What Happens When The LADS Guys Are Caught Crying?

Would My Asian Parents Approve? — Love & Deepspace Boyfriend Edition

Ranking how approvable LADS men by my asian parents if I bring them home for dinner

note: ‼️ This headcanon is just my interpretation of how my Asian parents might react. It’s also a bit of a stereotype, reflecting the typical dynamics of a staple Asian household, but it’s all in good fun so please take this with a grain of salt, this is just my own personal interpretation and meant to be taken light heartedly.

another note: based on their personality and their interaction in Love and Deepspace game when introducing themselves to your parents + my own interpretation! Uses she/her mainly, and also "you" instead of "me"

written and published by orieriee on tumblr. Please do not copy or repost in any other platform.

👑 Number 1 : Zayne ☃️

Zayne is definitely the top number one of most likely to get approved by my asian parents

Heck, he put has their blessing the moment he sits down for dinner for the first time

It's definitely not because he's a doctor with a stable job

I mean he's a cardiac surgeon at 27! With an award at that! Immediate approve 💯

He's the kind of guy who brings thoughtful souvenirs for your parents when he comes over for dinner

I can already picture him bringing a premium tea gift set that he specifically got according to your parents' taste, beautifully packaged and looks expensive 🍵

Honestly, he's already the son-in-law! Came for dinner, stayed for marriage plans and the future

What can I say? He’s polite, good-looking, and probably smells wonderful—like a hint of jasmine mixed with a bit of antiseptic due to his work

He’s the type to compliment my mom’s cooking, and she'd be so pleased that she'd serve him the best portions instead of giving them to me 😔

"Here, eat more meat! I made plenty just for you,” she would say with a happy smile

Even dad would probably like him immediately, pulling him aside and ask privately, “So, when's the wedding?” — like, dad, chill, it's Zayne's first time coming over for dinner

They know their daughter is in good hands with Zayne as her husband

👑 Number 2 : Caleb 🍎

I'm putting Caleb as my second in the most likely my parents would approve list because he works for the government as a pilot (a stable job)

There is a consideration though: my mom would ask "If he’s a pilot, wouldn’t you be lonely since he’s often up in the air?”

She also worries about the risks associated with being a pilot, given the dangers involved in the profession

But Caleb is the type of guy who immediately gets along with mom and dad, probably because they already knew him as their daughter's childhood friend but coming over for dinner (as a partner) is a different matter

From the very first meeting, he accidentally introduced himself as “son-in-law” as an accidental slip of the tongue

During dinner, he is charming and a great conversationalist, which creates a wonderful atmosphere

He openly expresses that "I adore your daughter very much, you guys did a great job creating her" and reassures parents that he will protect you. He often joking around to ease the mood

He enthusiastically offers to wash the dishes and is a fantastic conversation partner for mom

With dad, he can discuss all the mechanical topics that only fathers understand, which makes sense since he’s a pilot

Relatives probably adore him too, as he easily makes friends with everyone.

He’s the kind of boyfriend who prompts mom to frequently ask about him, like, “When is Caleb coming over for dinner again?”

(The last 3 are under the cut!)

🌟 Number 3: Xavier ✨

Xavier is third because he is the last one with a "real stable job," while the next two would likely be questionable in my Asian parents' eyes

His primary hobby is sleeping, and since that doesn't lead to productivity and is sometimes seen as lazy in a typical Asian household, it could raise some concerns

However, mom really likes him because he looks like a prince

He is the type of boyfriend who makes my Asian mom ask, “How did you manage to attract someone like Xavier?” like, as if he's out of my league because of his prince-ly beauty which I take personally

With his princely, ethereal looks and charm, it raises the question of how I managed to win over such a beautiful man

He is polite, has a soothing voice, and can cook and clean, which is great since their daughter barely tidies up around the house hey

Xavier works in the same field as we do, which reassures parents that he can support their daughter in her career

Although he may appear innocent, the protective Asian dad senses that there might be something “impure” about him

He’s not very talkative but insists on helping around the house, which is a plus

My mom keeps insisting that he stay over, but we all know that it won’t end well

My dad implicitly disapproves of him staying over, as we all understand what might happen ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

And it's something inappropriate

💫 Number 4: Sylus🐉

Ok... Sylus girlies, don't come at me, but man I think Sylus is somewhat awkward at first if he's meeting the parents for the first time

My parents personally might find him intimidating because he is quite the large guy... With silver hair and red eyes and all (but mama I'm in love with a criminal)

He introduced himself as the owner of a family business, which is a relief since it shows he is responsible and established

As he shares more about himself, my mom starts to relax and feel more comfortable with him

However, when he mentions his hobbies of shooting and racing and wanting to ask them to join, I worry because my dad has back problems, which Sylus, honey... I don’t think that helps😭

So yeah, imo I think he is the type of boyfriend that my family needs time to warm up to

But once they start to get to know him, he quickly becomes their favorite

Like in some days, you'd be surprised and ask, "What do you mean you're going to the opera too with Sylus?" showing how much mom enjoys his company by asking him to go with her because he also enjoys music

It surprises me that Sylus even asked my mom to join him for the opera; they’re practically best friends now!

Sylus has a way of showering them with luxury, frequently brings thoughtful gifts when he visits, like gourmet snacks and special treats he got from overseas

Despite his intimidating appearance, he has a gentle side that puts parents at ease, proving that he genuinely cares about their daughter

‼️Number 5: Rafayel

He's a painter, and no, I'm not a Rafayel slander

I mean, a creative job?? In an Asian household??? My parents would definitely question how he could possibly support himself AND their daughter with such work

An artist as a job = no money in the eyes of Asian parents 😭🤡 (trust me)

We'll also hear "You own a home by the sea?? Wouldn't you catch sea sickness? Isn't it a bit dangerous at night?", as they ask in concern

From the very first impression, Rafayel comes off as casual and laid-back with mom and dad, which... Doesn't seem to earn their approval 🤡

However, I think my little sisters and cousins would love him because he's sassy, encourages their creativity since he's an artist, and is a merman

While parents may not approve of him, younger relatives have already declared him their favorite "brother"

But once Rafayel shows them that even an artist can be rich by inviting them to his house

So, once the parents visit his art studio and see the stunning view, they are likely to be amazed by the beauty of his surroundings

His home resembles a vacation house, and he drives expensive cars, which further impresses them

He probably took them on a cruise ride and had the most delicious seafood dinner, which definitely win their hearts

Although my parents might still have some doubts, they will gradually come to accept him once they see how in love we are

I actually have a lot of headcanons ideas and stories to write about LADS men but I just don't have the time to write 😭 they're occupying my head 24/7 just by floating around my head space.

ೃ⁀➷ WEARING HIS CLOTHING — rafayel, zayne, xavier x gn!reader

“c’mere it’s starting to rain harder,” rafayel says, huffing as he closes the door behind you. the scent of wind and rain stains your clothing as you look around his studio. he sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. his fingers soak up the raindrops before he turns to you.

though he stumbles a bit as he spots the white shirt you're wearing growing more and more sheer from the rainy weather. rafayel feels the tips of his ears and his cheeks burn before he tears his gaze away from you. "you're probably getting cold in that," he spits out, "wait here. i'll get you a change of clothes in the meantime."

you barely have time to reject his offer before he darts towards his room. he returns hastily with new shirt and a beige and red cardigan of his. any chance of your denial is shot down with his arms crossed over his chest. "just change into it," he mutters, still avoiding your gaze.

you shrug, stepping into his bathroom to slip out of your soaked shirt. the shirt fits decently but the cardigan is much larger than you realize. the sleeves cover your hands and feel like flaps. but it smells like the bothersome painter you've grown fond of.

stepping out of the bathroom, you find rafayel sitting in front of the fireplace. it seems he's changed as well but it's difficult to tell from the large blanket he's enveloped himself in. but he pauses, looking you up and down.

"what?" you laugh, "cat got your tongue?" his cheeks burn once more but he scoffs, pulling you down into his lap under the blanket. "don't you dare say that devilish name in my home," he mutters, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you smell like him now and there's a tenderness he finds himself embracing when his hold on you tightens.

“i’m home,” zayne calls out, shuffling out of his shoes. he pauses, expecting you to come rushing out from somewhere to greet him. but when nothing arrives, he feels his chest tighten. perhaps it’s a little silly to have been looking forward to your welcoming smile.

he finds himself looking around your apartment in all of your usual spots. but he doesn’t need to look too hard when he finds you in your room. you’re curled up atop a layer of laundry in deep sleep. it’s warm to the touch and the scent of linen is fresh in the air.

zayne feels the edges of his lips tug when he spots you wrapped up in a large coat he’d worn on a date with you last week. it engulfs you as you snuggle deeper into its depths.

he reaches out for you, pulling back your hair and cupping your cheek. there’s something both ravenous and adoring in his gaze as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. perhaps he’ll let you wear his clothing next time you need a little nap.

your name escapes his lips for a moment and your eyes flutter open. “z-zayne..!” you stutter out, sitting up quickly, “i didn’t realize you’d be back this early.”

“i am back on time,” he murmurs, bending down on a knee to meet your height on the bed. “i believe you are the one that lost track of time. doing the laundry, i see. did that coat give you a hard time?” the look on your face warms his heart as his arms reach under the coat to wrap around you.

"you're cold, aren't you?" xavier murmurs. a silvery autumnal breeze whirls past the two of you and another curious shiver curls down your back. xavier chuckles fondly, hand still enveloped in yours. it's likely the only thing providing you warmth save for the thin jacket you thought would do its job more properly.

"i'll be fine," you said quickly, "the apartment's just another block." your words don't exactly convince xavier. he pauses, dragging your hand back a bit to pull you into his chest. "i don't really have a use for my jacket right now anyways. how about you take it for now?" he says with a smile.

you avoid his gaze, unwilling to admit he might have been right earlier about the chilly weather. but you don't reject his offer when he slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders. "there," he chuckles, "feel a little better?" you decide not to indulge a reply.

back at the apartment, you immediately float to the heater. xavier's sweater is still lovingly draped over your shoulders. his warmth remains despite everything. from the kitchen, xavier watches you wrap the sweater even tighter around you. it suits you.

a lingering smile tugs at his lips before you slide back over to him. "you can have it back now. i can grab one of my thicker jackets now," you say, though not exactly stripping it off yet. he shakes his head, tugging the sleeve slightly to pull you closer to him.

"i prefer if you keep it for now," he says with a gentle expression, "i had heard from someone that offering someone your jacket was a pleasant sign of affection." he pauses, admiring the way you're bundled tightly in his clothing. "i just wasn't sure how to bring it up..." then, he smiles knowingly. "i figured a nice walk out give me an idea."

Hello, hi! Sorry for my bad english.

Can I request Jealous!MC where there’s a new colleague whom everyone respects (lets say shes only in Linkon for a week for a short mission) but MC sees how that colleague lowkey and subtly flirts with Xavier? (y’know how guys can be dense at times)

he sets boundaries though, it’s just “colleague” tries to push her luck— for the ending m not so sure, how about Xavier catches on and bluntly turns her down and makes it up for MC? :3

thank you!!!!!! you r very talented🫶🫶🫶

Me? Jealous?

PAIRING: Xavier x mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching your new coworker grow a little too familiar with your boyfriend sent a sharp, unwelcome heat curling in your chest—an emotion you’d never dare to name, let alone admit.

A/N: Thank you for the request. I twisted it a little, so hope you won't mind. I'm not really good at writing jealousy-related stuff, but I hope I'll get better with time!! Hope you enjoy!

Xavier - your sweet, devoted lover. A man of quiet strength and effortless charm, wrapped in an air of aloof detachment that only made people want to be closer to him.

Somehow, despite his reserved nature, he had a gravitational pull. Perhaps it was his unshaken confidence, the way he moved with the quiet assurance of a skilled hunter who had nothing to prove. Or maybe it was that face—carved with sharp angles and softened by golden strands that always seemed to fall just right. Whatever the reason, people wanted him close.

You never minded. In fact, you were proud. Admired, respected—a man like that was yours, after all. And Xavier was never one to indulge in unnecessary conversations or fleeting acquaintances. His world was small, intimate, built on a foundation of loyalty and shared trust. You had never been given a reason to worry.

Until now.

Standing next to Tara, your stomach twisted as your gaze locked onto the scene unfolding across the room.

A woman—tall, poised, exuding an effortless confidence—stood by Xavier’s desk, leaning in just enough to blur the lines between casual and intentional. She had the look of someone who had never been denied, her gaze slow and deliberate as it traced the sharp lines of his face before slipping lower, taking in every inch of him like he was something to be appraised.

Like he was something to be claimed.

Your jaw tightened.

She wasn’t subtle. Her eyes lingered, drinking him in like a fine wine, her expression betraying nothing but intrigue and unspoken intent. If you didn’t know any better, you would have mistaken her for a predator, circling its prey with the patience of something that had never known hunger.

“Who the hell is that?” Tara’s voice was low, hushed, but tinged with the same disbelief you felt.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

“She’s the hunter Jenna assigned for the new mission,” Simone’s voice cut in, her sudden presence making you jolt. “They say she’s one of the best in the field.”

Your lips parted slightly. “The captain of the aviation department?”

Simone nodded, watching your expression carefully.

She was young for such a high-ranking position, but that wasn’t what unsettled you. What unsettled you was the way she carried herself—like she already knew the outcome of a game you hadn’t even realized you were playing.

And the worst part? Xavier seemed oblivious.

His responses were polite, clipped, maintaining the professionalism expected of him when speaking to a superior. He didn’t return her lingering gaze, didn’t acknowledge the subtle shifts in her tone, the way her lips curved when he spoke.

And yet, it still made your blood simmer.

You hated it—the feeling curling in your chest, the way it coiled around your ribs like something dark and unspoken. You didn’t want to name it. Didn’t want to admit that, for the first time, you felt something dangerously close to threatened.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Xavier. Quite the opposite.

It was her.

"She’s supposed to be here for a week or so,” Simone added, eyeing you warily as if she had just glimpsed a side of you she wasn’t quite sure how to handle.

Tara shot her a nervous glance. You didn’t miss the way they exchanged looks, as if silently agreeing that this was unfamiliar territory—you were unfamiliar territory.

Finally, your feet moved before your mind had time to catch up.

You wove through the room with careful, measured steps, every movement precise, controlled. By the time you reached Xavier’s side, you had already tucked away the wildfire burning beneath your skin, smoothing out the edges of your expression into something unreadable.

Xavier turned at your approach, and in an instant, everything about him changed.

His guarded expression softened, his posture easing as that rare, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Warm. Familiar. Yours.

The woman noticed.

“Ah, Y/N.” Her voice was smooth, practiced. She straightened slightly, taking you in with an unreadable gaze. “I’ve heard about you.”

Your eyes met hers, searching, assessing.

“All good things, I hope?” Your words were polite, but there was something beneath them—something carefully measured, just shy of warning.

She didn’t answer. Not really. Instead, a slow smirk curled at her lips, her amusement flickering like the first embers of a fire.

She turned back to Xavier, dismissing you entirely.

“Well, Xavier,” she mused, her voice taking on a honeyed lilt, “I hope you’ll consider my proposition.”

And then she walked away, hips swaying just enough to make her intentions clear.

Your fingers curled at your sides.

“What was that about?” You turned to Xavier, making no effort to hide the edge in your voice.

He blinked, glancing between you and the retreating figure. “…She wanted to meet up to discuss something about the mission.”

Casual. Dismissive. Utterly oblivious.

Xavier reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin in that familiar, grounding way. It was instinctive, absentminded, as if he had done it a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times again.

It was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Almost.

Because while you trusted Xavier implicitly, one thing was certain:

You were not about to let someone like her think she had a chance.

And with the welcome party set for later that week—a gathering meant to formally introduce the aviation captain to the association - it was the perfect moment to make sure she knows he's yours.

Yes. This was going to be fun.

...

Having heard about the party, you weren’t about to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. This was your chance to ensure the captain understood something crystal clear—Xavier was not, and never would be, one of her playthings.

With Tara and Simone’s help, you looked nothing short of lethal. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing every sharp edge and soft curve of your features, making you appear both untouchable and irresistibly tempting. Your hair was styled to perfection, cascading in a way that made you feel like a walking temptation, and your skin glowed with the scent of the perfume Xavier adored—the one that always seemed to awaken something predatory in him, darkening his gaze whenever you wore it.

And the pièce de résistance? A dress—the dress. Baby blue, the color of summer skies and lingering daydreams. It clung in all the right places, teasing with just enough skin to drive anyone who laid eyes on you to the brink of madness, yet leaving enough to the imagination to make them crave more. You knew the effect it had on Xavier. Knew the way his eyes darkened, how his hands twitched as if resisting the urge to pull you close and claim you on the spot.

And tonight, you planned on making sure everyone knew it too.

You had chosen to surprise him, arriving separately so he wouldn’t have a chance to drag you back to the safety of his arms before you had even stepped through the door.

The club was dimly lit, pulsing with the deep bass of music that thrummed beneath your skin. The scent of alcohol, expensive cologne, and faint traces of smoke clung to the air, mixing with the hum of conversation. Association members littered the room, some drinking, others caught in quiet discussions about missions and assignments.

And then you saw him.

Xavier was easy to spot—even in a crowded room, he stood out like something carved from myths, his golden hair catching the glow of the overhead lights. Dressed in his usual understated yet effortlessly attractive manner, he leaned against the bar, engaged in polite conversation.

But then his eyes found yours.

For a moment, he stilled.

And then—oh.

It was subtle at first. The slight parting of his lips, the way his grip on his drink tightened ever so slightly. His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate, before snapping back to your face, sharp and hungry. If he had been holding a conversation, you wouldn’t have known—it was as if the world had ceased to exist around him, leaving only you.

Your lips curled into a knowing smile as you strode toward him, reveling in the way his pupils dilated, his usual composure slipping for just a fraction of a second.

You were used to catching Xavier’s attention. But tonight? Tonight, he was absolutely enthralled.

And of course—your lovely new colleague took notice.

She had dressed for the occasion as well, a deep crimson gown hugging her form, exuding confidence. Perhaps she had the same plan you did—to steal Xavier’s attention, to lure him in with beauty and presence.

But she had made one miscalculation.

Xavier’s attention wasn’t hers to steal.

You reached him just as she did, her voice silky as she tilted her head, a charming smile gracing her lips. “Xavier, I must say, you clean up well.”

Xavier, who had just barely managed to tear his gaze from you, turned toward her with his usual polite indifference. “Thank you, Captain.”

She placed a hand on the bar beside him, inching just a little too close, feigning casual conversation. “You know, I never did get a proper answer about my earlier proposal. A meeting—just the two of us. I think we could make an excellent team.”

Your blood simmered. The sheer audacity.

But before you could even open your mouth, Xavier did something that made your heart skip a beat.

He stepped back. Just enough to create space, his movements smooth yet unmistakably intentional.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice calm but firm, “but I’ll have to decline. I don’t mix work with anything that could be… misinterpreted.”

The captain faltered for a fraction of a second, clearly not expecting such a direct rejection.

Still, she recovered quickly, letting out a light laugh, as if amused rather than deterred. “Oh? And here I thought you’d at least consider it.”

Xavier’s gaze flickered toward you then—brief, knowing, filled with something warm and unshaken. And then, with the faintest hint of amusement lacing his voice, he spoke again.

“There’s nothing to consider.”

The words were final. A dismissal. A line drawn in stone.

The captain seemed to realize that any further attempts would be futile. With one last lingering glance, she lifted her drink to her lips, her expression unreadable, before turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

You exhaled, finally allowing yourself to breathe.

And then—Xavier’s hand was on your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against him.

“Enjoying yourself?” His voice was low, edged with something darker, something teasing.

You tilted your head up at him, pretending to consider. “Hmm. Maybe. Though, I was a little concerned for a second there.”

Xavier’s lips twitched, his free hand tracing idle circles against your lower back. “Oh?”

You smirked, eyes gleaming with something playful. “I mean, she’s confident, gorgeous, highly respected—”

Xavier cut you off with a quiet scoff, his thumb brushing over the exposed skin of your waist. “So are you.”

Your laughter was soft, but before you could say anything more, he leaned down, his lips ghosting just below your ear.

“I only see you,” he murmured. “I only want you.”

A slow shiver ran down your spine.

You turned to face him fully then, hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. “Good.”

He smirked. “Good?”

You leaned in, your lips just barely brushing his before whispering, “Because you’re mine.”

Xavier’s breath hitched—just barely, just enough for you to catch it—before he let out a quiet chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I am.”

And with that, he kissed you—slow and deep, in a way that left no room for doubt.

A statement. A promise.

And a reminder to anyone who had dared to think otherwise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your instincts are fraying.

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

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

There's light pooling in Xavier's hands.

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

Wouldn't he? it purrs again.

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

It works.

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

"Don't!"

- and the room burns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's quiet for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lets goo.....

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

😅😅

SILENT COMFORT

❥ First time wearing his clothes

✎ AN: Xavier and MC are the best hunter duo, neighbours and close friends. A sudden predicament now threatens to change that dynamic (no angst, they're good). Reader is referred to as MC.  Word count: 1.7 k Disclaimer: I cannot guarantee these are 100% compatible with the story and lore, I don’t have all cards and my memory only stretches so far.

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❥ Xavier: You and Xavier finally return to HQ after a grueling long battle fighting wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon. Upon your arrival several coworkers showered you both with praise and applause earning awkward smiles from you, whereas Xavier remained as calm as ever as you both made your way toward the locker room. Suddenly you heard someone declare you and Xavier the best team of your branch. Feeling a warmth rise on your cheeks you carefully turn to look at Xavier who adorns a soft smirk whilst keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. He would never dare admit it, but he loved when people praised your teamwork. Not your skills individually, but the fact that you made each other better hunters and everyone knew it.

The door to the locker room closes behind you and a calm silence soothes both your headaches. Xavier looks at you for the first time since you got back and you both sigh in unison. A gentle smile plays on his lips as his body tries to relax. He stretches his arms out and turns his neck left and right in an attempt to loosen the strained muscles. You do the same. No one says anything but there is nothing awkward about this silence. You’ve worked together for so long now that you know the need for silence after long missions is a necessity, before you’re in any position to discuss the mission and how your tactics worked. You move toward your locker leaving muddy shoe prints in your path. Xavier disappears around the corner.

“Oh no…” You whisper as you stare at the contents of your locker. It’s not as full as you expected it to be. You look down at your uniform. It is covered in dirt, dust and mud. Taking the train home in your uniform usually grants you attention from strangers, but in its current state you’d basically be littering on the train. 

“What is the matter?” You jump at the sudden sight of Xavier peeking out from around the corner. He’s in the middle of pulling a clean shirt onto his toned arms. You can’t help but stare and let your gaze linger a bit too long on his sculpted torso. Only when you notice he’s started working on the buttons of his shirt are you able to regain your sanity. His brows furrowed at your strange behavior and he pauses his buttoning to cross his arms and give you a concerned stare. 

You swallow hard before you’re properly able to voice your concern. “I don’t have any clean shirts. I forgot I spilled coffee on my other one before we went out this morning.”

“Hm, this shirt is not really public transport friendly.” He moved closer to you and attempted to dust off the dried mud on your shoulder. He frowned. Not only was your shirt still dirty, his hand was too. He grabbed your wrist with the muddy hand and dragged you over to his locker. 

“You can borrow my hoodie?” He reached into the locker and grabbed his neatly folded white hoodie with his clean hand. 

“Why do you have your hoodie here? I thought everyone wore their uniform back and forth from work.”

“I faced a similar predicament as you are facing now, this morning. I had no clean shirts at home, but knew I had an extra here. I was supposed to do laundry yesterday, but I took a nap after work and forgot.”

You smiled at the thought of him napping, thinking of all the times you had accidentally woken him up when you’d call asking if he needed anything from the store, or if he wanted to join you for a jog. 

“Take it. I don’t mind sharing with you.” He smiled and you melted. It was just an innocent smile, but his hold on you was growing with every passing day. You had shared many things over the course of your friendship. Books, drinks, dinners… Nothing beat sharing the couch with him, napping in opposite corners with your legs tangled in the middle. He was too tall for either of you to get properly comfortable, but you easily dozed off each time anyways. However, sharing his hoodie seemed more intimate… Such a clichè… 

A familiar warmth reclaimed your face once more as you muttered out a thanks whilst returning his caring smile. You grabbed the hoodie and slowly turned around savoring an extra second of him in his half buttoned shirt before moving back toward your locker. That famous Xavier smirk reappeared when he carefully studied your frame as you walked away.  

You returned from the bathroom clean and dressed. His hoodie reached the middle of your thighs, and the sleeves reached beyond your fingertips. You were certain no item of clothing had ever fit you so perfectly. Clutching the collar you lift it to your nose and take in his scent still lingering on the fabric. Xavier… My Xavier… At least you wished he was. Such a terrifying thing to admit to yourself. You were coworkers and neighbours, adding a romantic relationship to the list seemed very risky. What if it didn’t work out? 

You reluctantly release the soft fabric from your grasp and take a few more steps to discover Xavier sitting at a bench waiting for you. Staring at you. His mouth stays quiet but his mind is racing at the sight of you being hugged by his favorite hoodie, almost an extension of himself. How he longed to wrap his strong arms around you. My MC…  

The train ride home is the same as any other day. You shared earbuds whilst engrossing yourselves in literature. He was reading a sci-fi novel about time travel, your recommendation. You had attempted to discreetly nuzzle your face into his hoodie keeping your book intentionally low so you’d have to crane your neck down to see it. Every time someone walked past you the wind would aid his scent to your nose and make you lose your spot on the page, but you didn’t mind. You were not able to maintain focus on the book anyways. Xavier seemed enthralled by the drama happening in his fictional world and for the first time you found yourself wishing the normally welcomed silence to finally come to an end. Speak, Xavier… Look at me, really look at me… But he doesn’t. 

You’re in the elevator slowly approaching the fifth floor. Each ding bringing you closer to an afternoon pining for the neighbour. You felt silly. You’d thought about Xavier a lot, but being engulfed in his essence seemed to have triggered something deep within you. 

Xavier had purposefully positioned himself slightly behind you in the elevator. He had been sneaking glances the whole way home, but with your gaze safely away from him, he could look for as long as he wanted. The incessant dinging of the elevator snapping him back to reality for a split second before his body refills itself with the warm and fuzzy feelings he always got when he was around you.

He felt such a strong sense of pride walking home with you today. He always hoped that any stranger who passed you would assume you were in a relationship, but today surely, no one could question it. The hoodie draping over your smaller frame was clearly his. You looked beautiful. His hand slowly crept upward as if to stroke your hair, but he did not dare to actually touch you. He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath as he longingly stroked the air behind you. 

The final ding of your journey startled you enough to make you lose your balance a bit. The back of your head was met by a soft palm that did not linger. You quickly turned to face Xavier and an unfamiliar expression stared back at you. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened and his ears were bright red. A stark contrast to his silver hair. 

“I’m sorry, I-I was just, uh.” The quilty hand that was still suspended in the air attempted to find refuge at the nape of his neck. You couldn’t come up with a response, too scared to make any assumptions regarding what his hand was doing so close to you.

“Oh, the door!” Xavier called out but the doors closed before he could get his feet to move. The sixth floor was now the next stop. His stop. Another ding and you’ve reached your final destination. He slowly cowers out of the small elevator and turns to face you as he exits. It looks like he’s about to say something but you beat him to it. Shit… You wish he had gotten the chance to speak first. 

“I’ll wash your hoodie and return it t-to you t-tomorrow.” Your vocal cords betray you as you can barely stutter out the words. Xavier slowly nodded before the action transitioned into him shaking his head vigorously. 

“No!” He exclaimed as he reached out to grab your arm. He misses but get’s a firm grasp on the sleeve of his hoodie quickly pulling you out of the elevator before the door closes, threatening to separate you from him once more. He wrestles with the idea of pulling you further into his embrace but settles on grasping your wrist with his other hand and holding it securely to his chest. 

“Would you maybe like to join me for dinner, MC? We can make something together, or get take out, whatever you feel like.” There is a sense of urgency and desperation in his voice and you can’t help but lean into the hope that his sudden lack of composure might mean what you hope it does. Your hand hovering over his racing heartbeat certainly gives off such an impression. This dinner invitation was different to past meals you’ve shared. 

You look up at him and smile fearing that your words will fail you. He catches on and lets out a sigh of relief as you both move toward his door. He suddenly pauses and reaches out to stop you.

“Just in case my intentions weren’t clear.” He says as his hand wanders up the sleeve of his hoodie searching for yours. His slightly sweaty palm gently grabs yours and you suck on your bottom lip trying to contain the smile threatening to explode. You slowly move further down the hallway as you both relax into the security of each other's touch. It feels so right… 

The door unlocks but before he enters he turns to you and says “Oh, um, please don’t wash the hoodie before returning it to me.”

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✎AN: And they lived happily ever after. Had to get a tiny bit of freak Xavier in at the end there, hope you don't mind. English is not my first language, so I hope you'll cut me some slack.

- Colonel Kaboom

𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓'𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄

the boys react to you being really sleepy around them 💤

content: zayne, xavier, rafayel x gn reader; established relationship; comfort a/n: this was from an anon who requested a sleepy m/c! i'm sorry it took a bit, but to the lovely anon i hope i did your idea justice! shoutout to all my constantly sleepy folks out there as well

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ZAYNE ⟡

It was only midday when you and Zayne boarded the train from Snowcrest back to Linkon, but your head was already lolling to the side. The homey, wintery town had an atmosphere that was too relaxing. Especially during those late afternoons after you and Zayne had gone cafe hopping, you wanted nothing more than to bask in the sun and fall asleep. 

As you settled into your seat by the window, Zayne pushed his and your luggage in the above storage compartment. Seeing his partner’s head bob towards the glass window, Zayne smiled to himself.

“I've never seen a person so sleepy before,” Zayne remarked, taking his place in the seat beside you.  

“It’s not my fault,” you mumbled groggily, “it’s the town.”

You began to rub your eyes, attempting to bring some life back into them. 

“I didn’t realise a town could have sedative properties,” he said, dryly. 

“You don’t understand, it’s too cosy. I feel like all my defences are down.” 

Zayne was entertained at the way you spun that into a complaint. A renowned hunter who finally takes a well-needed break feels too comforted by their holiday getaway.

He rested a hand on his chin in mock thought. “Should we have added combat training in the itinerary to have you be more alert, then?”

You laughed, knowing that if that had actually happened you would have hated it. The relaxation you experienced on this trip was a genuine good thing for the both of you. You continued to rub your eyes, trying to remove the build-up from when you last slept. Your movements were halted as Zayne gently held your wrists in place. You looked over at him, curiously. 

“I may not be an ophthalmologist, but I know rubbing your eyes too hard can damage the lens.”

He leaned closer to examine them. They were slightly red from all the pressure you had put on them.

“Forcing yourself awake won’t do you any favours.”  He gently brushed a thumb over your eyelids. “You should sleep.”

He relaxed his shoulders, bumping them against yours in wordless invitation. You felt your protest fizzle away at the thought of resting on Zayne right this second. Some argument about how he would be bored without his number 1 conversation partner on the commute disappeared when you tilted your head and fell on his shoulder. 

“Don’t forget to wake me up when we get there…” Your voice trailed off as you nuzzled in place, trying to find a good spot to sleep. 

Zayne combed his fingers through your hair, tidying it up from your head wiggling. You were unresponsive to his touch. Your steady breathing signalled that you had already passed out. He stared fondly at your peaceful face. Inwardly, he admitted that the ride would be much less fun without your chatter, but he was more than content with just your presence alone. 

Succumbing to temptation, he lightly poked your cheek. He mused to himself about how you were somewhat correct—your defences were down, but it was to his benefit. He could finally do things like this without your teasing. 

XAVIER ⟡

Xavier moved his hand, ready to turn over to the next page of the book. He looked at you, expectantly.

“Have you finished this page?”

You hummed affirmatively, and he eagerly flipped to the next chapter. 

You and Xavier had begun the habit of reading in bed together in the evenings. The book of choice was Xavier's pick—an old-school mystery novel. Someone is found murdered in their private quarters on a train, and the detective must find the culprit before they strike again. The plot was thrilling, and you were enthralled from the beginning. However, between being weighted under plush quilts, propped up by fluffy pillows, and the body warmth of Xavier, you felt the words of the page slipping away from you. 

“Xavier, could you read aloud for me?”

His eyes turned wide like a surprised bunny. “Why the sudden request? Is everything okay?” He immediately covered your forehead with his hand, checking your temperature. 

Chuckling, you swatted his hand away. “I’m alright. I just want to hear your voice, please.” You looped your arm around him and Xavier softened. 

He couldn’t argue against your wishes. He cleared his throat and read the words out loud. Though Xavier didn’t have the most performative voice, he still tried to be a good storyteller—acting out the dialogue for each different character and steadying his pacing. The gentleness of his voice enveloped you. It quickly sounded less like an intense crime novel, and more like a children’s storybook. 

You closed your eyes, attempting to keep an attentive ear to what Xavier was saying. 

“Are you still with me?” he asked, sensing how you had relaxed against his side. 

“Yes, yes, I’m still listening.” Your eyes remained shut, words slightly slurring together. “Keep going. I think the case is”—a yawn you tried to stifle came out—“about to be cracked wide open.”

Xavier continued, taking note of your growing drowsiness. He read out loud this time in a more hushed voice, “‘The detective gathered everyone in the train’s shared compartment space. Pacing across the carpet, he had finally figured out the killer’s identity.’” 

There was a slight thud against the headboard.

Turning to the source of the sound, Xavier found you fast asleep. 

He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. Even when the culprit is about to be revealed, you still decide to fall asleep.

To be honest, he was beginning to get sleepy himself, so perhaps it was perfect timing. The two of you were cutely similar in that regard. In fact, Xavier had done the exact same thing a few days ago. Chastising you about it would only backfire on himself.  

He carefully removed your arm loosely looped around his own and quietly stood up to tuck you in. Laying you in a more comfortable position, he readjusted the blanket to cover your body, admiring how you snuggled deeper into the sheets. He joined you in bed. The warm glow of the night light behind him on the bedside table faintly illuminated your serene expression. 

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, before placing a light kiss on your forehead and switching off the light.

RAFAYEL ⟡

It was a hot day in Linkon, and Whitesand Beach was the perfect respite for the artist and his bodyguard. The sand gleamed silvery-white under the sun, with crystalline waves crashing against the shore. There were many others here who had also pitched beach canopies to provide a shield against the heat. You and Rafayel had tried your best to create a comfortable interior with your rented outdoor lounge chairs and mini portable fans. You were lying on one of the chairs, relishing in the fresh air (a definite contrast from the city) whilst you waited for Rafayel. 

He soon returned holding up two drinks, both decorated with little umbrellas and even small skewers with fruit. 

You took the glass from him in amused shock. “Raf, did you make a special request for more decorations?”

Rafayel took a sip of the drink before placing it down on the table. “Nope, the employee recognised me and wanted to add a bit more pizazz to the drinks.” He plopped in his seat and flashed a smile. “Don’t worry, I tipped them extra for their efforts.”

You sipped the cool drink and gazed out at the beach, mesmerised by the waves. It’s repetitive ebb and flow almost lulled you somehow. 

The day hasn't even started! How can you even think about sleeping?! You scolded yourself. You patted both your cheeks to snap out of this tiredness. 

You turned your attention to something else. A couple were playing volleyball nearby. You watched the ball be tossed back-and-forth, back-and-forth… your eyelids began to fall on their accord. 

Rafayel's voice pulled you from your drowsiness, and you realised he had been observing you this whole time. “Didn’t sleep well last night?” He cocked his head to the side in concern.

“I did, but”—you turned to your side to face him properly—“being out here just makes me feel sleepy, that’s all.”

Too adorable. He thought to himself, seeing the small pout on your face as you rubbed your eyes. 

“I can’t think of a better place to rest than next to the ocean. It’s nature’s own background noise,” he proclaimed. 

Though that sounded enticing, you still hesitated. Wouldn’t it make you a bad partner if you slept for most of the time you two were outside? Sensing your reluctance, Rafayel continued.

“And how are you going to be a good bodyguard for me if you’re not well rested? Didn’t they teach you that in Bodyguard 101?”

“‘Bodyguard 101’?” you repeated in disbelief at Rafayel’s ability to dramatise. “I must have skipped that introductory course in university.” 

“Well then, you can make up for the lost study with experience, starting right now.” His humorous tone waned, as he brought out his sketchpad. “Don’t worry about me, I was planning on doing some drawings anyway. I won’t leave your side.” The softness of his words reassured you. 

The mixture of crashing waves and light chatter from other beach goers had you sleeping almost immediately.

Rafayel had intended to do some drawings of the scenery, but he fixed his artistic eye on you, now finding a much better source of inspiration to fill his pages.

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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…”

Smile

Pair: Xavier x reader

Wc:2k

Includes: Fluff, established relationship

"Stay right there," Xavier says, backing away from you. You turn to him with a confused expression. "No, don't move." With the second command, you grow anxious. If Xavier was this insistent on you staying still, there was most likely a Wanderer nearby. You curse. Today was your day-off so you hadn't brought your weapon with you.

"Xavier," you whisper his name in a worried tone. When he doesn't respond, your eyes scan the park for anything that can be used as a weapon. You hear a click, and your body acts fast. You roll off the trail and grab as many stones as you can carry.

"MC?" Xavier calls out for you. You body shoots up and your arm is reared back.

"Where's the Wanderer?" You ask.

"Wanderer?" Xavier shakes his head. "There's no Wanderer." You look around and notice that the park is still as peaceful as when you entered it. You drop the rocks.

"But...why did you tell me to stop walking?" You ask. Xavier pulls out his phone and shows it to you.

"There was a nice breeze that shook the leaves," He says. "And the sun was shining down on you so nicely, I had to take a picture." You look at the photo Xavier took. It looked better than the photo booths one you would take.

"Xavier, this is...wow," He managed to take a photo of you that, despite looking confused, made it seem as though you were posing professionally.

"I'm glad you like it," He smiles. He begins to scroll through his gallery. "I try to take pictures of you whenever we spend time together." His gallery is filled with pictures of you laughing, concentrating while playing kitty cards, and the claw machine and even aftermaths of your Wanderer fights. Xavier was able to catch the perfect moment of when you landed the last blows in those fights. You looked like an action movie star.

"They're so many photos," you say.

"Yeah. You look so good at everything you do. I wanted to make the moments last forever." Xavier says.

You kiss Xavier's cheek. "You dork." You take out your phone and hold it high above your head. You snap a photo of Xavier's warm smile and blushing face. You show it to Xavier.

"Perfect, now I have a wonderful moment to keep forever."