My Child — My Light

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

⭐️ silent cry

✦ pairing: xavier / gn!reader

✦ genre: hurt to comfort

✦ warnings: probably badly written breakdown, feeling of emptiness and loneliness

✦ word count: 1.6k words

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ: there was never no need to hide your tears and feelings behind a fake smile. not when he was always there for you

⋆˙ ✦ note: as a huge stay and a silent cry lover, i couldn’t help myself but write this. this was probably the most fun i had while writing, though adding the lyrics into the story was harder than anticipated. stan stray kids y’all!! not proofread!

you had never been one to burden others with your feelings. perhaps it was that loud voice in your mind that kept on shouting to not annoy others around you, or just the fact that concerning people close to you filled you with guilt. you’ve always been told you were strong, and strong people don’t cry, right?

oh, how wrong everyone was. nobody knew that behind the smile you wore, behind every “i’m okay” you uttered, your poor heart was sobbing loudly. you dared not to show your vulnerability to anyone, not even the ones you considered friends, or even family. to be seen as disappointment was burdening your chest like an anvil.

that happy mask you always wore, simply to make others happy, seemed to shatter the moment you stepped foot in your dark room. the mental heaviness of your body and thoughts left you only sighing into the darkness, your frame harshly hitting the mattress. there was no joy in your eyes. you, who used to smile brightly, felt like you were slowly dying.

no one knew, yet a part of you felt glad. they didn’t deserve to be burdened by your troubles. even if no other person was there to listen to your nightly sobs and cries, you had made peace with that. for all you know, it was meant to be this way.

so there you were. in your room, dimly lit with the light radiating from your desk lamp, silently bawling your eyes out. your head laid on the pillow, the material of the sheet stained by the salty droplets of your tears. you weren’t aware of how long you had been crying, or why you even felt like it. it just happened, and there was no way to stop it. no matter how hard you tried, how much you tried to hold the tears in, it only made you cry more and harder.

your eyes burned, head was throbbing like it was repeatedly hit by a hard piece of metal. you could barely see the outlines of the furniture with how blurry your eyesight was. you wish you could just turn it off, to never feel again. or… to have someone you could cry to. but there wasn’t a person like that.

no one knew how you felt. at least, that was what you thought. one person knew all too well.

xavier was painfully aware of the pain in your eyes. the exhaustion behind your every smile. you were like a body without a soul, your gaze dull and almost empty. he wasn’t someone to notice other people’s feelings, moreover, he didn’t particularly care about the others.

but you weren’t just other person for him. you were special. he wanted to be your support, the shoulder to cry on. he was willing to be of help to you, no matter what would make you happy. truly happy.

yet you never approached him, and xavier couldn’t understand why. wouldn’t it be easier for you to let go of everything you held in? he would listen to your silent cry, that much was something he made clear to himself. your happiness was the most important thing to him, so why wasn’t it yours?

he was standing by your door, trying to listen to any sound coming from behind them. but your apartment was eerily quiet, as if you weren’t even there. but he knew better. he knew you were inside, suffering on your own.

as you laid on your bed, aggressively wiping the uncontrollable tears flowing down your cheeks, a knock erupted through the space of your abode. in panic, you jumped up, running to the bathroom to look at yourself.

the sight wasn’t pretty, it was anything but. your eyes were red, your hair a mess and face fully wet from tears. just the sight of yourself made you tear up even more. you bowed your head down, splashing handfuls of ice cold water on your face.

once you dried your face, you stumbled toward the door, possibly knocking something in the process. your hand made contact with the handle, and with a last deep breath, you swung the door open to reveal xavier.

“xavier! what are you doing here?” you mustered up the energy to smile brightly, hoping he would look over the red rim around your eyes.

you glanced down to notice a small box in his hand, and you immediately knew it were the macarons you liked the most. it was the packaging of it that gave away the content, and it made your heart flutter with genuine joy. even though it was a sparkle, it was enough.

“can i come in?” xavier asked with his usual calm tone.

the question surprised you, but you let him in anyway. with how dark your apartment was, his step to your room was careful, mindful of his surroundings. you quietly followed behind him, silently wishing he would explain his visit.

once you stood by your bed, xavier placed the box on the nightstand, right under the lit lamp before facing you. that was when you noticed the knot in between his eyebrows, not very far from a frown.

before you could say anything, his hand grabbed onto yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. your gaze fell down to your intertwined hands, then back at him. your eyes were round in surprise, and you barely bit back a gasp that threatened to fall from your mouth.

“why are you smiling when you don’t feel like it?” he whispered quietly, his free hand going up to cup your cheek.

he could feel the dried pathways of your tears beneath his palm. the cold water that you splashed your face with earlier didn’t get rid of the evidence of your tears fully, as it appeared. the pad of his thumb grazed ever so gently against your skin, drawing soothing circles over your cheekbone.

“what are you talking about? i’m okay,” you lied with a smile, though you could feel the tears prickling behind your eyelids.

“you always say that, but i can see how your heart sobs,” xavier’s voice was but a mere whisper as he drew you closer.

the forced smile began slowly faltering from your lips, and it was soon replaced by a quiver. without even realizing, a sob rippled through you, making it hard for you to hide your tears. one by one, like pearls falling from a torn necklace, tear droplets ran down your face. you couldn’t continue pretending to be alright, not when xavier was around.

a wave of relief washed over the man standing in front of you. he smiled softly as he engulfed you in a warm embrace, letting your tears stain his sweater. he didn’t mind. at least you weren’t alone in this, you had him now.

“don’t be the only one hurting,” he murmured into the crown of your head, earning a choked cry as a reply.

you tried to muster up a response, but nothing more than a sob came out. xavier shushed you gently, wordlessly saying that words weren’t needed.

careful with his movements, he settled on your bed. back leaning against the headboard, his arms reached out to pull you down on his lap. you had no energy to fight against it, in fact, you didn’t even want to. his warmth was soothing, and somehow nostalgic.

xavier’s arms held you tightly, like you’d slip away from his grasp if he let go. you cried and cried, body trembling and tears falling. loud sobs and pained whimpers filled the room, the dark place of all your deep sorrows.

even in his arms, it still hurt. why did it all have to hurt so much? and what was it that hurt? you weren’t even sure anymore. you couldn’t even tell if you had a reason to cry at all. it all felt useless, and utterly pointless. it felt unfair that xavier had to deal with your feelings, wrong even. you should push him away, right? you were a deepspace hunter, his partner. you were meant to be strong…right?

just as you were about to pull away, still crying heavily, you felt xavier’s slender fingers on the back of your head, gently pushing your head onto his chest.

“lean on me. i won’t let you go,” he whispered close to your ear, his lips brushing against your temple as he planted a gentle kiss on it.

xavier sat there with you, not uttering a sound as you let every tear out. his left hand gently caressed your hair, untangling the knots with a gentle touch, while the other drew soothing patterns on your back. his sweater was pretty much soaked by the time you were done, but he couldn’t care less. his favorite piece of clothing meant nothing compared to your happiness.

“thank you,” you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse and almost gone.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he shook his head, looking into your still teary eyes. “i’ll listen to your silent cry. always.”

his lips touched your forehead, calloused hands cupping your cheeks. he softly brushed the tear trails away, keeping his gaze on you. his touch was gentle, comforting. this man, the one who killed wanderers without mercy, treated you with upmost love and care. as if every crevice of your body was made of the most fragile glass.

“when you lose strength, i’ll hold you. i’ll say ‘it’s okay’ to you. just don’t cry alone, not when i’m here. not when i’m near,” xavier said in a quiet tone, leaning your head down to let you rest on his shoulder.

the heat of his body completely relaxed your muscles, putting your mind at ease. his chest slowly rose and fell as he breathed calmly, lulling you to sleep. your eyes began to close, and within a moment, you were asleep.

xavier didn’t leave your side, he wouldn’t dare. he stayed with you the whole night, occasionally waking up from his slumber to make sure you were sound asleep. as much as he valued his sleep, he valued you more.

he loved you more than anything.

© xaviers-star-tassel

are you hearing things? certainly, an intruder didn’t break into your house just to clean up the mess you’d left behind this morning and cook your favorite dish, did they? no…unless this intruder was really, really nice and somehow knew you inside out.

but then it hits you.

caleb.

that's the only thought in your head as you rush over to the kitchen, stopping in the middle as you see your husband in a fucking apron, cutting up vegetables on the kitchen counter.

he looks up as soon as he hears your footsteps stop, a big, satisfied smirk on his face. yet despite the smugness, his expression is tender, displaying a love that makes your chest tighten with familiarity. before either of you can say a word, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and immediately melt into his touch.

he's warm, and most of all, real. in your arms. no words are said—they're not even needed as he returns your embrace, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing you to him like a long-lost piece of himself finally returned. you sink into the quiet gravity of his hold, the space between you dissolving as you breathe in each other's presence. time feels like it's folding in on itself—only the steady rise and fall of his breath tethering you to the moment, to him, to home.

you decide to break the silence, your hands gripping tighter on his clothes, voice muffled by your face in the crook of his neck. "caleb. you’re early. you’re- you're here." the words are slightly cracked, tinted with a quiet desperation and disbelief that has your heart pounding in your chest, still processing what was happening.

caleb only holds you closer, his voice thick with similar emotions. "'course i am, honey. wouldn't trade this for the world." he presses a soft kiss to your head, his hands gently running down your sides and stopping at your waist. he pulls away to look you in the eyes, his gaze filled with something so soft you could almost feel it in your hands. "the expedition ended early. i got home as soon as i could to surprise you."

your eyes drift up and down his face, his neck, any piece of him available to you—you drink it in, relishing in the man before you like a traveler would an oasis in the desert. you swallow, throat thick with longing as you struggle to say another full sentence.

but it doesn't matter, not when he knows exactly what you want to say. your emotions are written on your face, woven into every action, and even without words, caleb can feel it in the space between you, his heart long since in tune with yours.

taking a deep breath, you manage to speak, sniffling. "i was- i was counting down the days. i thought you wouldn't be home for at least a few more weeks-"

caleb only grins softly, tenderly slipping his hand beneath your shirt to feel your skin on his. "you know me, honey. i can't just stay away from you." he punctuates his words with a soft caress up your back, tracing your spine and sending a shiver through your body. it grounds you, his actions and affections so familiar and yet so unreal in the moment.

a small laugh manages to bubble from your lips, relieved and stupefied. you pull him in again, feeling his heartbeat against yours. he's here. all of him.

and suddenly, the exhaustion of the past few weeks, the impatience, the longing, the loneliness—it all fades away, and you're left with something that is so unmistakably home, because you're in his arms.

he lets out a relieved sigh of his own, chuckling slightly and shifting his body to better accommodate yours. in doing so, you're pulled away from him just slightly, the glint of something floating in the air catching your eye. your brows furrow together as the object catches your interest, peeking out at it from above caleb's arms.

a knife.

a floating knife.

you blink. your mind is still catching up with everything, but the sight of a knife hovering a few steps away from you—completely still, suspended in midair—pulls you out of your processing period. your brows furrow even further, your head stiffly moving to look up at your husband.

"caleb...?" as of that moment, his tender gaze had turned into a suppressed grin, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you knew so well. his hands squeeze your sides, voice teasing and lilted. "'sup, honeybunch? still need proof it's really me?"

your eyes flick between the knife and him, your voice slow and hesitant. "caleb, why is there a knife next to us right now?"

he laughs, and it's a warm sound that dissipates any tension in your body, a small smile pulling up at your lips despite the confusion. he leans in with a smirk, shrugging and ruffling your hair as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. "i don't know baby, you were pretty eager to get me in your arms. didn't stop to think twice that i was cutting up some veggies."

your face flushes as you process that he had only used his evol to move the knife he was holding away from the both of you. "...oh," is all you manage to squeak out as he laughs again, gently tugging on your hair to tilt your head upwards and to land a kiss on your forehead.

caleb smirks, his own gaze flickering between the knife and you, "someone had to make sure you didn’t end up with a gash on your hand while trying to tackle me."

you shake your head, still smiling and now slightly flushed due to his actions. "sorry, it was all just..." he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, grinning at the cute sight of your face. "there's no need for an apology, honey. i'm just doing my job as your husband."

he steps forward, the knife gently floating back down onto the counter with a soft clink as he places his hand beneath your chin. "our kitchen is quite the dangerous place, you know."

the playful edge in his voice and the cheeky grin on his face make you laugh, a soft, breathless sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. you shake your head, amusement dancing in your eyes as you finally take in your surroundings—the seasoned chicken resting in the bowl, the steam curling from the bubbling pot of your favorite broth on the stove, and most of all, the warm, inviting scent of home.

it isn't just the food or the careful way he’s prepared everything for you. it’s him, standing there, grounding you in a moment that feels almost too good to be real. the weight of missing him lingers faintly in your chest, but it’s lightened by the fact that, for the first time in weeks, he’s here.

caleb's eyes wash over you with amusement, his head tilting as his thumb caresses your cheek before gently pressing into your skin, affectionately squeezing your face. "you okay there, pips? looks like you're about to start crying over dinner."

his teasing lingers for only a second before something shifts. his touch, once playful, turns softer—more deliberate. his hands come up to cradle your face fully, his warmth seeping into your skin. it's only then that you realize why his expression has changed.

you were crying.

warm, salty tears are trickling down your face as you try to deny your current state, your lips trembling as you let out a shaky laugh. "ah, i’m-," you start off, but the crack in your voice betrays you. you sniffle, swiping at your face, affection and frustration mixing in your expression. "it’s not-”

but caleb just smiles, thumbs brushing away the tears before they can fall any further. "i know," he murmurs, voice as warm as his touch. "i know, baby."

caleb doesn’t say anything else—he doesn’t need to. instead, he pulls you in, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, letting them linger there for a few precious moments. his touch is grounding, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself lean into it completely.

his fingers stroke along your back in soothing circles, a silent reassurance that he’s real, that he’s with you. and you believe it. because how could you not, when his presence feels like the most tangible thing in the world?

after a few quiet breaths, he pulls away just enough to meet your gaze again, studying your face with something soft and knowing. “feeling a little better?”

you sniffle, nodding as you wipe at your eyes again. “yeah. just… didn’t expect this.”

he grins, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone one last time before he finally steps back, hands slipping down to rest at your waist. “well, i was hoping for a ‘wow, my incredibly handsome husband is the best for surprising me like this!’ but i guess tears of joy work too.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no real annoyance behind it. “if you wanted me to swoon, you should’ve walked in with flowers, colonel.”

caleb lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “damn, should’ve known i was dealing with high standards.”

“very high,” you confirm, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

he huffs out a laugh before squeezing your waist one last time and turning back to the counter. “cmon, pips. go set the table before you start crying again.”

you mumble sarcastically but oblige, pulling out the plates and utensils while he goes back to cooking. the kitchen is quiet save for the soft sounds of bubbling broth and the rhythmic chop of his knife against the cutting board.

it’s a comfortable kind of quiet—the kind that settles lovingly in your ribs, wrapping around your heart like the warmest embrace.

and when you finally sit down for dinner, across from the man who makes your world feel so much brighter just by being in it, you realize that no matter how long he’s gone, no matter how much you miss him, this moment will always come back to you.

because caleb always comes back to you.

Thank you for my request that has written. It was hot as heck!

Anyway, I am currently in a difficult moment so I wish you can write a comforting fluff of Xavier after she faced difficult moments (or moments that don't go as well and as planned from trying to buy tickets in advance online even she is quick that the seats are completely full to dealing such drama with friends or anything that upsets her)

Hope you have a wonderful day. I wish we can talk more often sometime. 🌟

hello!!! im so glad you enjoyed your request, and im so sorry that you're feeling upset and i really hope my next writing can help you!!!! youre lucky im feeling rly active today LMFAO so lets get to work!!!

.  𓂃 ଓ ۪   ݁ WHEN THE WORLD FALLS APART, I STAY 𓈒      x

SUMMARY: after a day filled with disappointment and emotional strain, you come home defeated. xavier senses the heaviness and offers quiet, unwavering comfort—no questions, just love. in his arms, you finds solace, he reminds you that even when everything else goes wrong, he will always stay.

CW: this piece includes themes of emotional distress, disappointment, and interpersonal conflict (e.g. friend drama, feeling overwhelmed). while the story is ultimately comforting and supportive, it touches on moments of emotional vulnerability and frustration. reader discretion is advised for those sensitive to these topics!!!

WC: 1.1K!

NOTES: for any xavier fans who are just feeling a bit down in the dumps rn . . . reqs are open if anyone want something similar with another character!! (doesnt have to be l&ds)!

The rain had started hours ago. Not a dramatic, cinematic downpour—just that steady kind of drizzle that made everything feel heavier. The kind of rain that matched the weight of a day gone completely wrong.

It had started with something so simple. Xavier had been excited all week—hell, maybe even longer. There was this event, something you both had been talking about forever. Something that should’ve been easy. Just a few clicks, some fast fingers, and the tickets would be yours. But when the page finally loaded—seconds after the timer hit zero—it was already over. Sold out. Not even a single seat left. The screen mocked you with its red lettering while your heart dropped.

And that had only been the beginning.

After that, it was like the universe decided to pile it on. A conversation with a friend had turned unexpectedly sour—passive-aggressive words, little jabs that cut too deep, and the kind of tone that made it clear something had been festering for a while. You tried to be patient, tried to talk through it, but somehow it twisted and escalated, and suddenly you were left with that horrible, hollow feeling. The one that came from wondering if you’d just lost someone who once felt safe.

By the time you made it back home, the silence felt like too much. Too loud. Too sharp. You dropped your bag by the door, didn’t bother to pick it up, and all you could do was sit on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at nothing, overwhelmed.

That’s when Xavier came in.

He didn’t barge in with noise or questions. He just stepped in quietly, gently closing the door behind him like he already knew—without you saying a word—that today hadn’t been kind.

He saw you, and his face softened instantly. “Hey,” he said, voice low and warm, as if even his tone was trying not to disturb the fragile threads holding you together. “Didn’t even get a hello text. That bad, huh?”

You didn’t even answer. You just nodded once, your lips twitching as if you might try to smile but couldn’t quite make it happen.

Xavier walked over and crouched down in front of you, one knee on the carpet, the other arm resting lightly on your knee. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his fingers curling softly around your hand, grounding you. “I’m here. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Your throat tightened, and you blinked fast, trying to fight the sting in your eyes. But Xavier noticed. He always noticed.

Without waiting for permission, he moved up onto the couch, tucking himself beside you, pulling you gently—carefully—into his arms. It wasn’t one of those dramatic movie hugs. It was quiet. Steady. He cradled you like he was built for it. One hand at the back of your head, the other curled around your shoulders, and his voice soft and close to your ear.

“Today can go to hell,” he said lightly, like he was trying to make you smile, even just a little. “Honestly, I’ll write a very strongly-worded letter to the universe. Something passive-aggressive and full of glitter so it never forgets.”

You let out a breath—something between a laugh and a sob—and he held you a little closer.

“I know how much you wanted those tickets,” he went on. “And it sucks. It really, really sucks. You were fast, you did everything right, and still—it didn’t happen. That’s not your fault. You didn’t mess up.”

You shifted slightly, resting your forehead against his shoulder, the scent of him—something warm and familiar, like lavender and the cotton of old t-shirts—helping slow your racing thoughts.

“And then your friends,” Xavier whispered, as if speaking it too loud would make the pain sharper. “God, I’m sorry. That’s the worst part, isn’t it? The people you think will always be soft with you, and suddenly they’re sharp and distant. That kind of hurt gets deep.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he pressed a loving kiss into your hair.

“But I want you to hear me right now, okay?” His voice was calm, steady. The kind of voice you could fall asleep to. “This one day doesn’t define anything about you. Not how capable you are, not how loved you are, not how strong. It’s just… a bad day. A really bad one. And you’re still here. You’re still breathing. That’s brave, you know.”

You didn’t answer, but your body relaxed a little, your weight leaning into his more freely. He felt it and smiled gently, rubbing small, lazy circles into your back.

“We’ll find something else,” he promised. “Another event. A better one. One with even more ridiculous merch tables and overpriced snacks. And you won’t have to fight the internet for it, because we’ll camp out, or I’ll build a bot, or I’ll buy from a sketchy guy named Greg on the street corner. Whatever it takes.”

You gave the softest laugh, and he tilted his head to look at you. “There’s that sound I love,” he whispered. “God, I missed that sound today.”

Xavier pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around the both of you in one smooth motion, his arm still around you like it belonged there—and it did. He shifted so you were lying down together now, legs tangled, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay around me,” he said. “You don’t have to be anything but real. Cry if you want. Be quiet. Rant about everything that went wrong. Or just lie here. I’ve got you either way.”

And so you stayed like that. Not talking. Not moving much. Just breathing, slowly syncing your breath with his, feeling the warmth of his hold chase away the lingering cold of the day. His fingers played lazily with yours, and his thumb stroked the back of your hand in the kind of rhythm that told you he could stay like this forever.

Eventually, your heart started to ease. The weight in your chest didn’t vanish, but it didn’t feel so unbearable anymore. Because you weren’t holding it alone. Because Xavier was there—solid, warm, unshakably kind—and somehow, that made everything just a little bit better.

Even if the world had been unfair today.

Even if people had let you down.

Even if the tickets were gone and the drama stung and nothing had gone to plan.

Xavier stayed. He stayed, and he loved you through it.

And for now, that was enough.

That was everything.

When one goes out into the woods, perhaps it is wise to bring some way to defend oneself. Aurora had not learned that lesson, unaware of the danger watching her from the distance. As she bent down to pluck a wildflower, the snapping of a twig caught her attention. She turned, gasping as a lone Wanderer pounce. It was too late for the untrained woman to even dream of stepping out of its claws grasp. - @borealiscuriosities

The turning head of the wanderer told Xavier it had found a new target. Now that was distracted, he had an opening, the distraction wasn't met gladly. A new target could only mean another human was in the vicinity.

"Hey!"

He tried to get its attention, to no avail.

Reaching out he could feel the metaflux surge. The wanderer was fast, but Xavier was born to be faster. Just around his vision he could see a small figure, a black speck in the distance. Teleporting to it, he didn't have a chance to speak before he had the form wrapped in his arms and rolling out of the way.

"Don't move if you don't want to be Wanderer food." The instruction was sharp but his voice was soft, not intending to startle.

One whip of his blade and a flash of light composed the wanderer to dust and a brilliant green protocore was left behind. It was pretty. She was prettier.

"Are you hurt? Why are you in the No Hunt Zone? This area is off-limits."

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The sound of tumbling and a series of thuds echoed through the hallway of the Hunter Association building as you lost your footing at the top of the stairs. Your body bumped and rolled down the entire flight before landing in an ungraceful heap at the bottom. Xavier, who had been walking a few paces ahead, turned at the commotion.

He blinked once, then twice, his eyes widening as you simply stood up, dusted yourself off, and continued walking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Are you okay?” Xavier finally asked, his voice carrying a note of concern. He stood perfectly still, analyzing you with careful eyes.

“Just a little slip. Nothing to worry about,” you responded casually, as if commenting on the weather rather than your spectacular tumble.

When you reached him and nodded casually, he continued to stare, his eyes tracking over your form as if conducting a silent assessment.

“The impact of your fall might cause potential contusions to your left side and possible minor fractures to your wrist based on how you landed,” he stated matter-of-factly, pointing back at the stairs. “Yet you’re displaying no signs of physical distress.”

“I’ve had worse tumbles than that during training,” you replied with a shrug, continuing to walk forward.

As you dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, a subtle crease formed between his eyebrows.

He reached out, gently taking your arm to stop your forward momentum, and examined you more carefully. His touch lingered for a while.

“Your physical endurance is... unusual,” he observed quietly. “I’ve witnessed similar falls result in hospitalization for others.”

“I’ve had worse during missions,” you said with a hint of pride, meeting his gaze.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only indication that your comment had given him pause. He studied you for a moment longer before releasing your arm.

“If you say so,” he said, falling into step beside you. Yet throughout the remainder of your walk, he stayed unusually close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours. At one point, he subtly adjusted his pace when you winced slightly turning a corner—a reaction so minor most would’ve missed it, but not Xavier.

“The human body often reveals what the mind attempts to conceal,” he remarked softly, hours later, offering you a small container of what appeared to be homemade salve. “For the bruising you claim doesn’t exist. Mission injuries included.”

His last words carried the faintest hint of what might have been amusement, gone so quickly you almost missed it.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The cascade of thuds drew Zayne’s attention immediately. He turned just in time to witness the last half of your tumble down the hospital’s stairwell, your body bouncing off the final steps before sprawling across the polished floor. His posture stiffened as you simply stood up, straightened your clothes, and began walking away as if you hadn’t just fallen down an entire flight of stairs.

“Stop right there,” his voice cut through the shocked silence of onlooking hospital staff, his tone commanding.

You turned around with an exaggeratedly innocent expression, eyes wide, pointing to yourself as if to say “Who, me?” despite being the only person who just performed an impromptu demonstration of gravity’s effects.

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together, clearly not amused by your feigned innocence. His footsteps quickened as he approached you in a few strides.

“As your doctor, I’m not giving you an option here,” he said firmly, moving directly into your path and effectively blocking your escape. “Come here. Now.”

“Is this your professional opinion or personal concern talking?” you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice as you met his stern gaze.

Something flickered briefly across his features—perhaps surprise—before his professional demeanor reasserted itself.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said, his expression hardening as he gestured to his office that happened to be nearby. “You just fell down an entire flight of stairs. Adrenaline can mask symptoms of a concussion or internal bleeding. This isn’t negotiable.”

He guided you firmly but gently into the room, his trained hands already examining the back of your head for contusions.

“Follow my finger,” he instructed, moving it side to side before your eyes. His expression remained serious, but you caught the slight softening around his eyes—a look of concern he didn’t bother hiding from you. “Even if you feel fine now, delayed symptoms are common with trauma injuries. The human spine isn’t designed to bounce down twenty steps.”

“Is this really necessary?” you sighed, even as you complied with his instructions.

“Yes,” he replied curtly, not breaking his concentration as he continued his examination. “It is absolutely necessary. And if you were anyone else, you’d already be on your way to radiology.”

After completing his thorough examination, his expression softened slightly. He reached into his pocket and offered you a piece of candy.

“What’s this for?” you asked, surprised.

“Sugar. Helps with shock,” he explained, pecking your forehead. “Next time, please hold the railing.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel was midway through a call with Thomas, describing his latest artistic inspiration with gestures when the thunderous cascade of your body tumbling down the stairs interrupted him. His expression froze in horror as he watched you bouncing and rolling down the entire flight, wincing visibly with each impact.

“Oh—” His eyes widened comically as you hit the bottom with a final thud. But before he could rush to your aid, you simply stood up, brushed yourself off, and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Rafayel stared at you, mouth slightly agape. He blinked rapidly, looking from you to the stairs and back again.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He ended the call abruptly, not even bothering with a goodbye, and hurried after you, his long legs quickly closing the distance. “Did you really just—? And you’re just—you’re just walking?!”

“Your face right now is priceless,” you said with a small laugh, watching his expressions shift rapidly between shock, concern, and disbelief. “Take a breath, Rafayel. You look like you might pass out.”

His face scrunched up in a dramatic wince as he examined you from all angles, hands fluttering near your shoulders as if afraid you might suddenly collapse.

“Are you okay? That looked painful…” His voice rose several octaves. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that looked?”

“I’ve had plenty of practice at falling gracefully. Well, semi-gracefully,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Rafayel’s jaw dropped a fraction further. “Practice? You practice falling down stairs?” He made a wild gesture toward the staircase. “That wasn’t graceful in any way, semi or otherwise! That was terrifying!”

When you tried to brush past him, Rafayel gently grabbed your shoulders, looking straight into your eyes, his expression still a mixture of disbelief and concern.

“Seriously? You’re just going to walk that off like it’s nothing? Like you didn’t just do a full somersault down those stairs?” He squeezed your shoulders gently. “Even cats have the decency to look embarrassed when they fall.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You scared me, you know? I thought I was about to witness a tragedy in five acts, complete with a dramatic finale at the bottom.”

“Would it make you feel better if I limped a little?” you asked with a mischievous smile. “I could throw in some groaning for dramatic effect. Maybe clutch my side like this?” You demonstrated with exaggerated theatrics.

Rafayel’s worried expression cracked slightly, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t you dare mock me when I’m genuinely concerned about you,” he said, though the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction. “Though your theatrical skills need work. That limp was completely unconvincing.”

He continued to hover around you for the rest of the day, periodically reaching out to touch your arm or shoulder as if confirming you were still intact. Later, he appeared with an ice pack and painkillers.

“Just in case,” he said. “Also, I may have told everyone to clear a path when they see you coming. You know, for public safety.”

“Public safety or my safety?” you asked wryly.

“Both,” he grinned. “Clearly, stairs have declared war on you, and I refuse to let it win another round.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The sound of your tumble echoed through the corridor of Onychinus’s base. As you picked yourself up and continued walking as if nothing happened, Sylus, who had been observing from a few paces behind, arched a single eyebrow—a rare display of surprise crossing his features.

“Well,” he remarked at the unexpected scene he just witnessed. “Such a dramatic descent. I wasn’t aware you had an interest in impromptu acrobatics.”

“Just didn’t want to make a scene,” you replied, straightening your clothes casually. “Is my dignity still intact?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a subtle smirk. “Your dignity? Perhaps partially. Your reputation for grace, however, may require some rehabilitation.”

He fell into step beside you, his usual smug smile returning as he studied your face with those piercing eyes, missing nothing.

“Most people would at least acknowledge their intimate encounter with a flight of stairs,” he commented, his tone casual yet observant. “Your nonchalance is either admirable or concerning. I haven’t decided which.”

“Would showing weakness earn me special treatment?” you asked, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of your own.

Something intrigued flickered in his eyes. “From me? Sure. Though I find your stubborn resilience equally fascinating.”

He reached out, straightening a piece of your disheveled clothing with his fingers, the touch lingering just long enough to assess for a reaction of pain.

“While I admire your endurance, even remarkable individuals such as yourself are subject to the laws of physics and biology,” he observed, his words carrying a subtle undercurrent of genuine concern beneath the calm exterior.

He gestured for you to continue walking with him, matching his pace to yours, watchful of any irregularity in your posture.

“I do hope you’re not concealing injuries for the sake of appearances,” he added after a moment. “While I appreciate your fortitude, I prefer my favorite person intact and functioning optimally.”

“If I admitted it hurt, would that satisfy your curiosity, Sylus?” you asked, your voice deliberately light.

His smile widened. “Curiosity? No. That requires a far greater mystery than your apparent immunity to staircases.” He paused, studying you with increased interest. “But my concern might be somewhat alleviated.”

“Next time,” he murmured, “perhaps consider taking the elevator if you don’t feel like walking.” His hand found the small of your back as you walked, the gesture appearing casual but actually allowing him to subtly assess if you were truly as unaffected as you claimed.

Later that evening, a package arrived, containing an ornate bottle of sophisticated bath salts. “For muscles that may protest their earlier mistreatment, despite your claims to the contrary. Consider it a reward for providing me with such an entertaining diversion to my otherwise mundane day.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The moment you hit the bottom step and stood up as if nothing happened, Caleb’s expression transformed into one of shock and concern. He was at your side in an instant, hands hovering near your shoulders as if afraid to touch you.

“What the—? That wasn’t just a stumble, that was a full disaster in motion,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You just… fell down the entire flight of stairs.”

“It looked worse than it felt,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m fine, really.”

Caleb’s eyes widened further, clearly not buying your casual dismissal. “Looked worse than—? It looked like you were auditioning for a role as a human slinky!”

When you tried to brush it off and keep walking, he stepped in front of you, his hands finally settling on your shoulders to stop your movement.

“No, no way,” he said firmly, his authority briefly showing through his normally relaxed persona. “You know normal people actually feel pain when gravity wins, right? You don’t just walk away from something like that.”

“Fine, check me for injuries if it’ll make you feel better,” you conceded with a sigh.

He guided you to a nearby chair, kneeling in front of you to check for any visible injuries. “What happened? Did you slip or something?” he asked, his voice softening with a hint of teasing returning.

His hands gently examined your arms and shoulders, careful not to hurt you further. “Look, I need to know you’re actually okay, not just pretending to be tough. Those stairs didn’t hold back, and neither should you if something hurts.”

“Fine, it hurts,” you admitted with a slight grimace. “Happy now? But I’m still walking away from it.”

“I knew it,” he sighed. “And no, I’m not happy you’re hurt. I’m happy you’re finally being honest about it.”

He finished his inspection, seemingly satisfied that you were fine, and sat beside you, one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “That was quite a fall, Pipsqueak. You scared the hell out of me,” he chuckled, but the worry hadn’t completely left his eyes. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, okay?”

“I promise to at least try to stay upright,” you said with a small smile.

“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you,” he said, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

As you finally convinced him you were okay enough to continue your day, he helped you up, but didn’t let go of your hand, though you noticed he maintained a vigilant watch over you for the rest of the day, positioning himself on the stair side whenever you walked near any steps.

“Just in case gravity decides it wants another round with you,” he explained. “Next time, I might have to catch you. That would be more fun for both of us, don’t you think?”

“Next time I’ll just aim for you instead of the floor,” you replied with a grin.

“Deal,” he said instantly. “I’m much softer to land on than those stairs, guaranteed.”

Based on this request.

your husband had a very convenient advantage over you.

and that would be picking you up— whenever and wherever.

falling asleep anywhere other than your bed was never an issue, not with him around. because rest assured— your very strong, very responsible and very devoted husband, has made it his mission to pick up his beloved wife and deliver her to safety and comfort.

you fell asleep on the couch while reading a book or watching a movie? no problem, he had already anticipated it. cue him carefully picking you up bridal style, grip firm but gentle, your head comfortably cradled against his chest. then, he'd start walking to your shared bedroom with slow steps— but not before staring at your sleeping face for a moment with a painfully tender gaze and pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. everytime you woke up, you would find yourself neatly tucked in bed with him holding you close to him or simply gazing at you in quiet awe, like you were the very embodiment of beauty itself. (to him, you were, even if you disagreed.)

now, that's not the only place where his strength came to use. whenever you decide to act stubborn and bratty, you'd best be prepared for a pair of large, steady and warm hands to suddenly settle themselves on your waist, hoisting you up over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. he'd go on about his day just like that as if he didn't have a living, breathing, adult-sized human creating a fuss over his shoulder. he'll only put you down when he feels like it. or maybe if you manage to bribe him with some affection… (spoiler; it always works.)

another time would be when you're feeling particularly lazy to get up from bed in the morning. you don't want to get up? that's fine too, he'll let you latch onto him like a koala— your arms lazily looped around his neck, legs around his waist, and his hand keeping you steady while he casually takes a sip of his coffee with the other. that's his life now. happy wife, happy life.

however, there was also a time when he had you questioning your entire existence. you were standing in front of a drawer, very much distracted by an item in your hands. it just so happened that your husband needed to get something from the said drawer. his solution? extraordinary. lift you off the ground by your waist, relocate you to the side, get his drawer business done and casually go on and about with his day. you only processed this a minute later and he had no idea why you kept on staring at him like he had personally rewritten the laws of the universe itself.

long story short, he loved picking you up— even during times when it was unnecessary. why? because he simply could. and also because it was the perfect excuse to have you in his arms yet again.

♡ nanami kento, kamo choso, ryomen sukuna, gojo satoru, geto suguru, fushiguro toji (jjk), sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb (lads), wriothesley, alhaitham, neuvillette, diluc, itto, kaeya, childe, zhongli (genshin), rengoku kyojuro, uzui tengen, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei (kny), ukitake jushiro, kuchiki byakuya, kyoraku shunsui, kurosaki ichigo, ishida uryuu, abarai renji, hitsugaya toshiro, jugram haschwalth (bleach), your favorite.

Rewrite the stars

Prince!Xavier x Acrobat!reader Word count: 315 words Drabble, Scenario, Gender Neutral No one asked for this but I was watching Zendaya and Zach Efron and this happened

That you wanted him was not a secret you tried to hide.

But you couldn't have Xavier. 

You were bound to break in your hands like the rope at the corner of the stage that needed to be replaced. You were like that rope; you could and should be replaced.

If you could rewrite the stars and turn over the cards you'd make sure that the Heavens and the Earth knew that Xavier was yours, that you were meant to be, never to part. But you could not. No one could.

And yet as you took the momentum to bring down the hoop to be at eye level with Xavier, you just wanted to be in his arms. Xavier stood there very straight, with his hands behind his back, illuminated by the few stage lights that were still burning bright. The white silk of his clothes almost shone, spotless, pristine.

When he lifted his hand to tenderly run his digits across your cheek, all you could feel was his soft skin against yours. That soft skin was so unlike your own; your palms and fingers calloused from your art, bound by a layer of bandages.

Xavier didn't belong in your world. And you didn't belong in his world either.

"Come fly with me," you told him.

And he didn't hesitate one second. You would never know what you'd done to have this man trust you so blindly.

As he wrapped his arms around your waist, you wished you could indeed just fly away.

"Hold on tight," you asked of him.

Xavier tightened his grip around you and your whole being fervently wished he'd never let go.

You tugged on the rope and let the hoop carry you both above the ground, to hang weightless, embrace each other away from the pull of gravity. Away from everything keeping you apart.

How did you rewrite the stars?

PLEASE PART 2 ON THE SELF DOUBT ANGEST PUHHHLEEEEEEASE

SELF-DOUBT │ PART 2

Pt.1

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader (reader is implied to be the MC in Caleb's part)

SYNOPSIS: Part 2 of "Self-doubt" - comfort!!

A/N: Finally, it's here. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

Finally deciding to go home and drown your sorrows in sleep, you stood, your limbs heavy, your breath unsteady. But before you could take a step, the sound of approaching footsteps stopped you in your tracks.

Soft at first, deliberate, hesitant—yet steady. Familiar.

You didn't have to look up to know who it was.

A quiet sigh left your lips. "Xavier."

He didn’t speak right away, but you could feel him watching you. There was no judgment in his gaze, no demand for explanation. Just patience. A patience that made something fragile inside you crack even more.

Wordlessly, he sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, even in the biting chill of the night. Neither of you spoke, and for once, the silence wasn't unbearable. It was different. Softer.

"You scared me," he finally admitted, his voice quieter than usual, as if he was afraid that speaking too loud would shatter whatever fragile state you were in.

You swallowed, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. "I’m fine."

Xavier hummed, unconvinced. "You’re not. But I’m not here to force you to talk. I just... didn’t want you to be alone."

Something thick lodged itself in your throat at his words. The lump of emotions you'd tried so hard to suppress threatened to spill over.

"Why?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, so raw it almost hurt to speak. "Why do you always—"

"Care?" he finished for you, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. "Because you matter to me. You always have. And I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know one thing for certain—you are not some afterthought. You are not unworthy. You are not less."

Your breath hitched, eyes burning. "You don’t understand."

Xavier exhaled, running a hand through his hair, frustrated but not with you—with whatever had made you feel like this. "Then make me understand. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll sit here with you until you do. If you want to pretend everything is fine, I’ll let you. But I’m not leaving."

You turned to him then, really looked at him. At the certainty in his expression, the unwavering belief in his eyes. It was so infuriatingly Xavier—so effortlessly kind, so utterly steadfast—that it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t put into words.

You opened your mouth, but no excuses came. No lies. No ways to push him away.

Instead, your voice cracked, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, "I don’t know how to stop feeling like this."

Xavier didn’t hesitate. He reached out, hesitantly at first, as if giving you the choice to pull away. But you didn’t. You let him take your hand, let his warmth seep into your cold fingers, grounding you.

"You don’t have to do it alone," he murmured. "I don’t care how long it takes. Just… don’t shut me out."

The dam inside you broke.

A choked sob tore through you, your body shaking under the weight of everything you had been holding in for far too long. And Xavier—he didn’t flinch, didn’t let go. He simply pulled you close, wrapping you in the kind of embrace that felt less like comfort and more like something solid. Something safe.

You clung to him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be.

His fingers traced slow, soothing circles against your back, his breath warm against your temple. "I don't want you to disappear into the dark. If you let me, I'll stay."

The words, so simple yet so profound, settled into your chest like an ember, slow-burning and tender. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, and in the hush of the night, something unspoken passed between you—something delicate, something inevitable.

Xavier’s thumb brushed the damp trail of a tear from your cheek, his touch unbearably gentle. "I see you," he murmured, and before you could think, before you could hesitate, he was leaning in.

It was soft, barely there—a whisper of a kiss against your forehead, a silent promise. Not rushed, not demanding, just steady. Just real.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

Zayne

The city had always been too loud, yet tonight, it felt impossibly quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against your ribs, heavy and suffocating, filling the spaces between heartbeats with something unnamed and unrelenting. The café door had long since closed behind you, but the ghost of Zayne’s presence still lingered, his voice a phantom echo in your mind.

You walked without direction, only moving because stillness felt too much like surrender. The night air was crisp, laced with the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen, and you breathed it in as if it could cleanse the weight of everything left unsaid. But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Your phone remained in your grasp, screen dark, thumb hovering over his name in your messages. A message unsent. A confession you didn’t dare put into words. You had told yourself you would let this go, let him go—but wasn’t that the cruelest kind of lie?

You stopped beneath the glow of a streetlamp, light spilling over you in fragile, golden threads. Your breath wavered, hands tightening around the fabric of your sleeves. And then, against every instinct screaming at you to forget, to move on—you typed.

“I’m sorry.”

It was inadequate. A pitiful offering for the storm that had brewed between you. But before you could backspace, before you could rethink, you pressed send.

The reply came faster than expected.

“I’m still here.”

Three words. Simple. Unwavering. And yet, they shattered something deep inside you.

You closed your eyes, letting the night swallow you whole. You should have walked away. You should have ignored him the way you had trained yourself to. But Zayne had never been someone you could ignore. And perhaps, just this once, you didn’t want to.

With unsteady fingers, you called him.

The line rang once.

Twice.

A third time.

And then—

“Come back inside.”

His voice was quiet, intimate in a way that sent a tremor through your chest. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t demanding. Just offering. Leaving the choice in your hands, as he always did.

Your throat tightened. Your heart ached.

For a long moment, you said nothing. You listened to the silence stretching between you, to the quiet promise hidden in his words. And then, with a breath that felt too much like surrender, you turned on your heel, retracing your steps back to the light.

When you stepped back inside, the café was quieter than before. The world outside had not changed, and yet, everything within you had shifted. Zayne was still there, waiting, his gaze unreadable but warm. A cup of something hot sat across from his own, waiting for you, as if he had always known you would return.

You sat without a word, hands wrapping around the warmth of the cup. For a moment, there was only the quiet hum of the café, the soft clink of porcelain, the steady presence of him beside you. And then—

“I never wanted to be someone unreachable,” he murmured, his fingers resting just inches from yours on the table. “Not to you.”

Your breath hitched, something fragile pressing against your ribs. “Zayne—”

“I see you,” he said, voice as steady as the earth beneath you. “Not as an afterthought. Not as someone passing through my life.” His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and unwavering. “But as someone I want in it.”

Something deep inside you cracked wide open.

A shuddering exhale left your lips, and before you could stop yourself, your fingers brushed over his—hesitant, uncertain. But when he turned his palm upward, intertwining his fingers with yours, it was effortless. As if he had been waiting for this moment, just as much as you had.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight in your chest eased. The walls you had built so carefully, so stubbornly, faltered in the warmth of his touch.

And for once, you let them fall.

Rafayel

The world felt quieter without him in it.

You told yourself it was for the best, that you had made the right decision. And yet, as the days bled into nights, as the hours passed in dull monotony, you found yourself reaching—again and again—for something that was no longer there.

For him.

For the sound of his laughter, for the weight of his presence filling the spaces you hadn’t realized were empty. For the warmth he carried so effortlessly, the kind of warmth that lingered long after he was gone.

But you had done this to yourself.

And now, you had to live with it.

Or at least, you thought you did—until the knocking started.

Soft at first. A hesitant tap against the door, as though testing if you were even home. And then, more insistent. Steady. Patient. Unyielding.

You ignored it, at first. Pressed your hands against your ears and willed it to stop, to go away. But the universe was never that kind.

“Cutie.”

Your breath caught.

Muffled through the door, but unmistakable. His voice—soft, coaxing, laced with something raw beneath the teasing lilt. A plea hidden in a single word.

You curled deeper into yourself, fingers tightening around the blanket you had wrapped around your frame. If you stayed silent, he’d leave. If you waited long enough, he’d realize you weren’t worth it. That you were doing him a favor.

But he didn’t leave.

He sighed, the sound heavy, filled with something you couldn’t quite name. And then—

“I’m not mad at you.”

The words struck harder than you expected. You squeezed your eyes shut, hating the way your heart clenched, the way your resolve wavered like sand beneath the tide.

“I just...” A pause. A shift, as though he had leaned against the door. “I don’t understand.”

You swallowed. You didn’t want him to understand. Didn’t want him to see the ugly, selfish parts of you, the ones that whispered that maybe—just maybe—you wanted him to fight for you. That you wanted to be more than just another passing moment in his life.

“I thought you knew by now.” His voice was quieter, words woven with something impossibly tender. “You don’t have to keep up with me, cutie. You were never supposed to.”

Your throat tightened.

“I just wanted you there.”

Your fingers twitched. Trembled. Your resolve, already fraying at the edges, threatened to unravel completely.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to see me right now,” he continued, and there was something steady in his voice now. Certain. “But don’t think for a second that I don’t see you.”

A shaky breath. Yours, not his. He was always so sure. So steady. A lighthouse in a storm you hadn’t even realized you were lost in.

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything left unsaid. And then, softer—

“I miss you.”

Your hands clenched into the fabric of your sleeves.

A choice.

A breath.

A surrender.

With trembling fingers, you unlocked the door.

The moment it cracked open, he was there.

Rafayel—bigger than life, impossibly beautiful in the dim light of the hallway. But his eyes, sharp as they were, softened the moment they met yours. He looked at you as if you were something precious. Something worth waiting for.

Something he would wait for, as long as it took.

You exhaled, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. And for the first time in days, you let yourself be selfish.

You stepped forward, barely a breath between you, and before you could think better of it, his arms were around you.

The embrace was immediate, crushing in its intensity. His hands found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he held you tight, as if to assure himself you were real, here, not slipping through his fingers like a dream about to fade.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmured into your hair, voice uneven, raw in a way you had never heard before. “Don’t shut me out.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, knuckles white, grounding yourself in the warmth of him.

“Okay,” you whispered, breath hitching when he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands cradled your face, touch achingly gentle, reverent, as if memorizing the details of you in case you disappeared again.

He searched your face, gaze flickering between your eyes, your lips, before he exhaled sharply, like he had just made a decision. And then—

Soft. Slow.

His lips brushed against yours, a question, a promise, a silent plea. You melted into him, sighing against his mouth, letting yourself be held, letting yourself be wanted.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

“Come inside,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, something warm, something yours, and just like that—the world wasn’t so quiet anymore.

Sylus

The hours slipped by in hazy disarray, the wine glass now empty, the room a blur of half-formed thoughts and aching silence. You could feel the chill of the night seeping deeper into your bones, but it wasn’t the cold air that made you shiver. It was the weight of your own thoughts—the gnawing self-doubt, the quiet loneliness that seemed to stretch out forever, wrapping itself around you like an unwanted lover.

You told yourself to be strong. You told yourself to forget. To move on.

But it was impossible to ignore the echo of his name in your mind, the memory of his touch, the way his eyes had looked at you—so soft, so gentle, like you were something more than just a fleeting shadow in his world. You had convinced yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter to him. But now, in the silence of your empty apartment, that lie was unraveling at the edges.

You were not enough for him, and yet you had never wanted anything more.

The sound of your phone vibrating again cut through the haze, and for a moment, you simply stared at the screen. The name flashed once more.

Sylus.

The familiar pang of longing twisted in your chest, a sharp, bitter ache. You didn’t want to open it. Didn’t want to be reminded of everything you couldn’t have. You had closed that door, hadn’t you?

But the phone buzzed again. And then again.

Without thinking, your thumb slid across the screen, the message lighting up the dim room.

"I’m outside."

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You blinked, the words swimming before your eyes. Your pulse quickened. He was here. And for a moment, you almost convinced yourself to ignore him, to let him be just another chapter you could close. But that wasn’t you, was it? You were never one to run from what you felt, no matter how terrifying it seemed.

The sound of his footsteps echoed against the hallway, distant but unmistakable. The way his boots hit the ground with that gentle weight, as though each step was taken with purpose. You felt the air shift as he drew closer, your skin prickling with the intensity of his presence.

The door knocked softly, almost too softly, as though he was waiting for you to make the first move. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you hesitated.

“Please,” his voice reached you, quieter now, as if spoken through the layers of pain you had wrapped yourself in. “Let me in.”

Your breath caught, and without thinking, you turned the knob.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Sylus.

The light from the hallway cast him in a soft glow, outlining his silhouette in such stark contrast to the darkness behind you. His eyes—those eyes, the ones that could see straight through every defense you put up—were soft. Warm, even. There was an urgency to his gaze, but also a tenderness, as if he was afraid to touch you too suddenly, afraid to break the fragile moment that existed between you.

“I couldn’t leave,” he murmured, and his voice cracked just the slightest bit as he spoke, his own emotions laid bare.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, standing there, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. The man who had once seemed so untouchable, so unreachable, now seemed almost fragile in his need for you.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, voice shaking.

But he stepped forward anyway, and in that moment, everything shifted. His hands were warm when they cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the traces of tears you hadn’t even realized you were still holding back.

“I do,” he said, his voice low and firm, yet undeniably soft. “I do, because I’ve never needed anyone the way I need you.”

And with those words, your world fell away.

Without another word, he pulled you into him, his embrace fierce yet gentle, as though he was afraid you would slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough. His scent enveloped you, familiar and grounding, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to sink into it. You let yourself surrender to the warmth of his arms, the only place that felt like home anymore.

“I was so afraid,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “So afraid of being nothing to you.”

His fingers threaded through your hair, and he pressed his lips against the top of your head, the softest kiss, a promise more than a gesture.

“You were never nothing to me,” he whispered. “You were never a fleeting thing. I just... I didn’t know how to show you, not when I was so terrified of losing myself in you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, the depth of his words reflected in the dark pools of his eyes. For the first time, you saw it—the same raw vulnerability, the same fear of not being enough that you had harbored so deep inside.

And in that moment, it no longer mattered who was enough or not enough. All that mattered was that he was here. And so were you.

You kissed him then—softly, slowly, as if testing whether the world would allow such a moment of peace to exist. But his lips were insistent, and soon enough, the kiss deepened, your worries melting away with each touch, each press of his body against yours. The weight of your doubts lifted, replaced by something far more comforting, far more real.

In his arms, you were not lost. You were not a fleeting moment. You were everything.

And as the night wrapped itself around you both, the air no longer felt cold. It felt warm. It felt like home.

Caleb

It was almost absurd, how you could feel so much for someone, and yet, never have them see it. Caleb, your constant. The one who would always be there to crack a joke, to make you laugh when the world felt heavy. But as time passed, it became harder to pretend. Pretend that the ache in your chest was just something you could ignore, pretend that you could be content with the role of the background character, the one who never got the spotlight.

You stared at the ceiling, the dim glow of your phone still lingering in the darkness, his name burning through the cold night. You were so tired of pretending, tired of holding everything inside, locking it away like some precious treasure only you could see. But it was suffocating you, this secret love, this thing you never asked for but couldn’t escape.

The steady buzz of your phone in your hand felt like a pulse, like a lifeline, but also like a reminder of everything you couldn’t have. It hurt too much to answer. It always did. Because with Caleb, every conversation felt like an act of theater, a performance where you smiled and pretended to be happy, to be fine, when the truth was you were drowning. Drowning in a love that never had a chance to be returned, that was never meant to be returned.

Another message lit up the screen, and your chest tightened. "Pipsqueak, please answer me. I’m worried."

Worried. His words rang in your ears, his concern always just enough to make you feel seen, but never enough to pull you from the depths of your own feelings. You wanted to scream at him. To ask him why, after all this time, he still didn’t see you. Why couldn’t he see what was right in front of him?

But you couldn’t. Because if you did, you would break. And breaking meant losing him entirely. It meant letting go of the one piece of your life that was still solid, the one thing that still anchored you to the world.

With a trembling hand, you turned the phone face down on your nightstand, the silence between you now absolute. The emptiness felt suffocating, but you couldn’t take back what you had already done. You had locked him out, not just from the room, but from your heart. And maybe that was the best thing for both of you.

But as the hours passed, the weight of that decision grew heavier, until it felt unbearable.

Your phone buzzed again. It was him, and this time, you didn’t hesitate.

You picked it up, feeling that familiar pang of hope and fear coil in your chest. There was no turning back now. He was calling, and you—well, you couldn’t run anymore.

“Hey,” you whispered, almost too quietly. The sound of your voice was fragile, like it might shatter if you said too much.

“Y/N, you okay?” Caleb’s voice came through, low and concerned, but there was something more to it this time. Something you hadn’t noticed before—the way his voice lingered, the way it softened when he spoke your name.

“Yeah, just tired,” you replied, forcing a smile into your tone. It wasn’t enough to mask the sadness, but it would have to do.

There was a pause on the other end, and then he sighed. “You’re lying.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. "Am I?"

“Yes,” he said simply. “I know you better than that.”

And for the first time, you felt the walls you’d carefully built between you begin to crack. Caleb, as oblivious as he was, somehow always knew when you were hiding something. It was frustrating, maddening even, but in that moment, you couldn’t deny it. His understanding of you, his ability to see through your armor, made everything feel even more impossible.

“I’m fine,” you said again, but it was weaker this time. "I just… I need some space, Caleb. It’s nothing. Really."

His voice softened, as though he could sense the lie even through the phone. “I don’t believe you.”

You were silent for a long moment, the weight of the conversation pressing in on you. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had to say, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

“Caleb,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “I just—sometimes, I feel like I’m invisible to you. Like no matter how much I try to be there, it’s never enough.”

And there it was. The truth. The raw, aching truth that you had buried for so long.

You waited for him to speak, to laugh, to dismiss your feelings as something trivial. But instead, there was a silence so thick it felt suffocating.

And then, in the quiet, he finally spoke.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Caleb said, his voice unusually quiet, the usual teasing lilt replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “I… I never saw it like that. But I should have. I should’ve seen how much you’ve always been there. How much I’ve taken you for granted.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. You didn’t know how to respond. You didn’t know if you even could.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continued, and there was something in his voice now that made your heart ache. “You’re not invisible to me, pips. You’ve never been.”

And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe him, just for a little while.

You didn’t know what would happen next, what this would all mean, but for once, it didn’t matter. Caleb had seen you. Really seen you. And that was enough to keep you holding on.

“I’m here,” you whispered. “Always.”

And in the space between those words, something shifted, like the universe itself exhaled, allowing you both to breathe again.

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

content warnings: fem!reader, fluff, sfw headcanons

XAVIER - PHYSICAL TOUCH

Xavier knows he is smart, and witty enough. But when things get a little too real, he finds it hard to express himself.

And the feelings he has for you are the most genuine ones he has felt in his long, long life.

While he might not be someone who can wax poetic about his affection for you, he shows it in other ways, and physical touch in his favorite way to get his feelings across.

When you walk next to each other, he sticks close, arm brushing against yours. Occasionally, the back of his hand makes contact with your own. It's almost as if the tension builds and builds, until he finally connects your fingers, either intertwining your hands together or linking his pinkie with yours. No words leave his mouth. His touch says enough.

If the train is too crowded, he will pull you closer to him with a firm touch on the small of your back, making sure you don’t receive any unwanted bumps from strangers.

For a few weeks in your relationship, he developed a strange habit of pinching your cheeks and lightly pulling on them. You let him do it, knowing he would eventually move on and find some other part of you to focus on. Though the action did make your face heat up.

Another weird hyperfixation he has is nibbling at your fingertips absentmindedly. He plays with them often, but when he is distracted by a movie you two are watching, he will bite at them every so often. Sometimes, he is so focused on the screen that you doubt he even realizes what he is doing.

(He realizes. He just thinks every part of you deserves love. Don’t question it. It makes sense in his head.)

Cuddling with him is the perfect gift for your senses, stimulating you wonderfully.

Small nips on your skin, little lingering touches. He traces your skin with eager yet gentle hands, as if trying to memorize every curve and dip.

He buries his face in your neck and breathes in deep, and in that moment, bodies tangled with each other and the sheets, vulnerable and open, he will whisper, “I love you”.

It’s an affirmation more than a revelation, since his actions up until this point have all shown you that he really, truly does love you. So you whisper it back, trying to pour all your love into it, before slotting your lips together and using physical touch to convey your feelings right back.

RAFAYEL - WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

Rafayel is, in the simplest of terms, a yapper.

This man could talk for hours if you don’t stop him. About his art, about the meaning of life, about his experiences. He can express so much while also having an impeccable talent of being completely vague. Sometimes, you don’t even understand the things he says. And you’ve given up trying to decipher his every word.

But when Rafayel is talking about you, he makes himself abundantly clear. There’s no ambiguity about it; he loves you. And he will say it a million different times in a million different ways. Whether it be a bold declaration of how much his heart yearns for you, or endless teasing that is meant to rile you up and get a reaction out of you.

“I don’t think your talent lies in art, babe. It’s a good thing you’re a walking art piece yourself. No wonder I’m in love with you.”

“You’re leaving so soon? But I don’t think I’ve admired you enough for today. Don’t leave me!”

I’m impressed, Miss Bodyguard. You’re talented, and easy on the eyes. No wonder you captivated me from that very first day we met.”

Expect to wake up with a lot of voice notes on your phone. Minutes long. Sometimes rambling, sometimes actual ideas for new pieces that he wants to run by you. You better reply to all of them individually.

When you cuddle at night, you can talk for hours. No topic on earth is off limits with him. He will lay you down on a blanket on the beach, and as you watch the stars, he will tell you stories from olden times about star crossed lovers and tragic fairy tales. And he will turn to you, tell you how beautiful you are, how ardently he loves you, how he will never forget any moment he spends with you.

It’s almost like you can tell the exact moment he falls in love with you. Because he tells you. He never stops telling you. He voices his fears of you leaving him, he makes you promise you will never go away. He is clingy and he is whiny, and he is so endearing.

It’s hard to dismiss him when he is so loud about his love. And it’s hard to not fall for him just as he falls for you.

ZAYNE - ACTS OF SERVICE

This is an indisputable fact. Dr Zayne shows his love through acts of service.

He is intensely aware of your needs, and is miles ahead of you in determining what you require at any given moment.

It’s his way of showing you that he cares. He worries for you, and born from that worry is the urge to take care of you.

If you have had a long day, you will come home to a text from him saying he has ordered takeout and it will arrive at your house shortly, since he knows you are too exhausted to cook anything. It is always something different, but it is always food that he knows you enjoy. He will mix it with some healthy options too.

If you ever crash at his place, you will wake up to a tall glass of water and two aspirin on the side table, along with a note in his neat handwriting telling you that there is fresh cooked breakfast in the oven (he made it before he left for work).

Once you two are in a steady relationship, he keeps his house stocked with products you use. A spare shampoo and conditioner, toothbrush, a bathrobe of your size, a hair brush, you name it.

When you mumble something about the hand cream in your purse that is nearly running out, you will find a brand new tube next time you open the purse, and there is no need to even ask. You know Zayne put it there.

He is intensely observant. Even after knowing him for so long, it catches you off guard. He knows which of your clothes need to be dry cleaned and which ones are good for the washing machine. He knows which scents you use. Which products are harsher on your skin. He knows that contacts irritate your eyes after long hours of wearing them, so he keeps a small bottle of eye drops in your side table for that very purpose.

He scolds you for neglecting yourself, and he won’t hold back the harsh tone if he thinks your behavior is particularly destructive. To him, the best way to show love is to make sure your beloved is living the best life they can.

It is the littlest things, the tiniest details. And it shocks you, even after so long.