Me? Jealous?

*throws odypen doodles at you & runs very fast*

also I sketched out my new penelope design shjskdj

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!!

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♥︎ FOR YOUR TROUBLES

── . ✦ WORD COUNT : 2, 214

── . ✦ PAIRING : Zayne x Fem!Reader

── . ✦ SUMMARY : You though you'd surprise Zayne with a nice, homemade meal after a long day at work, but judging by his reaction, it would've probably been better if you hadn't.

── . ✦ CONTENT WARNINGS : fem!reader, she/her pronouns are used for reader, use of 'y/n', angst + hurt/comfort + very brief fluff, husband!zayne, petnames (love, my love), crying, hurting your feelings.

── . ✦ AUTHOR'S NOTE : the amount of work that i can get done when locked in is insane XD

── . ✦ WANT TO SEE MORE? : Masterlist ⋮ 'Console Me' Masterlist

── . ✦ TAGLIST : @elegant-face-tree @vyntheria @cheesemachine44 @aluvrina @adeptustemptations @etckristel @seris-the-amious @babygirl-panda19 @paint3dros3s @babyblue0t7 @autumn2534 @just-a-shapeshifter08 @ryus3i @jupiterswrld @thewiselionessss @yakanadesuu-blog @kooidoom @taisha-san @avylea16 @zaynes-w @teewritessmth @rjreins @ilovelishen @ridox @d4wnbreaker @kyanmeai @rosiesareblu @pomegranatepip @littlepotaaatosimp @c-t-r-l14 @emneedshelp @krystallevine @everythingistaken00 @knorreine @peacedreamer14 @buggs-1 @kozumelise

Humming a soft tune to yourself, you stirred at the big pot of marinara on the hot stove with a wooden spoon and a soft, tranquil smile on your face. Zayne had texted you that he was on his way home after two gruelling back-to-back eight and six -hour surgeries, and to say that he was exhausted would be a massive understatement.

He’s been working significantly more these past few days — weeks now that you think about it —, coming home later and later after every shift, some days even after you’ve already gone to bed and missing each other completely. On some days, you would try to stay awake late enough to at least get to greet him, but you weren’t used to staying up so late, especially when you had to get up early in the morning to make it to the Hunters Association on time.

When he texted you that he was on his way home at 19:13 PM, you decided that there was still enough time for you to prepare a proper meal to welcome him home with, as well as enjoy the meal together for the first time in what felt like forever. You couldn’t recall when the last time you and Zayne ate a meal together that wasn’t something simple like ramen or a sandwich was, as Zayne’s late return from the hospital left barely any time to cook and eat said meal together.

Your humming came to a stop when you turned your head towards the sound of keys jingling outside the front door, turning and clicking inside the keyhole with the adept precision that only one person you know could have.

The door handle turned down and the front door opened, revealing your tired — no, utterly exhausted — husband with his shoulders slouched and his head down, causing his glasses to slip down the bridge of his nose.

“Welcome home, Zayne.” You tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot a few times, excess droplets of sauce that was clinging to the wood splashed back into the bubbling ocean of red marinara.

“Hey, love.” He blinked slowly, the somnolence in his hazel green eyes was clear as day as he began to remove his creaseless, crisp white laboratory coat, throwing it over the back-post of one of the dining room chairs. If his eyes didn’t already express how exhausted he was, the fact that he just threw his laboratory coat — which he would normally hang on a clothing hanger the second he got home to avoid creasing and wrinkles — over the back of one of the dining room chairs, was another clear indicator that he was nearly at his breaking point.

“How was work?” You placed the wooden spoon down after tapping it against the rim of the pot a few more times, turning around and moving some of your hair that had fallen in your face while you were cooking back behind your ears. You walked around the kitchen island while taking in your husband’s exhausted appearance.

“Rough… and long,” He began, moving around the island as well to meet you halfway and pull you into his warm — cold — embrace, “I knew when I chose to become a surgeon that it would be excruciating work… but these back-to-back surgeries are starting to become ridiculous.” He leaned down to rest his mouth against your shoulder, placing a small, feather-light kiss against the fabric of your shirt, his arms tightening around your waist ever-so-slightly, closing even the smallest semblance of distance — if there even was any to begin with — between you and him.

He took in a deep breath, inhaling your comforting scent and immediately feeling some of the tension in his shoulders relax a bit.

“How was yours?” His voice was muffled by the fabric of your shirt.

“Same old, same old. Mostly encountered low-ranking Wanderers, so they were somewhat easy to deal with. Nothing too out of the ordinary.” You explained, running your hand through the short, black hair at the nape of his neck, and you felt him shudder at the action.

As much as you didn’t want to, you began to pull away from the hug, feeling Zayne’s grip on your waist faintly falter before he eventually let go, standing upright and taking your hands in his instead, gently rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“You must be hungry,” You began to gently sway yours and Zayne’s hands from side to side, “we haven’t eaten a proper meal together in so long because of our clashing schedules, and when you texted me that you were coming home at a somewhat reasonable hour today,” You wiggled your hands out of Zayne’s grasp, causing his own hands to limply fall down by his sides, and stepped closer to the stove, gesturing to the large simmering pot of bubbling marinara with a bright smile, “I figured we could finally eat together!”

“Perhaps not tonight, love. I’m sorry. I’m exhausted… and all I want is to rest.” He muttered and his eyes fell shut while he pointed his head down, removing his glasses and folding up the temples before putting it in the breast pocket of his — also creaseless — white dress shirt.

“Oh…” Your arms dropped from their gesture to the simmering pot to awkwardly fiddle with your fingers over your abdomen. “Well… that’s alright, but… um… wouldn’t you like to eat dinner with me first? Before we go to bed?” You questioned awkwardly.

‘Shit.’ You thought to yourself. You should’ve known that he wouldn’t be in the mood to have dinner this later at night, especially not after two incredibly long back-to-back surgeries. You knew you should’ve asked him first, but you just assumed that he wouldn’t mind having dinner with you since he has also been complaining about barely ever seeing you anymore.

“Of course I would, love. You know it’s nothing against you personally. I’m just… not hungry right now.” He didn’t mean for his words to have the hostile undertones that they did, but he just wanted to sleep and his patience was quickly beginning to wear thin. Of course he’d like to eat with you, there’s nothing that he’d love more, but he could eat with you in the morning when he doesn’t feel like falling asleep where he’s stood, and he could’ve already been cozied in his bed with you in his arms, about to fall asleep.

“Oh… okay then… that’s fine…” You awkwardly turned around and picked up the spoon to continue stirring the marinara, “but what am I supposed to do about the food then? It’s not going to be fresh by the time the morning rolls around-” You were cut off by the sudden boom of Zayne’s voice.

“Y/N!” He snapped, his voice came out louder than he intended for it to be, “I don’t want to eat right now!" He paused and took a deep breath, "we can eat your food in the morning, just… please let me go to sleep, damn it.”

You fell silent, your hand stopped its stirring and you slowly turned around to face your husband. Did he just… yell at you? He’s never yelled at you before. He always promised that he wouldn’t. No matter how angry he got; no matter what the situation was, he always promised that he would never yell at you.

“I… Y/N…” Zayne stuttered once he realized what he’d just done. He, himself, could not believe that he just did that. ‘Why did I do that?’ He looked down, he noticed his fists were clenched at his sides, and he quickly unclenched them, hoping that you had not seen them. But you already had, you were looking directly at them in that very moment. Your eyes were wide, and he could see a slight gloss to them.

‘Did I just make her cry?’

You took your lip in between your teeth, your throat felt dry and your tongue felt like harsh, gravelly sandpaper against the roof of your mouth. “Okay.” You whispered and looked up with a curt nod, fearing that if you used your voice it would break. “Fine then. Leave the food. Throw it in the trash for all I care.” You stomped past him, unintentionally — but also intentionally — harshly bumping your shoulder against his own. This caught Zayne off guard as he stumbled backwards, scrambling to catch himself by grabbing onto the corner of the kitchen island, and watching your figure with wide eyes as you stomped away to your — shared — bedroom before slamming the door shut behind you without looking back.

Zayne exhaled a shaky breath, looking at the simmering pot on the stove and moved to turn the knob and turn the stove off, the bubbling of the marinara quietly echoed for a while after he turned off the stove. And it looked — and smelled — delicious.

"Fuck," He muttered under his breath and ran a hand through his hair, "I fucked up…" He dragged his feet to the couch and fell down with a heavy flop, the only sounds that could be heard throughout the apartment was the soft bubbling of the marinara cooling off and Linkon City’s usual city ambiance.

He wanted to go after you; to tell you that he didn’t mean for it to come off as if he didn’t appreciate your efforts, but he decided that it would be best to give you some time.

The clock on the wall read 20:31 PM.

The forgotten pot of marinara has now gone cold on the stove, the bowl holding the spaghetti was no longer steaming, and there was a heavy tension in the air as Zayne sat alone on the living room couch with his glasses in his hands, slowly turning them over betwixt his fingers as he stared at his slumped reflection in the dark TV screen.

He's given you enough time by now, right? He could try to talk to you now, right?

He put his glasses down beside his leg on the couch before standing up and turning to the bedroom door that was still closed and nervously rubbed his hands over each other. Why was he so nervous? It's not like this is the first time he's ever spoken to you, though he's never yelled at you before, so he didn't know how you'd react when you saw him again.

He slowly walked toward the door, taking note of how loud his polished, black oxford shoes sounded as they clicked against the wooden floors in the dead silent apartment.

He stopped outside the bedroom door, and he brought up his fist, hesitating a few centimetres away from the surface of the door, before he sucked it up and his knuckles made contact with the door to knock.

You didn't answer.

Of course you didn't answer, why would you?

You had every right to not want to answer him at that moment.

"Y/N?" Zayne's voice broke the silence. His hand gripped the door handle as he waited for a beat to see if you would answer to his call.

When you didn't answer, Zayne took a deep breath before pushing down the door handle, slowly pushing the door open until there was a small crack between the door and the doorframe that he could peek through. He saw you, fast asleep on the bed with his pillow tucked comfortably in your arms.

A soft smile found its way onto Zayne’s face, and he pushed the door open all the way, putting in the extra effort to not make a single sound as he tiptoed his way closer to your side of the bed. His smile immediately fell, however, when he noticed the dry tear tracks staining your cheeks and reflecting the full moon’s bright lucence outside the windows, and small, wet patch next to your face in your pillow.

‘I really did make her cry…’ Zayne felt his heart shatter into millions of pieces when the realization dawned on him that he caused this; he made you cry yourself to sleep.

Zayne quietly slipped off his shoes, leaving them next to his side of the bed and moving to lay down next to you. The sheets rustled in the silence, and he hoped that it wouldn’t be loud enough to wake you. Not even bothering to get out of his work attire, Zayne’s slender fingers moved to gently move a piece of hair behind your ear, and you stirred at the action.

“Zayne…?” Your raspy, sleepy voice broke the silence, and you squinted in the darkness to try and utilize the bright moon’s lucence make out his facial features — though, you didn’t really have a need to, since you’d already memorized every single feature on his face by now. From every single speck of gold in his eyes, to each individual eyelash lining his eyelids.

Zayne’s hand instinctively came up to cup your cheek, gently running his thumb over your cheekbone, and he smiled when he felt you lean into his touch.

“Thank you… for your troubles, my love. I really do appreciate it. I promise that I never meant to make you feel that I didn’t.”

© aeyuriameow. All rights reserved. DO NOT copy, modify, translate, plagiarize or repost ANY of my work on ANY social media platform. DO NOT claim my work as your own. DO NOT mention, promote or recommend my work on ANY social media platform outside of Tumblr. Violators will be prosecuted in accordance with the law. I currently ONLY post my work on Tumblr under the username @aeyuriameow.

When the boys get invited to the cookout

If you know, you know...a very niche post for those that get it 😘 Part 2 here

XAVIER

He is immediately given the fattest plate made by an auntie or grandmother

He's slightly overwhelmed and doesn't know where to start

Xavier is for sure passing out before he even finishes his plate

Wakes up for seconds and then is forced to make room for dessert

Sweet potato pie, pecan pie, banana pudding , it's all calling his name

Little cousins are definitely asking him if he has games on his phone

Fighting the itis while being dragged to watch whatever sports team is on tv

Aunties are asking him where he's from..."He don't always seem to be all the way there honey"

Overall has a good time and took several plates home for later

RAFAYEL

This mf dancing with the aunties

"Don't hurt em now son!" They hyping him tf up

He's being super attentive to women in the family, but also not trying to be left alone too long

"Your cousin asked how serious we are"

He's telling anyone that will listen that he did your hair

He's being asked for tickets to his exhibits (knowing damn well they not gonna attend)

Raf questions everything you put on his plate, but eats it anyway

" You want me to eat the sweet potatoes, greens, and cornbread in one bite?"

"I'm starting to see why you don't come home so often"

He disappears for a time and find him later playing dominoes with the men

"Babe, take me home I'm tired"

ZAYNE

You're protecting this man with your life

"Ain't this the lil boy you were always hanging around"

"Did your parents ever come home?"

When they found out he's a doctor, every medical concern family members have had for the last 20 years are being asked

"I suggest meeting with your medical professional."

"Everything on that plate is probably the direct cause to her high blood pressure."

Plays exactly one game of Uno

"I think I upset your uncle."

Hides in the bathroom when he's being asked to dance

Finds time to play a bit with the kids outside

Secretly enjoying the dessert table when no one is around

As soon as his social battery is drained, he's giving you the look 'it's time to go'

SYLUS

Chile...after being flirted with for the 1st hour, the men kidnap him for some spades

From spades to dominoes, he's doing all the gambling

"Place your bets, gentlemen. Maybe it's beginner's luck."

Let's your aunties fawn over him a second time

"If I was 15 years younger honey.."

Let's you guide him while doing the electric slide

He takes one bite of pie and gives you the rest

Wayyy to sweet for his tastes

Find him passed out on the couch at some point...the food was hittin

Listening to any concerns the kids have and teach them self defense

"Despite what your cousin says, sometimes violence is the answer."

Taking photos with family and friends all night-you delete every single one

Aunties giving yall knowing looks all night (they can just tell the dick is good)

"That was very amusing kitten. Invite me again next time."

BONUS

Luke and Kieran living it up the whole night

Don't take rude questions to heart "You don't care all those piercings are messing up your face"

Shameless flirting with eligible cousins

Passed out next to sylus on the couch with food in hand

Mephisto was called a rat and hit with a broom

Writing sometimes feels like a strange disorder you just kind of cope with by being creative. Like your brain randomly decides to dump a million-piece puzzle in front of you and says, 'Solve this or we will never think of anything else, ever.' You toil away for years and by some miracle you solve it, and it's the most fulfilling, exhilarating feeling in the world. It's perfect. You did it. And your brain is like, 'OK, here's my idea for three sequels and a spinoff.'

caleb | 1:22 am

Your pillow is buzzing. Why is it buzzing? You groan and reach underneath your pillow, grasping at your phone. You pull it out, sit up in bed and blink at it. Caleb's name flashes across the screen. You swipe your finger across it.

"Caleb?"

There's a pause before the voice on the other end coughs awkwardly.

"Uh... is this... Pipsqueak?"

You're immediately alert. The voice doesn't belong to Caleb.

"Who is this?" you demand, your voice still thick with sleep.

"You were listed as this guy, Caleb's, emergency contact," the voice explains. "He's at the bar. We've had to cut him off. Can you come get him? We close in, like, half an hour."

You're immediately out of bed, pulling sweatpants and a hoodie on. "Oh my god, of course, I'm on my way."

You're stuffing your feet into shoes when you hear someone slurring his words in the background. "Hey, that's my phone, gi-gi-give it back!"

---

"You're too nice to him, my wife would have made me sleep and sober up outside."

You chuckle at the taxi driver's remark. You were lucky to flag down a cab at this time in the night. The driver had asked you were you were going so late, and you had explained everything to him. You and Caleb had been giving each other the silent treatment for two days now. It was over something stupid. He had left one of his unfinished models lying around on the floor in your apartment and you hadn't seen it - you had ended up stepping on it - on accident, of course - but you had never seen Caleb so upset. It ended with him storming out of your apartment and no calls or texts from him for the last couple of days. You had thought about apologizing first, but had decided he was being childish and that he would approach you when he was ready. But it turns out that he had decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. You had known that he likes to drink socially once in a while, but he's never been totally wasted before - not like this. You wanted to seem calm and collected, but inside, your anxiety is tearing you up. Is Caleb okay?

The driver slows down and pulls up to the bar. He meets your eyes in the rearview mirror.

"Go get him, I'll wait here."

You thank him, and head inside the bar. The glass door is already locked, but you knock a couple of times, and a staff member appears from behind the bar and lets you in.

"Sorry," he apologizes, scratching the back of his head. "We would have sent him home in a cab but he wouldn't tell us his address. He kept saying he wanted 'Pipsqueak'. He's a regular here so we really didn't want to let him wander home by himself."

You nod at the bartender. "Thank you. Where is he?"

He points at one of the corner booths with his thumb. You make a beeline for it, and see Caleb, lying across the booth's cushion. His cheeks are flushed red and he's snoring lightly, his hand gripping his phone.

You shake him gently to wake him. "Caleb, let's go home."

He groans and lifts his head slowly. "Please, leave me alone. I have... I have a..." His eyes open and they widen when they meet yours. "Pipsqueak," he whispers.

You place a hand on his cheek. "Let's get you home, okay?"

---

It was a mission to get Caleb in the cab, even with the help of the bartender. It's an even bigger mission to get him into your apartment building and up the stairs. But you manage to do it, and get him inside the apartment without incident.

Almost there!

You practically haul him to your room, and push him onto the bed. He flops onto it like a ragdoll, one arm and both his legs hanging off the sides.

You stare at him, hands on your hips, panting quietly. "Well, that can't be too comfortable."

You take a few moments to catch your breath before you decide to tackle his jeans and shoes - they come off easily enough, and then you get to work on his shirt. His eyes are still closed and he's muttering something softly, but you can't take the time to figure out what he's saying. You start to put on some shorts for him, but it's awkward and you only manage to get one leg in.

"Caleb, Caleb." You squeeze one of his knees to wake him again. "I need your help, sit up for a little bit."

This seems to rouse him and Caleb lets out a low groan and rises slowly.

"Okay, let's just get these shorts on."

Caleb is still for a few moments, and you think he's fallen asleep again while sitting up. But he mumbles something almost imperceptible, and you almost miss it. He's saying your name.

You look up at him from where you're crouching next to the bed, and meet his bloodshot eyes. There are tears forming at their corners.

You're startled - you're not used to seeing him cry. "Caleb? What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispers. You can smell the alcohol in his breath. "I was so stupid. I'm sorry."

A lump in your throat forms and you have to turn away before he can see the tears in your own eyes. You clear your throat before speaking again. "Let's talk about it in the morning, okay? Just get in the shorts and then we can go to bed."

Caleb nods, and pulls his shorts up so that they're on properly. You breathe a sigh of relief, and help him get under the covers of the bed.

You go about settling down for the night again, making sure the front door is locked, all lights are off, and placing a packet of headache medication and a glass of water on the nightstand next to Caleb's side of the bed.

You slide in under the covers next to him, and notice that he's still awake, his eyes struggling to focus on you.

"Pipsqueak," he mutters, his eyelids fluttering. "Please, don't be mad at me any more."

You smile at him, amused at the fact that he fought to stay awake to tell you that. You brush the hair away from his forehead with your hand and plant a small kiss on it. Caleb sighs, and he closes his eyes, surrendering to sleep.

"You're the one who didn't call or text for two days, dumbass," you mumble, knowing that you'll go unheard. You don't care. You continue raking your hands through his hair as he snores softly.

Lumiere re-run: Aftermath

📖⬅⬅⬅

Xavier, you're such a meanie... >n<!!! you better come home early the next banner or your cheeks will be so sore...!

Caleb's new myth X-02 sketch

Star Gazing

Xavier x Reader

Sweet nights, him holding your hand, the world didn’t matter. You were both on the ground staring up at the stars, your boyfriend, Xavier, gently rubbed small circles on your hand.  Everything was perfect, he loved telling you about the different stars and constellations, you've never seen your boyfriend so happy. 

“Look! There, the constellation of Leo,” Xavier said happily as he pointed at the stars. You tried to see it, but you only saw many stars.  He didn’t have to know that, though; he was having the time of his life, and that was the only thing that mattered to you currently.   

“Did you know that Leo was one of the earliest recognized constellations in the sky?  Back then, the summer solstice was observed exactly in this constellation.  Which means it begins the flood of the Nile in Egypt.”   He said as he looked at you, as he was so eager to show you his knowledge. 

You nodded, showing that you were listening to his talk as he yapped about the stars.  “Is that so?” You responded, looking into his eyes.  He nodded eagerly as he smiled again, you saw the little sparks of light of his evol dancing around you guys.  He was telling you random facts or just amazing things about space and different exoplanets that exist.  

“There's a theory of a 9th planet, yet they say that this planet is far away and it is bigger than Jupiter.  This theory was started due to you needing things on two sides to balance something out. Which would be the same as the solar system.” He explained, looking far into the distance.  Silence grew between both of you only the wind was heard.  Then he turned around to look at you. 

“My star…” He said, looking at you, his eyes showed a soft look at you. “There are billions of different stars out there..Yet I found the only star that really matters to me.”  He spoke gently, his words with deep affection as he gently put a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Peppermint Mocha Scones & A Solitude with You (Xavier x reader Christmas fanfic) Love and Deepspace

genre: Rom-com, Fluff

Follow me and my work on AO3, I will update there soon! And pls recommend what I should write if you have any ideas THANK YOU!: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanniepanini/pseuds/Sanniepanini

***

Xavier was like a mystery wrapped in a layer of indifference. It had been two years since I had first met him on the school grounds. Back then, he’d been a quiet, almost aloof presence in the hallways, always on the fringes of every conversation but never quite part of any.

Christmas was coming around, and I'd spent countless hours at the bakery, experimenting with flavors, tweaking the recipe until it felt just right. 

Working part time to support my college lifestyle was hard, but I was happy that I was able to manage it. The radiant smiles from people as they received their purchases, the smell of chocolate and the soft hum of holiday music in the background—it was the perfect setting for a little holiday magic. 

It was late, so late that the bakery was starting to empty out, and the streets outside were quieting down too. People were leaving in a trickle along with the fading chatter and laughter as the door chimed behind them.

   I smiled as I said  “Happy Holidays!” or “Merry Christmas!” to the last few customers who were heading out, my voice was warm and genuine despite the exhaustion that was starting to settle into my bones. The thought of not spending Christmas in silence, alone, was reason enough to stay.

 I stood there for a moment, the quiet stretching between like a thin, fragile thread. I didn’t crave the crowd, the loud noises, the stress…but more the presence of somebody else…to not face the solitude of the holidays all alone. 

As I went over to pack the last order, the doorbell chimed once again. The soft hum of Winter Christmas by Dean Martin floated through the speakers, wrapping the moment in something that felt almost cinematic. 

   “You’re still open?” said a soft voice and I froze, turning around and I saw a familiar face.

   “Xavier?”

He was practically a bundled up human gift by all of the clothes and his scarf had the fun print of reindeers⎯ his nose was red. 

   “I had an order…”

I nodded, caught off guard I looked at the order receipts on the wall. “Right. Yeah. Of course—you’re the peppermint mocha scones and the cinnamon loaf?”

   “Guilty,” he quipped, moving his gloved hands together.

I turned back to grab the box I had just finished tying with a gold ribbon, placing it gently on the counter between us. “Didn’t think you’d come this late.”

   “Me neither…until I remembered I had made an order a few days ago.” He sighed. “I didn’t know you’d stay here on Christmas Eve.” 

  “We are the only bakery open in town today, and someone has to stay…” I felt awkward, almost embarrassed as I told him that I was all alone today. Looking away I pretended to fuss with the ribbon on the box like it mattered more than it did.

Xavier’s eyes locked with mine and I didn’t move my gaze. I couldn’t. “So you’re spending it alone?”

I swallowed. “Well…I am spending it by myself.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was quiet in the way snowfall is—gentle, expectant. Like something was about to land. 

Xavier smiled. “It doesn’t have to stay that way.”

I glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that we could celebrate together⎯ if you don’t have anyone else for that matter.”

Someone else for that matter…The butter smooth light of the bakery seemed even softer and I felt hesitant to answer right away. My fingers curled loosely around the ribbon on the pastry box as I felt my heart warmed at the thought. 

  “No,” I said finally, quietly. “There’s no one else.”

Xavier exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Good,” he said, then added quickly, “I mean—not good that you’re alone. Just—good that... I asked.”

I laughed under my breath and saw his shoulder ease.

  “Would it be weird if I stayed for a bit? Just… here. With you.” He finally asked.

  “Depends…will you help me clean up?” I quipped and he cracked a smile. A smile so genuine and different from the Xavier I knew.

   “A condition for your company?”

   “Non-negotiable.”

To my surprise he didn’t hesitate to take off his jacket and scarf, discarding them neatly by a chair. Xavier by far wasn’t the most graceful about anything, especially when it came to stacking trays and I had to catch one before it nearly fell on the floor.

   “I am not bakery material, am I?” he rubbed the back of his neck and I had to smile at the sheepish look on his face. 

   “It’s not like you’re getting paid,” I teased and handed him a washcloth. 

Working with Xavier was the most comfortable thing I had ever experienced. The rhythm fell into place—it didn’t matter, the clatter, the noise, the laughter. We moved without pressure

The snow had started to whip even faster towards the ground. Like shooting stars.

   “Can I ask you something?” Xavier threw a washcloth in the basket.

His movement was not as casual as his voice.

I nodded and he took a breath.

“Why do you do it?” he said. “Why stay here at night like this? When the trains stop running, when everyone’s gone home for the holidays... when you could be with your family. Or just... home.”He looked at the floor, and I shrugged. “I guess here…” I thought for a bit, motioning toward the bakery, “makes more sense to me. It’s warm. Familiar. People come in happy, and they leave happier. I like being part of that.” “Even on the holidays?” “Yes, especially on holidays. When people come in and get their order, I feel like I’m a part of their life for a bit. I get to give them that joy,” I said, the words feeling more real than I expected. “Don’t you want someone else to want that for you?” His voice was quiet. I shifted a little, trying to find the right words. “W-well, people do that for me,” I stammered, but the words came out sounding less convincing than I meant. Xavier looked at me with a raised brow, like he didn’t quite buy it. “Really? So you’re telling me that people just... show up at your door with a hot drink, or insist on spending time with you when you’re working?” I felt my cheeks warm, and I glanced away, suddenly self-conscious. “Well... no. I mean, I don’t need that,” I added quickly, as if to justify myself. “Do you want that?” I swallowed and shrugged. “Maybe, if it’s not too much of a fuss…” Xavier thought for a while. “Scared that asking for anything will be a burden, even when it’s the season of giving?” His words caught me off guard, and I froze for a moment. It was like he’d reached into my mind and pulled out something I’d never fully said out loud. I didn’t answer right away, feeling the weight of his question settle heavily between us. “I never took you for the guy who’d have that view,” I almost whispered, and he unloaded the dishwasher. “Really?” I nodded. “You’ve always been so quiet… I sometimes thought you didn’t like me.” The hum of the dishwasher filled the silence, and he burst out laughing. Openly, like I’d just told a big joke. Though his laughter died, his smiling eyes looked into mine. “Forgive me, I didn’t know I came off that way.” “Well, you do.” I mockingly accused him, and his grin didn’t vanish. I glanced around the bakery, the counters wiped down, chairs stacked, the faint scent of sugar and cinnamon still lingering in the warm air. “It seems finished. Thank you for helping.” Xavier shrugged, walking over to set the last dish towel on the rack. “Wasn’t really planning on doing dishes on Christmas Eve, but I gotta say, not the worst way to spend the night.” For a moment, his face lit up, and he looked at his order. “If it isn’t weird,” he said, glancing back up at me, “want to eat this with me?” I blinked, surprised—not at the question, but how easy it felt. Like he wasn’t asking out of pity or politeness, but because he wanted to. Because he stayed longer than he planned for a reason. “Yeah… I’d love to.” I finally said.