Love And Deepspace April Fools Day Poster - Xavier

Love And Deepspace April Fools Day Poster - Xavier

Love and deepspace April fools day poster - Xavier

More Posts from Xavierfrogprincess and Others

4 weeks ago
Dumping These Here
Dumping These Here
Dumping These Here
Dumping These Here
Dumping These Here
Dumping These Here
Dumping These Here

dumping these here

4 weeks ago

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

Rewrite The Stars

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

But you couldn't have Xavier.ย 

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?

1 month ago
โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–
โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–
โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–
โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.2k Genre: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort Notice: Mentions of infidelity, blood, and wound, Y/N is not MC A/N: @brailsthesmolgurl requested angst, I hope this one is painful enough ๐Ÿ’” May or may not consider writing a part 2

[แฐ.แŸ MASTERLIST]

โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

Clang!

The sound of the thrown stick echoed across the training room. A pair of cerulean orbs locked with yours, amazement reflected in their depths.

โ€œThatโ€™s a lot of pent-upโ€ฆenergy,โ€ your partnerโ€”professionally and romanticallyโ€”fixed his attention on the wooden stick grazing his Adam's apple as he spoke.

If it was your hunter scythe, his skin would be sliced open.

You lowered it down, the adrenaline rush fading as the throbbing sensation in your knee took over. A sharp stab of pain that left your whole leg numb.

Ungracefully, you collapsed to the floor. Xavierโ€™s hand was on your side in an instant, seeing how your face had crumpled in agony.

โ€œYou have a lot on your mind.โ€ He felt you tensed, yet didnโ€™t stop massaging your knee. His touch continued to work its magic, sending ripples of relief through you.

โ€œIโ€™m losing my touch, this desk duty is weakening me.โ€

โ€œYou just literally disarmed me,โ€ he reminded, โ€œDoes this have to do with the team assignment?โ€

Whenever a new batch arrived, they were divided into groups with senior hunters overseeing their missions initially.

Xavier's involvement was to be expected, much like your own participation before the injury.

โ€œDo you have anything against a particular recruit?โ€ he treaded carefully.

You had nothing against the womanโ€”whom you later discovered was Dr. Zayne's childhood friend and suspected the stoic doctor had a soft spot forโ€”when you saw them together in a cafรฉ a few times. In fact, she was quite a lovely woman.

What unsettled you was Xavier's uncharacteristic ease in opening up to her, despite his usual reservations with strangers.

โ€œNo,โ€ you answered genuinely, โ€œbut do you have anything youโ€™d like to tell me?โ€

Xavierโ€™s fingers paused. โ€œWhat do you mean by that?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know, Xav, you seem distracted lately.โ€

How could you miss the way his eyes sought out the junior hunter every morning when she arrived, even when you both were engaged in a conversation?

Or how could you miss his unmistakable comfortable stance as he interacted with the hunter, when the ring of her laughter filled up the bullpen?

His eyes slid sideways. โ€œI need to focus on supervising the recruits, Captain Jenna's counting on me.โ€

Drawing closer, Xavier reached out, hand tenderly cupping your cheek. โ€œIโ€™m sorry if Iโ€™ve been distant.โ€

He noticed you biting down on your lips, wearing them out. It was the first time he had seen you visibly unsettled.

โ€œIf this is truly affecting you, I can ask someone else to take over my place.โ€

โ€œNo, itโ€™s fine.โ€

You wouldn't allow yourself to be the reason he stepped back from his responsibilities, even if it meant sacrificing your own peace of mind.

โ€œJust... please, talk to me if there's ever something on your mind,โ€ you urged softly.

Xavier pressed his lips gently against your forehead. Even as the warmth of his kiss enveloped you, it couldn't dispel the pang of unease gnawing at the edges of your thoughts like it normally did.

The gnawing uneasiness, though, was justified.

With each passing day, his subtle mentions and veiled references of her painted your conversations.

It became even more apparent as your keen eyes caught glimpses of the growing sparkle in his gaze, the way his eyes slightly lingered on her, speaking volumes.

It might have gone unnoticed by others, but not you.

Not when you had once recognised the same tender looks directed towards you, before the two of you became a couple.

โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

โ€œWill you, for once, stop bringing her up?โ€

The room plunged into a tense silence, even the rhythmic tick-tick-tick of Jeremiah's fingers typing came to a sudden halt.

โ€œUh Iโ€™ll step outโ€”โ€

โ€œJeremiah, sit down,โ€ your tone was firm, leaving no room for refusal.

Jeremiah, halfway rising from his seat, abruptly sat back down with a plop! onto the chair beneath him.

Perched at the edge of Jeremiah's desk, you faced Xavier across the wooden table, the recent activity on the No-Hunt Zone forgotten as he got startled by your harsh remarks. Mouth slightly hanging open as he didnโ€™t get the chance to finish his sentence.

โ€œTell me, Jeremiah, did he or did he not have been casually mentioning her for the past fifteen minutes?โ€

The poor guy had his eyes ping-ponged between the two of you. Torn between defending his longtime friend or youโ€”the second person he would trust his life with.

โ€œHe did,โ€ Jeremiah eventually admitted in a tiny voice, sinking even lower into his seat upon receiving a look of exasperation from Xavier.

In a way, you felt relieved knowing that the creeping vines of jealousy within your heart didn't merely blind you to making things up.

Grateful, that someone else had also come to realise it, validating your feelings.

You watched as Xavier's eyes finally bore into yours, uncertainty swimming in their depths.

Whatever emotion reflected in your eyes caused his breath to falter, finally making him aware of the jagged rift that had gradually formed between you.

โ€œItโ€™s been a couple of months now. You sure thereโ€™s nothing youโ€™d like to tell me?โ€

Despite the cool front, you were aware of the pain piercing your heart.

The weight of embarrassment from having Jeremiah witness the unraveling of something that had once felt solid, so unbreakable.

Xavier took a daring step, as if to bridge the gap. โ€œY/N, Iโ€”โ€

Before he could finish, yours and his hunter watches lit up red, signaling an urgent notification. A warning voice thundered not a second later.

ใ€ŒAll available senior hunters are to report back to UNICORNS Massive Metaflux fluctuations detected at Stormcrown Summitใ€

With a quick โ€œCatch you laterโ€ tossed back to Jeremiah, you were already on the move the moment the first words reached your ears.

Xavier stepped in front of your 310HM, a dangerous move as you were mere seconds away from twisting the throttle. โ€œPlease, your knee can't handle it. You'll only end up hurting yourself.โ€

โ€œNow is not the time to suddenly show concern for me again,โ€ you retorted sharply.

As you revved up the engine, he stepped back, his face troubled. And you left him behind, knowing fully well he would make it back before you either way.

The bustling HQ buzzed with urgency as hunters within a 25km radius received the emergency alert. Frantic voices and swift footsteps filling up the walls.

Walking straight to Captain Jenna, you were greeted with an all-too-familiar grimace; the same expression she had worn when she caught you in the training room instead of attending physical therapy for your injury.

โ€œSenior hunter Y/N, reporting for duty.โ€ Your gaze met hers head-on.

The captain sighed, slightly shaking her head as if to clear the mounting stress. โ€œWe are in dire need of all hands on deck. Some senior hunters are away on missions far from Linkon, and weโ€™ve resorted to sending some of the best recruits.โ€

Despite having earned her approval, she still gave you a warning look.

โ€œYou head back when your knee starts hurting, andโ€โ€”her stern gaze warned you that there would be consequences if you ever considered defying her commandโ€”โ€œyou are not to wander alone without a partner.โ€

Your hand instantly reached out to one of the passing hunters, luckily snatching someone you had worked together with in previous missions occasionally, noting their above-average skills.

The fluttered brows of Captain Jenna didnโ€™t go amiss. A look of confusion passed between her and the hunter, questioning your choice of a different partner than the usual one.

โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

Towering trees at the Stormcrown Summit were shrouded in mist, casting an aura of unpredictability over the landscape. The occasional rustle of leaves heightened your senses further, escalating the tension of the unknown lurking within.

A very much missed surge of adrenaline fueled your body as you ventured deeper into the dense forest.

โ€œIโ€™m surprised that you did not choose Xavier as your partner,โ€ your companionโ€”Adrianโ€”initiated a conversation after the two of you eliminated some roaming Mist Knaves.

โ€œHe is busy supervising the newer guys.โ€

"Seems to be warming up faster than he normally would, isnโ€™t he?"

Damn it, you forgot how one of his best skills included perceptiveness.ย 

A short distance away, Xavierโ€™s group made their way towards the clearing. The worried glances cast in your direction didnโ€™t go unnoticed before the gigantic trees obscure your view.

โ€œItโ€™s very unexpected of him,โ€ Adrian commented, watching the exchange between you both.

โ€œPeople change,โ€ you bit out, fully aware that you had fallen into the trap, indirectly confirming that something had indeed happened between you and Xavier.

The conversation was cut off when several Velox Venators leaped out from behind the thick foliage.

Their agility presented a challenge after spending time confined to the desk.

โ€œAs much as I love having you back on the teamโ€โ€”your partnerโ€™s voice rang out as he leaped back, avoiding the swing of your obsidian scythe cutting through the last beastโ€™s tough silver hideโ€”โ€œit would be a shame to see you permanently sitting behind a desk after this.โ€

The sudden pouring thunderstorm had made the ground mushy, amplifying the pressure on your knee. Concealing the grimace of discomfort became futile at this point.

You followed his instruction to rest once the danger was cleared up, welcoming the temporary bliss of taking the pressure off your knee.

Just as you were about to truly relax, the urgent shouting of one of the hunters crackled through both of your hunter's watches, jolting you back to attention.

ใ€ŒRequesting backup at coordinates 45.6789ยฐ N, 87.6543ยฐ W 2 injured hunters, surrounded by Elite Wanderers, recruits extraction neededใ€

Profanities escaped Adrianโ€™s mouth as he followed your leading figure closely behind, navigating through the woods with the programmed coordinates in the watch.

As you reached the clearing, you took in the scene before you. Several senior hunters had come to aid, engaged in a battle against a handful of Thunderoars.

That explained the abnormal thunderstorm.

However, a movement in your peripheral vision caught your attention, drawing your focus to a lone female hunter facing a feline predator. Its build was unusually large compared to the ones you typically encountered.

The beast had curled its tail, its sharp edge gleaming with an ominous sheen, poised to strike.

โ€œShit!โ€ You sprinted forward as you watched her moment of hesitation. A hesitation that could kill her.

White, blinding pain shot up your leg as you lunged forward, pushing the recruit from the line of attack.

The searing pain in your abdomen came next, stealing the air from your lungs.

There wasn't enough time to dodge the razor-sharp tail as you staggered both from the momentum and the uneven, soft terrain.

The ground rumbled as thorny vines quickly encircled each of the Spurtailโ€™s legs, ensnaring it in a tight grip.ย 

Even amidst the haze of agonizing pain, your Evol reacted, defending its owner.

You pushed through the pain, striking the Wandererโ€™s broken protocore shield as it trashed against the barbed tendrils that had nearly swallowed its form.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you as the Spurtail deteriorated. The earth tilted and your knees buckled, scythe slipping from your grasp, clattering to the ground.

When the tell-tale sign of darkness crept into your vision, a glimmer of light danced off a familiar light-ash blonde.

His long legs raced towards you. Running, running, and runningโ€ฆ

Past you.

โ€œY/N, Y/N! Are you still with me?โ€

Captain Jennaโ€™s face appeared in your line of vision, lips set into a grim line.

When was your back lowered to the ground?

The sky above had cleared up, you realised. A stark difference from the gloom descending upon your heart like a heavy rain.

โ€œCome on, Y/N, you gotta stay with us. You're stronger than you thought.โ€

The agony intensified as you registered a pair of hands pressing down on your abdomen. A guttural groan ripping out of your throat.

Pearl-red blood, your blood, stained her hands as she tapped your cheeks, desperate to have your focus on her.

โ€œHey, you canโ€™t leave us, do you hear me?!โ€

The darkness was almost overwhelming at this point, the words that Captain Jenna shouted becoming incoherent in your ears.

For the first time, you witnessed a look of terror overtaking her eyes as they briefly flickered down to your abdomen once again.

It was unsettling. The mature woman was not one to show such raw emotion frequently.

As your head drooped to the side, you caught a glimpse of his outline crouching beside the female hunter you had pushed away.

Close in proximity, yet intolerably distant.

There was a longing for those blue orbs to be the last thing you looked at before the darkness consumed everything.ย 

โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

Even with the soothing hum of the medical equipment in the backdrop, a sense of alarm began to creep in as you felt the shift in the air.

โ€œDidnโ€™t the nurse say no visits?โ€

It only took one air evacuation, just like in those action movies and medical dramas, for people to flock to your bedside once you were out of the ICU.

On the third day, you asked the nurses to refuse any visitors, craving solitude.

โ€œIโ€ฆ may have walked past them.โ€

By โ€œwalkedโ€, it meant that he had teleported to the room. There wasn't a sound of the door opening and closing.

Adrianโ€™s self-blame was predictable, given that he was supposed to stick with you during the mission.

Captain Jennaโ€™s shift from relief to light scolding didn't come as a surprise either.

Even the junior hunterโ€™s profuse apologies were manageable.

Seeing Xavierโ€™s guilt-stricken face several steps away from your bed, however, unleashed a whirlwind of emotion you werenโ€™t sure you were ready to cope with.

โ€œI should have been the one in that bed, not you.โ€

Your laugh was devoid of humour. โ€œWhy? So you can be her hero instead?โ€

โ€œNo!โ€ Distress was evident in his voice and posture as he rushed towards you. โ€œYou shouldn't have to endure this. You shouldn't even have joined the mission.โ€

โ€œWe get hurt, itโ€™s part of the job.โ€

โ€œYou almost died!โ€ voice cracking, he collapsed into the seat beside your bed, head buried in hands.

Years of knowing Xavier and that was the first time you had seen him crumble. Gone was his usual calm exterior, replaced by a broken man, drowning in regret.

Even then, your battered heart couldnโ€™t stop the trembling remark, heavy with disappointment and anguish, from escaping your lips, โ€œYet you ran past me.โ€

Doe eyes, bright with unshed tears, snapped to yours.

People had said that traumatic events may lead to memory loss, but that day was etched vividly in your mind, each detail imprinted like a nightmare festering in your brain.

โ€œY/Nโ€”โ€

โ€œAnything you say will not change the fact that things will never be the same between us.โ€

His face fell, mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

Finally, he settled on a meek plea, โ€œPlease forgive me.โ€

You breathed out, slowly adjusting your position on the bed. Face laced in discomfort as you felt the stitches being tugged.

You were lucky, so to speak, as the Spurtailโ€™s strike narrowly avoided any internal organs. But, the gash was pretty deep, resulting in a significant amount of blood loss.

โ€œDid you know that you used to look at me the same way?โ€ the words tumbled out, a rhetorical question that had been lingering on the tip of your tongue for far too long.

He couldn't refute anything.

A sad smile painted your lips. โ€œThat shouldโ€™ve been my only warning, yet I still hopelessly had faith in you.โ€

If it was possible, the guilt etched on his face deepened. He couldnโ€™t miss the shift to past tense in your words, a bold declaration of the trust he had shattered.

โ€œWhether you realised it or not, youโ€™ve made your choice, Xavier. Itโ€™s time to put an end to thisโ€”to us.โ€

The blooms that Jeremiah had placed on the windowsill the day before suddenly lost their luster, mirroring the drastic change in emotion happening within you.

Xavierโ€™s eyes flickered to the pot, helplessly watching the wilted petals droop, surrendering to the vines creeping up from the soil and entangling them with their thorny embrace.

โ€œI donโ€™t deserve your forgiveness,โ€ his words hang heavily in the air.

You didnโ€™t tell him that he was wrong. No, the deep wound he had inflicted could never be healed by words alone.

Eyes fluttering closed, you were determined to keep the tears at bay. โ€œPlease close the door on your way out.โ€

After a few weeks that felt excessively long, you eventually received the green light to return to work.

The desk will be your friend longer, unfortunately, until you fully complete the knee therapy and succeed the reevaluation exam, as per Captain Jennaโ€™s order.

Adrian, still feeling at fault, was determined to fill you in with what had happened while you were gone. Including the gossip.

You were the least surprised to hear about the relationship between Dr. Zayne and the recruit.

If the doctorโ€™s visits during your hospital stayโ€”expressing multiple gratitudes for saving his childhood friend and making sure you had the best careโ€”werenโ€™t any indicator, then you might as well be dense.

โ€œHeโ€™s been very closed off,โ€ Adrian remarked as your eyes strayed towards Xavier.

The lone hunter was back to distancing himself from everyone, taking solo missions and not talking unless prompted to.

He was just doing what he did best: tracking down Wanderers and not socializing.

But, you noticed the freshly brewed coffee every morning on your desk, made just the way you liked it.

You noticed the hot packs appearing whenever your face pulled in discomfort from the stiffness of your knee.

Noticed that he never left before you, even when he had the rest of the day off after returning early from a mission.

Noticed, the stolen glances he sent your way.

Was it because he felt consumed by guilt? Or was it because he had to swallow his own bitter pill, watching someone he cared about chose another person?

โ€œThey still have your favourite egg tarts.โ€

Startled, you looked up from the monitor to see Xavier setting two food bags on your desk.

It was the first time he had spoken directly since your return.

When you saw him leave earlier, you thought that he had finally given up and gone home, as you persisted in gathering information about the threatening Elite Wanderer well past working hours.

Even Captain Jenna left first, leaving you alone in the bullpen as the night shift went to grab dinner.

โ€œThank you,โ€ you murmured gratefully. You opened the bags to reveal a sandwich in one and the egg tarts you used to enjoy together in the other.

Without hesitation, you handed him one of the pastries before he could step away. His eyes widened slightly before accepting it with a faint smile, a sight you hadn't seen in so long.

In the dimly lit room, Xavierโ€™s eyes gleamed like the depths of the night sky, each gaze resembling a twinkling star in a vast galaxy.

It would have been easy to give in to those eyes, to his profound concerns.

But the scar left a permanent mark.

And you were still not able to distinguish whether its sight reopened an old wound or if it proved that you had truly healed.

โ„‚๐•š๐•”๐•’๐•ฅ๐•ฃ๐•š๐•ซ๐•–

โคท แฐ.แŸ MASTERLIST

3 weeks ago

AT LAST SOMEONE WROTE A SICKFIC ..OMG THANK YOUUUU

๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ
๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ
๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ
๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ

๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘๐‘˜ ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ.

โœงโ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€ ๏ฝฅ ๏ฝก๏พŸโ˜…: *.โœฆ .* :โ˜…. โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โœง

๐–  ๐—Œ๐—๐–พ๐–พ๐— ๐–ฟ๐—…๐—Ž๐–ฟ๐–ฟ ๐–ฟ๐—‚๐–ผ ๐–บ๐–ป๐—ˆ๐—Ž๐— ๐–ท๐–บ๐—๐—‚๐–พ๐—‹ ๐—€๐–พ๐—๐—๐—‚๐—‡๐—€ ๐—Œ๐—‚๐–ผ๐—„ ๐–บ๐—‡๐–ฝ ๐—’๐—ˆ๐—Ž ๐—๐–บ๐—„๐—‚๐—‡๐—€ ๐–ผ๐–บ๐—‹๐–พ ๐—ˆ๐–ฟ ๐—๐—‚๐—†!

โ”€ห™โœถ ๐–ฏ๐– ๐–จ๐–ฑ๐–จ๐–ญ๐–ฆ๐–ฒ: ๐˜Ÿ๐˜ข๐˜ท๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜น ๐˜”๐˜ค (you)

โ”€ห™โœถ ๐–ฆ๐–พ๐—‡๐—‹๐–พ: ๐˜๐˜ญ๐˜ถ๐˜ง๐˜ง

โ”€ห™โœถ ๐–ถ๐—ˆ๐—‹๐–ฝ ๐–ข๐—ˆ๐—Ž๐—‡๐—: 594

โ”€ห™โœถ ๐– /๐–ญ: ๐˜ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜บ๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ ๐˜ฆ๐˜ฏ๐˜ซ๐˜ฐ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ช๐˜ด! ๐˜ ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ๐˜ข๐˜ญ๐˜ญ๐˜บ ๐˜ต๐˜ณ๐˜ช๐˜ฆ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฎ๐˜ข๐˜ฌ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ช๐˜ต ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ค๐˜ฉ๐˜ข๐˜ณ๐˜ข๐˜ค๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ ๐˜ข๐˜ฏ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ ๐˜ฉ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ฅ๐˜ฏ'๐˜ต ๐˜ฅ๐˜ช๐˜ด๐˜ข๐˜ฑ๐˜ฑ๐˜ฐ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ๐˜ต.

๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ

The door clicks shut behind you as you step inside, groceries in hand, only to freeze at the sight of Xavier curled up on the couch. His normally pristine posture is replaced with a slight slump, shoulders tense under the weight of a thick blanket. His hairโ€™s a bit messier than usual, and thereโ€™s a flushed look to his face โ€” one that screams heโ€™s barely holding it together.

Youโ€™re already walking toward him before he even looks up.

โ€œDonโ€™t,โ€ he mutters, voice rougher than usual. โ€œIโ€™m fine.โ€

You raise an eyebrow at the disheveled state of him. He looks far from fine.

โ€œUh-huh,โ€ you say, clearly unimpressed. โ€œSure, youโ€™re fine.โ€ You set the groceries down with a soft thud, walking closer to the couch. He doesnโ€™t meet your eyes, though his jaw tightens at the movement, like heโ€™s debating whether to stay silent or argue.

โ€œReally,โ€ he insists, trying to sit up straighter. โ€œI donโ€™t needโ€”โ€

You place a hand on his shoulder before he can push himself up, your touch surprisingly warm against his skin. He stills instantly, and you feel his muscles relax under your fingers.

โ€œXavier,โ€ you say, soft but firm, โ€œyouโ€™re burning up.โ€

โ€œDidnโ€™t ask for a diagnosis,โ€ he says, voice hoarse but laced with that typical Xavier dryness. But you know the edge of it isnโ€™t just irritation โ€” thereโ€™s a hint of something else, something he doesnโ€™t want to admit: vulnerability. He hates it.

โ€œToo bad,โ€ you reply, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You grab a damp cloth from the table and press it gently to his forehead. His eyes close in a long blink, and for a moment, he lets you.

โ€œIโ€™m fine,โ€ he repeats in a murmur, but thereโ€™s no conviction in it this time. His words sound more like a plea than a statement.

You watch him for a moment, the way his brow furrows and the way his hand instinctively twitches toward the hem of the blanket. His breath is shallow, his body betraying him even as his mind tries to hold onto that veneer of strength.

โ€œYeah, sure you are,โ€ you say softly, your thumb brushing his temple. He doesnโ€™t pull away, but instead, he exhales deeply, letting the tension in his shoulders melt. Itโ€™s almost imperceptible, but you catch it.

โ€œI hate being like this,โ€ he mutters, barely audible.

You donโ€™t say anything at first, letting the quiet stretch between you both. Heโ€™s always been the one to keep everything close to his chest โ€” the walls built high, the walls that never seemed to crack. But right now, in the dim light of your apartment, his walls are lowered just a little.

โ€œItโ€™s okay,โ€ you say after a beat. โ€œYou donโ€™t have to be perfect all the time.โ€

Xavier finally opens his eyes, meeting yours with a steady gaze, though thereโ€™s still a flicker of something soft beneath the cool exterior. He doesnโ€™t respond, but he doesnโ€™t need to. You can see it in the way his body slowly sinks into the couch again, the way his hand relaxes against your wrist.

Heโ€™s never liked being cared for โ€” not like this, not when he canโ€™t hide behind his usual self-assurance. But tonight, he lets you care for him, lets you be there in the ways he doesnโ€™t know how to ask for.

โ€œStay with me,โ€ he says quietly, a simple request that makes your heart tighten.

And you do. You stay with him. You donโ€™t argue. You donโ€™t press.

You just let him rest.

๐‘บ๐’๐’‡๐’• ๐’„๐’“๐’‚๐’„๐’Œ๐’” ๐’Š๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’”๐’•๐’๐’๐’†. - ๐‘‹๐‘Ž๐‘ฃ๐‘–๐‘’๐‘Ÿ

Side note: โ˜†(๏พ‰โ—•ใƒฎโ—•)๏พ‰*

1 month ago

*throws odypen doodles at you & runs very fast*

*throws Odypen Doodles At You & Runs Very Fast*
*throws Odypen Doodles At You & Runs Very Fast*
*throws Odypen Doodles At You & Runs Very Fast*

also I sketched out my new penelope design shjskdj

*throws Odypen Doodles At You & Runs Very Fast*

1 month ago

๏ผฌ๏ฝ‰๏ฝ‹๏ฝ… ๏ผธ๏ฝ๏ฝ–๏ฝ‰๏ฝ…๏ฝ’

ac. jnkbabys (edited)

1 month ago
๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ
๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ
๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ
๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

Pairing: LADS Men (All 5) x Fem!Reader Prompt: The moment they realise they want to spend their whole life with you Words: ~1.3k || 200-300 per LI Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Established relationship A/N: Highly recommend giving Urban Zakapa's "Nearness is to love" a listen to capture the mood! I need to be love like this smh

[แฐ.แŸ MASTERLIST]

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

โŠฑ ๐•๐•’๐•ง๐•š๐•–๐•ฃ

Xavier has always wondered why he willingly abandons a good slumber and ignores the sting and soreness in his body just to see your face after every challenging mission.

โ€œ๐ท๐˜ฐ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘›๐˜ต ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐‘๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐‘˜ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘š๐‘’๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘’๐‘™๐‘ ๐‘’?โ€

The lines of concern etched on your forehead deepen when he hasn't touched the porridge, all while swiftly checking to ensure you havenโ€™t missed tending to any of his injuries.

He realises then, that you opening the door after the first knock, with a home-cooked meal waiting for him even before the first rays of dawn, is why he always seeks you out first.

This is the person he wants to witness a lifetime of sunrises with, the one he never wants to see weighed down by worry due to his line of work.

Words fail him, so he gathers you in his arms. Revelling in the way your body moulds perfectly against his.

โ€œ๐ผ ๐‘—๐‘ข๐‘ ๐˜ต ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘๐‘™๐˜ฐ๐‘ ๐‘’.โ€

โ€œ๐‘Œ๐‘œ๐‘ข ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘™๐‘ฆ ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘ก๐‘œ ๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘š๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘“๐‘ข๐‘™,โ€ you chide softly, eyes flicking up to meet his.

The concern in your gaze tugs at something deep within him.

Xavier now understands what it is to be unconditionally lovedโ€”to be so genuinely cared for that someone would worry about his well-being above all else.

โ€œ๐ผ ๐‘๐‘Ÿ๐˜ฐ๐‘š๐‘–๐‘ ๐‘’ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘š๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘“๐‘ข๐‘™ ๐‘–๐‘“ ๐‘–๐˜ต ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘  ๐ผ ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘› โ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘™๐‘–๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘’๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ๐˜ต๐‘–๐‘š๐‘’.โ€

Your eyes soften. โ€œ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘™๐‘™๐‘ฆ, ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘‘๐˜ฐ๐‘›'๐˜ต ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘ฆ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘› ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ โ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘š๐‘’.โ€

The sensation of your fingers threading through his hair is pure heaven, and as you hold him tighter, you express that this embrace requires no further validation.

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

โŠฑ โ„๐•’๐•—๐•’๐•ช๐•–๐•

Bathed in hues of molten gold and fiery amber, Rafayel watches you set up the dining table with his aunt and Thomas, a scene he will cherish until his very last breath.

The laughter of his favourite people mingling with the rhythmic crash of waves is music to his ears.

โ€œ๐‘…๐‘Ž๐‘“, ๐‘‘๐˜ฐ๐‘›'๐˜ต ๐‘—๐‘ข๐‘ ๐˜ต ๐‘ ๐˜ต๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’,โ€ you call out. Tucking your hair behind your ear as the salty breeze whips strands across your face.

If only he could immortalise this scene on canvas, Rafayel muses.

But he knows that a painting would never do justice to fully conveying the true essence of this beauty.

โ€œ๐›ญ๐‘ฆ ๐‘๐‘’๐‘™๐˜ฐ๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘‘, ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘› ๐ผ ๐‘ ๐˜ต๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘™ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘“๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ ๐‘Ž ๐‘š๐˜ฐ๐‘š๐‘’๐‘›๐˜ต?โ€ The quiver in his voice doesnโ€™t go amiss by anyoneโ€™s notice as he approaches.

Thomas quirks a questioning brow, while his aunt's gaze softens, her smile somehow knowing as she glances between the two of you.

Normally, he would have a response ready as Thomas quips about the champagne warming, but not this time.ย 

Not when everything else other than you fades into insignificance.

Overwhelmed with emotion, he pulls you in a tight hug as soon as you both are away from prying eyes, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

โ€œ๐‘‡๐‘’๐‘™๐‘™ ๐‘š๐‘’,โ€ his voice barely above a whisper, โ€œโ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘ค ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘› ๐ผ ๐‘˜๐‘’๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘“๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ ๐‘š๐‘ฆ๐‘ ๐‘’๐‘™๐‘“, ๐‘“๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ?โ€

You gently draw back and hold his cheeks, adoring the crimson spreading onto his face and ears, before murmuring tenderly against his lips, โ€œ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘ฆ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐œˆ๐‘’.โ€

At that very moment, it feels as though his heart might combust.

As if every whispered longing he's ever had has come true.

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

โŠฑ โ„ค๐•’๐•ช๐•Ÿ๐•–

Perplexed is what Zayne always imagined he would feelโ€”wishing to spend the rest of his life with someone is a huge commitment after all.

But now, his heart overflows with nothing but contentment and peace.

With his glasses and book perch on his lap, he attentively listens as you animatedly vent about one of your coworkers, sitting cross-legged beside him on the bed.

โ€œ...๐ผ'๐‘š ๐‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ, ๐ผ ๐‘ โ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘๐‘›'๐˜ต โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐œˆ๐‘’ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘š๐‘๐‘™๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘›. ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘š๐‘ข๐‘ ๐˜ต ๐‘๐‘’ ๐˜ต๐‘–๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ.โ€

Zayne frowns, cursing himself as you mistaken his prolonged silence and composed demeanour for indifference.

Setting his stuff aside, he draws you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as your arms circle around him.

โ€œ๐ฟ๐˜ฐ๐œˆ๐‘’, ๐ผ ๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘ฆ๐‘  ๐‘’๐‘›๐‘—๐˜ฐ๐‘ฆ โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐˜ต๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘˜. ๐‘ƒ๐‘™๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘’ ๐‘›๐‘’๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ๐‘ ๐‘ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘”โ„Ž๐˜ต๐‘  ๐‘ค๐‘–๐˜ตโ„Ž ๐‘š๐‘’.โ€ย 

A small content sigh leaves his lips as you nestle closer to him, the warmth of your embrace seeping into his very soul.

Long fingers gently stroke your hair as you voice out concern about adding to his mounting stress with your words.

โ€œ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘›๐‘’๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘Ž ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘›,โ€ he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. โ€œ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ ๐œˆ๐˜ฐ๐‘–๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘คโ„Ž๐‘Ž๐˜ต ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’๐‘  ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐‘“๐‘’๐‘’๐‘™ ๐‘Ž๐˜ต โ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘š๐‘’. ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐‘’๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘๐‘’๐˜ต๐˜ต๐‘’๐‘Ÿ, ๐‘‘๐˜ฐ๐‘›'๐˜ต ๐‘’๐œˆ๐‘’๐‘Ÿ ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘˜ ๐˜ฐ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘ค๐‘–๐‘ ๐‘’.โ€

Sometimes he wonders if he truly deserves the depth of love and understanding you provide, a treasure more valuable than any he has ever known.

He is not an easy man to love, yet you wholeheartedly embrace his complexities.

In that quiet moment, with the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtain, he knows with certainty that you occupy a space in his life that no one else can fill.

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

โŠฑ ๐•Š๐•ช๐•๐•ฆ๐•ค

โ€œ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘™๐‘ข๐˜ต๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘ข๐‘“๐‘“๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐‘›!โ€ your voice trembles with fury as you cock your gun at him. โ€œ๐‘Šโ„Ž๐˜ฐ ๐‘–๐‘› ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘–๐‘Ÿ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž๐˜ต ๐‘š๐‘–๐‘›๐‘‘ ๐‘ค๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ ๐‘ค๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘˜ ๐‘–๐‘›๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐‘Ž ๐˜ต๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘ค๐‘–๐‘™๐‘™๐‘–๐‘›๐‘”๐‘™๐‘ฆ? ๐‘Œ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘™๐‘‘ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐œˆ๐‘’ ๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘’๐‘‘!โ€

Despite having just slain dozens of degenerates and currently staring down the barrel of your gun, Sylusโ€™s head is oddly silent.

The sight of his enemiesโ€™ blood staining your clothes, your hair tousling messily from its ponytail, and the blazing intensity in your eyesโ€”every detail captivates him completely.

Fuck him, youโ€™re perfect.

Exasperated by his grin, you continue calling him all the names in the book: reckless idiot, brainless fool, dumbassโ€ฆ

But heโ€™s your idiot.

Sylus watches your eyes widen as he closes the distance between you, your mouth opening to protest, โ€œ๐ท๐˜ฐ๐‘›โ€™๐˜ต ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘˜๐‘–โ€”โ€ but before you can finish, he discards your gun aside with alarming speed, lips crashing against yours with a fervour that matches your fury.

Itโ€™s not a gentle kiss, itโ€™s an explosion of emotions; a release of all the anger, fear, and love that has been building up.

โ€œ๐ผโ€™๐‘š ๐‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ๐‘Ÿ๐‘ฆ ๐‘“๐˜ฐ๐‘Ÿ ๐‘ ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข,โ€ he says breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours.

Strong hands pull you closer, and he smiles, sensing your fury starting to dissipate as you melt into his cocoon. โ€œ๐›ข๐‘  ๐‘™๐˜ฐ๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘Ž๐‘  ๐ผ โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐œˆ๐‘’ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข, ๐‘ ๐‘ค๐‘’๐‘’๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐˜ต, ๐‘›๐˜ฐ ๐˜ฐ๐‘›๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘Ž๐‘› ๐˜ต๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’ ๐‘š๐‘’โ€”๐‘ข๐‘ โ€”๐‘‘๐˜ฐ๐‘ค๐‘› ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘–๐‘™๐‘ฆ.โ€

When you respond to him with another creative jibe, calling him a โ€œ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘๐‘˜-โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘‘๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐˜ฐ๐‘Ž๐‘“โ€, his deep laughter booms through the room.

No one else can and will challenge him like you do, and he lives for it.

Caught in the back-and-forth of your wit and spirit, craving the spark you kindle within him with every word.

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

โŠฑ โ„‚๐•’๐•๐•–๐•“

โ€œ๐ถ๐‘Ž๐‘™๐‘’๐‘!โ€

The moment your wide smile graces your features upon spotting him down the store aisle, it robs out all the oxygen in his lungs.

Caleb has always known that this relationship is different from his past onesโ€”the thought of seeing you in his future teasing his brain occasionally.

But when you skip to him, with excitement dancing in your eyes, it hits him that he will give everything just to witness that radiance again.

Every day for the rest of his life.

โ€œ๐‘‡โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘Ÿ๐‘’ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข ๐‘Ž๐‘Ÿ๐‘’!โ€ You slip your hand into his and intertwine your fingers together. โ€œ๐ผ ๐‘›๐‘’๐‘’๐‘‘ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ข๐‘Ÿ โ„Ž๐‘’๐‘™๐‘ ๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘–๐‘  ๐‘–๐˜ต๐‘’๐‘š ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐‘’๐‘ฆโ€™๐œˆ๐‘’ ๐‘๐‘ข๐˜ต ๐‘ข๐‘ ๐‘ ๐˜ฐ โ„Ž๐‘–๐‘”โ„Ž.โ€

Heโ€™ll let you lead him to whichever section of the market, and he'll damn well help you get whatever you want, even if itโ€™s questionable whether you need it or not.

Another mini planter for your succulents? Sure, heโ€™ll even buy all of the different designs for you.

When you ask him if heโ€™s alright, noticing his dazed expression, he straight up pulls you into his embrace and kisses the top of your head, murmuring, โ€œ๐ผ โ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘๐‘’ ๐‘ฆ๐˜ฐ๐‘ขโ€™๐‘™๐‘™ ๐‘˜๐‘’๐‘’๐‘ ๐‘Ž๐‘ ๐‘˜๐‘–๐‘›๐‘” ๐‘š๐‘’ ๐˜ต๐˜ฐ ๐‘”๐‘’๐˜ต ๐˜ตโ„Ž๐˜ฐ๐‘ ๐‘’ ๐‘ข๐‘›๐‘Ÿ๐‘’๐‘Ž๐‘โ„Ž๐‘Ž๐‘๐‘™๐‘’ ๐‘–๐˜ต๐‘’๐‘š๐‘ .โ€

If he is misty-eyed amidst the bustling grocery store, it doesnโ€™t concern him in the least.

You smile up at him in confusion, noticing the sentimental mood in his eyes. Standing on tiptoes, you give him a quick peck and melt in the warmth of his arms, feeling the beat of his heart against your cheek.

No other place feels as secure and comforting as being in each otherโ€™s arms.

๐”น๐•–๐•ค๐•ฅ ๐• ๐•— ๐•Ž๐• ๐•ž๐•–๐•Ÿ

โคท แฐ.แŸ MASTERLIST

1 month ago

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

content warnings: fem!reader, fluff, sfw headcanons

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

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 donโ€™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. Donโ€™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, โ€œI love youโ€.

Itโ€™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.

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

RAFAYEL - WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

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

This man could talk for hours if you donโ€™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 donโ€™t even understand the things he says. And youโ€™ve given up trying to decipher his every word.

But when Rafayel is talking about you, he makes himself abundantly clear. Thereโ€™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.

โ€œI donโ€™t think your talent lies in art, babe. Itโ€™s a good thing youโ€™re a walking art piece yourself. No wonder Iโ€™m in love with you.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re leaving so soon? But I donโ€™t think Iโ€™ve admired you enough for today. Donโ€™t leave me!โ€

Iโ€™m impressed, Miss Bodyguard. Youโ€™re talented, and easy on the eyes. No wonder you captivated me from that very first day we met.โ€

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.

Itโ€™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.

Itโ€™s hard to dismiss him when he is so loud about his love. And itโ€™s hard to not fall for him just as he falls for you.

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES

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.

Itโ€™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 wonโ€™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.

L&DS BOYS - LOVE LANGUAGES
1 month ago

that night at 3:07 a.m. | xavier

That Night At 3:07 A.m. | Xavier
That Night At 3:07 A.m. | Xavier

synopsis : Sequel to 3:07 a.m.

content : angst(obviously), non-related to the game events, non-cannon, just purely xavier x reader but in our world :)

writerโ€™s note : part one can be found here. I was inspired to write this peace thanks to the lovely @hiqhkey <3 you were right, the angst potential in this was wew. It took me awhile to piece together how to write this one because I wanted angst but I also wanted closure, I hope you enjoy this one as well :D

That Night At 3:07 A.m. | Xavier

You came into his life like turbulenceโ€”unexpected, disarming.

And yet, your voice was the calm that followed the storm.

Xavier doesnโ€™t remember how it began.

Maybe it was that first night. 3:07 a.m.

He had meant to call someone elseโ€”fingers fumbling, mind clouded, emotions in disarray.

But it was your voice he heard.

Soft. Quiet. A melody that lingered longer than it should have.

He didnโ€™t hang up.

He listened.

And then he called again.

It became routine, though neither of you called it that.

Heโ€™d come home from work, shower, lie in bed.

Waiting.

Sleep never came easy for him.

But you did.

At 3:07 a.m., he would dial your number.

And youโ€™d answer, always.

โ€œHey,โ€ youโ€™d breathe into the line.

His heart would falter, just a beat.

It wasnโ€™t love. Or maybe it was.

He couldnโ€™t name it, but it left him aching.

He wanted to tell you that your voice was beautiful, that it soothed something in him he didnโ€™t know needed soothing.

But he never did.

Instead, heโ€™d ask about your day.

Youโ€™d ask about his.

It was your thingโ€”he calls, you answer.

No questions. No promises. Just presence.

But slowly, the lines blurred.

He caught himself thinking about you more. Wanting more.

But the words never came.

Heโ€™d see you sometimesโ€”crossing the street, sitting in your favorite cafรฉ by the window, head bowed in quiet focus.

He never waved.

Never approached.

Because 3:07 a.m. was sacred.

And he was afraid that in the daylight, it might mean something else.

Or nothing at all.

So he waited.

For nighttime.

For your voice.

โ€”โ€ข

Then came a night that didnโ€™t sound the same.

You answered, but your voice held sadness.

It rattled him, the heaviness of it.

He wanted to reach through the phone, hold you, take the weight from your shoulders.

But instead, he stayed silent.

You told him about a boy you liked.

His stomach turned.

He shouldโ€™ve known. He shouldโ€™ve seen it coming.

It was him. It had to be.

Still, he smiled where you couldnโ€™t see.

And said, โ€œMaybe heโ€™ll come around.โ€

โ€œMaybe,โ€ you whispered.

If only heโ€™d realized it then.

โ€”โ€ข

โ€œDo you think some people are justโ€ฆ meant to belong to each other?โ€ he asked one night.

The question came unannounced. Raw. Honest.

You laughed, soft and almost shy.

But you didnโ€™t answer.

And he didnโ€™t press.

Neither of you ever did.

But that night, he told himself it was time to move on.

If you had felt the same way, you wouldโ€™ve said something.

Wouldnโ€™t you?

Still, the thought nagged at him, cruel and persistent.

You always picked up.

He opened his mouth. Almost.

But he swallowed it down.

โ€œYou still there?โ€ he asked, knowing full well you were.

โ€œAlways.โ€

That word settled in his chest like warmth, and yet it ached.

โ€œI saw a fox tonight,โ€ he murmured. โ€œIt ran across the road like it didnโ€™t care if it got hit.โ€

He didnโ€™t know why he said it.

Maybe to see if youโ€™d understand.

Maybe it was his confession in disguise.

โ€œI thought about stopping,โ€ he added, voice low. โ€œI didnโ€™t.โ€

Silence stretched between you. His breath hitched.

Then you said, โ€œYou never stop.โ€

His heart clenched.

โ€œMaybe I should.โ€

It hurt, saying that. Like swallowing glass.

He changed the subject.

Pretended it didnโ€™t mean anything.

And when your voice grew soft with sleep, he noticedโ€”he always did.

โ€œGo to sleep. Iโ€™ll talk to you tomorrow,โ€ he said, ending the call before you could reply.

His heart was racing.

In the dark, he whispered to himself, โ€œWhy didnโ€™t I just tell her?โ€

But the moment had passed.

The weight of everything left unsaid pressed down on him, suffocating and sharp.

He sighed into the stillness of his room.

โ€œMaybe it was never meant to be.โ€

But oh, it was.

It really, really was.

โ€”โ€ข

Eventually, life got busier.

Or maybe he made it that wayโ€”chasing distractions just to drown out the ache in his chest.

He didnโ€™t know what it was exactly.

Rejection? An answer he didnโ€™t want?

All he knew was that your silenceโ€”your lack of anythingโ€”gnawed at him until it became unbearable.

So he filled his days with noise. With work. With anything that wasnโ€™t you.

But the nights stayed quiet.

Too quiet.

When he came home, the stillness in the air was heavier than usual.

He moved through his routine on autopilot, then lay in bed with his eyes shut, pretending he could sleep.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe I wonโ€™t call tonight. Maybe she will.

But curiosity clawed its way in.

He peeked.

3:05 a.m.

He watched the seconds crawl.

3:06.

His thumb hovered above your contact.

3:07 a.m.

Before his mind could stop his heart, he called.

Tonight, he told himself. Tonight, Iโ€™ll ask her.

โ€œHey,โ€ your voice came through, soft and steady.

Like you had been waiting. Like always.

โ€œHey,โ€ he echoed, but the word felt fragileโ€”smaller than he meant it to be.

โ€œRough night?โ€

โ€œNo. Justโ€ฆ long.โ€

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything he couldnโ€™t say.

This was itโ€”his window.

If he didnโ€™t say it tonight, heโ€™d let you go.

But then you asked gently, โ€œWanna talk about it?โ€

And he hesitated.

Why didnโ€™t he just tell you?

He exhaled a breath he didnโ€™t know heโ€™d been holding. โ€œNot really.โ€

โ€œOkay.โ€

His mind swirledโ€”What if she feels the same?

Will I regret this silence tomorrow?

Still, the words stayed lodged in his throat.

Instead, โ€œTell me something niceโ€ฆ anything.โ€

Because he wanted to hear your voice again. Wanted to feel close to you, even if you were slipping through his fingers.

And you did.

God, you did.

You told him about the dog you saw with its head out the window, tongue flapping like it owned the world.

You told him about the heart-shaped cloud that vanished before you could take a picture.

You told him about a song that reminded you of him.

His heart faltered at thatโ€”but still, nothing.

He only hummed, listening like it might be the last time heโ€™d ever hear you.

โ€œDo you thinkโ€ฆโ€ he started, then stopped. His courage faltered mid-sentence.

A pause.

โ€œWhat?โ€ you prompted, gentle.

His breath caught. โ€œDo you think weโ€™ll still talk like thisโ€ฆ a year from now?โ€

You laughed.

And it shattered him.

Why was that your reaction?

โ€œYouโ€™re the one who calls,โ€ you said simply. โ€œI just pick up.โ€

He fell silent. One beat. Then two.

โ€œYeahโ€ฆ I guess you do.โ€

He gathered what was left of himself. โ€œI hope you sleep well tonight.โ€

There was a pause, quiet but heavy.

โ€œAre you not calling tomorrow?โ€ you asked softly.

His chest ached. That was his momentโ€”his chance to say something real.

But instead, โ€œI donโ€™t know.โ€

And he ended the call.

Alone in the dark, he whispered, โ€œI need to move on.โ€

A tear slipped quietly down his cheek.

The next night, he stared at his phone.

Thumb over your name.

Hovering.

He shouldnโ€™t call. He couldnโ€™t.

His heart wasnโ€™t whole enough to risk it again.

So he didnโ€™t.

He shoved his phone beneath his pillow and closed his eyes.

If she wants to talk, he told himself, sheโ€™ll call.

But a voice inside him whispered something elseโ€”Maybe sheโ€™s waiting, too.

Still, he forced himself to sleep.

No more.

โ€”โ€ข

Day One.

He woke with a racing heart and reached for his phone.

No missed calls.

No texts.

Nothing.

The absence stung more than he expected.

And there it wasโ€”his answer.

You hadnโ€™t called.

He sighed, the weight of regret and hopelessness pressing into his ribs.

That was it.

That was the end.

He got up and started his day, pretending he hadnโ€™t waited.

Pretending it didnโ€™t hurt.

But good god, it did.

Day Three.

He didnโ€™t mean to look.

But at 3:07 a.m., his eyes flicked to the clock anyway.

His chest ached with a hollow kind of yearning, the kind that sits heavy behind the ribs and doesnโ€™t say a word.

He didnโ€™t call.

You didnโ€™t either.

The silence had settled into something familiar now.

It used to be comfort. Now it was absence.

Still, he told himself, This is what moving on looks like. You asked for this.

But it didnโ€™t make the loneliness feel any less real.

Day Five.

He passed your favorite cafรฉ on his way home.

The table by the window was empty.

Or maybe it wasnโ€™tโ€”you just werenโ€™t in it.

He didnโ€™t stop to look too long.

That night, he didnโ€™t touch his phone.

He left it across the room, face-down.

But at 3:07 a.m., he still turned in bed, waiting for the sound that wouldnโ€™t come.

Week Two.

He met someone new.

She was kind. Confident. The type who smiled with her whole face.

She asked for his number first, and he gave it without hesitation.

Not because he was ready, but because he wanted to be.

They started talking. Messaging.

Late night conversations, but never at 3:07 a.m.

That time belonged to someone else.

Still did.

But he didnโ€™t say that out loud.

Week Six.

He liked her company.

She laughed at his jokes, touched his arm when she smiled, remembered how he took his coffee.

She made things feel easier.

Lighter.

And yetโ€”some nights, when the world had gone still and he was finally alone with his thoughts, he still reached for his phone.

Not to call her.

But to scroll through your old messages.

The short ones. The long ones. The ones where you sent voice notes because texting was too slow.

He missed you.

Quietly. Constantly.

Like background noise he couldnโ€™t tune out.

Month Two.

He was dating her now.

Their photos lived on social mediaโ€”her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.

His smile looked real.

People said he looked happy.

And sometimes, he was.

But he never told her why he always seemed a little quiet around 3 a.m.

Why he never answered calls past midnight.

Why his smile never quite reached his eyes when a particular song came on the radio.

Because there were things he had buriedโ€”like old postcards you never send but canโ€™t throw away.

He didnโ€™t talk about you.

But sometimes, when he was with her, and the world was soft and kind,

he wondered if you ever stared at your phone too.

If you ever hovered over his name and decided not to press it.

If you ever missed him at 3:07 a.m.

And in that wondering, he realizedโ€”He hadnโ€™t moved on.

Not really.

Not fully.

He was just learning how to live with a ghost that still answered the phone.

โ€”โ€ข

Month Six.

He proposed.

It was quiet, understatedโ€”just the two of them beneath a canopy of lights and the hush of the evening breeze.

She smiled. She cried. She said yes without hesitation.

He kissed her like he meant it.

And he did.

He meant it.

But as the ring slipped onto her finger, something stirred deep in his chestโ€”an ache, dull and persistent.

Not regret.

Not quite.

Just something unsettled.

Something he hadnโ€™t named.

Something left over.

Because even now, even here, part of him wondered if you ever thought about him.

If youโ€™d feel anything at all when you found out.

If youโ€™d feelโ€ฆ nothing.

And maybe that would hurt more.

Later that night, while she slept soundly beside him, his eyes flicked toward the clock.

3:07 a.m.

He didnโ€™t know why he still looked.

Maybe he just always would.

Month Eight.

Healing came slowly.

Not like a breakthroughโ€”just a quiet fading of the noise.

The days stopped feeling like a performance.

The silences became lighter.

He caught himself smiling more. Meant it more, too.

And he started seeing her not as someone who filled a space, but someone who fit.

He still thought of you.

But not always.

Not the way he used to.

There were momentsโ€”brief onesโ€”when your name crossed his mind in the middle of a song, or when he passed that cafรฉ window you used to sit by.

But it didnโ€™t sting as much.

It justโ€ฆ lingered.

Like something that might have been.

Something gentle. Undefined.

A feeling, not a fire.

Still, on some nights, when the world was quiet and he couldnโ€™t sleep, heโ€™d wonder.

Did you ever think of him, too?

Month Ten.

The wedding planning began in earnest.

Color swatches, catering menus, playlist drafts.

She filled journals with ideas, kept Pinterest boards titled forever.

He helped where he could.

Smiled. Showed up.

Even laughed when she made him try three kinds of cake in one sitting.

It was real.

And it was good.

But some nights, when sheโ€™d doze off beside him with a notebook still open in her lap, heโ€™d scroll through his contacts until he found your name.

He never pressed it.

He never would.

But part of him still paused there.

Not because he wanted to go back.

But because he still hadnโ€™t figured out if he should tell you.

Not to ask for anything.

Not to confess anything.

Justโ€ฆ to let you know.

โ€œIโ€™m getting married.โ€

A sentence he rehearsed and never said.

And maybe he was afraid that if he did, youโ€™d say, โ€œI always thought you would call.โ€

Or worseโ€”That youโ€™d say nothing at all.

So instead, he locked his phone and turned off the lamp beside the bed.

He wasnโ€™t in love with you.

Maybe he never had been.

But there had been something.

And it never quite left.

Almost One Year Later.

3:07 a.m.

The numbers glowed dimly in the dark, like they always didโ€”unchanged, untouched.

He hadnโ€™t planned to call.

He hadnโ€™t even thought about it.

But somehow, he was already staring at your name.

Already pressing call.

The dial tone echoed once.

Twice.

Three timesโ€”Then a soft click.

You answered.

There was only breath on the other end.

Faint. Familiar. Present.

His heart stuttered.

โ€œHey,โ€ he said, voice low. Steady.

Silence.

He swallowed. โ€œI didnโ€™t think youโ€™d answer.โ€

Still, nothing.

Just you, breathing. Listening.

Maybe frozen in place. Maybe waiting for more.

And he gave it to you.

โ€œI justโ€ฆโ€ he started, and the words stuck, catching in his throat. He let them fall anyway.

โ€œIโ€™m getting married.โ€

The quiet thickened. Not even a gasp. No sigh.

Just your silence.

โ€œI wanted to tell you myself.โ€

There was a pause.

Then, your breath barely above a whisper, โ€œWhy now?โ€

He let the silence stretch before he answered.

โ€œI donโ€™t know,โ€ he admitted. โ€œI kept thinking about you. About how I never said goodbye.โ€

Another pause.

Your voice cracked, just slightly. โ€œI wouldโ€™ve answered.โ€

His chest tightened.

โ€œI know,โ€ he whispered. โ€œIโ€™m sorry.โ€

There was a long silence. Neither of you filled it.

He listened to the stillness like it was the last piece of a song he couldnโ€™t finish.

And then, softlyโ€”like it cost you something, โ€œIโ€™m happy for you.โ€

His heart stuttered.

He hesitated.

There were words at the edge of his tongueโ€”things he might have said if this were a different life.

But instead, all he gave you was, โ€œGoodnight.โ€

And the call ended.

No goodbye.

Just the quiet click of something finally closing.

โ€”โ€ข

The air was still.

Rows of guests sat under soft morning light, flowers swaying gently with the breeze, as music began to hum low and steady.

Xavier stood at the altar, hands clasped tightly in front of him, breath slow.

He wasnโ€™t nervousโ€”at least not in the way everyone expected him to be.

He felt the weight of the moment. The finality. The beauty of it.

And the ache.

Thenโ€”like a pull, a presence he couldnโ€™t ignoreโ€”his gaze lifted.

And there you were.

Standing quietly near the back. Almost hidden. Almost not there.

But he saw you.

Your eyes met his, and the world narrowed.

Just for a moment, it was quiet.

Just for a moment, it was 3:07 a.m. again.

There were no smiles exchanged.

No nods.

Just something suspended between youโ€”years of silence, almosts, and words that never made it past the throat.

But it was enough.

He understood.

So did you.

And then the music changed.

The crowd rose to their feet, turning.

She appearedโ€”his bride, radiant and glowing, the embodiment of everything he had chosen.

He looked at her, heart steady.

And when she reached him, he took her hand with warmth, with care.

The ceremony moved forward.

Vows were spoken.

Promises made.

And when he leaned in to kiss her, he did so gently, tenderly, with a love that had grown slowly, earnestly.

Applause broke out.

The world opened again.

And when he turned, just for a secondโ€”just instinctively.

He saw you.

You were walking away, slipping through the crowd with that small, knowing smile on your lips.

The kind that said everything.

He watched you disappear around the corner, and it struck him.

That was your goodbye.

Not in words.

Not in tears.

Just in the way you let goโ€”with grace, with quiet acceptance.

And maybe that was what you both needed.

Not closure. Not confession.

Just the soft acknowledgment of what once lived between you, and what would no longer linger.

He turned back toward the crowd, toward the life heโ€™d chosen.

And the ache in his chest softened, like something finally exhaled.

That Night At 3:07 A.m. | Xavier
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xavierfrogprincess - Deleluedโ™กReality
Deleluedโ™กReality

loyal to my man ~Xavier .... Life is delulu at this point and other fixations

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