Xavier And His Continued Love For Scaring And Teasing MC 😭

A Nostalgic Dream

listen to a lot of orchestral music, and this is one of my all time favorite pieces. And ever since getting into love and deepspace l've associated it with Xavier.

I can't pin down an exact idea, just flashes of scenes.

A grand, silver and gold ballroom on Philos. The orchestra is practicing a slower melody for his highness' ball, and you stay with him as his soon to be grandis knight. Xavier isn't interested in the festivities but his blue eyes catch the way you sway to the music ever so subtly. The way you hum the melody and seem to float instead of walking.

So, without a word, he bows and offers his hand to you. Without a word, you bow or curtsy in kind and take his hand.

Each twinkle in the melody matches a twinkle in the light, each hum of the violin leads you into another step. Xavier is dancing you around the

empty ballroom with all the grace and poise a prince of his caliber should have. Fleeting glances, intermingled breath. The spin of the tail/skirt of your uniform, the way Xavier glows in unspoken delight.

And somewhere in a strange mix of past and future, you lay awake in your boyfriend's bed.

Beginning to hum a melody you've never heard.

A song from a nostalgic dream, where you danced with a prince that glowed under moonlight, with eyes bluer than a clear summer's sky. But you can never quite make out his face. So you simply hum the tune, unaware of Xavier's slightly widened eyes.

IDK I feel like this music piece deserves a Prince Xavier fic but l've already got the trowels series and I just can't quite hammer anything down for him.

Jacked and Kind

Their reaction after you ask them to do the TikTok trend "Slim Pickins" where they had to lift you on their shoulder.

content: soft, fluff, teasing, playful love

you can request, just comment! ( I'm still

trying to get the hang of tumblr)

now playing: Out Of My League by Fitz and The Tantrums

—SYLUS—

“You already know I’m the only one who can handle you.”

The moment you even mention the trend to Sylus, he doesn't just smirk—he practically grins. The look on his face is the kind that makes your stomach flutter in the worst—and best—ways.

“Oh, this?” he says, waving his hand dismissively, already sizing you up. “I could do this with my eyes closed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? So you think you can lift me?”

“I know I can,” he replies, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Without another word, he steps toward you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before he pulls you into his arms. You have no time to protest or even think—he just does it.

His grip is firm, like a confident god of strength who knows exactly what he’s doing. When he lifts you, it’s with a fluid, almost lazy motion that has you gasping. The way he spins you, though? Pure grace—a showman, a professional. He moves like a man who’s done this a thousand times, completely in control.

And then—he looks at you. Really looks at you, his eyes narrowing in a playful challenge as he spins you once more.

“Told you,” he says with a cocky smirk. “I’m built different.”

The way he says it, you almost believe him. And when he sets you down, he doesn’t release you immediately. No, he holds you a moment longer, as if savoring the power he has over you—he knows how you feel. He knows you’re already slipping deeper.

When the video’s over, Sylus doesn’t bother to check it for perfection. He already knows it’s flawless. Instead, he watches it back, not for the usual reasons, but to admire the way his jawline looks when he lifts you, and the way you’re gazing up at him. The look on your face? It drives him crazy.

“I might let you try again,” he says casually, tossing the phone aside, “but you’ll have to earn it.”

—XAVIER—

“I’ll always catch you.”

When you mention the “Slim Pickins” trend to Xavier, there’s a long pause. He tilts his head, evaluating you like you just gave him an equation to solve, but with a flicker of curiosity behind his eyes. It’s not so much about whether he can do it—it’s about how effortlessly he can dominate the moment.

“Lift you?” he says, voice almost amused, “If I’m going to do this, it’ll be right. You’re not going to just spin around like some amusement park ride.”

You grin, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not playing. He’s calculating. There’s a certain type of precision Xavier brings to everything, and this won’t be any different.

Without asking for further instruction, he strides toward you, grabbing your waist in a way that makes it feel like it’s both deliberate and instinctive. No warnings. No dramatic buildup. Just his firm, steady grip on you as he effortlessly lifts you off the floor, bringing you flush against his shoulder.

Your breath hitches, but you can’t even be surprised. The man doesn’t do things halfway. When he spins you, it’s smooth. Measured. You can tell by the way he moves, the way he holds you, that this isn’t about performing for an audience—it’s about you.

He keeps his eyes locked on you the entire time, his gaze softening just slightly—because this moment is just for the two of you. You can feel it in the way his hands don’t falter, even as he twirls you once, slow, savoring the moment.

“I’ll always catch you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, his lips almost brushing your ear.

The spin ends. You’re dizzy, breathless, caught in the gravity of Xavier’s touch, but it’s the quiet look he gives you after that leaves your heart hammering. You swear you see something soft in his eyes, just for a second, before he’s back to his usual cool composure.

“Perfect,” he says, straightening himself up. “That’s how it’s done.”

Later, when he watches the video, Xavier doesn’t act overly impressed—of course not. But he does run his fingers through his hair, catching a glimpse of the way his jawline looks in the frame, and then you catch him replaying it, just once more. His eyes linger on the way you looked at him, his lips twisting into a small, satisfied smile.

“I told you,” he mutters quietly to himself, “I’ve got this.”

But when he turns to you, there’s no smugness, no cocky grin. Just a quiet confidence, the kind that only Xavier knows how to wear.

—RAFAYEL—

“Don’t tempt me if you’re not ready for the consequences.”

When you mention the trend to Rafayel, he just grins. That grin. You know it’s coming—the one that means he’s already making a plan in his head. A plan where he’s the center of attention. He’s the star, the drama, the flair, the whole damn show.

“You want me to lift you? Spin you? Sweetheart, you’re gonna need to be ready for me to make this unforgettable.”

You laugh at his cockiness, but it’s clear—he’s all in.

Without another word, he takes your hand and pulls you toward the center of the room. His eyes shine with mischief as he shuffles his feet, getting into position, and you can’t help but notice the way he’s casually flexing—like he’s preparing for a performance.

“Stand still. Let me show you how it’s done.”

You barely have time to blink before his arms are around you. His grip is secure, but there’s still a fluidity to his movements, like he’s done this a hundred times in his head—but now, it’s for real.

He spins you with the smoothness of a dancer, his laugh melodic as your feet leave the ground. The camera shakes slightly, but it’s nothing compared to the way your heart beats as you look up at him. That look he gives you? Pure mischief and challenge, like he knows you’re already falling harder. And you are.

“I told you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he spins you again, just a little too fast. “No one can lift you like I can.”

And then, with one final dramatic flourish, he dips you low—so low you’re sure he’s about to kiss you. Instead, he pulls away just as quickly and gives you a teasing smile.

“You’re welcome, babe.”

The video is pure art, and when it’s posted, it gets way more attention than you anticipated. Rafayel doesn’t care, though. He adores it. Every comment, every heart. But more than that, he loves the way you look at him, like you’re seeing him for the masterpiece he truly is.

Later that night, he’s already planning the next “performance.” He looks at you with that grin.

“You’re doing it with me next, right? You wouldn’t want to miss out on the magic, would you?”

—ZAYNE—

“Don’t fall for me. Too late.”

You bring up the "Slim Pickins" trend, and Zayne doesn't immediately react. Instead, he raises an eyebrow like he's trying to figure out if this is a joke or a test of some kind.

“You want me to spin you?” he asks, voice flat. “I don’t know... sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

But his eyes are already scanning the room, sizing up where he’ll stand, making sure the space is clear. He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall, but it’s clear that he’s not going to let this go untested.

“Fine. But don’t expect me to do some over-the-top move. This isn’t one of those ‘show-off’ TikTok trends.”

You grab your phone, get into position, and wait for him to come closer. He studies you for a second, then steps into the right stance—his usual controlled precision showing as he holds out his hand. You take it, feeling the strength there, but there’s no teasing smile, no playful taunt. Just a simple, low key statement from him:

“I don’t need to be flashy. Just trust me.”

And when he lifts you, it’s effortless. His grip is firm but not overbearing, his stance calculated as he holds you easily. You don’t feel a single ounce of uncertainty, only the surprising softness in his expression that he rarely lets anyone see.

As he spins you, slow and steady, you realize this isn’t just a casual lift—this is his version of intimacy. No fanfare, no public displays—just you, him, and the soft whisper of his breath in your ear as he keeps his gaze focused on you the entire time.

“You alright?” he asks, voice quiet.

You nod, breathless. The TikTok ends, and he sets you down with a gentle ease that feels almost too gentle for the Zayne you know.

Afterward, he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal—no smug smile, no victory dance. But later, when you're going over the video together, you catch him rewinding the clip, watching it closely. His lips twitch upward slightly, the faintest hint of pride, before he looks away quickly, as if trying to hide it.

“Next time, warn me when you’re going to ask for something ridiculous.”

But you see it. The way he looks at you in the video, like he’s ready to fight anyone who dares challenge his place beside you.

—CALEB—

“This is the best day of my LIFE!”

When you mention doing the “Slim Pickins” trend, Caleb practically jumps off the couch. No hesitation. No questions. Just excitement.

“Wait, really? YES! I’ve been waiting for something like this!” His voice is so full of energy it makes you laugh.

He’s already in motion, practically dragging you to the center of the room before you can even explain what you need. The excitement is infectious, and you can feel your own heart start to race as he pulls you closer.

“Okay, okay, okay—here we go! Hold on tight!” he says, his voice just a little too over-the-top as he lifts you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

There’s no fear, no hesitation, just sheer joy as he spins you—fast, maybe a little too fast—but it’s all in good fun. His laugh is contagious, and when you both stop, slightly dizzy from the spinning, you realize he’s absolutely beaming at you.

“Did you see that? Was that good? I swear, I could lift you forever.”

The video is a mess—you're both laughing too hard, the camera shaking, but that doesn’t stop Caleb from loving it. He insists on redoing it because, as he puts it:

“I didn’t get my hair right. Let me try again.”

Every time he spins you, he gives you the biggest grin, his eyes practically glowing. This isn’t just about the trend—this is Caleb, enjoying the moment, living in it with you. And when the final video is done, he posts it, captioning it with:

If you think this is fun, just wait until I pick her up for real.

You can’t help but laugh. He’s so genuine, so infectious in his energy. And when you watch the video together, you notice how incredibly proud he is—like he’s just won a trophy, and you’re the prize.

Wazzup, thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions, comment down bellow:) (been experimenting with them banners, lmao) byeee - Zane 𖹭

❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 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.

Maps headcanons -

Caleb and period cramps

Details: 600 words. Feel good food. Fluff. Tender, wonderful, caring, loving Caleb during that time of month. It actually fits if you just want a lil pampering from our boy too. Get you a man who can do both *cries* this is for you @gavin3469

You barely make it through the door before exhaustion weighs you down. The day had been long, and your body felt like it was fighting against you, every step home a battle you barely won. You had considered stopping by the store, picking up something to comfort yourself, but the thought of carrying even the lightest of bags felt impossible. You just wanted to collapse, to sink into something warm and safe and let the world fade away for a while.

You sigh as you unlock it, expecting nothing more than the quiet stillness of your apartment. But the moment you step inside, warmth greets you like an embrace. The air smells of apples and vanilla, and the soft flicker of candlelight casts golden glows against the walls. There’s something else too—something that smells like summer, fresh and inviting.

“Hello?” you call out weakly, toeing off your shoes.

No answer.

Your brows knit together as you shrug off your coat, your tired brain sluggishly trying to recall whether you had left any candles burning this morning. But then you see him.

Caleb stands in the kitchen, completely oblivious to your arrival, airpods in as he chops vegetables with effortless precision. His movements are fluid, a rhythm all his own, the steady thunk of the knife against the cutting board matching the beat of whatever music he’s lost in. He sways as he works, shifting his weight, rolling his shoulders in time with the sound only he can hear. It’s not forced, not even intentional—just an unconscious, easy sort of grace.

But that isn’t what takes your breath away.

Across the living room, near the couch, sits an enormous cube of heaven—a down duvet, the kind that screams luxury, thick and impossibly soft. A massive ribbon is tied around it, wrapped so perfectly it looks like a gift for a special occasion—something you’d dreamed of unwrapping on your birthday, carefully chosen just for you—rather than just Caleb being Caleb. The sight of it—of the effort, the quiet, knowing care behind it—makes something ache deep in your chest.

Caleb’s head lifts, eyes widening briefly in surprise, and then, in an instant, he sets the knife aside and crosses the room with the kind of intent that makes your heart stutter. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask—just gathers you into his arms, pulling you close, holding you like he’s been waiting for this moment all day. His warmth envelops you, deep and unwavering, the kind that seeps into your bones, making the exhaustion, the ache, the weight of the entire day fade into nothing.

The whole world disappears—there is only this, only him. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek as he exhales, his lips pressing softly to your hair, lingering there as if he’s just as relieved to have you home as you are to be here. His hand slides down your shoulder, fingers squeezing lightly, grounding you in a way that feels like safety, like home.

“How has your day been, dear?” he murmurs, voice low and filled with quiet affection. “I’m so happy to see you.”

The words break something loose in you, and before you can stop yourself, your eyes well up. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, the pain that’s been gnawing at you all day, or maybe it’s just him—the thoughtfulness, the way he always seems to know exactly what you need before you do. His hands find your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears before they can fall, and he presses the softest kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, voice barely above a whisper. “I got you. You don’t have to do anything tonight. Just let me take care of you.”

You exhale shakily, leaning into his touch, grounding yourself in the quiet strength of him.

Then, as if reading your mind, he grins and tilts his head toward the couch. “Wanna try out your new duvet? Bet you won’t wanna leave it once you do.”

A laugh bubbles up despite yourself, and for the first time all day, the heaviness in your chest lifts just a little.

You nod, unable to find words, and Caleb grins before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He takes your hand and leads you toward the couch—toward warmth, comfort, and the unwavering truth that, in this moment, you are the only thing in the world that matters.

——————————————————————————

kintsugi

xavier rafayel sylus zayne caleb

cw; self harm, razor blades, hurt comfort, angst, fluffy ending, reader/mc is slightly hinted at being chubby (body dysmorphia + negative body image), self-isolation (reader/mc), dddne (proceed with caution).

authors note: this is a mere work of fiction and i do not condone or am encouraging people to inflict bodily harm upon themselves. if the contents in this ff will trigger you in any sort of way, please do not read it!! as a person that is/was going through similar situations shown in this ff, i want to raise awareness and help support others in need.

this rough patch in our lives will soon pass <3

ps: the sh in this ff is very vague and up for interpretation. there is no exact place mentioned for where the sh is taking place on the body, nor where the scars are. i tried to make everything very vague so it's easier for everyone to relate to. it is HINTED!!! at that reader/mc in this ff is slightly “chubby” and/or has body dysmorphia. this can be interpreted however you like :)

also, in this ff the boys haven’t had any major sexual intimacy with reader/mc due to the scars, it's explained further in the fic.

xavier: 2.2k wrds

stress ridden, you frantically fled through the hallways of the hunter’s association, your mind in shambles.

there was a rapid influx of wanderers flooding into Linkon, thus causing mass chaos among the citizens.

this led to more and more being added onto your plate, more missions, which led to more paperwork, more unorganized files, ect, ect.

and most importantly, as the days went on your mental health slowly deteriorated. eyes constantly wandering to that tucked away box within your cabinet that would give you temporary relief.

it wasn't until a particular day until you caved into your cravings, your desire to feel the rush of blood, the rush of adrenaline, your little secret, your little safe haven.

the feeling you ravaged at like a man starved, the place you resided as the blade cut through the awfully abused skin, the sensation of the bathroom’s cool hard-tiles contrasted the pounding of your head.

the feeling of shame after. the feeling while cleaning up. the feeling of shame as you stood under the shower head and blood pooled.

the stinging sensation as the water trickled down your skin, the signs of your voluntary abuse was permanently etched onto your skin.

the hot tears that pooled down your face as you looked at your own reflection. the image of your body frightened you no matter what anyone told you. the newfound scars only heightened your insecurities.

and since that box was opened the cycle would repeat, over and over again.

rot, repent, repeat.

over and over again.

when will it be over?

the next day at work was the same, wanderers were relentless and your coworkers were restless.

“new missions”

“new paperwork”

“new deadlines”

when will this stop?

it was truly suffocating, and painful. the talking of your subordinates that filled the room, half assed conversations on your end, all while the fabric pulled and tugged on your raw skin.

a battle where a wanderer ripped your uniform, the scars barely visible but it was enough to put you on edge for the rest of the day.

walking back to the dreary office building that was filled with a vast amount of high tech, you hurriedly maneuvered past people, avoiding conversation at all costs.

your little plan was going well until you saw him.

the person you considered your lover, the one that always knew how you were feeling solely based upon observational skills was standing right infront of you.

you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. it was so obvious with your demeanor that something was off with you the entire week.

your phone has been shut off for days on end. sometimes, if someone sent you a somewhat important message, you’d send them a quick thumbs up to show that you're acknowledging their presence.

xavier’s gentle voice called out for you as you hurriedly scurried away from his gaze, exiting the building in the same fashion you entered it.

it wasn’t until you got home you had realized a good 75% of your belongings had been left behind at the office building.

you shuddered at the thought of willingly walking into that horrid building again, not on your one day off.

your phone was left at the building, but it wasn’t like you had much use for it anymore.

you fled into the bathroom before freshening up, replacing the haphazardly placed bandages over your fresh wound.

the bathroom was dark. you didn’t want to see any of it, you didn’t want to see yourself.

the thought of doing more damage crossed your mind, before you quickly dropped the thought, and the box. shame slowly creeped up your shoulder, reminding you of the feeling of cleaning up after yourself, and basking in the sadness of your own mistakes.

finishing up bandaging your wound, you simply put the box of your tools on the bathroom counter, before moving back into your disarranged room.

clothes were askew on the floor, the lighting was dark, the windows only opened enough to see what was in front of you.

moving under the bed covers, you began to close your eyes, basking in the silence.

however, that silence was quickly broken after a series of knocks cascaded at your door.

you tried to ignore it, but loud knocking every 2 minutes was a horrendous sound to sleep too.

groggily getting up from your bed, you exited the room and made your way to the door.

you slightly cracked open the door to see xavier in all his glory standing there.

his soft blue eyed gaze landed directly on your face, his eyes held a warmth that was hidden for you soley. your bag from work was hung over his shoulder, all of your belongings resided within the bag.

a sense of adoration fluttered in your heart as you looked at him, his face slightly flushed due to the weather, his serene complexion that contrasted the pink dusting his cheeks.

it wasn't until a few moments after xavier basked in your presence he spoke.

“have you been okay? you left in a rush today, and your phone has been off” xavier’s voice came out hesitant as he asked you, his brows furrowing as he attempted at asking without sounding too brash.

“no i've been fine, thanks for getting my stuff xavi” you rushed out the words before hastily grabbing the bag that xavier had extended out to you.

you attempted to shut the door before xavier’s hand grabbed a hold of the door.

“can i..stay? just for a bit i promise. just want to make sure your okay” xavier spoke to you softly as his eyes raked over your figure, your eyebags had become darker as the days went on, the skin around your eyes looked slightly irritated as if you had been rubbing it.

you looked at him blankly before nodding and walking away from the door.

“sorry its a little messy in here, just haven’t had enough time to clean up, you know?” your attempt at enthusiasm didn’t go well, your voice slightly shaking as you spoke.

you were uncovered, the bandages covering up your fresh wounds did little to hide the rest of the scars you had accumulated over the years.

you felt xavier’s gaze on your skin. hurriedly you began to make your way back into your own bedroom before saying,

“i'll be right back—just stay put for a while. I need to get changed” your voice came out more harshly then you had intended, your shaky hand lifting to open the door before closing it shut.

xavier’s eyes widened in shock, a pang of sadness reverberated throughout his heart as he saw the marks upon your skin. what had been going on that you didn’t want to tell him?

fumbling through your dressers, you immediately found something that covered up the scars on your body, your mind was in a haze, your body moving on autopilot as you changed.

when you exited the bedroom, xavier was nowhere to be seen, that was until you saw the bathroom light shining, the light from underneath the door casting a glow onto the living room floor.

you began to move onto the couch, pulling one of the many blankets that littered the couch over yourself.

a slow click resounded throughout the room as xavier exited your bathroom, the atmosphere was tense and dreary as he sat next to you on the couch.

xavier called out your name before speaking,

“have i done anything wrong? recently?” xavier’s question rang out in your ears as your eyes blankly met his.

“no xavi you didn’t do anything, i've just been a bit busy lately” your voice sounded hesitant, as if you were lying. your eyes avoided his gaze as you began to look away to another part of the room.

you knew xavier well, he craved your presence, a few days without you and he was better off dead. it had been a week before the two of you had sat down and had a conversation, a week since you simply sat in each other's company.

well enough time had passed for you to fall into your bad habits again.

“i went into the bathroom, i saw everything, the gauze, the razors, your scars. how long were you planning to let this go on for?” xavier’s voice stated this gently, with a firm undertone to it.

xavier’s body moved closer to yours, his body heat burned your skin. but you still felt yourself subconsciously moving closer to him, his comforting scent filling your nose, making you feel more at ease.

“xavier, it's really not a big deal. it's just skin, it will eventually heal.” you responded with a half-assed lie. with every mark you made on your body, a scar always remained.

your insecurities just grew and grew as the days went on. you began to question if you really deserved xavier, he was handsome and strong willed. while here you were, a person with a fragile heart that shattered at every moment and every situation.

“it's a big deal to me. i don’t want to see you like this, you don’t have to suffer alone.” xavier responded sincerely, he cupped your face, moving your gaze back to his eyes. his eyes were gentle as he held your face with care, as if you were fragile porcelain that would break at any given moment.

hot tears pooled down your cheeks as you heard his words. the sincerity in his voice, the soft touches, everything warmed your heart.

xavier’s thumbs wiped away your tears before he leaned in close to your face, before giving a soft kiss on your cheek, where the tears once resided.

everything made sense to him now, why you always turned down his advances, your nights together that always ended at a few kisses down your neck, it all made sense.

“my star, don’t feel forced to do anything. i’m sorry i didn’t notice this this sooner” xavier’s arms wrapped around you as his neck craned down to your shoulder

“xavi it's okay, it’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself for my mistake” you responded to him, your voice coming out nasally due to the tears prior.

the word mistake rang through xavier’s ears. his head bolted up from your shoulder to look you in the eyes once more.

“no—it's not a mistake, these scars just make you more beautiful. there is nothing wrong with them. as long as if it's you i’m with, no marks will define who you are to me” xavier said sincerely, beginning to move his face closer to yours

“may i?” xavier inquired, his gaze flickering from your eyes down to your lips

you nodded, before melting into the kiss. it was different from the ones you usually shared, it was soft and gentle. xavier’s hand made its way through your hair, gently brushing his hands through it as the kiss slightly deepened.

your lips disconnected as xavier’s mouth left soft kisses down your body, whispering praises onto your skin each time his lips disconnected.

his lips hovered over the area where your scarred skin was, lifting the fabric of your clothing and pressing his lips on the scars, a glint of adoration filled his features as he basked in the sensation of your skin.

“perfect, my perfect pretty girl.” xavier’s lips left a warm sensation over your scarred skin, it was like the pain and shame went away in an instant. it felt as if a weight was lifted from your shoulders as he whispered multiple praises against the area.

xavier’s negative thoughts were soothed when you didn’t jerk away from him, your hands simply ran through his hair as you looked down at him with the same admiration he had given you.

he eventually stopped, resting his head on your lap, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as his eyes looked up at you.

your hands ran through his lightly colored hair, playing with the strands as xavier began to leave kisses along your stomach.

“xavi stop that tickles!” your giggles echoed throughout the dimly lit living room, as xavier simply just smiled at you.

he eventually stopped, getting up from his lying position, freeing your lower body from his torment of kisses.

when he returned to his sitting position, he was suddenly shoved back onto the couch. his back was pressed against the cushiony material as your lips crashed onto his. a sudden abrupt movement that caused his eyes to widen, and his cheeks to flush even more.

as you pulled away from the kiss, his normally pale complexion was a rosey shade of pink, his ears were also shaded a dark red.

xavier pulled you down onto him, suddenly crashing into his arms. he left an array of kisses on the top of your head, and your face.

“don’t leave me again please. nothing physical will make me want to separate from you. i just want it to be you, your most authentic self is all i want.” xavier’s words were said softly as he whispered them into your ear, leaving a few soft kisses along your neck before pulling you into another soft kiss.

the rest of the afternoon was filled with love, and acceptance as you stayed in xavier’s soft embrace, his hands tracing along the scars, his body enveloping you in his sweet, secure, embrace.

S/O With Depression- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader requested by: anonnie ⋆˚꩜｡ genre: comfort a/n: hihi lovelies! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i would like to mention that everyone has different types of depression and goes through different things! i wrote the ones i’m familar with and what the anonnie requested! what might be common for me or from the anonnie that requested can be completely different to someone else! if you want to see more then i’ll write a part 2! hopefully this brings some comfort to those that need it enjoy reading! <3 any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Will do his best to be a light and source of comfort for you

Xavier would stay close when getting out of bed feels impossible. But if you needed space, he’d respect that, keeping you company from a small distance in bed to remind you that you’re not completely alone. He wouldn’t let you stay curled up in bed for too long. He’d gently carry you to the kitchen to make sure you’re fed.

On days when your words don’t come easily and your thoughts feel jumbled, he never interrupts or rushes you. He stays quiet, a hand on top of yours, nodding along while letting you speak at your own pace even if your sentences come out jumbled. Occasionally, he might ask a question to understand the context. When you do finish what you’ve needed to say, he’ll work through it together with you

If you were taking any medications, he’ll go through the entire packet and read through any information about it online. He’ll remember all the side effects that come with it and checks up on you whenever you take them

When every little sound starts to feel like it was too much, he draws the curtains and does everything he can to make it more peaceful. He moves carefully, no sudden sounds will be made in this household. Even the way he eats or shifts in his seat would become more gentler. If you were comfortable with it, Xavier would gather you into his arms, holding you close against his chest. His hand rest gently over your ear, blocking out whatever noise is left.

Xavier would offer to listen and be the place where you can let it out. But if it’s an unexplainable feeling that you just can’t put into words then he’ll find a different way to cheer you up. He’ll settle beside you, pulling up your favorite comfort shows and have your snacks ready

Zayne:

Whenever getting out of bed feels like too much, he’ll leave a warm cup of tea and a few slices of fruit or your favorite snacks by the bedside table. He never rushes you so he waits. Sometimes he’ll sit nearby so you don’t feel alone. Other times, he gives you the space you want, trusting that you’ll reach out when you’re ready. But when it starts to feel like too much and the silence grows too heavy, he will step in. Never forcefully. He’ll encourage you to start off slow, a hand on yours. Maybe something as simple as sitting up or maybe just brushing your teeth.

Anytime you went through a depressive episode, Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He’ll help you shower, brush through your hair gently, and help brush your teeth. He’ll praise you for each small step you take

The type to send you reminders to take your meds at the right time and that you should eat something before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

Zayne would understand and has never taken it personally when you don’t want to be touched. He doesn’t try to hug or reach for your hand. Instead, he makes space for you until you you’re comfortable once again

He can tell when you get sad randomly. Zayne would never force you to explain but he will always remind you if you want to talk, he’s there. Sometimes when it’s just a quiet ache sitting in you for no reason, he’ll also understand that. He’ll suggest a walk out for fresh air or just for a different scenery if you’ve been inside for too long.

When the smallest sounds can feel too much, he’ll make sure to move extra quietly. He’ll offer noise cancelling headphones to drown out any sounds. Any open windows will be closed and he’ll draw the curtains to keep the noise out. He’ll make sure to close any of the doors inside softly, silence his phone and pager and he’ll make sure to give you the space you need.

Sometimes the words just don’t come out right but Zayne would never rush you. He would always be patient, even when your voice shakes or when you pause for too long. And when you do finally get them out, no matter how jumbled or messy it sounds, he listens. Every single word and every detail. Once you said all you needed to say, that’s when he speaks and helps

Reminds you that he is always there for you. Even if he was busy at work and you know he can’t reach you right now, you can still message him. He reminds you to never hesitate to reach out, spam him, leave him voice messages. He’ll read through every word and detail and he’ll find time to immediately reach out to you

Rafayel:

You would never feel alone if Rafayel was by your side. Even if he was away from an art exhibition, he would text you throughout the day. If you need him by your side, then he’s finding an excuse to get out of work and find his way to you.

When you’re having a hard time getting out of bed, Rafayel would be by your side under the covers so you don’t feel alone. However if you continue to have a hard time, he doesn’t hesitate to step in. He’ll scoop you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. He’ll start with something simple, like a warm bath since it can maybe cheer you up.

When every noise seems to bother you, he’ll make sure to move around quietly in the studio. He’ll close up the windows and doors so his seagull friends won’t bother you. He’ll even breathe more quietly so he doesn’t bother you. Rafayel would still stay nearby but gives you your space to make sure you’re not alone. He’ll wait until you’re ready to talk with him

Rafayel would never take it personally when you did not want to be touched but he definitely does get a little pouty about it behind your back. He just misses holding onto you but he understands and gives you the space you need.

Feeling sad randomly? Rafayel would never push you to explain what’s wrong but he encourages you that it’s good to let it out and that he’s always there for you. However, if it was unexplainable, he doesn’t make you feel weird about it. He’ll find ways to cheer you up as best as he can. He’ll pull up videos on his phone and you silly videos he found that might make you smile. He’ll even suggest a quiet walk by the beach just for a change of scenery and for some fresh air

Sometimes the right words just won’t come. They get lost somewhere between your thoughts but Rafayel has never once looked at you confused or has never been impatient. He watches you carefully, trying to understand your expression. Sometimes he finishes the sentences for you, not to interrupt but because he’s piecing it together with you. And if you grow frustrated, he offers to sketch it out with you.

Sylus:

On days when getting out of bed feels impossible, he stays beside you but he doesn’t let you stay there for too long. He understands the weight of it all but he will step in. First he’ll start with encouragement, asking you to sit up just for a bit. But if your limbs feel too heavy and your body refuses to move, he never gets frustrated. He’ll carry you in his arms. He’ll run you a warm bath and help bathe you. Later he’ll encourage you to do some small activities with him to get you a little motivated

He would never take it personally if you were not in the mood to be touched. There’s no wounded ego or disappointment. He gives you the space that you need until you are ready to curl up next to him again. He’ll make sure you were absolutely comfortable with it before he reaches back

Sylus would always give you the choice to talk or cry or let it out to him in whatever way you need. But if it’s those days where it’s just unexplainable, he doesn’t press on. Instead, he’ll offer distractions. He’ll pull out a new vinyl that he’s been saving for or maybe stepping out to a new scenery to get rid of whatever ache you have in your chest

When the world feels too loud and your thoughts won’t slow down, no matter how hard you try to explain to Sylus through hiccupped sobs, he doesn’t ask you to make sense of it. Instead, he pulls you into his arms. He doesn’t say much at first, his hand moves slowly up and down your back. He doesn’t need you to have the right words. He’ll listen, hiccupped sobs or not, to every detail you have to say. When your sobs begin to slow, when you start to breathe a little easier, he’s still there, helping you sort through the weight you've been carrying. It doesn’t matter if the problem is big or small. He’ll work them out with you together.

Luckily your shared bedroom is at the top floor to avoid any noises from the city. However if any noise continues to bother you, Sylus wouldn’t ask what’s wrong, he’ll just move around quietly as best as he can. He’ll stop playing any music on his record player unless you don’t want him too. He’ll make sure Luke and Kieran are not in the same building and he’ll make sure to mute Mephisto

Caleb:

Having a hard time getting out of bed? Caleb would give you the space you need, leaving you your favorite snacks and water by the bedside table with a cute little note and a doodle for you. He’ll check in on you often to see if you’ve eaten or just by ‘passing’ by the room. However if it does stretch on, he’ll kneel beside the bed and offer his hand, suggesting a few easy stretches. He’ll encourage just a small stretch for your arms and then legs next and then a small little walk to the kitchen where he has a little meal waiting in the kitchen just for you

As much as Caleb loves to hold you and have you in his arms, he would never be offended if you did not want to be touched. He would never hover and never pressure you. He gives you all the space and time you need when you’re comfortable again

Feeling sad out of nowhere? He would be SO worried, it would be written all over his face. His first instinct is to check in, offering to let you vent out if you need to. He’s always been a good listener. If it just feels unexplainable and you can’t quite name the reason, then he’ll find ways to cheer you up. Caleb would curl up with you and pull up your favorite comfort shows or movies. Or he’ll bring you your favorite snack or make your favorite dish that you love. And of course, he offers his signature big bear hug.

If any sounds were bothering you, he’d make sure to not make a single sound in the house. No loud footsteps in the halls, no clinking dishes, you name it. He’d even go as far as making sure no plane flies in the direction over your home to make sure you get the peace you need.

Sometimes you can’t get the right words to come out and Caleb would be patient with you the entire time. He lets you speak and lets you take all the time you need to get it out. His hand rests on yours, his thumb traces slow, soothing circles over your knuckles as he reads your expressions carefully. If any tears come out from frustration, he cups your face with so much care and wipes away any stray tears.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯:

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

ʚɞ Others:

Wattpad ( still updating it rn )

twitter @/ tbaluverr but idk how to use twitter </3

THE LOVE OF A WRITER

Xavier x Writer!Reader

A/N: This is the first time I ever write on Tumblr, and also the first time I wrote something in 2nd person about LADS. English is not my first language, so I'd appreciate any type of feedback to improve my writing c: thank you for reading!

Summary: Xavier is coming to your apartment to watch a movie. While waiting for you in the living room, he finds a notebook that ignites a flame at the idea that someone else had stolen your heart.

Tags: Pre-relationship, fluff, some angst (just a little), sfw, jealous Xavier, conflicted feelings.

Words: 2,6k

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You had invited Xavier to come over to watch a movie, taking advantage of his day off. It was a regular activity you'd adopted since you'd become close after so much time being neighbors and coworkers. While you were in charge of cooking —since you didn't fully trust Xavier's cooking skills—, he was in charge of buying drinks and some snacks for the movie.

While you were waiting for Xavier to arrive, you decided to take a quick shower. You made sure to send him a text letting him know he could come in freely to get comfortable until you were done.

Xavier always made sure to bring your favorite snack or dessert as compensation for you always cooking something delicious for him. He usually didn't pay too much attention to what he ate, too busy hunting Wanderers and sleeping, only eating instant noodles and simple dishes that Xavier managed to cook without making a mess, or just go to a hot pot restaurant if he didn't feel like settling for his poor cooking. Every time you invited him over to eat was like a gift to him.

He entered your apartment silently, one of his hands carrying a bag with snacks and drinks to share with you during the movie. The other was holding his phone, still with your chat on the screen. Knowing that you were busy taking a shower, he walked to your living room and settled on the couch to wait for you.

He wasn't a nosy person, he respected your privacy a lot even when sometimes he was dying to know what was going on in your mind. So, whatever kind of secret you had, he would respect it because he knew you would tell him when you felt comfortable enough.

When he saw the open notebook on the table next to the sofa, he couldn't help but feel curious. He didn't think it was something private considering it was open, it's content revealed to anyone to see.

He picked it up with curiosity and looked at it carefully. It was a scruffy, plain notebook, nothing flashy. Xavier remembered having seen that notebook in the past: In a cafeteria where you two had agreed to go, you were absentmindedly writing in that notebook, oblivious to Xavier's gaze, and when he reached your side, you smiled at him and closed the notebook immediately. Or when he saw you by chance in a plaza, you were eating some donuts while your eyes focused on the notebook and your hand moved non-stop. That time Xavier didn't make you stop writing, it was you who stopped writing, putting away the notebook and grabbing your things before looking up and encountering his gaze.

It was inevitable that he felt curious about the content. What was it that had you so focused on writing? He thought he might come across lists, date reminders, or things like that. Maybe even some drawing. But what he found were pages full of text, some scratches and corrections here and there. Your handwriting varied in shape and size, sometimes clear and neat, other times sloppy, abrupt, and confusing.

Despite how overwhelming the interior looked, Xavier tried to read the first line of a paragraph.

«He is kind, gentle, and chivalrous. He easily attracts attention even when he doesn't mean to. People couldn't help but gravitate toward him like moths to a flame. Akira was simply exceptional».

Nothing in that paragraph had caught his attention until he read what followed.

«Maybe that's why I liked him so much».

He stared at the text, reading that last line over and over again. It was as if he couldn't quite comprehend what he was reading, as if the words didn't quite make sense. When he was finally convinced that what he was reading was not a product of his imagination, he began to read a few more lines.

«I liked to take advantage of any situation to be by his side. He was dense enough not to notice my intentions.»

«One of my favorite places is the beach when it's about to rain. I realized that's the exact color of her eyes. Other times they were the color of the starry night sky.»

«...and his lips were the most tempting thing the universe could have created.»

Many things went through Xavier's head too quickly, thoughts that merged together and were too confusing to say out loud. Only one thing stood out from all his mental chaos.

Who is Akira?

His mind tried to recall all the workers he remembered from the Association. He tried to remember if he had ever read Akira's name anywhere or heard it in conversation. After failing at that, he tried to remember if any neighbors in the building had that name, maybe someone he hadn't met but you had. The more he searched, the less he found.

By the time you got out of the shower and walked back into the living room, dressed and arranged comfortably, Xavier had a thoughtful expression, the closed notebook on the table next to the sofa.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile and approached the small table to see the contents of the bag he had brought. “As expected of you, you brought my favorite.”

You called him to come to the dining room, since you had left the food ready for when he arrived.

He didn't move.

“Xavier?” You called.

It took him a moment to snap out of his thoughtful state.

“Oh. Coming.”

You ate and talked peacefully, you asked him questions from time to time and he answered gently and kindly. Still, it was inevitable to feel that his responses were more careful than usual.

Once you settled in to watch the movie, Xavier took on a serious expression that was out of place considering the movie was mostly a comedy. Still, you didn't question it, you knew Xavier was sometimes strange in his own way, so you didn't think anything of it.

After a few minutes of the film, Xavier was unable to hold it any longer. Although the way he started the conversation wasn't... subtle.

“Do you like someone?”

You turned to look at him instantly, unable to believe that he had actually asked something like that out of the blue.

“What?”

For some reason, that answer irritated him. He wanted to ask you so many things. Ask you about that "Akira" you mentioned so often in your notebook, ask you if you truly meant everything you said in those pages. Ask you if it were true, what you thought of him. Did you see him as just a friend? Coworker? Neighbor?

Suddenly he realized how easy it was to lose you over something as mundane as you falling in love with someone other than him. It was like a punch in the stomach when he realized he might have already lost you.

For a second, he had a flashback to a conversation in the past, who knows how many years ago.

You saying that maybe you had fallen in love with someone, him replying that it was a good thing. You asking if he wasn't curious to know who it was, and him having to take a moment to say that it didn't matter, that he was happy for you.

Too guilty for not being honest with you.

Too jealous to accept that someone else had your heart.

“Do you like someone?” He asked again, unable to continue thinking about how unpleasant the feeling of deja vu was.

“Where does that question come from?” You laughed and he felt more irritation and his stomach turn over.

Was that a yes?

“Lately I've noticed certain things,” he lied. He was good at lying, he had been doing it for a long time. He was especially good at lying to you, unfortunately. “You smile more, your eyes sparkle... and we watch more romantic movies than usual.”

He said the last thing while pointing at the television with his chin. The main couple was in the middle of a romantic scene, looking at each other affectionately and sharing smiles.

“Oh,” you said. “I hadn't realized that.”

Again, an answer he didn't like.

“So? Is that a yes?” He settled back on the couch, turning his body to look directly at you. “Who’s the lucky one?”

You laughed again, leaning over the living room table to reach for a snack. Xavier pressed his lips together.

You weren't taking him seriously.

“I have no idea how you came to that conclusion, but I assure you there is no one.” You smiled at him sincerely. “It’s all just a coincidence.”

Lie.

The fact that you didn't want to tell him directly was another blow to the gut. You didn't trust him? You didn't want him to know? Why?

There was a silence in which only the movie could be heard. Xavier was no longer listening and you only paid half attention to it. Then he spoke again.

“Who is Akira?”

When those words left his mouth, he immediately regretted saying them because he knew he had sounded desperate.

Until he saw the change in your expression. You didn't laugh. Your smile froze and there was something in your eyes that confirmed he had asked the right thing.

He saw alarm.

“Who?” You asked, but instead of genuine confusion, he heard caution.

You knew who he was talking about.

“Akira.” He responded softly, his eyes focused on you, looking for more information with any change in your expression.

“Where did you hear that name?”

Faced with that question, Xavier had the decency to look away and look embarrassed. What was he supposed to tell you? That he'd snooped through your notebook without your permission while you weren't looking? What would that say about him? That would only prove you right that he was not trustworthy.

He couldn't bear the thought of breaking your trust. Not again.

Your gaze quickly searched for the table next to the sofa that was behind Xavier. It was closed, but you couldn't help but press your lips together, tense that it was within his reach.

As Xavier looked away, you stood up from the couch and leaned towards him. He immediately turned his gaze to you, eyes wide open as he watched you come closer. However, when he saw you step back with the notebook in your hand, he looked away.

“Xavier...” You kept your gaze on your notebook, your hands gripping it tightly. After a moment, you looked up at him, tense. “Did you read my notebook?”

Xavier swallowed before looking at you.

“It... wasn’t my intention.” He told you with sincerity and heaviness.

Again you two fell silent. The film had been completely forgotten by both of you. You looked at Xavier like you didn't believe he was real and he looked at you like you were about to break his heart.

Then, against all odds, you laughed.

“My god,” you gasped, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. “How embarrassing.”

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. He looked at you in confusion as you shook your head and looked back at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you said confidently. “I don’t like any Akira.”

It took Xavier a moment to respond.

“I read—”

“Yeah, I know.” You laughed again, this time rubbing your face with one hand. When you pulled away and Xavier could see your face again, he saw the slight blush on your cheeks. “But what you read isn't my secret diary or anything like that. It’s my writing notebook.”

Xavier remained silent, processing your answer. He went over your words again and again until he finally registered their weight.

“Writing notebook?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “A notebook where I write down spontaneous ideas I have to write stories or longer projects in the future.”

Xavier continued to look at you intently as you opened the notebook to the first pages.

“Here’s my character index,” you explained as you carefully showed him the pages. “Akira is one of them. One of the main ones, in fact.” You flipped more pages to the middle and showed him more messy text. “These are ideas that come to me out of nowhere. Sometimes they're full scenes, other times they're thoughts of a specific character.”

You looked up with a small smile.

“What you read were the thoughts of my main character about him at the climax of the story.”

With those words, Xavier breathed again. He let out a shaky sigh and looked away from your face. It was as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he couldn't help but bring his fist to his lips in an attempt to hide his embarrassed expression.

“I thought that—” He said but stopped, thinking that maybe what he said would only embarrass him more.

This time you laughed out loud as Xavier tried to hide his embarrassment by grabbing a snack from the table. He ate without looking at you, incredulous that his apparent rival was a product of your imagination.

“Why were you so curious to know if I liked Akira?” You asked between laughs, still not wanting to drop the subject.

“I just—” He took a moment to answer. “I was curious to know who was the person that you wrote so passionately about.”

“Mmh...”

Entertained to see this side of Xavier, you decided to tease him a little.

“Well, do you wanna know a secret?” You leaned closer to him, voice quiet. “Akira is inspired by a real person.”

That was enough to get his attention. He looked at you again, his eyes fixed on you, attentive, alert, with tension ready to creep into his bones.

“Who?”

“Nope!” You shook your head. “That's a secret!”

You crossed your arms and raised your chin with a definitive gesture, giving drama to your words. Faced with his silence, you couldn't help but glance at him and seeing his expression —as if ready to seek out the one who had inspired such passionate writing—, you smiled at him.

“He is the most trusted and important person in the world to me. I am grateful to the universe for sending me such a wonderful star by my side.”

And your smile —Gods, your smile— was all he needed to realize your words. It felt like a shared secret. Like a confession.

His frown relaxed and he opened his mouth to speak, although at first he was unable to do so.

“Am I...?”

“The movie!” You turned your full attention back to the television, too embarrassed to give him any more information than you had already.

Xavier didn't need anything else to understand, not when he saw the blush on your face and the way you were trying so desperately to distance yourself talking about the movie and interesting facts about it.

He let out a chuckle that made you blush even more and made you think that maybe you had shared much away. However, Xavier simply adjusted himself so that he was sitting closer to you and his pinky finger brushed against yours on the couch.

“I'd love to read more of... your main character's thoughts about ‘Akira’,” he said with a warm and sincere smile.

Xavier definitely wouldn't leave you alone until he had read absolutely everything you had written in your notebook, until you told him how or why you made certain decisions and, especially, why didn't you just use his name instead of Akira's.

“Why did you name him Akira?”

“I didn't want to name him like anyone I knew.”

“You could just use my name, you know. I would prefer that you... your main character thinks all that about me and not a stranger.”

“Stop—”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

A/N: Thank you for reading! I might write more about writer!reader with the other LIs. I'd appreciate any type of ideas for future fics ;>

Summary: Xavier has a nightmare that disturbs both of you (1.5k words, angst (flangst maybe?) Xavier x gn!Reader

a/n: i've read this too many times now to be happy with it lol so here we go! and it's the first piece over 600 words i've actually published in nearly 4 years! yay! (please help me out with a title lol)

"Xav!" your whisper is harsher than intended and edged with frustration. It's difficult to make the vowels and consonants of his name softer when you've spent the last forty minutes trying to rouse him.

You wriggle slightly in an attempt to stretch your back and hips without disturbing him too much as he lays in your lap. Your back has started to ache and it's too dark now to comfortably read the text on the page in front of you. Xavier's book rests open on his chest like an injured bird, rising and falling with his breaths. You want to stand, get a glass of water and turn on the lamp behind you at least, but Xavier is slumbering too deeply to react at all.

You'd tried every tick in the book once you'd established he was actually sound asleep - it's a rare thing for him to let his guard down so completely. Even in the comfort of your own homes, Xavier was always just below the tide of consciousness- alert enough to bolt if necessary but relaxed enough to recharge like a fox napping in the midsummer sun. Disarming. Charming. Dangerous.

You'd jostled him gently, then a bit rougher. Cooed every variation of his name and nicknames. You'd even played dirty - pretending to both phone for a takeaway hot pot and to invite Caleb round to share it. Neither strategy had worked and Xavier's expression remained smooth and his breathing even.

"Xavier," you try again, one last time sweet and sing-song like a dawn chorus. You think it's working as his chest stutters on the inhale and his eyelids flicker. But it doesn't. His expression darkens instead ike an oncoming storm - brows pulling together, lips turning down and his hands start to twitch, the tendons coiling and flexing. A frown pulls at your own lips, concern begining to thread through your irritation. Xavier doesn't dream - or so he tells you - and he certainly doesn't get nightmares.

He starts mumbling then, half sentences and misfired words sounding vaguely like 'go' and 'leave'. You've never known him to talk in his sleep, let alone start thrashing. The spasms in his fingers have escalated to full body twitching, thighs tensing and untensing, fists white-knuckling. His chest rises and falls far quicker than it had been less than two minutes ago, verging on hyperventilation. Your own heart starts hammering.

The room is blanketed in a rich navy as blue hour nears its end. Xavier's features, like the finer details of the room, are lost in the murk. You call his name again, trying to suppress the panic creeping through you as his calls grow stronger, expression sterner and sentences more coherent.

You lean forward slightly, to look down over him. Xavier's face distorts, closed eyes narrowning, teeth bared at the nightmare - at you.

You push your hands gently but firmly into his shoulders,as you had done half an hour earlier. An attempt to ground him - bring him back to the land of the living. Your own heartbeat continues to rise and your breath quickens, nearly mirroring the heaving of his chest. Short, sharp inhales and incomplete exhales. Lungs never fully empty nor full in the strange, overwhleming confusion anxiety brings.

You're releived it's his upper torso on you lap and not his legs which are now flailing wildly, kicking visciously. The book on his chest falls to the carpet with a thump, white pages splayed and bent like broken wings. Your hold doesn't work instead it makes him writhe more, voice raising and the words becoming clearer, more commanding pleas. You think you hear a "don't leave me" over the rush of blood in your ears.

Desperation tightens its grip. You just want him to wake up.

Your instincts are fraying.

Something is telling you to shove him off you and run. Run far and quick away from here, away from Xavier and don't look back.

You let go of his shoulders and bring your shaking hands to his face. Cupping it gently and brushing hair back off his forehead, damp with perspiration. It's Xavier, he wouldn't hurt you - consciously or not, you reason. Something primal whispers doubt into your heart.

There's light pooling in Xavier's hands.

Blood drains from your face and your stomach plummets. He's seconds away from drawing his blade.

Wouldn't he? it purrs again.

"Xavier!" you say once more, voice high and thin. You push into his shoulders with enough force to bruise th eimprint of his shoulder blades into the flesh of your thighs.

It works.

He shoots upwards, cresting the wave of wakefulness. You jerk away as he reaches, unseeing into darkness behind your head, bellowing -

"Don't!"

- and the room burns.

Bright, blinding and white hot before it dims just as quickly. Shattering glass rains down as quietly as a caress. The filaments overheating and exploding, one after another until all that remains is the singular floor lamp at the back of the room. It casts disturbing shadows across Xavier, still in your lap. The light hits him wrong. Hits him at dangerous angles - his more delicate feature still shrouded in gloom. Your pulse doesn't slow.

You blink once, twice, three times against the sudden luminosity and stark murk. Partly, too, to earse the look in Xavier's eyes. They're wild and wide, an ominous glow against the indigo room.

His chest chest heaves, breaths ragged and the only noise beyond the buzz of static. Your own chest has stalled. You don't dare inhale. He's looking at you without recognition, a preadator snarling at prey. A chill skitters up your spine and out to the fingers still fisted in his hoodie. Your mouth dries.

You're in danger, the traitourous part of you croons.

You move to shove him off your lap and vault the sofa, cramps and numbness long forgotten. But Xavier's faster than you. Faster than light itself and he's straddling you now. His weight settles over your pelvis, thighs pressing against your own.

He reaches for your face. Alarm surges up inside you once again, and you can't summon the rational part of you, the part that knows bone deep that Xavier would rather fall on his sword than harm you. It must have slipped from you when the lightbulbs exploded, like a spooked animal. You're too light headed and the blood is surging in your ears.

You feel a bit like you're floating - the switch from a relaxing evening to a high-stress moment leaving you strung-out. Both of your chests are heaving and you finally notice his hands are chilled and trembling against your cheeks, unconciously and despite everything, you lean into the touch. You force a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, releasing the white-knuckle grip of his hoodie. The fabric holds the indents of your grip where it's been scrunched and stretched. They hang limply by your side, unsure if you should touch him.

"You-I-yo-" Xavier stammers, "-you left me."

It's not an accusation, but it should be. His voice shakes and he swallows thickly. His eyes are softer now but still wide and wet with tears. He tilts your face this way and that with a touch so reverant it's alien to the previous moments. He's leaning forward, head tilted down to examine you properly, as if he were doubting your presence, checking you aren't about to slip through his fingers.

It's quiet for a moment.

The weightless feeling ebbs. You take one of his hands in yours and guide it to rest over your heart. So he can feel the rhythm as it steadies, proof that it's still beating. That you're still here, at home with him - even if you are still reeling from the adrenaline surge. The action grounds you as well. It's your Xavier, of course nothing would have happened, even if he hadn't woken when he did.

"You're still here," he breathes. His hands are still trembling but his breathing has settled. His gaze roves your face, one had still wrapped in yours.

"Yeah," you clear your throat, shifting beneath him, "I'm still here, Xav." You school a small smile onto your lips. The shadows seem less hostile now, the sole lamp casting a warm buttery glow over him, marigold against forget-me-not. Blue skies and an orange sunset after a tempest. The light twinkles where it catches the powder-fine glass coating the floors and fabrics of your home. There's some glittering in Xavier's hair.

"Good." He sags against you like a puppet with its strings cut. Head slumping into the space between your neck and shoulder, breathing against your pulse point. His arms snake up your back and over your shoulders, pulling you impossibly close. His breath shudders once more and something warm drips onto your exposed skin, then again and agian. Any instinct to flee has be smothered, how could you ever have considered that Xavier would hurt you? The same Xavier sobbing into your arms following a nightmare. A nightmare where you had left him no less. You bring your own arms up to wrap around him.

It's not particularly comfortable - Xavier is nearly folded in half to tuck himself up into you while still straddling your lap. You run a hand through the hair at his nape and hold him. Soothe him. Soothe yourself, too, with whispers and promises pressed into his ashen hair.

"It's okay, Xav. You're okay. I'm okay. 'M not gonna leave you." A promise. A curse. A lie. A truth. An oath.

"I want to be a dragon."

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon