LaDS Men When You Get Catcalled/propositioned On The Street

7-Days of Recovery With You 🍧🌸

SYNOPSIS: After getting injured and blacking out during a battle, you had not other choice but to take a week-long rest at home to recover. Unfortunately, the universe had a different vision for your dedicated rest & relaxation and decided to send in not just one but all five of your "emergency contacts". Oh the joy of being their favorite past time.

🍓 A/N: Hello! First fanfic here on tumblr about our favorite LADS boys (்▿்). I'll be posting daily (if I can make time lol) for this one! Each part will have a different pairing with all the fluff & humor I can squeeze into the fics. Hope you like it!

- p.s: I'll work on tumblr's interface so I can figure out how to add pictures and stuff to make it more interesting~

˚₊·Xavier's Miracle Soup—̳͟͞͞♡

Part 2 (Zayne) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Your week had been more than just the typical stressful encounter. Well, first and foremost, you took a hit. A pretty bad one, to say the least. It just so happened you were out in the field with Xavier, fighting off Wanderers just like any other day. It was supposed to be an easy job, a quick 30-45 minute battle, however you never anticipated to be battling wave after wave of Wanderers.

Now, here you were under bedrest, seeking recovery from your battle, surrounded by a thick blanket and rows and towers of pillows for your own comfort. Ironically, despite all the comfort your own bed has brought to you over the years, nothing could compete to the impending feeling of doom you were feeling at that moment.

Your phone kept buzzing non-stop, one message after the other, not just from one but from all five of your "emergency contacts". For some reason, they thought it was wise to build a groupchat and include you in it, to keep "tabs" on your well-being. Knowing well-enough your house is littered with security cameras from Caleb's recent "house project" and Mephisto being on the 24/7 watch, constantly pecking at your window to check on you and most probably bring "gifts" from Onychinus' one and only leader, Sylus. Not to mention, all five men have access to your current vital signs that directly notify them if it gets too low or too high, all thanks to Zayne's newly-installed and gifted watch, which clings onto your wrist like a second skin.

Grumbling to yourself as you rolled on your bed, shielding your eyes from the light peeking through the curtains, "So much for a relaxing long weekend".

» Flashback: 3 days ago . . . «

"Xavier!" you yelled across the field., "2:00!". Loud shots were fired into the air accompanied with the clanging of metal hitting almost everything in its path. "There's too many," Xavier respons, panting heavily as he wipes off the sweat and dirt off his forehead. "Any ideas?" he asks, slashing his sword through the air as another Wanderer comes too close for its own comfort towards you and Xavier.

You and Xavier had been fighting Wanderers non-stop since early in the morning. What was anticipated to be an easy job for the both of you experienced hunters, became nearly a full-day battle. "Well, making it out alive is one of them," you half-heartedly joked, trying to figure out another way to eliminate at least most of the Wanderers stalking your way. You and Xavier were about to be cornered against a large boulder, with no other exit available for the both of you to make it out alive without leaving the other behind. With quick thinking, Xavier slashed his sword in the air and cut down a nearby tree, crushing the remaining Wanderers that were crawling towards the both of you.

With heavy panting, you let your knees buckle and kneel to the floor, carefully clutching both of your guns to the ground. "What the hell was that?", swiping off all the sweat and grime from your forehead and carefully tucking away hair strands of your now messy ponytail to the side.

"It was more than what we had expected," Xavier holds out a hand and helps you get up. Not even standing at your full height, you felt the pang to your chest, you quickly grasp the skin over your heart to try and ease the pain. You felt the whole world spinning, bits of black blotches decorating your vision, you couldn't help but feel the swaying motions of your entire body, feeling the wave of pain and exhaustion finally crashing into you.

With one last glance at Xavier, you blacked out and felt your body, crash to the floor with only hearing Xavier's worried voice over and over until everything became tuned out.

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

It wasn't long before you regained consciousness and finally woke up from your deep slumber. Quickly looking around the room, familiarity made you realize that Xavier had brought you back home in your apartment. Carefully expecting your body, you could clearly see you were beaten and bruised from head to toe with your body being covered in layers of bandages and band-aids, for the smaller cuts.

"You're awake," a voice finally broke you out of your thoughts. As you lift your gaze up, you felt a soft smile grace your face. It was none other than your one and only partner in crime, Xavier, who was seemingly unscathed from the recent battle, carrying what seems to be a steaming hot bowl of what looks like a multi-colored soup. Well, crap.

"You blacked out, I had to bring you to the nearest hospital. You were out for a long time." Xavier said slowly, walking towards your bed with the soup in his hand, carefully grabbing a nearby chair with his vacant hand and setting himself ontop of it. "You overused your powers today, the association has been informed that we finished the task but, seeing your current condition, they're letting you take a break for a couple of days for you to fully recover".

"What? No, I can't. We still have so much paperworks to deal with. Not to mention the sudden influx of Wanderer activity within neighboring cities of Linkon." Your eyes widden at the thought, trying to slowly get up and fix yourself to a seated position, only to feel a pang of pain that puts your back against the board of your bed with a small thud and a wince of pain that makes you grab your waist in hopes to soothe the pain.

"Exactly my point. I'll handle the rest for the meantime. You need to rest. Captain Jenna has already made plans to assign me with a temporary partner while you rest up. We'll continue the mission from here and I'll update you as much as I can". Xavier, carefully, placing the soup onto the nearby table, gives your hand a small squeeze and a reassuring smile. As he pulls away, his gaze drops to his homemade soup and carefully picks up the bowl and scoops a spoonful of it.

You could feel the dread crawling out of you as Xavier stirs the soup and grabs another handful of the soup onto the spoon. "This is my own homemade recipe. I made it a while ago while you were asleep. It's mixed with all the good stuff I could find in your fridge". Well, double crap! I haven't even cleaned out my fridge for the week.

"That's so sweet of you Xavier, it means a lot but you don't have to feed me. I can handle it on my own." Reassuring Xavier as you carefully try to find a comfortable sitting position on the bed. Also hoping & praying that Xavier wouldn't feed you his bathbomb of a soup. Who knows what the man found and put into his miracle of a soup?

"No, I insist. Open wide," While grabbing both of your cheeks, Xavier quickly grabs the spoon and shoves the content forcefully into your mouth. With no choice but to swallow, you try and close your eyes to somehow pretend you're eating anything but the bathbomb soup.

Trying not to grimace at the recently-swallowed spoonful of bathbomb soup, you gave Xavier a weak smile, "Wow, it's...definitely something".

"I'm glad you like it. I won't leave until you finish all of it. Doctor's orders after all." You could feel your soul ascend and leave your body. How could you possibly finish this whole soup infront of Xavier? Taking in a deep breathe, you playfully twirl the spoon with your fingers as it rotates gently with the soup in the bowl, hoping it would buy you enough time for Xavier to go home and you can dispatch the bathbomb soup.

"Oh and, don't worry about anything else. Everything else is covered. The association said that they informed your four other emergency contacts. So, while I'm not here to take care of you, either of the four will do the job." Xavier smiles sweetly, as he wips out his phone and shows you an email from the association with his email attached to the receiver, along with not just two but four other emails? Why on earth would you have five emergency contacts? It wasn't like you were dying or anything, just beaten and bruised, but you'll definitely heal within a day or two.

"Wow, that's a lot of people but I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll only be gone for a couple of days."

"A week, you'll be gone for a week". Xavier corrected, looking through his phone to double check the email and its content. A whole week? What kind of joke is the universe trying to pull on you now? "Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do then?"

"Well, for starters, you can finish your soup, I'll make up a new batch before I head out so I can give you time to rest". Xavier says, as he pats your head gently and slowly pushes away strands of your bangs to the side. Your eyes could never mistake the longing stare Xavier always does whenever he looks at you, as if worried you would disappear without a trace.

"I'll be fine. Have some faith in me, with your soup, I'll be back to work in no time." You say as you reach out for his hand and give it a tight squeeze and a reassuring smile.

Xavier couldn't help but smile, tidbits of little sparkles floating around him as you both reciprocate the emotion of relief, of being safe away from any worry and danger. "You'll always be my best partner in crime, you know? You've saved me more times than I can count".

"I'll always come to save you as you will always come and find me, no matter where I am". You couldn't help but smile but also wonder, what does Xavier mean by that, that you would always come and find him? Oh well, that's another mystery for another day.

"I think I'll rest up in while".

"Good, I'll make a new batch of soup. They should be arriving at any minute".

They?

And just like that, the universe decided to give you its own vision of rest & relaxation as a loud bang of the door accompanied by numerous voices flowed into your apartment.

"Pipsquek, I'm home! I got here as fast as I could!"

"Truly, we could have taken the elevator at different intervals. I don't think using your gravity evol to force the doors shut was wise".

"Oh doctor, relax. Surely, with your salary, we could pay a handsome fee and make another elevator to fit us".

"Or maybe we just don't visit at the same time? Her apartment's already cramped as is. Can't you find different day-offs or something?

Dear God, help me.

Also I needed some real solars for his trials because he ONLY EVER GIVES ME BONFIRE OR BUNNY

You get gravely injured instead of the LADS boys

with [chubby reader]

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

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

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

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

Xavier:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zayne:

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

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

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

"Zayne?", your voice was very raspy.

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't ever do that again."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rafayel:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rafayel-", he interrupted you quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

Sylus:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stroked your cheek and kissed you softly.

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

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

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

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

Caleb:

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

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

“Caleb, Hi.“ You greeted in confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remember that? Cause I do.“

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

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

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

“Caleb?“

“Yes, pipsqueak?“

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

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

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

Save me Lumiere~

LaDS React to a Reader with a Skin Condition

Request: Anon- Would you be comfortable writing headcanons about how the boys would react to you having skin problems? Like acne and eczema. I get really self conscious about my skin and I just feel like they’d know just what to say.Whether or not you choose to write this thank you for taking the time to read this. I really appreciate all you do, you’re an incredibly talented writer and you’re such a wonderful part of this community. 💕

AN: Hi anon, thanks for requesting! As someone with psoriasis this is close to home. I hope you like this >< evil laughter because I changed the OG reaction order

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

Ingredients: 90% comfort, 10% sulking

My Fav: None. I felt writer's block writing this :(

Caleb:

He’d seen you grow up with psoriasis.

He remembers the way you never let go of your long sleeves. The way your friends’ eyes lingered in the summer, glancing at your covered arms with quiet curiosity. The way your smile would dim when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

Hell, he was the one who held you when you sobbed, terrified before every new school year. The one who sat with you in silence while you rubbed at your sleeves until the fabric thinned.

But he had also seen you change. Watched as long sleeves were traded for shorter ones. Saw how you learned to love your skin through the endless cycle of steroids, topicals, and shots.

Flare-up or not, you were strong. You became more than the spots on your skin. And he was proud.

The person he once comforted no longer needed saving. You had learned to love yourself.

But even now, if you stumbled, if you slipped, he’d still be there. Not because you needed him. But because he never stopped wanting to stand beside you.

And when you catch him watching you, when you raise an eyebrow and say “What?” he just smiles.

"Nothing." He wraps his arms around you, his hands mapping your arms with utmost focus. He watches the way you don’t flinch anymore. The way you let him touch you without hesitation.

"You’re just beautiful."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush. He sees the quiet pleasure in the smile on your lips.

"I mean it." His pulls you closer, against his chest, burying his face in your shoulder.

Zayne:

He held your hands, applying the topical carefully. His fingers moved slowly, brushing over the irritated skin with quiet precision. Your fingers twitched in his grasp, skin red and peeling. It looked painful.

Just a night out had done this. The restaurant soap had reacted poorly.

And now here you both were.

"I'm sorry, Zayne. I was stupid." You whisper, trying to pull your hands back. "I ruined our plans."

His grip tightens slightly, keeping you from slipping away. His breath steadies as he rests his forehead against yours. Warm. Soft. Familiar.

"You have nothing to apologize for." His arms circle around you, pulling you carefully into his lap. His hand slides to your wrist, thumb brushing over the curve of your pulse.

He blows gently over the drying cream on your skin. His breath ghosts over your fingers, the warmth easing the sting.

"I prefer this." His lips brush your temple. "How else do I get to hold you like this?"

Your breath hitches. His mouth curves faintly against your cheek.

"And kiss you however much I want?"

You laugh weakly. "You’re ridiculous."

"Probably." His lips trail down the side of your face, soft and deliberate. His touch light and careful as he smooths over the cream.

"But you think too much." His forehead presses against yours. "You didn’t ruin anything."

"Zayne, it was your time off in so long, and we-"

His fingers lace between yours. His thumb strokes along your palm, calm, steady. "I’d rather be here with you, holding you, than anywhere else."

You close your eyes, breath slowing beneath the weight of him.

"So stop apologizing." His voice drops to a whisper. His mouth hovers over yours. "You’re already giving me exactly what I want."

Rafayel:

He finds you crouched in the closet. Crying. Clothes scattered around you in every direction.

"I look awful." You look at him tearfully. "Everything looks terrible with the breakout. I can't go to your exhibition, Rafayel."

Your face crumples, eyes red and swollen. Your period isn’t helping, it makes you even more susceptible to unwarranted emotional breakdowns every passing hour. You bury your face in a dress and sob like a kicked puppy.

Rafayel stands there for a second, his brow furrowing. Then he sighs and sinks down beside you, his knees brushing against yours.

His hands rise to your face, caressing your cheek with care. "My bodyguard always looks the most beautiful." He tilts your chin to kiss the tears away.

"Don't kiss me, I feel gross." You try to pull away. "And look at all this acne. How can you even...?"

"I'm not kissing the acne." Rafayel smiles faintly. His eyes soften as he takes in the sight in front of him. "I'm kissing you, you dummy."

"And right now?" His grin sharpens as he leans back slightly. "You look adorable."

"I can’t go to the exhibit, Rafayel." You whine annoyed by the sound of your own voice as overstimulation crowed your senses.

"Good." His voice is lazy, his arms sliding beneath your legs. Without warning, he lifts you effortlessly, adjusting you against his chest like you weigh nothing.

"Rafayel this is ridiculous." You bury your face in his chest.

"Shhh." He silences your protests with a peck to your lips. His arms tighten around you, carrying you toward the bed.

"You know how much I hate those things." His tone is light, but his hand slips beneath the curve of your knee, holding you securely. His mouth skims the side of your temple. "Honestly, you just gave me the best excuse to skip."

"But..."

"Nope." He sets you down on the bed, brushing your hair back from your face. "We’re staying in."

He slides in beside you, one arm looping beneath your shoulders. His hand splays low across your back, pulling you closer.

"If you feel awful, the least you can do is suffer with me." His mouth tilts against your temple. "And if you think this breakout makes you less beautiful, I guess I’m going to have to kiss you until you figure out how wrong you are."

"Starting now." He pulls you into an onslaught of kisses.

Sylus:

You drag another air purifier into the room, sneezing hard enough to make your head spin.

"God, this sucks." You flop onto the floor between the circle of purifiers, rubbing at the irritated skin of your neck. "How did natural selection fail this badly?"

Your breath hitches, throat burning. You close your eyes. Maybe if you just stay here, the purifiers will summon clean air or a new respiratory system.

That’s when you feel him.

"Did I interrupt your ritual, darling?"

You crack an eye open. Sylus stands above you, arms crossed, looking thoroughly amused.

"This is serious." You sniff, voice wrecked.

"Sure it is." He crouches down, invading your circle of air purifiers. "Should I sacrifice a goat or something?"

"You could bring me a tissue."

Sylus grins. "Or…" His hands slip beneath your arms, lifting you effortlessly. "I could just kidnap you and nurse you back to health myself."

"Sylus, what are you...?"

Without a word, he drops you onto the couch, pressing his hand against your forehead. His eyes narrow. "Hm. You might not survive the night."

"Stop it,"

"I’ll have to keep you in bed." His mouth curves wickedly. "For observation."

"Sylus!" You protest, trying to get up.

"No talking. Doctor’s orders."

His lips press against your burning cheek. His hand slides through your hair, nuzzling into you. His smile softens at the sound of your stuffy breath.

"Just relax." His voice lowers. "I’ve got you."

Xavier:

"You don’t have to stay." You reason trying to get your boyfriend out of your misery cave. "You’re tired. You’ve been running around all day."

"So?" His voice is quiet.

You glance at him through swollen eyes. Your skin is blotchy from the allergic reaction, red patches climbing up your neck and across your cheeks. You feel gross.

"So you don’t have to deal with this."

Xavier sinks down onto the floor beside you, resting his head on the bed where you lay draped. His gaze drops to the irritated skin on your throat.

"I’m not here because I have to." His hand lifts, hesitates, then curls gently around your hand. His thumb traces the tender skin of your palm.

"You look uncomfortable." You wince, voice thin.

"Yeah. I am." His smile is faint, almost fragile. "Because I hate seeing you like this."

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.

"Not because of how you look." His hand rises to your neck, cupping it carefully. His thumb brushes over a reddened patch of skin. His eyes darken. "Because I hate not knowing how to make it better."

"It’s just allergies."

"I know." His breath steadies. His eyes soften. "But I still wish I could fix it."

"You’re not going to scare me off." His voice drops lower. "You don’t have to look perfect for me to stay."

"But I feel—"

"I know." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. His breath catches as your gaze meets his. "Stay with me anyway."

uhh, dazai loses his ability for a day so he can pet the big cat <3

fiction | xavier

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe a particularly poetic hallucination.

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

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

Of course, that snapped him right out of it.

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

Stoic. Controlled. Maybe a little embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

So, marriage. Sure. Why not.

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

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

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

Great. Now you had to marry that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tried being the keyword.

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

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

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

Romance was off to a fantastic start.

—•

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

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

You could practically hear the wedding bells in their eyes.

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

He didn’t seem flustered at all.

Meanwhile, you were trying to remember how breathing worked.

The air outside was cooler, quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smooth.

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

“You’re nothing like I imagined.”

That time, you actually choked.

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier didn’t answer right away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That caught you off guard. “You read?”

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

“Wow. Multitalented and humble.”

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

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

Just like the quiet warmth growing in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

—•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, your brain had other plans.

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

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

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

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

You were engaged. To that.

And worse—you liked it.

—•

The first date was… heartwarming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told them we’d be fine at a café.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m with UNICORNS,” he said simply.

You blinked. “UNICORNS?”

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly choked on your steak.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

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

Of course he was a secret agent. Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re worth the risk.

Nope. Still devastating.

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

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

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

Measured.

Like he was actually listening. Really listening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly tripped on the gravel. “Mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Terrified,” you muttered under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still.

He was sitting very close.

Not touching you, technically.

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

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

Steady. Quiet. Very hard to ignore.

You might’ve leaned slightly away from him.

And then just as quickly, leaned back.

No use pretending now. You were officially doomed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I was.”

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

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

—•

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

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

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

You threw a pillow at her.

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

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

“Apparently, your absurdly attractive secret agent fiancé.”

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

“Yes?”

“I think I’m doomed.”

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

You let out a muffled scream into your blanket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mocked me.”

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

You narrowed your eyes. “Shaiya.”

“Yes, Mrs. Secret Agent?”

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

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

“I knew you’d cave.”

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

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

You were so in trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

Mini-yous and secret agents.

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

This was getting out of hand.

—•

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

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

It was awkward at first.

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

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

Meanwhile, you were trying not to combust.

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

Like this mattered to him.

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

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

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

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

Your brain short-circuited. Your stylist cooed.

And you?

You forgot how to breathe for about seven seconds.

This wedding might just kill you.

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

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

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

You blinked, thrown for a moment.

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

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

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

Your heart betrayed you again with an uneven thump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No teasing. No smug follow-up.

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

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

Yep. You were so doomed.

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

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

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

You felt powerful. Gorgeous. Slightly dangerous.

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

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

You shifted on your feet. “Too much?”

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

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

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

Either way, you were spiraling.

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

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

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

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

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

Your wedding dress.

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

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

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

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

Yep.

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

—•

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

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

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

And Xavier—of course—found you there.

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

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

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

And then, you exhaled. “You nervous?”

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

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

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Good? That’s it?”

He turned fully toward you, his voice lower now.

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

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

“It is kind of heavy,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poised. Steady.

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

Toward you.

He wasn’t smiling—not quite.

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

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

The music began.

Your hands tightened on the bouquet.

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

And the doors slowly opened.

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

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

Xavier.

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

The pressure in your chest eased, just slightly.

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

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

But his eyes—his eyes said everything.

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

A quiet certainty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t smile—he softened. Completely.

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

You weren’t nervous anymore.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

So I received this ask from anon:

I have recently had a very uncomfortable experience...I am a uni student and have to travel via train sometimes. I was in my seat, wearing headphones, and I could see in the reflection of a window that there were 3 guys looking at me and one of them was all spread out touching himself. Later, that man came to sit next to me and tried to talk to me or get me to look at him. I was just ignoring him, and staring into my phone and pretending not to hear him since I had headphones over my ears, but I could hear them talking about me. They kept daring each other to touch my hair and stuff like that.

Later when we had to get up to get off the train, they walked up to me and kept "brushing" theirs hands "accidentally" against me.

Thankfully nothing happened because they lost me in the crowd once I got out of the train but I was super scared they would follow me

I am so so so sorry you had to experience that. My heart was breaking as I read your ask🥺 I know exactly how that feels, to be completely helpless in those situations. I hope you stay safe always and be sure to always travel with a companion next time🥹

Here is the request for the LADS boys reacting to the events/finding out what happened to you.

You tell them what happened—the train, the way you were stared at, touched, followed. Your voice shakes by the end of it, even if you’re trying to keep it steady.

You didn’t want to make it a big deal. You just needed someone to know:

Zayne

He doesn’t speak at first.

But you see it—the shift. The stillness. Like something inside him tightens, coils too tightly to breathe. His face remains calm, but his eyes say everything. Fury, quiet and buried, held back by habit. By choice.

“They touched you?”

His voice is soft. Too soft. Like he’s trying not to believe it.

You nod.

He inhales slowly, jaw flexing as he exhales through his nose. Then his hand scrubs over his face, once, grounding himself. “Did you report it?”

You shake your head. “No. I was scared. I just… I just wanted to leave.”

His gaze flickers toward the floor, then back to you. “You did what you had to do. I’m not angry at you.”

He hesitates. Then quietly adds, “I hate that I wasn’t there. That you had to face that alone.”

You glance away, and he steps in closer. Not fast. Not overwhelming. Just enough to rest his hand gently on your arm, the warmth of his skin an anchor.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “tell me. Call me. Text me. Anything.”

His voice lowers, thick with the words he struggles to say aloud. “You matter to me more than you think. Don’t go through something like that alone again.”

Later that night, he doesn’t leave your side. He lets you sleep curled against him, one arm around your waist, the other brushing soft strokes through your hair. And every time you shift in your sleep, he murmurs something under his breath.

“You’re safe now.”

“I’m here.”

“They’ll never get near you again.”

The next morning, he drives you to campus.

Kisses your forehead before you get out of the car.

Then heads to the hospital.

It’s a quiet day, until three men are wheeled into the ER. Minor injuries. Nothing urgent. But Zayne hears them laughing. Whispering. Mentioning a girl.

The words catch his ear.

Train. Girl. Scared.

He stills. Completely.

He doesn’t ask questions.

He reads the chart, notes the names.

And when the others step out, Zayne lingers behind. Alone.

What happens next isn’t in the textbooks. It isn’t written into the Hippocratic oath. But he’s a surgeon—he knows exactly where it hurts. Where to press. Where to leave no trace.

Later, when a nurse asks why all three patients discharged themselves early and limped out without a word, Zayne simply nods and goes back to work.

He never mentions it to you.

He just holds your hand a little tighter the next time you walk through the city.

Sylus

There’s a pause.

Not hesitation—calculation.

A flicker in Sylus’s crimson eyes as he scans every word, every tremble in your voice, cataloging and analyzing it with terrifying precision.

You can almost hear the gears turning. Quiet. Lethal.

“Did you get a good look at them?” he asks. The question is sharp, deceptively calm.

You shake your head, voice small. “No. Just… their voices. One of them was touching himself. Then he sat beside me. Tried to talk to me. They were laughing. Daring each other to touch my hair.”

Sylus doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

But his jaw sets, ever so slightly. A muscle ticks in his cheek.

“Scum like that,” he says, voice low, “always think they’re untouchable. Like the world won’t notice when they disappear.”

He doesn’t pace. Doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to. His fury manifests in stillness—in the way his fingers lace together too tightly, in the frigid control of his tone.

“You’re not taking the train again. Ever.”

“That’s not—Sylus, it’s not realistic—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

His voice slices through your protest like a knife. “I’ll walk with you. Drive you. Put a goddamn tracker on your coat if I have to. But you’re not going near that station alone again. Next time, they won’t even get close enough to breathe near you.”

Silence. Then something shifts in his eyes as they flicker down to your clenched fists.

His tone softens—but only slightly. “I know you were scared. And I hate that they made you feel powerless.”

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your hand. Careful. Controlled.

“But you’re not small. And no one gets to make you feel that way. Not under my watch.”

You nod, and he pulls away.

“Luke. Kieran,” he calls out, without raising his voice. His eyes stay on you. “Get her home. Stay with her.”

Mephisto swoops in and lands on the back of his chair, watching in silence as Sylus stands.

He doesn’t bother turning. “You were tailing her. Track them down.”

His voice is low. Icy.

And Mephisto launches into the air with a mechanical screech that echoes like the end of a countdown.

Within minutes, they bring them to him.

Three men. Faces bloodied, defiant—until they meet his eyes.

There is no grand speech. No threat.

Only Sylus, standing over them like death incarnate, sleeves rolled up, gaze as sharp as a blade.

He leans in, smile cruel and quiet. “Let’s see how untouchable you feel now.”

By the time he’s done, they can’t so much as whisper your name.

And Sylus?

He wipes the blood from his hands with surgical precision. Straightens his coat. And walks out without looking back.

You never hear their voices again.

Rafayel

He goes very still.

The kind of stillness that unsettles the air, that draws the light out of the room without a sound. His expression—usually teasing, theatrical, bold—shifts.

Not into anger. Not yet. It becomes unreadable.

Cold in a way that doesn’t suit his fire.

“They touched you?”

The words fall low, sharp. Stripped of all his usual lilt. Dead serious. Dangerous.

You nod.

His hands curl at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The crackle of heat that usually dances around him is absent. It’s quiet. Controlled. But the restraint is louder than any fury.

“Give me their names,” he says. “Or their faces. I don’t need both.”

You shake your head. Quiet. “I don’t want revenge… I just wanted to feel safe again. That’s all. Just… stay.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Not disappointment—never that. But something else. Like the desire to burn the world colliding with the aching need to be what you asked for.

He exhales through his nose. Shoulders relax just enough for him to step in.

Then his arms are around you, pulling you in, holding you so tightly you feel real again. His warmth wraps around you, not scorching—just steady, grounding. Like embers at your back.

“Then that’s what I’ll be,” he murmurs into your hair. “Your safe place.”

A beat.

“But if they so much as breathe your way again,” he adds, voice quieter, crueler, “I won’t be as merciful.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingers there. “You did nothing wrong, love. You hear me? I’m proud of you. And I’m so, so glad you’re here.”

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper, “I was scared.”

He tucks you closer to his chest, hand cradling the back of your head.

“I know, cutie. I know.” His voice softens like dusk, like waves kissing ash. “It’s over now. You’re with me.”

You fall asleep in his arms, safe in the heat of him.

And later—when the moon is high and your breathing is steady—he slips away. Silent. Focused.

CCTV footage. Street cameras. Reflections in windows. It doesn’t take long. He’s always been good at finding the shadows people try to hide in.

By dawn, three men are reported missing.

One is found knee-deep in a freezing river, babbling about glowing eyes and a voice that promised worse.

The others? Well.

Let’s just say they won’t be going near open water again.

And Rafayel?

He returns before you wake. Washes the blood off his hands.

And makes you tea.

Xavier

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then goes still—completely still.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. You can see it in his eyes—the disbelief, the horror. Like something in him can’t reconcile the image of you—you—with the violation you just described.

“They were… watching you?” he repeats, slowly. “And they touched you?”

You nod.

Xavier’s breath hitches, his hand tightening ever so slightly at his side. He looks shaken—not by fear, but by the weight of helplessness. His voice comes quiet, almost broken.

“I—I don’t understand… how anyone could think that’s okay. How they could look at you and—”

He stops himself. His jaw clenches. It’s subtle, but telling. Xavier rarely shows this much emotion all at once. You see the storm gathering behind his calm.

Then, with careful control, he steps closer. His hand reaches for yours, warm and trembling faintly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That you were scared. That they made you feel small.”

He swallows. “You should never have had to feel that way. Not for a second.”

His eyes lift to yours, and they’re unwavering now. That quiet strength he carries, the kind most people miss—it sharpens into something else. Resolve.

“I wish I had been there,” he says softly. “Because I would’ve stopped them. I would’ve made sure they never looked at you again.”

Then, quieter—like a vow spoken into the space between heartbeats—

“You won’t ever be alone again. Not if I can help it.”

He holds you that night, as long as you’ll let him. A steady presence. A silent promise.

But when you’re asleep—peaceful at last—Xavier slips away. Quietly. Deliberately.

He tracks them down. It doesn’t take much.

He already had access to security feeds, transport records, street cameras.

He watches the footage once, then again, jaw tightening.

Then he finds them.

And Xavier doesn’t scream. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t need to.

All he says, in that low, even voice of his, is:

“You made her afraid. That was your first mistake. I won’t give you time to make a second.”

They don’t know what hit them.

And the next time you take that train, no one dares come close.

No one even looks at you the wrong way.

Not with Xavier walking beside you—quiet, composed, protective as ever.

But now, there’s something different in the way people step aside when he passes.

Something cold.

Something earned.

Late night talks with Sylus

I talked about it on X but I still can't stop thinking about late night talks with Sylus.

Having night talks and after movie talks with Sylus would be so interesting and stimulating. A live-changing experience really. Especially after watching a psychological/thriller films or a documentary on heavy topics.

Like I NEED to know how his brain works and what his opinions are on almost anything. Like as much as I find it funny and cute how he pesters MC sometimes with randow philosophical and deep thoughts and his smart mouth, while playing it cool, it activates some triggers in my head. And it makes me want to know more and hear more. Like give me all that thousands of years wisdom and knowledge so I can enhance my understanding of the world and its mysteries.

And he might quote books or poetry he had read or even maybe arts he's seen like concert or an art exhibition. And this sounds SO HOT to me. He looks, seems, and sounds so knowledgable. Have a man like that by your side, and you'll see the world in ways you've never even deemed possible.

I love when people speak their minds and give their opinion on things even if I don't agree, because it helps me understand other perspectives that I might have missed or not taken in consideration. And as much as I don’t like confrontation, I would LOVE to disagree with his ass or take the conversation even further just to see how much he think things through (and I know he thinks a LOT and he knows a lot, and his brain and thinking is so HOT to me)

And he speaks several LANGAGES TOO AODJDJJFF I NEED HIM

Dance With Me - Xavier

You can feel the breeze rushing through the trees you hear overhead as their leaves rustle. The wind plays with the hem of your skirt, making it flutter around your legs. The gauzy material feels like a feather as it brushes against your legs.

"Where are we going, Xavier?" You ask as he leads you further into the woods. "You'll see, just trust me." He responds, squeezing your hand. You do trust him, Xavier would never lead you to harm. Of that, you are absolutely certain. But you can't deny that curiosity burning in you.

A week ago, Xavier had asked you to clear your day for the 14th. He wanted to take you somewhere. He'd also requested you wear the white dress with thin straps and the silver star pattern sweeping up the skirt. You paired the dress with white flats and left your hair down.

"How much further?" You asked, becoming increasingly antsy about where he was taking you. "We're almost there, promise." He answered as he grabbed your other hand. "Step up now." He said, guiding you onto a hard surface. Guessing that it had been a rock when he guided you to step down again right after.

The breeze blowing seemed more free here. The space felt bigger. A few more steps, and he stopped and let go of both hands and moved away. "Xavier?" You call holding your hands out in front, trying to search for him. Walking carefully so as no to tripnor stumbled.

Your hand came into contact with something warm, and you smiled in relief. Feeling the slow, steady beat of Xavier's heart. His hand curled over the top of yours. His fingers brushed your cheek as he carefully slid the blindfold off.

You blinked several times as your eyes adjusted to the light. Several orbs of light were floating around you, just suspended in air. Looking up, you saw that they had completely set and the stars were shining brightly, scattered across the sky without competition.

"Oh wow." You said in awe, looking around. A large checkered blanket had been laid out on the grass, and a wicker basket was set on one of the corners.

"You told me that you'd always wanted to picnic under the stars, so what do you think." He said, gesturing to his spread. He handed you a bouquet of red, purple, and burgundy roses. They were the largest blooms you had ever seen. "Happy Valentiens Day." He said softly, watching you intently.

"Oh, Xavier, these are beautiful!" You say after finding your voice. You hold the flowers in one hand and reach up to kiss him. Placing your free hand on his face as you do. He wraps his arms around your waist and bends down to you.

"I got your favorite foods. I did try to make something myself, but..". He trails off, scratching the side of his head. You laugh, knowing he was absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. He did much better when you cooked together, but on his own... You just couldn't understand where he was going wrong.

"It's ok." You say smiling up at him. His sheepish expression is just too cute. "I love you, not your cooking skills." He smiles softly, a faint pink on his cheeks and ears.

Xavier unpacks the basket and pours you a glass of wine. Sitting down next to him, you snack on the food, watching him quietly. He seems to be thinking about something.

"Did you know we're supposed yo have a meteor shower tonight?" He asks, showing you his phone screen. You glance down at the article he had been reading. "Wow, I wonder if we're in a good spot to see it." You say and go yo grab a cherry as Xavier is also reaching for one. Your fingers touch. Instead of grabbing one, Xavier laces his finger with yours.

You grab a cherry with your free hand and press it to his lips. He stared at you as he bites it. Your faces heats up from his intense eye contact. You blink and look away flustered.

"No fair." You mutter and hear him laugh softly. You never should have told him you loved his gaze and how deep his eyes were. He used the knowledge on you every opportunity.

He pulls out a portable radio from the basket and starts fiddling with it, seemingly trying to find a station signal.

A few minutes later and a voice comes out. "... and now, for all you valentine lovers out there on this special day, we bring you this next song." You recognize the opening notes of an old song that was popular about fifteen years ago.

Xavier stands up and offers you his hand as Adele's voice starts singing. "Dance with me." You smile and take his hand.

He brings you in close, holding you tightly against his body as he begins swaying with you slowly. The moon shines down on you brightly.

You press your ear against his chest, listening to his faster than normal heartbeat and close your eyes. The feeling of home was over you. Adele's sweet voice is in the background as her song draws to a close.

Even after the song is over, Xavier continues holding you as you slowly move about the clearing.

A while later, he's getting your attention and telling you to look up. Bright flicks of light are blinking across the sky one after another. Just a few at first and then dozens.

"Wow, how pretty." You reach a hand out as if to try and touch them. Leaning back into Xavier's arms, you watch the lights fly across the sky, thinking that there is no place in the galaxy you'd rather be than right here with Xavier right by your side.

****************************************************

Yes, I was listening to Adele while I wrote this. Guilty.

I know what you might be thinking. Why didn't I post Xavier's story yesterday? The answer is simple! I had a hard time writing his story and have myself an extra day! Hence why I posted the first one on the 9th.

I prolly wrote and rewrote this one seven times.

I love Xavier. But he is SO HARD for me to write without him being completely OOC! 😫

I did try really hard, I hope you love it!!