself with a breath. “I won’t go too harshly on you now, but hear my words, damnit. You cannot keep pushing yourself into the dark to let me soak up all your sunlight, do you understand? You say I blossomed well, and you’re right, I have. I have worked hard, I have fought tough, I have grown well.” His breath hitched and shook when her hand came to his cheek, stroking the reddened skin with her thumb. “I have you to thank for a lot of that. I look at what I’ve achieved and yes, I see how much you’ve done and how much it’s mattered. I wouldn’t be where I am without it. But I will not allow you to keep nurturing me and not letting me return the favor.” She let out a breath with a deep sadness. “If you are wilted, who will continue to help me face the sun, hm? When you’re weak, if I fall, what then?” Her question went unanswered, but not because it missed him. He swallowed as she brushed through his hair again. She held up the spoon again and he took it without complaint, though his nose scrunched at the bitter taste. She grabbed the tea quickly, even blew on it before she guided the edge of the cup to his lips. 

She fought the urge to coo sympathetically at how little he could lift his head to reach the drink. He rested back with the taste of tea, rather than medicine, and the sweetness of her affection. She set the cup down and used her other hand to hold his face in both her palms. Fever be damned. “Stop. For a day, at the very least. Let me help you this time.” She said, both a demand and a plea whispered so softly. “Let it be mutual for once. Give me the grace of returning the favor. There’s enough sunlight for the both of us if you let me in close enough, do you understand me?” She asked. Caleb shivered again, but he wasn’t convinced it was the sickness this time. He couldn’t speak, three words caught in heavy chains, pulling it back down his esophagus and to his heart as he swallowed. He could only nod. He floated inches above the mortal plain when she smiled, graced with the illumination of the sun behind her.

He exhaled when her lips pressed against his forehead, lingering for a moment, allowing him to feel it enough to remember it. Even past the fog. She leaned back and stroked his cheekbones again. “Thank you.” He whispered. She huffed a short laugh and pecked his forehead again, this time for herself. “Don’t bother. You never need to thank me for this, you just need to believe me when I tell you that I mean it when I say I care about you.” She replied. He pulled her closer, as much as he could with weakened limbs. He hid against her chest, hearing the heart he wished to sync with forever. Closing his eyes as she brushed his hair with her fingers. “You’re my strength, you’re your own. I’m my own strength, you’re mine. If I’m weak, you’re strong. And…” She trailed off expectantly. He inhaled. “If I’m weak…you’ll be my strength.” “Atta boy…”

taking a shower with caleb, but for once, you're the one pampering him.

he's always the one washing your hair, but when you pout at him and threaten to leave the shower, he relents and sits on the shower bench in front of you. he sighs and tells you once more that "baby, you really don't have to, i'm okay," but you're having none of that. tilting his head up to meet your gaze, you press a kiss to his eyelids, and he tenderly places his hands on your hips — rubbing small comforting circles with his thumbs.

shielding his eyes from the water, you make sure his hair is thoroughly soaked through before squeezing some shampoo in your palms and massaging his scalp with it. caleb shudders a bit at first, your smaller hands much warmer than his. your touch is so soft, and for some reason, his chest feels like it's tightening a bit. when you push his hair back and laugh, whispering that "slicked back hair fits you, handsome," caleb looks at you as if you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

the feeling of your warm skin beneath his hands, your nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your soft hums — this is love, he thinks. you're gazing at him with so much adoration, and you're treating him as if he was fragile. it's all so overwhelming, and caleb can't help the tears in his eyes. he was always content caring for you, never expecting you to do the same — your presence alone was a blessing enough. when he takes his hands off your hips to wipe his eyes, you grow concerned.

“caleb, are you okay? did shampoo get in your eyes?”

in response, he just laughs and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head against your chest. listening carefully to your heartbeat, he exhales deeply. your body heat is so grounding, and he can't help letting out a choked sob when he feels you wrap your own arms around him. you care, you care for him so deeply, and caleb never knew he could allow himself to be selfish in this manner.

oh, how lucky you were to have each other.

“just thinking about how much i love you.”

🍎 pomme's notes — his myth damn near made me kill myself i need to love him so bad.. also inspired by that one reddit guy whose girlfriend washed his hair and he cried.. that's calebcore!!

At the Time of my Death

I've never fully understood why I feel so strongly in the manner of my death until very early this morning on a call with one of my good friends. I began to tell her how I wish to die, alone in the forest listening to the sound of wind blowing through the trees. Whatever age my death materializes makes no difference to me, as long as I have stayed true to myself, I will accept my end.

As I went on, I began to feel myself get excited at the idea of my body returning to the earth in a way in which the government would be most disappointed. I plan on disappearing, and every time I say it out loud, I'm met with uncomfortable stares and sometimes depending on who I say it to, I gain a lecture about how unfair that would be to my loved ones. Sure, whatever.

Why must people control every aspect of our lives in the name of loving us? I love you so you must... Even my own death wouldn't be mine if I allowed others to have a say in it. So much for final moments! The idea of dying in an institution meant for profit, then being placed in a plastic white bag to be brought down to a metal table, pumped full of chemicals, sounds exhausting.

Not to mention the viewing of my body in the morgue. Following with the wake, where everyone will show up in all black as if no other color exists, and cry as if losing me greatly affects how they wake up and make their coffee in the morning, ridiculous! Then there will be my subsequent burial or cremation, both are shit. Then a tombstone.

My tombstone would read something like Beloved Daughter and Mother. Is that all I amount to in this life, my titles? What about who I was? No, I'll gladly disappear into the woods and take my last moments away from prying eyes, medical supplies, and metal tables. Let my body break down into particles to enmesh with the earth the way it was intended to. Give me one final moment with the earth at the time of my death.

Source: At the Time of my Death

Decided to try and do some quicker PH stuff in between the more involved comics since those take forever and a day. XD So! Kym!

❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ vaccine

— synopsis: you go to akso hospital to get your child their vaccine.

zayne was always the one to handle these things, but now that he's gone—

you don't know what to do.

— note/s: n/a

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

i.

“mommy, are we gonna see daddy?”

you freeze with your hand on the car door, your child’s small voice cutting clean through the dull hum of the engine. there’s a soft rustling sound as they shift in their car seat, wide eyes peering at you expectantly from the rearview mirror.

you swallow. “no, baby.” you keep your voice steady, soft. careful. “we’re just going to the hospital to get your shots.”

their face scrunches up. “but daddy always gives me my shots.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pressure beneath your ribs. “i know.”

you don’t tell them why it’s different this time. you don’t tell them why daddy isn’t coming home.

you climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. the seatbelt clicks into place, and you adjust the mirror. you breathe. in and out. your wedding ring catches the light as you grip the steering wheel. zayne’s ring sits cool and heavy against your collarbone, hanging from the delicate chain around your neck. you reach up and press it between your fingers.

“mommy?”

you glance back at them. “yeah?”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me for being brave, right?”

you smile. it’s thin. it wobbles at the edges. “yeah, baby. he’s always proud of you.”

ii.

the hospital smells like disinfectant and stale coffee. you adjust your child on your hip as you stand at the reception desk, the too-bright fluorescent lights making you feel exposed.

the receptionist glances up. “can i help you?”

“um.” you hesitate. “my child has a vaccine appointment?”

the receptionist taps at the keyboard. “name?”

you give it. the receptionist hums and scans the screen.

“do you have the vaccination record?”

you open your mouth. close it. “uh… no. sorry.”

“that’s okay.” she types a few more things. “we can look it up. when was the last time your child got their MMR booster?”

your mind blanks. “uh… i don’t know.”

the receptionist raises an eyebrow.

“my husband usually handled that stuff,” you add quickly.

the receptionist looks up at you then, a flicker of recognition sparking behind her eyes. her gaze drops to your ring and then to the chain around your neck. her face softens. “dr. zayne?”

your throat tightens. “yeah.”

a pause. “i’m… sorry for your loss.”

you nod stiffly. “thanks.”

she glances toward the back. “do you want to sit down? i’ll have someone come get you soon.”

“yeah. okay.”

you settle into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area, your child curling against your side. they tug at your sleeve. “mommy?”

“yeah?”

“do you think daddy would be proud of me if i don’t cry?”

you press your lips together and kiss the top of their head. “he’d be proud of you no matter what.”

iii.

the nurse who calls you in knows you, too. you see the flash of recognition in her eyes when she reads the file.

“you’re dr. zayne’s wife?”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry for your loss.”

you manage a thin smile. “thanks.”

she looks at your child. “alright, sweetheart. ready for your shot?”

their hand curls around your sleeve. “is daddy gonna do it?”

the nurse’s expression falters.

you stroke their hair. “no, honey. daddy’s not here right now. but this nice nurse is going to take care of you.”

their lip wobbles. “but… what if it hurts?”

“it might,” you say softly. “but you’re brave, remember?”

their eyes shine. “like daddy?”

“just like daddy.”

the nurse smiles kindly. “alright, big kid. let’s get this over with.”

your child squeezes their eyes shut as the needle goes in, their hand clutching yours. they don’t cry.

when it’s over, they beam up at you. “i was brave!”

you stroke their cheek. “so brave.”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me!”

the nurse’s gaze flickers toward you. you know what she’s thinking, but you don’t say anything.

“yeah, baby.” your voice shakes. “he’s so proud.”

iv.

you walk back through the hospital corridors, your child skipping at your side. your wedding ring feels heavier than usual on your finger. zayne’s ring presses cold against your chest.

the hallways are familiar. too familiar. you pass by rooms zayne used to work in, faces zayne used to know. they all look at you with soft eyes and hushed voices. you hate it.

your child’s hand tugs at yours. “can we get ice cream now?”

you smile faintly. “yeah. we can do that.”

they light up. “can i get chocolate?”

“of course.”

“and can we tell daddy that i was brave?”

you don’t answer right away. your hand closes around the ring at your neck.

“he already knows,” you say quietly.

you walk through the automatic doors, stepping into the sharp brightness of the afternoon sun.

7-Days of Recovery With You 🍧🌸

SYNOPSIS: After getting injured and blacking out during a battle, you had not other choice but to take a week-long rest at home to recover. Unfortunately, the universe had a different vision for your dedicated rest & relaxation and decided to send in not just one but all five of your "emergency contacts". Oh the joy of being their favorite past time.

🍓 A/N: Hello! First fanfic here on tumblr about our favorite LADS boys (்▿்). I'll be posting daily (if I can make time lol) for this one! Each part will have a different pairing with all the fluff & humor I can squeeze into the fics. Hope you like it!

- p.s: I'll work on tumblr's interface so I can figure out how to add pictures and stuff to make it more interesting~

˚₊·Xavier's Miracle Soup—̳͟͞͞♡

Part 2 (Zayne) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Your week had been more than just the typical stressful encounter. Well, first and foremost, you took a hit. A pretty bad one, to say the least. It just so happened you were out in the field with Xavier, fighting off Wanderers just like any other day. It was supposed to be an easy job, a quick 30-45 minute battle, however you never anticipated to be battling wave after wave of Wanderers.

Now, here you were under bedrest, seeking recovery from your battle, surrounded by a thick blanket and rows and towers of pillows for your own comfort. Ironically, despite all the comfort your own bed has brought to you over the years, nothing could compete to the impending feeling of doom you were feeling at that moment.

Your phone kept buzzing non-stop, one message after the other, not just from one but from all five of your "emergency contacts". For some reason, they thought it was wise to build a groupchat and include you in it, to keep "tabs" on your well-being. Knowing well-enough your house is littered with security cameras from Caleb's recent "house project" and Mephisto being on the 24/7 watch, constantly pecking at your window to check on you and most probably bring "gifts" from Onychinus' one and only leader, Sylus. Not to mention, all five men have access to your current vital signs that directly notify them if it gets too low or too high, all thanks to Zayne's newly-installed and gifted watch, which clings onto your wrist like a second skin.

Grumbling to yourself as you rolled on your bed, shielding your eyes from the light peeking through the curtains, "So much for a relaxing long weekend".

» Flashback: 3 days ago . . . «

"Xavier!" you yelled across the field., "2:00!". Loud shots were fired into the air accompanied with the clanging of metal hitting almost everything in its path. "There's too many," Xavier respons, panting heavily as he wipes off the sweat and dirt off his forehead. "Any ideas?" he asks, slashing his sword through the air as another Wanderer comes too close for its own comfort towards you and Xavier.

You and Xavier had been fighting Wanderers non-stop since early in the morning. What was anticipated to be an easy job for the both of you experienced hunters, became nearly a full-day battle. "Well, making it out alive is one of them," you half-heartedly joked, trying to figure out another way to eliminate at least most of the Wanderers stalking your way. You and Xavier were about to be cornered against a large boulder, with no other exit available for the both of you to make it out alive without leaving the other behind. With quick thinking, Xavier slashed his sword in the air and cut down a nearby tree, crushing the remaining Wanderers that were crawling towards the both of you.

With heavy panting, you let your knees buckle and kneel to the floor, carefully clutching both of your guns to the ground. "What the hell was that?", swiping off all the sweat and grime from your forehead and carefully tucking away hair strands of your now messy ponytail to the side.

"It was more than what we had expected," Xavier holds out a hand and helps you get up. Not even standing at your full height, you felt the pang to your chest, you quickly grasp the skin over your heart to try and ease the pain. You felt the whole world spinning, bits of black blotches decorating your vision, you couldn't help but feel the swaying motions of your entire body, feeling the wave of pain and exhaustion finally crashing into you.

With one last glance at Xavier, you blacked out and felt your body, crash to the floor with only hearing Xavier's worried voice over and over until everything became tuned out.

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

It wasn't long before you regained consciousness and finally woke up from your deep slumber. Quickly looking around the room, familiarity made you realize that Xavier had brought you back home in your apartment. Carefully expecting your body, you could clearly see you were beaten and bruised from head to toe with your body being covered in layers of bandages and band-aids, for the smaller cuts.

"You're awake," a voice finally broke you out of your thoughts. As you lift your gaze up, you felt a soft smile grace your face. It was none other than your one and only partner in crime, Xavier, who was seemingly unscathed from the recent battle, carrying what seems to be a steaming hot bowl of what looks like a multi-colored soup. Well, crap.

"You blacked out, I had to bring you to the nearest hospital. You were out for a long time." Xavier said slowly, walking towards your bed with the soup in his hand, carefully grabbing a nearby chair with his vacant hand and setting himself ontop of it. "You overused your powers today, the association has been informed that we finished the task but, seeing your current condition, they're letting you take a break for a couple of days for you to fully recover".

"What? No, I can't. We still have so much paperworks to deal with. Not to mention the sudden influx of Wanderer activity within neighboring cities of Linkon." Your eyes widden at the thought, trying to slowly get up and fix yourself to a seated position, only to feel a pang of pain that puts your back against the board of your bed with a small thud and a wince of pain that makes you grab your waist in hopes to soothe the pain.

"Exactly my point. I'll handle the rest for the meantime. You need to rest. Captain Jenna has already made plans to assign me with a temporary partner while you rest up. We'll continue the mission from here and I'll update you as much as I can". Xavier, carefully, placing the soup onto the nearby table, gives your hand a small squeeze and a reassuring smile. As he pulls away, his gaze drops to his homemade soup and carefully picks up the bowl and scoops a spoonful of it.

You could feel the dread crawling out of you as Xavier stirs the soup and grabs another handful of the soup onto the spoon. "This is my own homemade recipe. I made it a while ago while you were asleep. It's mixed with all the good stuff I could find in your fridge". Well, double crap! I haven't even cleaned out my fridge for the week.

"That's so sweet of you Xavier, it means a lot but you don't have to feed me. I can handle it on my own." Reassuring Xavier as you carefully try to find a comfortable sitting position on the bed. Also hoping & praying that Xavier wouldn't feed you his bathbomb of a soup. Who knows what the man found and put into his miracle of a soup?

"No, I insist. Open wide," While grabbing both of your cheeks, Xavier quickly grabs the spoon and shoves the content forcefully into your mouth. With no choice but to swallow, you try and close your eyes to somehow pretend you're eating anything but the bathbomb soup.

Trying not to grimace at the recently-swallowed spoonful of bathbomb soup, you gave Xavier a weak smile, "Wow, it's...definitely something".

"I'm glad you like it. I won't leave until you finish all of it. Doctor's orders after all." You could feel your soul ascend and leave your body. How could you possibly finish this whole soup infront of Xavier? Taking in a deep breathe, you playfully twirl the spoon with your fingers as it rotates gently with the soup in the bowl, hoping it would buy you enough time for Xavier to go home and you can dispatch the bathbomb soup.

"Oh and, don't worry about anything else. Everything else is covered. The association said that they informed your four other emergency contacts. So, while I'm not here to take care of you, either of the four will do the job." Xavier smiles sweetly, as he wips out his phone and shows you an email from the association with his email attached to the receiver, along with not just two but four other emails? Why on earth would you have five emergency contacts? It wasn't like you were dying or anything, just beaten and bruised, but you'll definitely heal within a day or two.

"Wow, that's a lot of people but I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll only be gone for a couple of days."

"A week, you'll be gone for a week". Xavier corrected, looking through his phone to double check the email and its content. A whole week? What kind of joke is the universe trying to pull on you now? "Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do then?"

"Well, for starters, you can finish your soup, I'll make up a new batch before I head out so I can give you time to rest". Xavier says, as he pats your head gently and slowly pushes away strands of your bangs to the side. Your eyes could never mistake the longing stare Xavier always does whenever he looks at you, as if worried you would disappear without a trace.

"I'll be fine. Have some faith in me, with your soup, I'll be back to work in no time." You say as you reach out for his hand and give it a tight squeeze and a reassuring smile.

Xavier couldn't help but smile, tidbits of little sparkles floating around him as you both reciprocate the emotion of relief, of being safe away from any worry and danger. "You'll always be my best partner in crime, you know? You've saved me more times than I can count".

"I'll always come to save you as you will always come and find me, no matter where I am". You couldn't help but smile but also wonder, what does Xavier mean by that, that you would always come and find him? Oh well, that's another mystery for another day.

"I think I'll rest up in while".

"Good, I'll make a new batch of soup. They should be arriving at any minute".

They?

And just like that, the universe decided to give you its own vision of rest & relaxation as a loud bang of the door accompanied by numerous voices flowed into your apartment.

"Pipsquek, I'm home! I got here as fast as I could!"

"Truly, we could have taken the elevator at different intervals. I don't think using your gravity evol to force the doors shut was wise".

"Oh doctor, relax. Surely, with your salary, we could pay a handsome fee and make another elevator to fit us".

"Or maybe we just don't visit at the same time? Her apartment's already cramped as is. Can't you find different day-offs or something?

Dear God, help me.