Love & Deepspace Men As Your Gym Instructor

Thinking about how soft Xavier is with MC...

MC: That movie was so good, and the hotpot was yummy. All in all I feel like it was a good day off!

Xavier: ✨️ Yes... it was a good date.

Xavier: *gently intertwines their fingers together and matches his pace with MC*

MC: ☺️ yes, a good date.

Xavier: *pulls MC close*

Xavier: But I still... want to show you something... is that alright?

MC: Sure, what is it? 😇

Xavier: Come with me.

Xavier: *leads MC to a small hilltop that over looks a cute park*

Xavier: Soon the fireflies will come, and this place will be filled with nature's light... but for tonight. Let's create our own.

*lights dance like stars in the trees below and in the sky above real stars twinkle, making it look like they are in space*

Xavier: I want... I want to give you this light tonight, will you accept?

MC: *stares at him and smiles*

MC: Of course, this light can be ours.

MC: *cups his cheek*

FADE TO BLACK 😈

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…”

I have read this myltiple times and its one of my fav stories to reaf

Ahhhhhhhhh.. its too goooddddd

Thank you author

👻💌👻

Soiree

There have been recent sightings of a new savior in Linkon City named Soiree. Xavier was pretty much ignorant of the news until he encountered the said heroine.

Pair: Xavier x MC

A/N: A birthday gift for the Xavier girlies! Advance Happy Birthday Xavier! I really like that scene of Xavier getting jealous lmao

Word count: 3,350

Tags: Disguises, Lumiere hello, minor injuries and violence, MC being stubborn, being jealous

“There have been recent sightings of a new savior in Linkon City! Blending in darkness to fight for justice!” says the man on the radio. While preparing dinner and Xavier is doing the dishes, you two are listening to the city news as background noise and as awareness of what is happening.

“A new Lumiere on the loose?” You said, smiling a bit. Xavier gave you a look before the radio continued.

“This mysterious savior this time is a lady who blends in the shadows after skillfully defeating wanderers and evildoers roaming around, especially at night,” he said. “The other savior that graced us was Lumiere, who defeated powerful wanderers last sighted many years ago,”

“And there he is,” You chuckled, showing your appreciation for your hero. Xavier puffed his face in response.

“Her name is Soiree, a complement to the savior in the dark to the savior in the light,” The voice said on the radio.

“It has been a while since Lumiere was last seen,” You pondered. “I miss my knight so much,”

“Well, maybe he doesn’t need to show up,” Xavier said with a puffed face as he finished the dishes and turned off the radio to play music. “Maybe he has more important priorities at the moment,”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… Maybe being with his beloved,”

You blushed.

You remembered the trick you did for Xavier to admit many years ago. You appreciate that he saved you twice in that identity, but you are more grateful he saved you so many times as the love of your life, Xavier, your favorite dummy who gets jealous and sulks whenever you talk about Lumiere.

“I wonder why this Soiree is showing up lately…” Xavier pondered. “Maybe because of the recent crime rates and wanderers rising in the city,” You suggested. The past months were no better, there’s just been much work lately in the Association.

“It’s going to be fine, she doesn’t have to do that,” Xavier said. “Anyway, time for your medication,” he ordered. You groaned as a complaint. Because of the recent events, your heart has been under a lot of stress lately. Hence, you currently have less workload in the meantime and are under the watchful eyes of Xavier.

“Same to you in changing your bandage,” You retorted back. “I will after you take your medicine,” he said in return. You’ve been worried about him the past weeks, he was often gone to do his duties as a Hunter. He goes home bruised and needs first aid. You feel bad for not helping him that much. Sometimes you miss him because he had to go away for days for missions.

“You’re doing that face again,” Xavier said. “You do not have to worry about me. You should focus on recovering more…” He placed a pill on your palm, which is your heart medicine, and then offered you a glass of water.

“I want to help you, your body has taken much damage lately,” You swallowed the pill before drinking the water.

“Focusing on your health more is already a help for me, the sooner you get better, the sooner we can be partners again,” He smiled. You sighed and smiled back. “Okay, okay,” He patted your head.

Suddenly, several warning beeps are heard in your watch and his. Your eyes widened.

“High leveled wanderers!” You exclaimed. “But Alpha hunters are currently fighting on the other side-” Xavier quickly gets ready to fight. “Xavier?” You stand up and realize. “You’re taking all of them?!”

“I can handle it, I don’t have a partner but I’ll manage,” he said. Then he stopped. “And no, you can’t, end of discussion,”

You know Xavier is strong but not in his state and in that many. You followed him but he only stopped you, and kissed you before leaving. You wanted to follow him but he wouldn’t want that.

Xavier dodged the attack as several wanderers were going in his direction. He summoned multiple light-fused swords and charged at them. He panted as he still had bruises and recovering from the last battle. He barely dodged an incoming attack and he flew to the ground. Despite the pain and his sight went blurry, he still gets up and kneels. He has to fight, someone is waiting for him back home.

He breathes, summoning more light to his sword. The wanderers rush towards him and anticipate the blow of their attacks.

Dark swords rush through from a distance as a black-clad figure gets down. Xavier gets up and runs to the wanderers, slicing through them. The swords are different and seem customized as he observed. In landing back to the ground, the wanderers are extinguished. Xavier looked at the figure, a woman wearing a black coat, covering her body. He stared at her eyes looking at the finished wanderers before she looked back at him. Her eyes widened.

“Soiree?” he said. The figure jumps and runs, he quickly turns into specks of light but as he appears near her, she quickly goes to the alley and vanishes in the dark.

After seeing she was completely gone, Xavier took deep breaths, taking internal information about what happened. He looked at his watch as he finished the mission, he saw your location, you were back in his room, waiting for him. He smiled as he returned.

“There have been reports that the mysterious individual that did the recent clearings of wanderers can be Soiree…” as the voice heard on the radio. You noticed Xavier tilted his head as if he was interested. You were tending to his wounds by putting on fresh bandages. The last mission was successful, but he was battered badly.

“I guess we got a new Lumiere,” You hummed. Xavier seemed to be deep in thought. “I saw her,”

“Huh?”

“I saw Soiree in the last mission,” he said. You gasped in response. “Oh! What does she look like? What did she do?”

“She… She helped me,” he replied. You raised your eyebrow, he seemed to be deep in thought. “I did warn you about the last mission…” You sighed. “But I’m just glad you are alright,” He is still deep in thought but smiles after. “How was she? Was she as good as the news said?” You asked further.

“She is a good swordswoman, that I can say,” he replied.

Footsteps are heard in the dark alley as Soiree finishes another slaying of the wanderers. She is panting as she sheathes her sword. She can hear her heart pounding hard as she runs to the other street to fight another set of wanderers. At the end of the alley, she saw a familiar figure running towards them. She runs faster and presses a button in her sleeve causing her to teleport.

Xavier can feel the toll on his body as he keeps on fighting wanderers nonstop this week. He sleeps all the time and longer whenever he manages to go home, to keep you from getting worried. But this is for your own good, he prefers dealing with it all than seeing you hurt in battle. In his peripheral vision, he saw swords going towards the wanderers. He turns to see Soiree, who has been around the past weeks, getting rid of the wanderers. He tries to get in contact with her, but she vanishes before he can do so.

He slashes using his sword and sees Soiree fighting as a wanderer gets closer to her. Xavier transforms into balls of light and speeds towards her, grabbing her body away from the wanderer’s smash. They tumbled down from a distance, Xavier quickly summoned a barrage of light swords, ending the wanderer. He shielded Soiree before looking at her again, she also looked exhausted even if all he could see were her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Soiree quickly got up and seated away from him. She only managed to nod in response. Soiree stood up and ran. “Wait!” Xavier called but she was already gone, blending in the darkness of the alley. He could’ve teleported to her, but she looked really tired. He understood that. He looked at his watch, checking on how you’ve been, the dot on the screen representing you is in his kitchen. He smiled.

Xavier went home and smiled as you greeted him. “Welcome home!” you said as you hugged him. “I’m back… I also got some takeout for dinner,” he said, hugging you back and offering a bag of food. Your eyes lightened up. “Yay! I’m starving!” You grabbed the bag and started to set the table. After a few minutes, Xavier returns, wearing fresh, comfortable clothes. “You look tired. You should rest for a bit,” you said as you got a spoon to scoop some rice. “Same as you,” he replied. “Are you okay? You look sleepy,”

“Huh?” You blinked. “It’s probably the heart medicine, a side effect,” you replied and took a spoonful. He chuckled, as you looked adorable. The radio is turned on and hearing reports about Soiree saving the city today. You looked at him, he seemed engrossed in the news now.

“Someone is interested in the city heroine now,” you teased. Xavier looked at you, confused but his eyes showed something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

“No, I’m not… She is fighting a lot lately,” he said. “I don’t see her purpose on why she is doing this,”

You hummed. “I mean, what was your purpose when you were Lumiere?” Xavier stopped eating at the question and looked down. “Lumiere just wants to protect someone he cares about,”

You’re touched at his response, cheeks slightly went pink. “I think it would be the same for Soiree,” you said. “Maybe she just wants to protect someone… The people she loves,”

Xavier chuckled. “Hmm… Honestly, you reminded me of Soiree,”

You blinked, a bit stunned. Then you returned to eating a piece of dumpling. “How so?”

“Well, she is good with the sword,” he commented. “She is a reserved person, though,” You pouted while he smiled. You know that they come across multiple times, you can’t help but miss the action… And miss battling alongside him. The way he talks about Soiree, it is a compliment but you can’t help but to feel things.

After that wonderful dinner, you two cuddled on the bed. Xavier slept so fast that he was really tired. You stared at him, basking in his features. You were worried about him, you felt he was also fighting on your behalf, as you are currently out on medical leave.

You watched him sleeping soundly, missing his presence. You just wanted him to be beside you, and you beside him. He had a knack for leaving, with or without notice, in the past. So many coincidences of your wishes and hopes being granted, often in your worries about wanderers getting frequent and the next day, it was all normal. He did everything that he could for you, it made you feel you wanted to do the same for him.

Your watch suddenly beeped a warning, a wanderer was sighting in a nearby town. You panicked and looked at Xavier, he was still sleeping soundly.

You run to the darkest alleys to get to the town. You saw the vast electrified cloud in the distance, spawning out wanderers. A voice was heard in your earpiece. “You can’t keep doing this, you’re not well enough for this type of wanderer!”

“Not now, Jeremiah! I can do this!” You yelled and summoned your sword. You start summoning more swords spinning around you as you get closer.

“Get back! The only Hunter that defeated this kind of wanderer was Lumiere!” He reported.

“Well, Lumiere isn’t coming back! I won’t allow it,” You started to slash as the swords around you went straight at the wanderer. You dodged the incoming attack but the wanderer was fast and pounded its fists on the ground, creating shockwaves as you were swept away. You got slammed on the wall, sight being dizzy and heart pounding. You stand up and barely dodge the attack. You ran and hid behind the alley wall, noticing you couldn’t lift your arm without causing so much pain. You use your other arm to hold your sword, using your Evol to enhance the sword, summoning multiple swords all at once to stab. You keep your distance as you continue to summon, and your heart starts to beat harder causing pain and making you dizzy. You stumbled as the wanderer gathered his fists again to create a shockwave towards you.

A tiny light appeared above and increased brighter, speeding to the wanderer and a huge illusion of a sword shoots down on it. It screamed in pain as it stumbled back. The figure gets down on the ground and flicks his sword.

You are stunned as he moves his head slightly, showing his mask. ‘Xavier… Lumiere?’ He didn’t speak, he returned his focus to the hostile wanderer. You saw him dance around the enemy and slash with accuracy. Your sight gets blurrier as you see him rush towards the enemy, you hear a roar before a complete silence, only the noises of the rubble. The bright figure dispels his sword as you try to stand and move. You only see sparkles of light that become warm arms before your sight turns dark.

You stirred and opened your eyes, your eyelids felt heavy but you had enough energy to function. You felt sore, in moderate pain and you still can’t move your arm. As you get up, you realize you are on the side of a building, watching the people below doing a clean-up and investigating the matter. You felt the mask fabric around your face, hence you convinced yourself that your face was not exposed.

“How are you feeling, Miss Soiree?” You snapped and looked, seeing Xavier- Lumiere beside you, as his face was covered by his mask and wearing the Lumiere outfit. You took a peek to his eyes, the cerulean orbs staring at yours intently, a lot more icier than usual. He is mad, mad.

“I’m okay,” you spoke softly, praying that he won’t notice anything, or even think anything beyond Soiree.

“I will accompany you for a medical assessment afterward and make sure you are well. What you are doing is dangerous,” He said sternly. You did remember Xavier saying that Lumiere is like a knight, handsome and gentle, while he is harsh and cruel. Well, he is wrong, as this Lumiere can be the other way around now.

“I can handle it… I’ve been worse,” You replied, still hesitant. Your answer ticked something to Lumiere.

“Miss Soiree, you almost died… People who love you would be devastated to hear that, especially… The one who wants to protect you,” he replied. Despite his mask obscuring his face, his tone and eyes feel like they would stab an enemy. You looked away, concluding to somewhat come clean by responding to his statement.

“He does, always,” You hugged your knees, unaware you said ‘him’, which surprised Lumiere. “I did this because I want to protect him. He… He has been away so much lately,”

Lumiere looked away as if he was feeling guilty.

“I felt I’m not helping him enough, in a direct manner,” you continued. “I thought, maybe if I can finish without constraints, maybe he would be around more,” There was silence afterward, while the moonlight shone on them.

“Maybe you can just ask him,” Lumiere said. “Seeing you being unresponsive earlier, it scared me… What more of him? You almost left him,”

“I’m scared he might leave me too,” you responded as your deep anxiety opened. You can see his eyes widen in a split second before looking away. 

“I just… I just want him to-”

Before you can react, he pulls down your mask as he leans close to kiss you. You were stunned, but you closed your eyes, basking in the warmth of the kiss as you placed your hands on his chest. You two parted, panting to such an intense kiss, as it has been a while.

You stared at his eyes, you saw there were so many emotions all at once. Your hand went to his cheek, then gently to his mask, his brow knitted, wanting to pull back, but when he didn’t look like he was opposing, you removed it. You can see his handsome face, Xavier’s, in full view. He was deeply worried as he pulled you closer to him for an embrace. His breathing is jagged, desperate to feel you again.

“I am still upset,” he whispered. “But I’m glad you’re okay,”

You leaned closer to feel Xavier’s chest. You can feel his breathing flowing near your ear. “I’m sorry… I’m really sorry,”

Xavier laid his head on your shoulder for rest and comfort, especially in hearing your heartbeat being steady. The awful memory of you being hit in the attack when he arrived, he lost his control.

He did release you after a few minutes, as he remembered that you were still injured. “Let’s go… I’ll bring you to the hospital,” You opened your mouth. “No buts,” he said, pouting. You quickly surrendered, you’re still not in the clear after all.

You were under the monitor now after being confined for a couple of days at the hospital. Xavier seemed to not be entertaining any conversation other than your well-being. He didn’t leave and tendered to your healing process. So much that…

“Ugh, healing porridge again,” You said in disgust.

“You need to recover and this is doctor’s order… I’m just simply imposing it,” Xavier said as he crossed his arms. He then sat beside you. “This wouldn’t happen if Miss Soiree just behaved herself,” his face is neutral but calm.

So he is opening it now, as you thought. “How…” you trailed off. “When did you know?”

He looked confused at first. “The moment you saved me,” He said. You were shocked. “Huh?!” That early! He went closer to you.

“I know those pretty eyes,” Xavier replied as you stared at him. “I know how you fight too,” You blushed in response as you looked away. “I was just trying to…” You stuttered.

“I understand… I’m sorry I keep going away,” he then looked away, rubbing his nape.

“It’s alright, sorry that I did… This,” you apologized. “You were really working yourself to the limit,”

“I’d rather do that than see you struggling and hurt. You were ordered to rest and now it was extended because of what happened. Your doctor even scolded you,” Xavier said and smiled a bit. “Still, I acknowledge my lapses. Just… Please don’t do this again. You can be Soiree again if you want… Just let me know,”

You can see his deep concern, he just thinks about your well-being as the top priority. You simply nodded and moved your head onto his shoulder.

“I know Jeremiah helped you,” he spoke.

“Uhh… Yeah,” You sheepishly responded. “Please don’t be too hard on him, I asked him-”

“Too late,” he hummed. You sighed, you have to make it up to him as well as you can just imagine what Xavier did to the poor florist.

“You modified your tracker synced in mine so you’ll be always at the house, despite you were actually outside,” he continued. “Soiree is clever, Lumiere would be impressed,”

You pouted. Xavier noticed your expression. He suddenly carried you to his lap. “Xavier!” you squeaked.

“What? Is someone jealous because I was giving compliments to the ‘savior in the darkness’, Soiree?” he smirked, feeling vindicated to what he felt about Lumiere.

You crossed your arms. “You were complimenting her a lot,” Xavier chuckled.

“Who do you like more - Me or Soiree?”

Xavier was a bit surprised at the question, then chuckled again. He touched your face and leaned closer for a kiss. Your foreheads are close together afterward, feeling the warmth of each other.

“My favorite… The dummy who was so stubborn that I had to call Lumiere to save her,”

fiction | xavier

synopsis : What happens when your fiancé turns out to be a guy who walked right out of one of the fanfictions you read? Tall, handsome, and surprisingly, not emotionally constipated. Time to find out.

content : arranged marriage!au, fluff, mentions of OC, comedy

writer’s note : soooo, sylus has an arranged marriage au (ahem two), so does rafayel, zayne? Not yet. It’s xavier’s turn first :D

“Wow,” Xavier whispered, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You blinked, caught off guard. He was staring—no, gazing—like you were something out of a dream.

Or maybe a particularly poetic hallucination.

You instinctively took a small step back, your fingers twitching at your sides as a shy warmth bloomed across your cheeks.

“Is there something on my face?” you asked, voice quieter than usual.

Of course, that snapped him right out of it.

He coughed, his expression smoothing into that carefully polite, vaguely princely calm you assumed was his default setting.

Stoic. Controlled. Maybe a little embarrassed.

You were currently seated across from him at a long, ridiculously ornate dinner table that looked like it belonged in a museum rather than someone’s actual home.

Your parents had brought you here for the grand unveiling—your fiancé. Surprise.

It was an arranged marriage, one you hadn’t really protested.

Mostly because the alternative involved crawling back to school, where existential dread roamed the halls like a vengeful spirit.

So, marriage. Sure. Why not.

You hadn’t seen a picture. Not a single hint of who this man might be. Just your mother’s breezy, “He’s charming, calm, and mature,” like she was describing a limited-edition tea set.

But as you sat there now, staring at the man who would somehow become your husband, you realized charming didn’t quite cover it.

Because Xavier—silver-haired, blue-eyed, and carrying that whole otherworldly melancholy like a tailored suit—looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a novel where people fall in love and die tragically.

Great. Now you had to marry that.

His mother, seated gracefully beside him, clasped her hands together with the kind of delight only aristocratic women and overzealous matchmakers could muster.

“Oh, what a lovely girl your daughter is,” she beamed at your parents, as if you weren’t sitting right there, very much alive and blinking.

You offered a polite smile, the kind you reserved for distant relatives and overpriced waiters, while Xavier glanced your way again—this time with something almost like amusement flickering behind those calm blue eyes.

Apparently, being praised like livestock was the beginning of romance now.

Dinner dragged on, the distinct hum of polite chatter between your future in-laws and your parents filling the air like a background track you hadn’t asked for.

Voices rose and fell in curated excitement over wedding venues, family values, and the excellent weather—as if any of that would help you survive this evening.

You tried to focus on the plate in front of you.

Tried being the keyword.

But cutting through steak while sitting across from your unnervingly beautiful, maddeningly composed fiancé wasn’t exactly conducive to concentration.

Especially not when you could still feel his occasional glances—curious, measured, and far too calm for someone who’d said “wow” like he’d seen a shooting star five minutes ago.

You stabbed at a green bean with a little more force than necessary.

Romance was off to a fantastic start.

—•

After dinner, you were gently—read, forcibly—escorted onto the terrace by none other than your future husband. The orchestration, of course, courtesy of four overly enthusiastic parents and their favorite phrase of the night.

“Go spend some time together, dear. It’s important to foster relationships.”

You could practically hear the wedding bells in their eyes.

Xavier walked beside you in silence, his steps unhurried, posture perfectly straight like he’d been trained for these situations.

He didn’t seem flustered at all.

Meanwhile, you were trying to remember how breathing worked.

The air outside was cooler, quieter.

The terrace opened out to a garden bathed in moonlight, which would’ve been romantic if it didn’t feel so much like the set-up to an arranged marriage-themed reality show.

You stopped near the railing, resting your hands lightly on the cold stone.

“So,” you started, “should we awkwardly pretend this isn’t weird, or lean into it?”

Xavier looked at you, a slow flicker of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I vote for leaning in.”

You felt the heat creep up your neck, crawling right into your cheeks like it owned the place.

You looked away quickly, pretending to be incredibly invested in the night sky, only to nearly choke on your own spit.

Smooth.

Then, as if the moment hadn’t already thrown you off balance, Xavier spoke again—calmly, casually, like he wasn’t currently dismantling your ability to function.

“You’re nothing like I imagined.”

That time, you actually choked.

You coughed, spluttered, and did your best to recover whatever shred of dignity you had left, eyes wide as you turned toward him. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “In a good way,” he added, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re… unexpected.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or a polite warning.

Either way, your heart decided to skip a beat just to be dramatic.

“Unexpected… how?” you asked, narrowing your eyes just slightly, curiosity now outweighing your embarrassment.

Xavier didn’t answer right away.

He turned his gaze toward the garden below, thoughtful, like he was sorting through a mental checklist he hadn’t realized he’d made.

“I thought you’d be quiet,” he said finally, “shy, maybe. The kind of person who keeps their head down and says yes to everything.”

You raised a brow at that. “Wow. Romantic and flattering.”

He glanced at you, lips twitching. “I meant that as a compliment.”

“Oh, sure. Everyone dreams of being described as ‘meek and agreeable.’”

That earned you a proper smile—small, rare, and slow to form, like he wasn’t used to sharing it. “But you’re not,” he said. “You’re… sharp. Funny. A little defensive.”

You blinked. “Again, not really selling it.”

“And honest,” he added, eyes lingering on you now, softer somehow. “Very honest.”

The way he said it made something flutter in your chest—annoyingly poetic and completely inconvenient.

You smiled—just a little—as you turned your gaze to the moonlit garden below. The flowers were in bloom, the air carried that faint, earthy scent of late spring, and for a moment, the world felt quieter than it had been all night.

“What did you think of this arrangement?” you asked gently, not quite looking at him.

There was a pause.

Long enough that you began to wonder if he’d heard you, or if he was calculating the safest answer.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” he admitted finally, voice low and steady. “Just another political tie. Something expected of me.”

You nodded. Fair. You’d thought the same.

“But…” he continued, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, “then you walked in. And suddenly, it didn’t feel so transactional anymore.”

Your heart gave a traitorous little lurch. You told it to calm down. It didn’t listen.

“…Right,” you said, managing a soft laugh. “Well, thank you for not calling me a tax write-off. That’s reassuring.”

Xavier’s lips quirked again, eyes warm despite his usual calm. “I’ll do my best to exceed expectations.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. The soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirp of crickets—it all felt oddly soothing.

For the first time that evening, the weight of obligation on your shoulders began to ease, replaced by something quieter, lighter.

Maybe… this arrangement wasn’t so bad after all.

Xavier shifted slightly beside you, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance your way again.

There was something hesitant in his posture—not nervous, exactly, but deliberate. Like someone unused to starting conversations that didn’t involve diplomacy or battle strategy.

“So…” he began, carefully, “what do you like to do when you’re not being ambushed by marriage proposals?”

You turned to look at him, amused. “Oh, you know. The usual. Read. Nap. Avoid emotionally loaded dinners.”

He gave a soft chuckle at that, clearly trying to mask it with a cough. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

“It’s exhausting,” you said with a mock sigh. “But someone’s got to do it.”

He smiled—genuine and easy this time—and leaned his elbow on the railing. “Any books you’d recommend?”

That caught you off guard. “You read?”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” he said dryly.

“Wow. Multitalented and humble.”

He shook his head, but his eyes were fixed on you now, open and interested. “I’d like to know what you like. What makes you laugh. What makes you… you.”

The words weren’t romantic, not in the obvious way. But the sincerity in his voice, the way he said them without trying too hard—it stayed with you.

Just like the quiet warmth growing in your chest.

“I hope things go well then,” you said with a small smile, the kind that lingered even after you looked away.

Xavier was quiet for a beat, watching you like he was memorizing the curve of that expression—soft, a little unsure, but hopeful all the same.

“They will,” he said, not with bravado, but quiet certainty. “I’ll make sure of it.”

It wasn’t a promise wrapped in poetry, but it settled deep in your chest, heavier than you expected.

And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

—•

Back at home, the moment the front door clicked shut behind you, all the calm dignity you’d maintained on that terrace evaporated like mist.

You spun toward your mother with wide eyes and a completely undignified squeal. “Oh my god, Mom—”

She barely turned from where she was removing her earrings, already smirking like she’d won some secret bet with the universe. “Let me guess. You like him.”

“Like him?” you repeated, pacing in chaotic little circles.

“He’s—he’s calm and composed and smart and he actually smiled at one of my jokes, and he said I was unexpected in a good way, and—”

“I knew you’d like him,” she interrupted with maddening satisfaction, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow like a smug matchmaking oracle.

You stopped mid-spiral. “You set me up.”

Her smirk only widened. “Technically, you agreed.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as your mother chuckled softly in the background, utterly pleased with herself.

And okay, maybe you did like him. Just a little. Maybe.

You settled into your room with all the grace of someone experiencing a slow, romantic meltdown.

Your mother’s chuckles echoed down the hallway like the smug laughter of a triumphant mommy duck who’d successfully nudged her chick into the pond of marriage.

You groaned and faceplanted into your bed, limbs sprawled dramatically as you tried to suffocate the feelings spiraling inside you.

Unfortunately, your brain had other plans.

It conjured him again—Xavier, standing on that terrace like he’d been carved from moonlight and good intentions.

You remembered the way his absurdly long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, so delicate it was almost unfair. His blond-silver hair had swayed in the breeze like it had been choreographed.

And those pale blue eyes… gods, they were unreal. Like someone had trapped the entire sea inside them just to make your life harder.

You let out a strangled sound and shoved your pillow over your face.

You were engaged. To that.

And worse—you liked it.

—•

The first date was… heartwarming.

Not in the overly romantic, violins-playing kind of way, but in the unexpectedly gentle kind of way—the kind that crept up on you and made your chest ache a little without warning.

Xavier sat across from you at a table set for two in the center of an otherwise empty, dimly lit restaurant. A chandelier hung above, its golden light casting a soft, intimate glow over the polished silverware and the quiet space between you.

It was like stepping into a scene from a movie—one you hadn’t realized you’d auditioned for.

You glanced around, taking in the surreal quiet, the absence of clinking plates or murmured conversations. “Is… is this entire place just for us?”

Xavier rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of color rising to his cheeks.

“My parents insisted I rent out the entire evening,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, looking both apologetic and awkwardly charming.

You raised a brow. “Of course they did.”

“I told them we’d be fine at a café.”

“But why settle for awkward silences over coffee when you can have awkward silences under a chandelier?”

That made him laugh—soft, but real. “Exactly,” he said, and for a second, that serious, guarded façade of his cracked wide open.

And just like that, the nerves in your chest loosened.

“So, what do you do? Like work and the likes,” you asked, casually between bites of steak, trying not to sound too curious or too invested—even if you absolutely were.

Xavier looked up from his plate, pausing for a second like he was deciding how much of the truth to hand over.

“I’m with UNICORNS,” he said simply.

You blinked. “UNICORNS?”

“United Nations Intelligence and Covert Operations Reconnaissance Network Squad,” he recited, completely straight-faced.

You stared at him, fork frozen halfway to your mouth. “…That spells UNICORNS?”

He gave the faintest shrug, as if he wasn’t aware how ridiculous that sounded. “Acronyms aren’t really my department.”

You snorted. “Right. So basically, you’re a space prince turned secret agent.”

He blinked. “That’s… technically accurate.”

You nearly choked on your steak.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

Silver hair. Calm voice. The whole mysterious aura thing.

Of course he was a secret agent. Of course.

“Okay,” you muttered, setting your fork down. “And here I was thinking I’d have to make small talk on this date.”

Xavier smiled into his glass, and you caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You still can. I’m excellent at pretending to be normal.”

“If you’re a secret agent,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as you leaned forward slightly, “then how is it okay that you reveal yourself to me?”

Xavier lifted his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin. “Classified,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his wine.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

He set the glass down with infuriating grace. “Let’s just say… my clearance allows for certain disclosures under specific circumstances.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be skeptical even as your curiosity prickled. “And this—” you gestured between the two of you, “—is one of those circumstances?”

He nodded once, almost solemn. “You’re my fiancée. It’s only fair you know who you’re marrying.”

You stared at him. “So if I were, say, a barista you had a crush on instead, you wouldn’t be allowed to tell me?”

He hesitated for a split second, then said with mock seriousness, “I’d have to fake my death.”

You burst out laughing, nearly knocking over your water glass.

“Well,” you said once you caught your breath, grinning now, “I’m honored to be cleared for top-secret fiancé-level intel.”

Xavier smiled softly, and this time it wasn’t sheepish or polite—it was warm. “You’re worth the risk.”

You blushed at that—violently, of course—quickly masking it with a cough and an exaggeratedly casual bite of steak, like that would somehow neutralize the weight of his words.

You’re worth the risk.

Nope. Still devastating.

The evening flowed gently after that, the tension between you easing into something quieter, more natural.

You found yourself laughing more than you’d expected—soft bursts of amusement over his dry remarks, while he watched you with that calm, almost amused smile, like he was cataloging every expression you made.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was thoughtful.

Measured.

Like he was actually listening. Really listening.

You told him about your hobbies. How you loved reading, writing, getting lost in stories and then furiously threatening to strangle fictional men for breaking your heart.

“They’re not even real,” you said dramatically, waving your fork in the air, “and yet they ruin my week. My mental stability. My skin.”

Xavier tilted his head, eyes crinkling just slightly. “Sounds like a dangerous habit.”

“It is,” you agreed solemnly. “But I’m too far gone.”

He nodded. “Noted. I’ll try not to become the inspiration for your next emotional breakdown.”

You paused mid-chew. “Wow. That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

And just like that, he smiled again—slow, rare, and entirely disarming.

Xavier dropped you off at your estate, the sleek car rolling to a gentle stop in front of the stone steps.

The lights from the veranda cast a soft glow across the driveway, and there she was—your mother—waiting with the patience of someone who definitely hadn’t been peeking through the curtains for the past ten minutes.

As you stepped out of the car, she descended the steps with a far-too-innocent smile.

“Oh, please join us for a while!” she called out brightly, clasping her hands together with the enthusiasm of a socialite and the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

You nearly tripped on the gravel. “Mom.”

Xavier blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“Nonsense,” she beamed. “We have tea. And leftovers. And years of awkward silence to fill.”

You gave Xavier an apologetic look. “She’s not usually this—”

“Yes, I am,” your mother interrupted, already turning on her heel. “Come along, dear!”

Xavier glanced at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“Terrified,” you muttered under your breath.

But when he followed you up the steps without hesitation, you felt that warm little flutter return—just slightly out of rhythm with your heart.

Once inside, your mom wasted no time nudging the both of you toward the couch with all the subtlety of a seasoned matchmaker on a mission.

“Sit, sit!” she chirped, practically shoving you into place before plopping herself down across from you with a cup of tea and that glint in her eyes—the one that said she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

You landed on the plush cushion with a small huff, Xavier sliding in beside you like this was perfectly normal, like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours slowly dismantling your emotional walls with his quiet charm and devastating smiles.

You gave your mom a weak protest. “This is… not necessary.”

“Nonsense,” she waved off with a grin. “I’m just enjoying the company of my future son-in-law. That’s not illegal.”

You side-eyed her, but honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. You had just had a wonderful dinner. He was polite, thoughtful, and—surprisingly—not emotionally constipated.

Still.

He was sitting very close.

Not touching you, technically.

But the cushion dipped slightly where his thigh rested against yours, and suddenly you were acutely aware of everything—how warm he was, how tall he sat, how his cologne smelled like cedar and rain and danger to your composure.

You folded your hands in your lap, trying to focus on your mom rambling about wedding colors and seating charts, but Xavier’s presence beside you was magnetic.

Steady. Quiet. Very hard to ignore.

You might’ve leaned slightly away from him.

And then just as quickly, leaned back.

No use pretending now. You were officially doomed.

“Mom, the wedding is four weeks away,” you groaned, slumping back into the couch like it could absorb your embarrassment. “You don’t have to talk about it every day.”

Your mother only sipped her tea, entirely unbothered. “And miss the joy of watching you squirm every time I say the word bouquet?”

Xavier chuckled beside you, low and warm, and you immediately regretted everything. Because that sound? That sound was now imprinted on your soul.

You shot him a look. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not,” he said, clearly encouraging her. “But it’s… entertaining.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I thought I was.”

Your mother clapped her hands lightly. “Look at you two. Bantering already. Like an old married couple.”

You sighed into your hands. Xavier smiled again—calm, amused, and entirely too comfortable. And even as you groaned, somewhere deep inside, a tiny part of you liked how it all felt just a little too natural.

—•

“He just smiled, Shaiya. Smiled!” you exclaimed, dramatically flopping onto your bed like you were in a period drama and the world was ending via attractive fiancé.

Shaiya raised an unimpressed brow from where she sat cross-legged on your rug, holding her phone in one hand and wearing the most amused smirk you’d ever seen on her.

“So you’ve got a crush on the guy you’re marrying. Tragic.”

You threw a pillow at her.

She dodged it effortlessly, grinning. “No, seriously. This is the dream. Arranged marriage and you’re catching feelings? You’re living in a slow-burn fanfic.”

You groaned into your blanket. “No, no, this is a problem. A very pretty, well-dressed, emotionally devastating problem. He said I was unexpected. He smiled. He rented an entire restaurant. Who does that?”

“Apparently, your absurdly attractive secret agent fiancé.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Shaiya.”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m doomed.”

She tossed the pillow back at you. “No, babe. You’re in love.”

You let out a muffled scream into your blanket.

She just laughed. “I’m giving it two weeks before you start writing ‘Mrs. Xavier’ in the margins of your notebook.”

You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face. “I’m used to writing fanfiction about fictional men, not marrying a guy who seems to have walked out of one.”

Shaiya cackled, absolutely zero sympathy in her voice. “Plot twist—you’ve been isekai’d into your own arranged marriage AU.”

You peeked out from under the pillow with a glare. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s hilarious. You’re the main character. Brooding husband with mysterious past? Check. Hidden softness? Check. Devastating smile that causes existential crises? Check.”

You groaned again. “He smells like a metaphor and talks like a deleted scene from a historical drama. I was not built for this level of emotional turbulence.”

Shaiya nodded sagely. “No one is. That’s how you know it’s real.”

You flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “If I end up writing love poems in the margins of my planner, please stage an intervention.”

“Oh, I won’t stop you,” she said, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll just record it for the wedding slideshow.”

“You’re officially disinvited from my wedding,” you deadpan, sitting up just enough to squint at her with all the fake seriousness you could muster.

Shaiya gasped, clutching her heart like you’d just stabbed her. “How dare you. After I emotionally supported your descent into fiancé-induced madness?”

“You mocked me.”

“I documented history,” she shot back, already typing something suspiciously fast on her phone. “Your children will thank me one day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Shaiya.”

“Yes, Mrs. Secret Agent?”

You threw the pillow again. She didn’t even try to dodge it this time, just laughed as it hit her square in the face.

“Fine,” you muttered, collapsing dramatically again. “You can come to the wedding.”

“I knew you’d cave.”

“But only if you swear not to make a toast about fanfiction.”

Shaiya looked up from her phone, absolutely glowing with mischief. “No promises.”

You were so in trouble.

Soon after, Shaiya gathered her things, still grinning like she’d won a lifetime’s worth of blackmail material.

As she headed down the hallway, she called over her shoulder, sing-song and far too loud, “Can’t wait to see adorable mini-yous and secret agents running around!”

You groaned from your doorway. “Shaiya, go home.”

She just laughed, turning to wink at you before disappearing down the stairs. “Give my regards to Mr. Tall, Calm, and Tragic!”

You slammed your door shut with a huff, leaning against it as silence settled back into the house.

Mini-yous and secret agents.

You stared blankly at the wall, then promptly screamed into your hands.

This was getting out of hand.

—•

A week before the wedding, Xavier surprised you with a calm, “I’d like to take you to pick out your dress,” like he was asking if you wanted tea—not subtly offering to participate in one of the most emotionally overwhelming rites of passage in existence.

So naturally, you said yes. And then spent the entire morning internally spiraling.

It was awkward at first.

Mostly because you were trying very hard not to be a complete nervous wreck. The boutique was gorgeous—warm lighting, soft music, rows of delicate lace and silk that whispered life-changing decision with every swish.

And there Xavier was, sitting far too calmly in one of the velvet chairs, flipping through a bridal catalog like he did this every Thursday.

Meanwhile, you were trying not to combust.

You peeked at him between gowns. He didn’t look bored or out of place. In fact, he looked… focused. Thoughtful.

Like this mattered to him.

When you stepped out in the first dress, hands fidgeting at your sides, you half-expected a polite nod or something neutral.

Instead, his gaze lifted—and he just looked at you.

Not like you were trying on fabric. Like you were becoming something real.

“You look…” he started, then paused. A rare moment where words seemed to fail him. “…beautiful.”

Your brain short-circuited. Your stylist cooed.

And you?

You forgot how to breathe for about seven seconds.

This wedding might just kill you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing your pulse to calm down as you smoothed your hands over the fabric, trying to act like you weren’t melting under his gaze.

“Do you like it?” you asked, your voice more steady than you expected—only slightly breathless.

Xavier tilted his head, his eyes not leaving you. “I do,” he said, softly but certain. “But the question is—do you?”

You blinked, thrown for a moment.

“I mean…” You turned toward the mirror, taking yourself in again. The dress hugged you gently, not flashy, not overly grand—just enough detail to feel like you belonged in a dream. “I think I do.”

Xavier stood, walking over with unhurried steps. He stopped just behind you, enough distance to be respectful but close enough that you could feel the quiet weight of his presence.

His reflection met yours in the mirror, eyes still warm. “Then that’s the one.”

Your heart betrayed you again with an uneven thump.

“O—On second thought, I’ll try a few more,” you blurted, the words tripping over each other as your blush bloomed faster than your dignity could recover.

Xavier blinked, clearly amused, but—mercifully—didn’t say a word.

You turned so quickly you nearly tripped on the hem of the dress, fumbling your way back into the dressing room with all the grace of a flustered Victorian heroine trying not to swoon.

Once inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, pressing a hand to your burning cheek.

Pull yourself together, you told your reflection. It’s just a compliment. From your devastatingly attractive, quietly intense, secret-agent fiancé who might actually be perfect husband material… oh no.

Outside, you could hear Xavier flipping pages in the catalog again, his calm voice murmuring something to the stylist.

No teasing. No smug follow-up.

Just… waiting. Patiently. Like he’d wait all day if you needed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, then let out a very quiet, very overwhelmed laugh.

Yep. You were so doomed.

You stepped out in the second dress, holding your breath without meaning to. This one—this one felt different.

It wasn’t over-the-top, but it shimmered just enough under the soft boutique lights, with delicate embroidery trailing down the bodice and a skirt that moved like you were floating.

Like a fairytale—but not the soft, gentle kind. More like Cinderella on crack, if she ditched the glass slipper for a knife in her garter and a comeback locked and loaded.

You felt powerful. Gorgeous. Slightly dangerous.

Xavier looked up the moment you stepped out, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything at all.

Which, frankly, was worse than a compliment. Because he stared.

You shifted on your feet. “Too much?”

He stood slowly, eyes never leaving you. “No,” he said, quietly. “It’s perfect.”

You felt your breath catch again—because somehow, he didn’t say it like he was talking about the dress.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were ready to marry him… or fall headfirst in love with him.

Either way, you were spiraling.

Elegantly, of course. Like a fairytale heroine in heels.

Afterward, with the kind of effortless grace that should not be legal, Xavier handled everything—his posture composed, voice low as he spoke with the staff, arranging every last detail with calm precision.

You stood behind him, half-hidden near a rack of veils, watching the scene like you were in a slow-motion movie montage you hadn’t signed up for.

He moved like someone born to command attention but never demanded it—unassuming, composed, elegant in the way only someone dangerous could be when they weren’t trying.

And there he was, calmly signing forms and coordinating where to send your wedding dress, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your wedding dress.

You, meanwhile, were standing there with your heart doing somersaults in your chest like it had zero survival instincts.

It wasn’t just the way he looked doing it. It was the way he didn’t look at you while doing it—as if this wasn’t some grand gesture, but simply what he did.

Quietly take care of things. Gently, but without asking.

You pressed your hand over your chest as it fluttered again—annoyingly dramatic.

Yep.

This man was going to ruin you in the most inconveniently romantic way possible.

—•

The night before the wedding, the world felt hushed. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that settled in your lungs and refused to leave.

Everyone else had retreated—family fluttering with last-minute details, planners running over final checklists.

But you found yourself out on the balcony of the estate, the moon casting silver across the garden, soft and endless.

And Xavier—of course—found you there.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked up quietly and stood beside you, his presence grounding in that calm, ever-steady way.

For a while, the silence felt enough. The good kind.

The kind that didn’t need to be filled with nervous laughter or pointless words.

And then, you exhaled. “You nervous?”

He glanced at you, then shook his head. “Not really.”

You smiled, eyes drifting down to your hands resting on the stone railing. “I thought I’d be. But I’m not.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

You paused, biting your lip, unsure how to say it without sounding like a complete idiot.

“I think…” You hesitated, then braved a glance at him. “I think I might actually like you. Like… really.”

Xavier looked at you, his expression unreadable at first—but then something shifted in his eyes. Softened.

He didn’t speak right away, and for a split second, your heart lodged somewhere in your throat.

But then—quietly, gently—he said, “Good.”

You blinked. “Good? That’s it?”

He turned fully toward you, his voice lower now.

“Because I think I’ve been liking you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to say it without making it sound… heavier than it is.”

You stared at him, a warmth blooming deep in your chest.

“It is kind of heavy,” you whispered.

“I know.” He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made you still. “But I don’t mind carrying it.”

And under the silver night, with barely inches between you, that almost-confession settled between your hearts like a promise—unspoken, quiet, but real.

The day of the wedding arrived with a kind of dreamlike haze—everything moving just a little too fast, yet not fast enough.

People buzzed around with clipped voices and half-screamed checklists, but all you could hear was the thud of your heartbeat as you stood behind the grand double doors, clutching your bouquet like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

Your dad stood beside you, his hand steady on your arm. “You okay?”

You gave a weak nod. “Yep. Totally fine. Just, you know… about to get married to a gorgeous secret agent I’m pretty sure I’m falling for. No big deal.”

He chuckled softly. “You’ve got this.”

You didn’t answer—not because you didn’t believe him, but because you were too busy trying not to throw up out of sheer romantic terror.

On the other side of the doors, Xavier stood at the altar.

Poised. Steady.

He wore a pale suit tailored within an inch of its life, silver hair catching the soft light from the stained glass above. And yet, despite the opulence around him, he looked only forward—toward the doors.

Toward you.

He wasn’t smiling—not quite.

But his expression held that familiar softness, that calm warmth that only you seemed to bring out in him.

Like the world could be on fire and he’d still be there, waiting.

The music began.

Your hands tightened on the bouquet.

You met your father’s eyes, took a deep breath—

And the doors slowly opened.

Warm golden light spilled into the chapel, catching on the soft fabric of your dress, the shimmer of the veil, the slight tremble in your hands.

Every pair of eyes turned toward you—but you only looked at one.

Xavier.

The moment your gaze met his, the world seemed to still. The music faded to a low hum.

The pressure in your chest eased, just slightly.

He didn’t look shocked or overwhelmed, didn’t do anything dramatic.

He just breathed, like seeing you walk toward him was the most natural thing in the world.

But his eyes—his eyes said everything.

There was awe there, yes, but also something gentler.

A quiet certainty.

Like he’d been waiting for you not just today, not just these past weeks, but his whole life—and only now realized it.

Your feet carried you forward, one step at a time, your father guiding you down the aisle, grounding you in each heartbeat.

You were aware of the petals scattered along the path, the subtle scent of white lilies in the air, the soft rustle of guests shifting in their seats—but none of it compared to the weight of Xavier’s gaze.

You finally reached him, hands trembling slightly as your father placed yours into Xavier’s.

Xavier’s fingers closed around yours—warm, steady, reverent.

“You look…” he whispered, leaning just slightly toward you, enough for only you to hear, “like you stepped right out of one of your stories.”

You smiled, despite the tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“And you,” you whispered back, voice shaking, “look like the ending I didn’t dare write.”

He didn’t smile—he softened. Completely.

And as the ceremony began, as vows waited on the other side of breath and silence, you realized something profound.

You weren’t nervous anymore.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Get out!

Pairings: Lads men x afab!reader part 1

Summary: Your 4 year old child, is fighting with their dad over you.

Tag: @teewritessmth @animegamerfox

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Zayne

Life with Dr. Zayne was always interesting, to say the least. As a renowned cardiac surgeon, your husband was the epitome of composure—calm under pressure, precise in everything he did, and a man of very few words. He wasn’t cold, not at all, but he had never been particularly good at expressing himself.

Neither was your four-year-old son, Elias.

Where other children were loud and expressive, Elias was quiet—watchful and reserved, much like his father. He rarely spoke in full sentences, preferring nods, small gestures, or simple actions to communicate his wants.

And right now?

Right now, you were caught in the middle of a silent battle between the two.

Zayne, sitting on the couch beside you, reached out and lightly held your wrist, his way of silently reminding you that you were his wife first.

Elias, seated on your other side, scooted closer, grabbing your other hand and clutching it tightly.

Neither said a word.

You blinked between them, feeling the tension thickening. “Okay,” you sighed, rubbing your temple. “What is happening?”

Elias glanced at Zayne. Zayne met his son’s stare with an impassive gaze, sharp blue eyes unreadable.

It was an unspoken showdown.

Elias would get his Mama time.

Zayne would not be overthrown.

You would lose your mind.

“Zayne,” you exhaled, “you’ve been with me all day. Let Elias have some time.”

Zayne blinked. “I was at the hospital for fourteen hours.”

You frowned. “Okay, but before that—”

“I was sleeping.”

Elias suddenly gave you a tiny tug. See? He was saying. It’s my turn.

You sighed. “Alright, how about—”

But before you could finish, Elias abruptly stood up. His little hands patted Zayne’s knee—a silent gesture.

Zayne raised a brow.

“…What?”

Elias pointed toward the kitchen. “Water.”

Zayne’s brows furrowed slightly, but after a moment, he stood up and headed toward the kitchen. “Alright,” he said simply.

The moment he was out of the room, Elias moved fast.

With a determined expression, he bolted toward the door, slammed it shut, and—click!

He locked it.

You stared in shock.

Elias calmly walked back over to you, climbed onto your lap, and curled into you like nothing had happened.

You heard a soft thud from the other side of the door.

“…Elias.” Zayne’s composed voice sounded from the hall. “Unlock the door.”

Silence.

“Elias.”

Your son nuzzled into your chest, looking completely content.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying so hard not to laugh. “Elias,” you whispered, “that wasn’t very nice.”

Elias clung to you tighter.

“…I want Mama.”

You felt your heart melt a little.

A sigh came from behind the door. “Elias.”

Elias was completely unbothered.

“Elias,” Zayne repeated. “This is not how you solve problems.”

Elias blinked up at you, then whispered softly, “Worked.”

You snorted.

Zayne was silent for a long moment.

Then, he sighed. “Understood.”

Footsteps.

“…I’ll be in my office.”

Elias waited until the sound disappeared, then finally looked up at you, victorious.

You ruffled his dark hair. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

Elias nestled into you. “Mm.”

But you knew what that meant.

It was worth it.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Xavier

The twins were on a mission.

A very important mission. A mission that required stealth, patience, and strategy.

Objective: Get rid of Dad. Target: Xavier, high-ranked Hunter of the Hunter Association—a man feared and respected by his colleagues, and annoying to his four-year-old twins, Leo and Livia.

Why?

Because he was hogging their Mama.

Xavier, for all his reputation as a ruthless Wanderer hunter, was easygoing at home. Most of the time, he lounged on the couch, half-asleep, draped over you like a human-sized cat. The whole reason he did not quit his job was because he had you at the morning aswell, when you two left the house for work.

And the twins hated it.

“Mama should be ours,” Leo whispered to his sister as they peeked from behind the couch.

Livia nodded, her greenish-blue eyes gleaming with determination. “Dad needs to go.”

The two of them turned their heads, staring at the problem.

Xavier was sitting lazily on the couch, one arm wrapped around you, face buried in your shoulder, half-asleep as usual.

You were used to it by now. Your jealous of himself, touch-starved, sleepy husband clinging to you whenever he had a break? Completely normal.

But to the twins? Unacceptable.

Phase One: Distraction.

Livia moved first. She scurried forward, grabbing your hands. “Mama, I want hugs!”

Xavier lazily cracked an eye open. His grip tightened slightly.

“I’m hugging them right now,” he murmured.

Livia pouted. “Yeah, but I want my own.”

Xavier blinked slowly, looking half a second away from falling asleep again. “…I don’t see why we can’t share.”

Leo gave his sister a look. Plan A failed. Time for Plan B.

Phase Two: Use Dad’s Weakness Against Him.

Livia stepped forward, pulling on Xavier’s sleeve. “Dad.”

Xavier yawned, rubbing his eye. “Mm?”

“Mom’s hungry.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait, no, I’m not—”

Xavier immediately sat up. “You should’ve said something earlier.”

Leo stayed perfectly calm. “You should cook dad. we all love it.”

Xavier stared at his son, silent for a long moment.

“…I should cook?”

Livia nodded furiously, her expression full of fake innocence. “Yeah, Mama loves when you cook! We love it too!”

You coughed, trying very hard not to laugh. That was a lie. The last time he cooked for the twins, a plate accidentally fell off the table and broke, and the food on the other plate mysteriously disappeared.

Xavier sucked at cooking.

Like, horribly.

The last time he cooked, he had somehow burned water. if that wasn't bad enough, he had melted the plastic off of pans you owned.

But, in his half-asleep state, he nodded. “Alright,” he muttered, standing up sluggishly. “I’ll make something.”

Mission Success.

As soon as Xavier disappeared into the kitchen, the twins latched onto you like leeches.

“Mamaaaa,” Livia whined, burying her face into your chest. “You were with Dad all day.”

Leo nodded seriously. “Unfair.”

You chuckled, ruffling their messy blond hair. “You two are too much.”

“Mama, I want all your hugs,” Livia grumbled.

“Me too,” Elias added.

You sighed, shaking your head. “You two are just like your dad.”

Just as the twins were about to settle in, the sound of something exploding came from the kitchen.

All three of you froze.

A moment later, Xavier walked back in, completely unfazed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“…I think I used the wrong burner.”

Leo and Livia groaned.

Mission Status: Failure.

I hope yall enjoyed this, I will write similar things to this in the future :)

How do the LADS men react when they catch you reading smut. 🫣

Hope you like it!! Vote at the end of the chapter for the next LI.

As the train rumbles along the tracks, you sit curled up in your seat, engrossed in the book Tara had lent you. The romance novel started off innocently enough, with witty banter and a slow-burning connection between the leads. But now, as the train was getting closer to the station near your apartment building you found yourself blushing furiously at the explicit scene unfolding on the page.

Tara forgot to mention that one particularly steamy chapter was tucked away amidst the otherwise tame love story. You squirm slightly in your seat, feeling a warmth pool low in your belly as you read the detailed descriptions of the couple's passionate encounter.

You quickly flip the page, trying to cool the sudden flush of heat that crept up your neck as you read on. The words on the page were so graphic, so vulgar compared to the usual romance you enjoyed. But there was something undeniably thrilling about the raw passion described in such vivid detail.

The male lead gripping the female lead hips, pounding into her with deep, powerful thrusts that left her breathless and aching for more. His groans filling the room as he chased his release, determined to fill her to the brim with his seed.

You feel your heart race as you read on, the scene playing out like a dirty movie in your mind. You know you should look away, but you can't. Can't stop reading about the way he uses her body for his pleasure, fucking her raw and hard until he finds his explosive finish.

It was filthy, it was wrong, but a part of you almost wanted to experience it for yourself. To be wanted, needed, craved with such desperate hunger. You squirm in your seat again, thighs clenching together as you feel the telltale ache begining to build between them.

You put the book down and close your eyes taking a deep breath.

"You are a pretty fast reader Y/N, I wasn't able to read the whole page"

You nearly leap out of your skin at the sound of the deep, all-too-familiar voice murmuring so close to your ear. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you turn your head to see Xavier, in your flustered state, you hadn't even registered Xavier's presence beside your seat. Now here he was, looming over you with a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"I... I was just..." You stutter, feeling the heat in your cheeks deepen at being caught red-handed. The book is face down on your lap, the incriminating page still open beneath your fingertips. You quickly flip it shut, as if that could somehow hide the dirty thoughts still swirling in your head.

"I didn't hear you come in, I thought you were working late today" you say lamely, hoping to change the subject. You take in his appearance, from his disheveled silver hair to the way his dress shirt clings to his broad shoulders. Part of you wonders if he always looked this good after a long day, or if the sight was amplified by the naughty images still seared into your mind.

The train stops, the announcement overhead crackling to life with the familiar stop near your apartment building. Around you, passengers begin to gather their belongings, the sound of chatter and shuffling feet fill the air. You gather your things, shoving the book deep into your bag. You could feel the heat of Xavier's gaze on you as you fumble with the zipper, your cheeks still flushed a telling shade of pink.

"You know..." Xavier murmurs, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger, grazing the sensitive skin of your jawline making you shiver. "I don't think I've ever seen you read a book quite so...intensely before."

Your eyes widen at his bold words, a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over you. Did he really know what you'd been reading?

Xavier straightens up, offering his hand to help you out of your seat. As you place your palm in his, he gives it a gentle squeeze, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. "Come on, let's head home"

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

As you step into your apartment, you let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension in your shoulders begin to ease. Xavier follows close behind, shutting the door and setting down his bag before shrugging off his jacket and tossing it carelessly over the back of a chair.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for dinner and trying to act as natural as possible. You can feel Xavier's eyes on you as you chop vegetables, the sizzle of the pan and the scent of garlic and herbs filling the small apartment.

So, how was your day?" Xavier asks, loosening his tie as he leans against the counter, watching you work. "Anything interesting happen at the office?"

You shrug, focusing on the task at hand. "Not really. Just the usual paperwork and meetings. Nothing out of the ordinary." You glance up at him, taking in the way his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the muscles of his forearms flexing slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"What about you?" You ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from your own agitated state.

Xavier's lips quirk into a small smirk. "It was a long day, but worth it in the end." He steps closer to you, reaching around to grab a carrot stick from the cutting board. "Why? Did you miss me today?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Don't get cocky," you say, batting his hand away playfully. "I just know how much you love your job, that's all."

You turn back to the stove, stirring the contents of the pan with more vigor than necessary. As you do, you can't shake the memory of the book from your mind, the way the male lead had taken the female so roughly, so passionately... Your stomach flips at the thought, a sudden wave of heat spreading all over your body.

Lost in your naughty thoughts, you don't realize that Xavier moved closer until he was right behind you, his chest pressed to your back, his breath hot against the side of your neck.

"What's on your mind, Y/N?"

You tense at the sudden closeness, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt. You grip the spoon tighter, using the task of stirring the sauce as an excuse to put some distance between you.

"I'm just tired," you lie, hoping your voice sounded more convincing than you feel. "It's been a long day, that's all."

But even as you say it, you know that your racing thoughts have nothing to do with fatigue. The ache between your legs, the flush on your cheeks, the way your heart hammers in your chest at his proximity, it was all thanks to that damn book and the dirty images it had seared into your mind.

You can feel Xavier's eyes on you, studying your profile intently. He is quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of your cheek, the way your lower lip caught between your teeth.

Slowly, he reaches around you to grab the wooden spoon, his arm brushing against yours as he does. Your breath hitched in your throat at the contact, your body betraying your true state of mind. You know he can feel the heat radiating off your skin, the way your pulse jumps beneath his touch.

I didn't forget y/n" he whispers "how could I possibly forget the way your cheeks flushed so prettily while you read, the way you squirmed in your seat as if you couldn't wait for me to bend you over it?"

You gasp as the spoon clatters into the pan, the sudden noise jarring you from your daze. Before you can react, Xavier's hands are on your waist, spinning you around to face him. His grip is firm, unyielding, as he pulls you against his chest.

"I think we both know you're not tired," he teases "Not really." His hand slides up your spine, fingers splaying across the back of your neck, tilting your head back to expose the column of your throat. "I think you're wound up tighter than a bowstring, and I think I know exactly why."

"Did you like reading about that? About being fucked raw? About her being filled with his seed until it leaked out of her? Is that what you want from me?"

You cant help but whimper at his words, a fresh flood of arousal crashing over you. You can feel the evidence of his own desire pressing insistently against you, and it makes you ache to feel him inside you, stretching you, claiming you as his own.

"I...I don't know..." you say, even as your body screams yes, please, more. You can feel yourself getting lost in the haze of lust, drowning in the scent and feel and taste of him.

But some small part of you still clings to sanity, still remembers the way he'd caught you reading such a vulgar thing. The shame of it burns hot and bright, even as your body craves his touch like a drug.

"Xavier, we shouldn't..." you protest weakly.

Xavier shuts you up with a kiss, his lips claiming yours in a bruising, demanding press. His tongue delving deep to stroke along yours, swallowing any further protests you might have. You can only cling to him, fingers scrabbling at the fabric of his shirt as he kisses you until you are breathless and dizzy, until the world spins and narrows down to the feel of his lips on yours.

When he finally pulls back, you are panting, your chest heaving against his. Xavier's eyes are dark, nearly black with desire as he drinks in the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"Shouldn't what?" he challenges, smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Shouldn't I want to fuck you until you can't walk straight? He punctuated his words with a roll of his hips, grinding his hard cock against your core. You cry out at the sudden burst of sensation, your head falling back as you arch into him. "Shouldn't I want to make all those filthy fantasies a reality? To bend you over every surface in this apartment and take you until you're sobbing my name?

You let out a soft yelp as you feel Xavier lift you easily, his strong arms supporting your backside as he sets you down on the cool marble countertop. The sudden height difference puts you at eye level, and you find yourself staring into Xavier's intense gaze as he steps between your splayed thighs.

He grips your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he tugs you closer to the edge of the counter. His hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt up and over your head and tossing it carelessly to the floor. You sit before him in your lacy bra, your chest heaving and your nipples straining against the delicate material. Xavier's gaze drops to your chest, his eyes hungry and appreciative as he drinks in the sight of you.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out to cup the soft swells in his palms. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they pebble even further. You gasp, arching into his touch as jolts of pleasure shoot through you.

"That's it, baby, don't fight it. Let yourself feel good."

One of his hands slides around to unhook your bra, freeing your breasts. Your cheeks flush hotly as you sit bare before him, but the way Xavier looks at you makes you feel powerful, desirable, wanted in a way you'd never been wanted before.

He leans down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue, your fingers tangle in his silver hair. You can feel the heat building between your legs, the ache growing more insistent with each pass of his tongue over your flesh.

"Xavier," you gasp, tugging at his hair. "Please..."

His teeth close around your nipple, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out. The sharp sting of pain melded with the pleasure coursing through you send a bolt of electricity straight to your core. He soothes the ache with his tongue, swirling around the sensitive peak before releasing it with a pop.

Looking up at you through hooded eyes, Xavier's gaze is intense, almost feral in its hunger. "Is this what you want?" he asks "Do you want me to fuck you raw, right here on this kitchen counter? Want me to spread your legs wide and plunge into your tight little cunt until you scream?"

You stare into Xavier's darkened gaze. "Yes," you breathe, the word tumbling from your lips before you can stop it. "Gods, yes Xavier, please..."

Spurred on by your desperate plea, Xavier, wasting no time unzips his fly, freeing his hard aching cock from the confines of his pants, his shirt follows soon after. You lift your hips, shimmying out of your skirt and kicking off your panties in record time, you bare yourself completely to his hungry gaze.

Before you can take your next breath, Xavier grabs your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pushes your legs wider, opening you fully to him. Then, with one powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, filling and stretching you in one swift, hard stroke.

You scream, head falling back as he stretches you impossibly wide, filling you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your throat. He doesnt give you time to adjust, just starts pounding into you with deep, brutal strokes .

"Yes, fuck!" Xavier moans, one hand gripping the edge of the counter while the other digs into the soft flesh of your hip, holding you in place as he fucks you.

You can only cling to him, fingernails scoring down his back as you meet each of his thrusts with the roll of your own hips. Its fast and hard, just like in the book, just like you both crave. Xavier's cock drags deliciously against your walls with each thrust, stoking the pleasure building low in your belly. 

"Harder," you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Fuck me harder, Xavier! 

You feel his control snap and with a surge of strength, he lifts you off the counter, only to slam you back down, impaling you fully on his throbbing cock.

You scream, the sudden force of his thrust making you see stars. He starts to move then, really move, fucking into you with deep, powerful thrusts that make your breasts bounce with each impact. The new angle allows him to hit that spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

"Yes, fuck, just like that!" You cry out, fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back.

"Play with your clit, bunny. I want to feel you squeeze my cock" At his command, you reach down between your thighs, finding your aching clit swollen and throbbing. You circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing tight, quick circles. The combination of his deep, powerful thrusts and your fingers on your clit push you rapidly towards a massive peak.

"Please, please..." You beg, too far gone to be embarrassed by your desperate pleas. "I want to feel you come inside me, Xavier."

With a scream of his name you come undone, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashes over you, cunt clenching around Xavier's cock, squeezing him as wave after wave of pleasure washes through you.

Xavier lets out a groan, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips even harder as he slams into you one, two, three more times before burying himself to the hilt. With a last, shuddering moan, he comes deep inside you, his hot seed spurting against your cervix as he fills you up just like you begged him to.

He holds your trembling body close as he carries you to your bedroom, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He can feel your mixed pleasure dripping down his thighs.

Laying you down gently on the bed, he follows you down, hovering over you as he slowly pulls out of your tender cunt. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty and aching already. But before you can voice your protest, Xavier reaches down, gathering your combined essence on his fingers. He brings them to your entrance, pushing the sticky, pearlescent liquid back inside you.

"There, now you'll keep my cum nice and deep inside you," he smiles "I want you to feel me there for the rest of the night.

You Drive Me Insane // Xavier x Reader

God someone put me down please. I need to go touch some grass. Please don’t even perceive me. This is my first time writing smut, so hopefully it’s okay

This is pure smut, no plot in sight. Pure filth. Be warned. Minors DNI! Concept: Sexy times with Xavier Tags: Smut, Plot? What plot?, Oral (F! Receiving), riding, biting, fingering, creampie (wrap it before you tap it), rough sex, praise, fem! Reader Word Count: 1605 Masterlist

His lips lapped at your core like a man starved, like you were his favourite liquor, his last meal. Moans and whimpers escape your lips, your fingers tightening in his already tousled hair as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you spread open on his mouth. You feel a groan rumble from his chest at the feeling, resonating against your clit, adding and adding to the pleasure coursing through you. The tight coil in your abdomen wound tighter and tighter, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. His long fingers slid in and out, in and out of you, stretching and caressing as far as they could reach, your juices spilling out with every move, adding to the puddle that has formed under you. Not a single thought echoed through your mind apart from his name, the lustful haze clouding everything else. 

Xavier’s dark gaze caught yours, his pupils blown wide, as if he was drunk off of you, his own eyes distorted with pure want. You could feel yourself clench around him, another wanton moan escaping you. The desire built within you with every skillful swipe of his tongue, with every suck and every thrust of his fingers. His arms pulled you even closer, until he reached the spot that made your eyes roll back and your toes curl.

The heat built, built, built, his unforgiving pace not giving you a chance to catch your breath. It was unbearable, unimaginable to be able to feel this much all at once, and yet here you were, wanting to escape but never wanting this to end at the same time.

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as your thighs trembled, trying to close but restrained by his strong grip, a grip that promised to leave bruises.

He kept up the pace, his fingers curling into that spot within you, his tongue licking up all the juices spilled, until your pleasure peaked, that coil snapping with a cry. Your muscles seize up as you throw your head back, bucking your hips against him. 

He didn’t let up, letting your orgasm ride out wave after wave after wave. The obscene sounds from where he was connected to you filled your ears as the overstimulation took hold, and all of a sudden it was too much. Tears trailed across your cheeks, as you fell slack against the bed, the aftershocks making you whimper as he pulled himself away, just far enough to leave a trail of soft kisses against your inner thigh. 

“Good girl. You did so good for me.” Soft praises left his mouth, as he slowly crawled up above you, leaving small kisses wherever he could reach, until his lips met yours, in a slow sensual kiss. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb. 

“You okay sweetheart?” Xavier’s voice is soothing, bringing you slowly back to your senses, as you lock eyes with him. 

“Yeah, more than okay.” You breathe, a small smile appearing on your face as he gives you another soft kiss. His eyes are still blown out, still dark with a hunger that’s yet to be satisfied. Against your hip, you can still feel his erection, hard and hot, precum dripping and spreading against your skin. 

You keep your eyes locked with his, a mischievous glint echoing through your gaze, as you reach down, your hand grasping where he needs you most. He gives a sharp hiss, eyes closing at the sensation, before grasping your wrist, stopping your ministrations.

“F-fuck. You sure you want to continue?” The darkness swimming across his eyes should make you nervous, should make you shy away, but instead it pulls you in, makes you want to bring this man to ruin. 

You pull your hand up gently, before pushing him over, switching your positions until he is beneath you. His eyes widen at the sudden movement, his hands landing on your waist, holding you steady as you straddle his lap. 

“It’s my turn to take care of you.” You whisper into his ear, punctuating your statement with a bite to his earlobe. Your fingers run from his cheek, to his neck, to his chest. Lower and lower, the trail of your touch followed with your lips, nips and kisses decorating his pale skin. He’s so sensitive. He’s squirming beneath your touch, fighting the urge to roll you over and take the control back. His breathing quickens, his chest heaving as you switch to small bites across his neck, decorating it with red marks, a reminder of tonight just for him. Your hands trail lower, teasing touches on his thighs, tracing his abs and v-line. So close yet so far.

“Darling, stop with the teasing. Please.” His voice is rough, punched out, teeth gritted together as he tries to maintain even an ounce of composure.

“Shhh, you’re doing so well. I’ll give you what you want soon enough baby.” You bite your lip to hide your grin. God you loved the effect you had on him, the calm attitude crumbling beneath your fingers, red staining his cheeks. The grip on your waist is firm, nearly painfully so, as his eyes scrunch closed. 

Finally, you decided to have some mercy on him, your touch trailing down to his dick. You thumb at the head, precum already coating your hand and the sound that comes out of him is something you’d like to hear for the rest of your life. You need to hear that sound again. You move your hand, twisting and pumping just like you know he likes it, but much slower than he wants. Your thighs protest as you reposition yourself, still trembling, so pleasantly sore. You guide his cock to rub against you as you grind down, covering him with the wetness dripping from your hole, a moan escaping both of you as his head catches your clit. His hands guide you down to grind on him again and again and again. You steady yourself with a hand on his chest, calling his name until his eyes open and land on you. His pupils are blown wide, his silver hair disheveled and redness spread further across his face. He looks divine. What a sight he is, underneath you, looking so fucked out already. 

You bite your lip as you guide him against you, maintaining eye contact as you sink down on his cock. Bit by bit, you take him slowly, a strangled whine leaving both of you.

“Feels so good- so tight.” He sounds breathless as he grinds his hips up into you, bottoming out. 

You have to take a second to breathe, adjusting to his size. You feel so full it’s almost overwhelming. You can feel every vein pulsing deep inside you, the stretch around him adding the sweetest ache to the many sensations coursing through your body. 

A moment passes before you’re rising up until just the tip remains inside you, before grinding back down, setting a brutal pace. His breathing is shallow and rough as his hips snap up, keeping up with the tempo you set, hitting deeper and deeper and deeper inside of you. Hitting that sweet spot that has you faltering your movements for just a second. His grip around your hips guides you along, his eyes falling to your chest as you move one of his hands to your breast. He kneads it desperately as you lean down to spread an array of kisses and bites across his neck. Sweat drips down both of you, adding a deliciously salty taste to your kisses. 

You swipe along his neck, swirling your tongue around his Adam's apple before biting down on it. His hips stagger in response to the sting and you soothe the ache with a soft kiss. The pressure builds within you, your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire with every thrust, with every touch. 

“Gods Xavier, s-so good for me.” The words leave your mouth with a desperate tone as static fills your mind. The sounds leaving him are music to your ears as you swivel your hips, feeling him twitch inside you, delirious kisses being left across your shoulder. 

“‘m close, so close.” His words spur you as you slam your hips down, going even faster. 

“Fill me up Xavier.” You bite his ear as the pressure in your core unravels once more, your muscles spasming as you squeeze around him.

“Fuck I-” He doesn’t finish his sentence as the rhythm between you falters. You feel warmth fill you, painting your insides, dripping beneath you. You ride out your orgasms together, panting, desperately trying to catch your breaths. You lean up, your lips meeting his as you come down from your high together. You pull away just far enough to meet his eyes, gently brushing the hair from his forehead. A gentle smile braces his lips, his hands massaging your aching thighs.

“God, you drive me insane.” His voice is breathless, exhaustion evident on his features.

“Good, I’m doing my job well then.” You give him a soft, teasing grin.

“I love you sweetheart.” 

“I love you too baby. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?” You exchange a few slow, lazy kisses before you lift yourself off of him with a soft groan. You feel the wetness drip down your thigh as you attempt to stand, but your legs betray you with their shakiness and you have to brace yourself on the bed. You hear a tired chuckle before Xavier stands up beside you, lifting you into his arms before carrying you to the bathroom.

After the Ithaca Saga, I believe that Odysseus thought he and Athena were officially done forever and would only occasionally see each other because she was mentoring Telemachus now. He really thinks there's no way they can reconnect anymore and attempt at a friendship this time, but he's fine with it, he can accept it.

That is until Telemachus goes up to him one day like:

"Hey father, can I ask you something?"

"Yes son, of course."

"You mentored under Athena before right? Do you happen to know a friend of hers?"

"Oh I... I wasn't aware Athena had friends before. She was very adamant about that "No Friends" rule back then... kind of stings."

"Oh really? She talks about him a lot."

"Does she now? *mumbling* must be so special about this fRieNd of Athena..."

"Yeah she told me about this one time he wanted to impress someone, so he climbed on all the way to the tree branch next to the balcony of their room and leaned against the trunk to look cool, but he kept talking to Athena in her owl appearance so he didn't notice the other person going to the balcony and he got so spooked when they called out to him, he turned too fast and lost balance, slipped, smacked his ass on the tree branch and broke his arm when he fell, so he had to wear a sling for 3 months and couldn't sit down for 2 weeks."

"....call Athena right now."

"Why-"

"ATHENA!!!"

The second Athena appeared, Odysseus threw himself at her, on one hand going "YOU CONSIDER ME YOUR FRIEND WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO!?!?!?!" and on the other going "WHY ARE YOU TELLING MY SON ALL MY EMBARRASSING STORIES!?!?! THAT WAS BETWEEN ME, PENELOPE AND YOU!!"

He was actually crying. Athena has absolutely no idea what is happening or what she should do. Telemachus just discovered a whole new side of his dad and might know where he gets it from now....

little comforts with the lads li’s

(a self-indulgent imagining of them with a neurodivergent MC)

✨ xavier & overstimulation

(not the sex kind, sorry. but probably that too) Xavier completely understands when you get overwhelmed by existing. he gets the same feeling sometimes. you develop a code for it eventually, a combination of eye contact and eyebrow-raising that signals to the other person that you need out, whether from a Hunter’s Association party or a grocery store with way too many people. back at home, you’ve created a haven together- eye masks and soft blankets for him, headphones and fidgets for you, whatever makes you feel peaceful and calmed. the ceiling lamp is absolutely not allowed- Xavier drapes the walls with soft spheres of light or swirls a firefly-glow of sparks along the bed in a warm canopy.

🎨 rafayel & hyperfixations/jumping hobbies

you might as well consider collecting hobbies a hobby in itself. crochet needles and yarn, jigsaw puzzles, a wood burning setup, a console and video games- whatever brings you joy, Rafayel is enthusiastically behind it. he doesn’t judge you for wanting to learn a new art style out of the blue- he’ll sign up for a pottery class with you and buy you pounds of clay. he loves your passion and enthusiasm and matches it with his own. he loves being creative with you, in whatever form it happens to take that day. plus, with the amount he spends on paint and canvas, he’s not about to judge you for getting boxes of new supplies for something. he’s hyping you up every time! even if it isn’t an interest he shares, he’s happy you’re happy.

🩺 zayne & health anxiety/ocd

no matter how many times you ask for it, Zayne is happy to give you reassurance. yes, that chicken was cooked all the way. you have a weird flutter in your chest? of course he'll listen to your heart. he listens to every symptom, every worry with unfailing patience. after all, he wants to be your protector, your safest place- this is just one way to be that for you. he never makes you feel irrational for your fears, just steadily helps you face them each and every time. he doesn't judge your compulsions, but he offers his expertise whenever you ask- he lets you take your temperature ten times a day but also explains the normal range and when to actually worry.

💭 sylus & overthinking

okay hear me out, this goes both ways: he helps ground you when you’re overthinking negatively but also supports you when you’re being enthusiastic about literally anything. he’s all in- if you have a favorite tv show he’s watching every episode and reading every analysis of it so you can discuss. he’s fully invested in your office drama, your gossip, your made-up stories about the bird family that lives outside your apartment window. but he also soothes you when you spiral into worry or fear. he happily goes through what-if scenarios with you, most of them ending in him spectacularly defeating anything that could ever threaten you. he makes it clear over and over again that you’re completely safe with him, physically and emotionally.

❤️‍🩹 caleb & insecurity

his life mission to make you feel adored. he makes a point of worshipping every part of you, especially anything you consider a "flaw". nothing is too much or too little- you're perfect exactly as you are. if he overhears you complaining about your thick thighs on a call with Tara, he's going to be buried in them later that night, pressing kisses to every inch. he loves working out and training with you. if you want to get healthier he's gladly cooking fresh ingredients into nutritious meals and helping you build up a fun fitness routine- but if there's even a hint of it being because you don't like the way you look in the mirror? he's going to benchpress twice your body weight in front of you just to prove he can. or better yet, he flings you over his shoulder easily and brings you to the bedroom to "work on your confidence".