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Ya right .... after reading it full and then seeing the song name ... right... author . . U ...🫠🫠

Life with you.

Husband!Jinwoo x Wife!Reader. Ft. Suho and shadow soldiers.

In the eyes of others, he is a cold detective/inspector.In the eyes of criminals, he is a nightmare that awaits every night.But to his family, to you, he is a beloved husband, a gentle father of your children, a person you love with all your heart.

« Part 2

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"흠, 음, 아가 (Hush, my little child)

어서 잠들거라 (And drift into your dream)

눈을 감으면 낙원에서 (A place where you can leisurely play)

뛰놀거라" (Our paradise)

Night has fallen over Seoul. It's time to go to bed, time to rest and fall into a deep sleep.

The moon is so bright tonight. It hangs overhead, round like a giant pearl in the sky. The spring breeze wafts everywhere, then reaches a small room in a house on the edge of the city.

The cream-colored curtains move slightly. The moonlight shines through the window, allowing us to see the room decorated with soft toys and children's books.

The room has turned off the lights, leaving only the soft yellow light from the night lamp and the moonlight.

Tonight is another quiet and peaceful spring night.

The outskirts of the city are always an ideal place for those who love silence. There is no loud traffic, no bustling people even at midnight like in the city center - only the soft lullaby, and the steady breathing of a small creature sleeping soundly in its mother's arms.

Sung Jinwoo stood silently at the doorway, his eyes looking into the room. He had just returned, he always came home late, his wife often nagged him about it. What could he do, the night was his territory, the most suitable time for all investigations and crimes. His job was to investigate and detain criminals, it sounded heavy and tiring.

But he did all this just to return to the warmth of his family's love.

His liitle, beloved family.

You were sitting by the crib, holding your little child in your arms. Your lips moved slightly, singing a lullaby in a deep, sweet voice like honey, so gentle that it made his heart skip a beat. You reached out to pat his back, your eyes strangely gentle.

He should have showered, changed, and crawled into bed like every other day. But that lullaby stopped him. Fixed him there, as if if he stepped into... this peaceful moment, it would shatter like glass.

Suho slept soundly in his mother's arms. Enveloped in the warm breath of mother's arms, mother's heart and the warmth of home.

Jinwoo's heart suddenly felt like it was melting.

He never thought that one day he would be able to start a small family of his own. The E-rank hunter back then never thought that his life would be like this, he didn't even dare to dream. Back then, he only cared about how to live, how to make money, he didn't think about falling in love, getting married, and having children.

Looking back at himself now, Jinwoo felt that he had accomplished so much. This was the greatest achievement he had ever had.

His wife and son.

You used to be a very strong and free-spirited person. You were always full of life and enthusiasm. Now that image has been replaced by a gentle image of you, the image of a mother and a wife.

You were once the brightest light on the battlefield.

He met you during the most chaotic days of his life.

A young girl with eyes that never looked down, walking through the ruins of a destroyed gate as if victory was inevitable. I once told him.

"This world is cruel, Jinwoo. But if we don't fight it, who will protect the weaker ones?"

You once stood alone in front of a high-level ogre, blood flowing from your forehead to your chin but my lips still curled into a smile. You once carried the wounded Jinwoo out of the battlefield, cursing profusely while your hands trembled with worry. You once rushed forward first, drawing your weapon from your backpack and shouting.

"Back off! Let me clear the way!"

Jinwoo never forgot that small but burning figure. Like a flame that resisted the storm.

You were never afraid. You were the first person to teach him how to hold a knife properly, the first person to swing a shield for Jinah when she was ambushed near the school gate. You were the one who climbed over the corpses of monsters alone to save a living child. And who once said, "We do not fight for fame, but for those who cannot fight."

There was a fire in you - strong, fierce, unyielding.

Yet, you were the one who put down your weapon first.

You were the one who spoke, in the middle of a normal morning, as the two of you sat drinking coffee on the balcony. "What if one day I don't want to fight anymore? I just want to be a wife and a mother, I want to spend time with my family."

Jinwoo was stunned for a few seconds, then he smiled, "It's okay. I think... that's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

You smiled. Those eyes were no longer as fierce as on the battlefield. But gentle. Soft. But still you.

Jinwoo entered the room, very quietly, as if afraid to break the warm image. He sat down next to you, looking at the little boy who was dozing off. Suho's jet-black hair was like his, but those plump lips and rosy cheeks - they were clearly yours.

You didn't say anything, just leaned against your husband, your hand still patting Suho's back, the lullaby still on your lips.

"부드러운 (The gentle wind)

바람이 춤추고 (Writing its symphony)

간절하게  (The morning comes)

숨결을 스며들 때 (Unshaken and so certain)"

Suho is still sleeping soundly in his mother's arms.

Little Suho doesn't need to worry about anything, because his mother is always here to take care of him, his father is still here as a strong shield, protecting him from nightmares. And the shadow soldiers, always silently following behind, making sure everything is okay.

Suho was born with all the joy and love, so don't worry about anything, just sleep well, sleep soundly.

Jinwoo gently touched his son's cheek with one finger. The baby moved slightly, his tiny hand waving as if welcoming his father's presence, then lay still in your arms.

Then he looked at you. The soft light fell on your face, highlighting your eyes and lips.

In Jinwoo's eyes, you were always beautiful.

Jinwoo suddenly wanted to cry.

He would give anything for moments like this.

He would give up everything, even his blood and life, just to be able to keep this moment forever.

Jinwoo reached out, gently grasping the hand that was placed on Suho's back. That hand was still as strong as before, pulling him back from the brink of life and death. Now, that hand was caressing a small creature, with all the gentleness in the world.

The moonlight fell on your hair, creating a soft glow around your face. You were no longer the warrior you once were – no more blood, no more wounds, no more strong eyes that always looked forward. Now, you were Suho's mother. Jinwoo's wife. Home.

He just sat next to you, quietly listening to Suho's steady breathing, your lullaby, the spring breeze gently blowing through the window, and... the sound of his own heart beating.

He had thought he was dead, since the day his father went missing, then his mother fell into a coma, since his heart was covered in darkness, since he stepped into those dark and bloody dungeons. He had thought his heart would only live for fighting, for revenge, for protection.

But after he had solved everything, his heart beat for something else – for love.

Jinwoo raised his head, looking at the window frame. The moon is still as full as a pearl in the sky. The spring wind still blows gently through the blades of grass, like an invisible hand caressing the whole world.

"자연스레 (Without a word)

품을 거야 (You will embrace)

노래하던 바다" (The endless sea that sings)

The lullaby ended, and you put Suho back in the crib.

Jinwoo hugged you and softly said, "Are you tired?"

You turned around and hugged his neck, burying your face in his strong chest, inhaling his familiar scent, coaxing, "I'm so tired, Suho is so naughty, it took me a long time to get him to sleep."

He chuckled, lowered his head and kissed your hair, whispering, "Thank you."

You looked at him, your eyes curious, "For what?"

Jinwoo squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving that gentle face. "For choosing me. For staying. For giving me a family."

Outside the window, the moonlight still hung like a gem in the sky. The spring breeze blew in gently, carrying the cool scent of flowers and the breath of the night. In the small room, three hearts were beating together in a warm rhythm - creating a peaceful family symphony.

"You are my home."

"And you are the last person I trust to turn my back on without defense."

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the song lyric: Wiege - Alien Stage

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To be continued

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Part 4 »

LADS men and their green flags

Rafayel

Reassurance

He never lets you wonder if he still loves you, if he still finds you attractive. You don’t even have the chance to finish the horrible thought before he’s complimenting you, telling you how much he adores you. He’s not afraid to bare his heart to you, in fact, he does it quite often with sweet nothings and tiny notes left in your purse. Though he may never be able to express the depth of his love for you, he’s sure as hell going to try.

Xavier

Communication

While he may seem reserved, Xavier has no problem talking through an issue with you. He doesn’t fight - he refuses to. He’s calm, collected. He never wants you to feel unheard, so he listens, even when you feel like you’re talking in circles. You’re not going to bed upset on his watch. He’ll sit with you for as long as you need. He wants you to feel at ease with him, always, even when your thoughts are going a million miles an hour.

Zayne

Support

He doesn’t offer guidance in the way a parent would, but rather, in a way that ensures you’re always feeling your best. Too tired to cook dinner? He’s got it. Don’t feel like washing your hair? Sit down, he’ll handle it. He encourages you to take breaks when you feel like the weight of the world is crushing you. When you feel like your to-do list is simply too long, he shortens it, taking care of as many things as he can so that you can relax. He’d rather die than let you be stressed.

Sylus

Protection

One thing’s for sure, you’ll never feel unsafe around him - physically or emotionally. The strange man that’s been following you? Taken care of. The guy sending lewd texts to your DMs? Vanished. And while your physical safety is of the utmost important to him, your emotional wellbeing doesn’t go uncared for. Pour out your soul to him, he’s listening. And when you can’t, lean on him, cry on his shoulder. He won’t move.

Caleb

Attentive

If you think you can hide anything from him, you’re sorely mistaken. He notices every micro expression, every slight change in your tone, the way your hands fidget when you’re anxious. He knows exactly what to do to bring your smile back. He picks up on the tiny hints you give him when you want something, and he’s eager to provide it. You’ll never lack anything as long as he’s around, he’ll make sure of it.

⋆˚࿔ the best pillow 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men cuddling with you and laying their heads on your lap (fluff)

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The living room was peaceful, bathed in the soft golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Sylus lay stretched out on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while a book was placed in his large hands. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, as his red eyes scanned the pages with sharp focus.

The low hum of music played from the speaker across the room, a slow, soulful tune drifting through the air.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through your phone, when you glanced down at him. “Hey, can I connect my phone to the speaker?”

Sylus didn’t look up from his book. “No.”

You blinked. “No?”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Listen and appreciate real good music, sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing dramatically. “You sound like an old man.” The comment made him smirk, but he didn’t respond, his eyes still on his book.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips.

Sliding your fingers beneath the frame of his glasses, you gently pushed them down just enough to reveal his striking red eyes. Before he could protest, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss between his eyebrows, right at the root of his nose.

Feeling his body tense ever so slightly, you knew your 'attack' was effective. Bingo.

Sylus inhaled through his nose, his grip on the book tightening just a fraction. "I'm trying to read, kitten." he murmured, his voice as smooth as ever.

But you saw the way his ears tinged just the faintest bit red, the way his fingers twitched against the page.

A giggle escaped you and you felt him exhale, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Sylus shifted, pretending to be unaffected as he grabbed his phone to check what song was playing.

That’s when you saw it. Your gaze flickered to the screen and your teasing smile softened. The playlist title was clear as day.

“Songs That Remind Me of Y/N”

When Sylus noticed where you were looking, his thumb casually covered the screen, as if that would make you unsee it.

You grinned, warmth spreading through your chest. “You big softie.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he flipped the page of his book, still looking entirely unfazed. But as you glanced down at him, you caught it—the barely-there smile playing at his lips.

Sylus’ free hand moved from your tight to intertwine with your own hand, before bringing it to his lips and plant a soft kiss on your knuckles.

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The clock struck midnight as Zayne stepped into the apartment, exhaustion weighing heavy on his broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from running his hands through it all day, and his sharp green eyes, usually so intense, were dulled with fatigue. But despite the ache in his muscles and the relentless pull of sleep, he made his way to the living room—because he had made a promise.

And Zayne never broke a promise to you.

You were sitting on the couch, papers spread out around the couch and the coffee table, biting your bottom lip in concentration. At the sound of his quiet footsteps, you looked up.

"You're home," you murmured, a mixture of relief and concern in your voice. "Zayne, you look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he said softly, his voice gentle despite the obvious tiredness in his tone. "Let’s get this done."

You sighed, but didn’t argue as he settled beside you, his broad frame sinking into the cushions. He leaned slightly toward you, your shoulders brushing as he picked up a form and started filling it out with his precise handwriting.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. But with each passing moment, Zayne's pen moved slower, his eyes blinking sluggishly as he fought the exhaustion clawing at him.

Then, without warning, his head dipped forward before he caught himself.

You turned to him, your lips pressing together in fond exasperation. "Zayne…"

"I'm awake," he murmured, but his deep voice was quieter now, softer, laced with drowsiness.

Another few moments passed, and then—he slumped.

His head rested against your shoulder at first, his body leaning heavily into yours, before he finally slid down, laying his head on your lap with a deep exhale. His dark lashes fluttered once before his breathing evened out, the exhaustion finally winning.

You glanced down at him, your expression softening. Even in sleep, he looked serious, but there was a rare peace on his face that made her heart ache.

Gently, you adjusted his position, letting his head rest more comfortably on your lap. You ran your fingers through his black hair, smoothing it back, with a featherlight touch.

With a small smile, you picked up your pen again and continued working in silence, letting him recharge. After a while, you feel a big hand gently squeezing your leg. “You’re such a nice pillow, you know that?”

Zayne looks up at you with only one eye open and a tired but fond smile on his lips.

“Look who woke up! Hi sleepy head.” you tease him, caressing his cheek gently. “I’m almost over with these papers.”

He nodded as a small yawn escaped his lips. “I’m sorry, next time I’ll be more helpful.” he whispered softly before falling asleep on you once again.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

Rafayel stretched out across the bed, his head resting on your lap, his eyes half-lidded with contentment. The soft fabric of your sweater brushed against his cheek as he exhaled slowly, savoring the warmth of your presence. But something was missing.

Your fingers weren’t running through his hair. You weren’t teasing him with a sly remark. You weren’t paying attention to him at all.

Instead, you were glued to your phone, your delicate fingers tapping away at the screen. Occasionally, you let out a quiet chuckle, further fueling his mild irritation.

Rafayel pouted. "Babe." No response.

He shifted slightly, pressing his forehead against your lap. "Baaaabe."

Still nothing.

A smirk curled at the edge of his lips as an idea formed. He nuzzled against you, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he let out the most dramatic sigh he could muster, his broad shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated defeat.

"Are you really going to ignore your very handsome, very lovely boyfriend, who just wants a little attention?" his voice was laced with playful desperation.

You hummed absently, still not looking up. "Mhm. Sounds tragic."

Rafayel gasped, clutching his chest as if you had mortally wounded him. "Tragic?! This is abuse, beloved. I'm starving for affection."

You snorted, shifting your head the slightest to peer down at him.

“Put your phone down..” he murmured, drawing patterns on your thighs with his fingers.

He was pouting, so you followed his instructions. “Yes?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Hi gorgeous.” he smirks, as you grab his pretty face between your hands.

“You really become a brat if I don’t give you attention for five minutes, don’t you?” you chuckle, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones.

A pleased rumble vibrated from his chest as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"Yes," Rafayel declared, looking up at you with the biggest, most pitiful puppy-dog eyes his irises could manage. "Because my beautiful, sarcastic, heartless partner is ignoring me."

You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. "You are so dramatic."

"And yet you love me," he shot back, smirking before going back to leaving pecks on her legs.

You feign a sigh, when you feel him playfully biting your skin.

“Ouch!” you immediately half-heartedly slap his forehead, while he laughs amused by his actions.

“Stop it or I’m gonna crush your skull.” you playfully glare at him, but he just shrugs.

“A nice way to leave this world, not gonna lie.”

He proceeded to nibble her thigh again, so you squeeze his head between your legs, chuckling.

“Now beg.” you challenge him, raising one eyebrow. But he simply cackled, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your thigh. "You really think I’m gonna complain about this?"

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The door clicked shut softly and Xavier stepped inside, his frame carrying an air of quiet exhaustion. His light-colored hair was slightly tousled, his big blue eyes dimmer than usual, lost in some distant thought. He didn’t say a word.

You knew this version of him well. The one that withdrew into silence when something weighed on his mind. He was lost in his own thoughts, tangled up in emotions he didn’t know how to put into words.

So you didn’t ask. Didn’t press. Instead, you took his hand, gently tugging him toward the bed. Xavier hesitated for a second before letting you guide him, his shoulders relaxing just a little under your touch. You pulled him down until he was lying on top of you, his head resting against your lap as you softly ran your hands through his hair.

With a small smile, you let your fingers drift from his hair down to his back, as you began tracing invisible shapes against the fabric of his shirt. At first, you just doodled—little swirls, hearts, nonsense patterns—letting him feel your presence without forcing him to talk.

Then, slowly, you spelled out the words.

I love you.

A heartbeat passed. Then another. You felt his breath hitch ever so slightly, his tense shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. So you kept going, tracing a small heart at the end.

Xavier shifted, turning his head just enough so he could glance up at you, his deep blue eyes no longer clouded. A soft, almost bashful smile ghosted his lips. Then, without warning, he rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer in a way that was both shy and desperate.

His face was buried against your neck now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin. Finally, he spoke—his voice quiet, but steady.

"…Again," he murmured.

You blinked. "Again?"

He nodded against you, his grip tightening slightly. A soft laugh escaped your lips before you resumed your gentle tracing of sweet nothings and hearts.

୨ৎ── . Caleb

Caleb sighed dramatically as he rested his back against the couch, his broad frame comfortably settled between your legs on the plush carpet. Your fingers worked gently through his thick brown hair, separating strands to weave into intricate braids. Every now and then, you’d clip a tiny butterfly or flower pin into place, giggling to yourself at how utterly adorable he looked.

He loved this. The feeling of your hands in his hair, your presence surrounding him. But there was one small problem.

He couldn't sit still.

His hands roamed absentmindedly, his fingers lightly tracing over the soft skin of your thighs. The warmth of your legs bracketing him was too tempting to ignore. Without thinking, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her knee, then another, higher this time.

You huffed, tightening your grip on his hair just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him. "Caleb. Stop moving."

He grinned. "But you're so soft" he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing along the inside of your thigh now. "How am I supposed to resist?"

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. "You're not supposed to try to resist. You're supposed to sit still and let me finish your hair."

Caleb chuckled, but he didn’t stop. His hands squeezed your legs gently, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs in slow, teasing circles. "M’sorry, baby," he muttered, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "You're just really distracting."

"I’m distracting?" You scoffed. "You’re the one squirming like a hyperactive puppy while I’m trying to make you pretty."

"Hm..pretty, huh?" He smirked, tilting his head back against your stomach, his striking purple eyes gazing up at you. "Does that mean you're finally admitting you like playing with my hair?"

You flicked his forehead, making him laugh. "I've always liked playing with your hair. I just don't like when you make it impossible to finish."

"Okay, okay." Caleb raised his hands in surrender. "I'll behave."

"Good." You started braiding again, your fingers moving deftly through his locks. For about ten seconds, he actually sat still. Then his lips ghosted over your thigh once more, this time leaving a soft bite.

"Caleb!" He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "I tried to behave, I really did," he said between chuckles. But then he finally stopped moving around and let you finish your masterpiece. “Wanna grab something to eat later?”

“But it took me so long to make these braids.” you pout slightly, already sad at the idea of having to remove all the cute clips from his hair.

“Who said I’m gonna take them out? Everyone needs to see what an amazing job you did!”

Lost // Xavier x Reader

This is my first fanfic in years, so please be nice T^T I'll be doing ones with a similar concept for the rest of the boys too Concept: Xavier has a nightmare, you comfort him CW: hurt/comfort, spoilers for his anecdote, death of character (in dream), blood, nightmares, bit of fluff at the end, she/her pronouns for reader Masterlist

He swayed on his feet with every step he took, he had to keep moving, yet every step he took made burning pain shoot up his side. The cuts on his face sting in the cold air, blood long dried and flaking on his skin.

He has to make it back. She’s waiting for him. 

It’s been so long since he last saw her, her bright eyes, a smile that lit up his heart. It’s been so long since he felt her warmth, her hand in his, fitting perfectly like two pieces in a puzzle. 

He looked down, the protocore in his hand held firmly. He was going to save you if it’s the last thing he did.

He kept walking, one step after another, each step closer to her, to the place he knew she’d be, the place they first saw the stars together, a wish placed upon each star that shot through the sky above them. 

He finally spots her, on that trestle bridge.

And then he’s running, running, running, pain long forgotten, until she’s right there, right in front of him. 

She looks pale, bags under her eyes, cheeks hollow with the weight that she lost. 

She was beautiful. In his eyes, he could only see the girl he fell in love with. 

The girl who seems to be withering away in front of his very eyes.

A sense of urgency, of desperation, overcame him. He holds out his hand, still trying to catch his breath, the shining protocore cradled carefully in his palm. 

They exchange a few words, and she reaches out a hand, resting on his cheek, wiping away the blood that clung to his skin. He nuzzles into her cold palm, eyes never leaving her but his sight getting more blurry by the second, tears threatening to spill down his face, sorrow and love painted across his face. 

“It’s too late.”

Her eyes water, streaks of tears spilling down her own cheeks as he cradles her right back. Before he knows it, they’re sitting side by side, her weak body leaning against him, arm around her  back holding her close, the other hand holding hers, lights, like fireflies, floating around them. 

“I wish to meet you in my next life… I wonder if that will come true…”

“It will.”

Her eyes fall closed for the last time, and panic takes hold in his heart. He calls her name, over and over, until the final breath leaves her lungs.

She’s gone.

… She’s gone.

Sob after sob spill from his lips, her name falling from his lips like a mantra between broken breaths, arms holding her fragile body close, not wanting to let go, never wanting to let go.

With a pained whimper, Xavier’s eyes fly open, sitting up as dread settles into his very core. The stabbing pain in his pounding heart seemed like it would never stop, his eyes flying around the room searching for you. Finally they settled on your form, nestled in the sheets next to him, unmoving. His stomach dropped, fear seized him, his breaths coming out sharp as a shaking hand moved over to your form, quickly settling on your hand, his fingers searching desperately for a pulse. 

You had to be okay, please be okay.

Your eyes fluttered open with the sensation of your wrist being held tightly in someone’s warm grip. 

“Xavier?” You muttered softly, the fog of sleepiness still clouding your senses. His blue eyes snap to yours, hazy and unfocused, and all you can focus on is the terror reflected in them. With that you were very much awake, calling his name more firmly, “Xavier? What happened?” You sit up quickly and reach your free hand out towards his face, stroking the still flowing tears away.

“... You’re okay…” He breaths out, relief flooding his features, more tears spilling down his face. Without a second thought, you pull him in, resting his head on your chest, arms wrapping around him. And the moment he hears the steady thud thud thud of your heartbeat, a choked sob escapes his throat, his arms pulling you closer than ever, holding you tightly like you are his last lifeline. 

With a steady breath, you whisper softly, “Shhhh… you’re okay… I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” You try to sooth him, your hands running through his silky blonde hair. You don’t know what happened, but you can put two and two together for now, it must’ve been a nightmare, a bad one at that. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like he does now. Lost. Frightened. Terrified. 

Some time passes, the sobs dying down, arms still clinging to you tightly.

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” His voice is soft, still rough, raw with emotion, his head burying itself deeper in your neck.

“Don’t apologise sweetheart. I’m here, always. I’m always going to be here. Don’t hesitate to wake me up next time, okay?” You murmur into his ear, fingers running along his back in soothing motions, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He shakes his head, drawing in an unsteady breath, “No. Not yet at least. Just… let me hold you, please.” His voice breaks slightly at the end.

“Okay. But When you’re ready, I’m here okay?” 

“... Thank you.” He mutters softly, as the two of you move to lay down, still entwined in each other’s embrace, his face still buried in your neck, feeling and hearing your pulse beating continuously and reassuringly.

kintsugi

xavier rafayel sylus zayne caleb

cw; self harm, razor blades, hurt comfort, angst, fluffy ending, reader/mc is slightly hinted at being chubby (body dysmorphia + negative body image), self-isolation (reader/mc), dddne (proceed with caution).

authors note: this is a mere work of fiction and i do not condone or am encouraging people to inflict bodily harm upon themselves. if the contents in this ff will trigger you in any sort of way, please do not read it!! as a person that is/was going through similar situations shown in this ff, i want to raise awareness and help support others in need.

this rough patch in our lives will soon pass <3

ps: the sh in this ff is very vague and up for interpretation. there is no exact place mentioned for where the sh is taking place on the body, nor where the scars are. i tried to make everything very vague so it's easier for everyone to relate to. it is HINTED!!! at that reader/mc in this ff is slightly “chubby” and/or has body dysmorphia. this can be interpreted however you like :)

also, in this ff the boys haven’t had any major sexual intimacy with reader/mc due to the scars, it's explained further in the fic.

xavier: 2.2k wrds

stress ridden, you frantically fled through the hallways of the hunter’s association, your mind in shambles.

there was a rapid influx of wanderers flooding into Linkon, thus causing mass chaos among the citizens.

this led to more and more being added onto your plate, more missions, which led to more paperwork, more unorganized files, ect, ect.

and most importantly, as the days went on your mental health slowly deteriorated. eyes constantly wandering to that tucked away box within your cabinet that would give you temporary relief.

it wasn't until a particular day until you caved into your cravings, your desire to feel the rush of blood, the rush of adrenaline, your little secret, your little safe haven.

the feeling you ravaged at like a man starved, the place you resided as the blade cut through the awfully abused skin, the sensation of the bathroom’s cool hard-tiles contrasted the pounding of your head.

the feeling of shame after. the feeling while cleaning up. the feeling of shame as you stood under the shower head and blood pooled.

the stinging sensation as the water trickled down your skin, the signs of your voluntary abuse was permanently etched onto your skin.

the hot tears that pooled down your face as you looked at your own reflection. the image of your body frightened you no matter what anyone told you. the newfound scars only heightened your insecurities.

and since that box was opened the cycle would repeat, over and over again.

rot, repent, repeat.

over and over again.

when will it be over?

the next day at work was the same, wanderers were relentless and your coworkers were restless.

“new missions”

“new paperwork”

“new deadlines”

when will this stop?

it was truly suffocating, and painful. the talking of your subordinates that filled the room, half assed conversations on your end, all while the fabric pulled and tugged on your raw skin.

a battle where a wanderer ripped your uniform, the scars barely visible but it was enough to put you on edge for the rest of the day.

walking back to the dreary office building that was filled with a vast amount of high tech, you hurriedly maneuvered past people, avoiding conversation at all costs.

your little plan was going well until you saw him.

the person you considered your lover, the one that always knew how you were feeling solely based upon observational skills was standing right infront of you.

you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. it was so obvious with your demeanor that something was off with you the entire week.

your phone has been shut off for days on end. sometimes, if someone sent you a somewhat important message, you’d send them a quick thumbs up to show that you're acknowledging their presence.

xavier’s gentle voice called out for you as you hurriedly scurried away from his gaze, exiting the building in the same fashion you entered it.

it wasn’t until you got home you had realized a good 75% of your belongings had been left behind at the office building.

you shuddered at the thought of willingly walking into that horrid building again, not on your one day off.

your phone was left at the building, but it wasn’t like you had much use for it anymore.

you fled into the bathroom before freshening up, replacing the haphazardly placed bandages over your fresh wound.

the bathroom was dark. you didn’t want to see any of it, you didn’t want to see yourself.

the thought of doing more damage crossed your mind, before you quickly dropped the thought, and the box. shame slowly creeped up your shoulder, reminding you of the feeling of cleaning up after yourself, and basking in the sadness of your own mistakes.

finishing up bandaging your wound, you simply put the box of your tools on the bathroom counter, before moving back into your disarranged room.

clothes were askew on the floor, the lighting was dark, the windows only opened enough to see what was in front of you.

moving under the bed covers, you began to close your eyes, basking in the silence.

however, that silence was quickly broken after a series of knocks cascaded at your door.

you tried to ignore it, but loud knocking every 2 minutes was a horrendous sound to sleep too.

groggily getting up from your bed, you exited the room and made your way to the door.

you slightly cracked open the door to see xavier in all his glory standing there.

his soft blue eyed gaze landed directly on your face, his eyes held a warmth that was hidden for you soley. your bag from work was hung over his shoulder, all of your belongings resided within the bag.

a sense of adoration fluttered in your heart as you looked at him, his face slightly flushed due to the weather, his serene complexion that contrasted the pink dusting his cheeks.

it wasn't until a few moments after xavier basked in your presence he spoke.

“have you been okay? you left in a rush today, and your phone has been off” xavier’s voice came out hesitant as he asked you, his brows furrowing as he attempted at asking without sounding too brash.

“no i've been fine, thanks for getting my stuff xavi” you rushed out the words before hastily grabbing the bag that xavier had extended out to you.

you attempted to shut the door before xavier’s hand grabbed a hold of the door.

“can i..stay? just for a bit i promise. just want to make sure your okay” xavier spoke to you softly as his eyes raked over your figure, your eyebags had become darker as the days went on, the skin around your eyes looked slightly irritated as if you had been rubbing it.

you looked at him blankly before nodding and walking away from the door.

“sorry its a little messy in here, just haven’t had enough time to clean up, you know?” your attempt at enthusiasm didn’t go well, your voice slightly shaking as you spoke.

you were uncovered, the bandages covering up your fresh wounds did little to hide the rest of the scars you had accumulated over the years.

you felt xavier’s gaze on your skin. hurriedly you began to make your way back into your own bedroom before saying,

“i'll be right back—just stay put for a while. I need to get changed” your voice came out more harshly then you had intended, your shaky hand lifting to open the door before closing it shut.

xavier’s eyes widened in shock, a pang of sadness reverberated throughout his heart as he saw the marks upon your skin. what had been going on that you didn’t want to tell him?

fumbling through your dressers, you immediately found something that covered up the scars on your body, your mind was in a haze, your body moving on autopilot as you changed.

when you exited the bedroom, xavier was nowhere to be seen, that was until you saw the bathroom light shining, the light from underneath the door casting a glow onto the living room floor.

you began to move onto the couch, pulling one of the many blankets that littered the couch over yourself.

a slow click resounded throughout the room as xavier exited your bathroom, the atmosphere was tense and dreary as he sat next to you on the couch.

xavier called out your name before speaking,

“have i done anything wrong? recently?” xavier’s question rang out in your ears as your eyes blankly met his.

“no xavi you didn’t do anything, i've just been a bit busy lately” your voice sounded hesitant, as if you were lying. your eyes avoided his gaze as you began to look away to another part of the room.

you knew xavier well, he craved your presence, a few days without you and he was better off dead. it had been a week before the two of you had sat down and had a conversation, a week since you simply sat in each other's company.

well enough time had passed for you to fall into your bad habits again.

“i went into the bathroom, i saw everything, the gauze, the razors, your scars. how long were you planning to let this go on for?” xavier’s voice stated this gently, with a firm undertone to it.

xavier’s body moved closer to yours, his body heat burned your skin. but you still felt yourself subconsciously moving closer to him, his comforting scent filling your nose, making you feel more at ease.

“xavier, it's really not a big deal. it's just skin, it will eventually heal.” you responded with a half-assed lie. with every mark you made on your body, a scar always remained.

your insecurities just grew and grew as the days went on. you began to question if you really deserved xavier, he was handsome and strong willed. while here you were, a person with a fragile heart that shattered at every moment and every situation.

“it's a big deal to me. i don’t want to see you like this, you don’t have to suffer alone.” xavier responded sincerely, he cupped your face, moving your gaze back to his eyes. his eyes were gentle as he held your face with care, as if you were fragile porcelain that would break at any given moment.

hot tears pooled down your cheeks as you heard his words. the sincerity in his voice, the soft touches, everything warmed your heart.

xavier’s thumbs wiped away your tears before he leaned in close to your face, before giving a soft kiss on your cheek, where the tears once resided.

everything made sense to him now, why you always turned down his advances, your nights together that always ended at a few kisses down your neck, it all made sense.

“my star, don’t feel forced to do anything. i’m sorry i didn’t notice this this sooner” xavier’s arms wrapped around you as his neck craned down to your shoulder

“xavi it's okay, it’s not your fault, don’t blame yourself for my mistake” you responded to him, your voice coming out nasally due to the tears prior.

the word mistake rang through xavier’s ears. his head bolted up from your shoulder to look you in the eyes once more.

“no—it's not a mistake, these scars just make you more beautiful. there is nothing wrong with them. as long as if it's you i’m with, no marks will define who you are to me” xavier said sincerely, beginning to move his face closer to yours

“may i?” xavier inquired, his gaze flickering from your eyes down to your lips

you nodded, before melting into the kiss. it was different from the ones you usually shared, it was soft and gentle. xavier’s hand made its way through your hair, gently brushing his hands through it as the kiss slightly deepened.

your lips disconnected as xavier’s mouth left soft kisses down your body, whispering praises onto your skin each time his lips disconnected.

his lips hovered over the area where your scarred skin was, lifting the fabric of your clothing and pressing his lips on the scars, a glint of adoration filled his features as he basked in the sensation of your skin.

“perfect, my perfect pretty girl.” xavier’s lips left a warm sensation over your scarred skin, it was like the pain and shame went away in an instant. it felt as if a weight was lifted from your shoulders as he whispered multiple praises against the area.

xavier’s negative thoughts were soothed when you didn’t jerk away from him, your hands simply ran through his hair as you looked down at him with the same admiration he had given you.

he eventually stopped, resting his head on your lap, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as his eyes looked up at you.

your hands ran through his lightly colored hair, playing with the strands as xavier began to leave kisses along your stomach.

“xavi stop that tickles!” your giggles echoed throughout the dimly lit living room, as xavier simply just smiled at you.

he eventually stopped, getting up from his lying position, freeing your lower body from his torment of kisses.

when he returned to his sitting position, he was suddenly shoved back onto the couch. his back was pressed against the cushiony material as your lips crashed onto his. a sudden abrupt movement that caused his eyes to widen, and his cheeks to flush even more.

as you pulled away from the kiss, his normally pale complexion was a rosey shade of pink, his ears were also shaded a dark red.

xavier pulled you down onto him, suddenly crashing into his arms. he left an array of kisses on the top of your head, and your face.

“don’t leave me again please. nothing physical will make me want to separate from you. i just want it to be you, your most authentic self is all i want.” xavier’s words were said softly as he whispered them into your ear, leaving a few soft kisses along your neck before pulling you into another soft kiss.

the rest of the afternoon was filled with love, and acceptance as you stayed in xavier’s soft embrace, his hands tracing along the scars, his body enveloping you in his sweet, secure, embrace.

᧔o᧓ comfort .ᐟ

xavier love and deepspace fluff/slight angst! x female reader. comfort fic. reader is in a deep depression. ong this is js based on me. she feels so empty but keeps going like a robot. xavier helps her feel better. i just wrote this for comfort to myself because i havent been feeling well at all.

Xavier didn’t question why today you seemed to crave his touch and attention more than usual. Normally, affection flowed freely between you and your boyfriend, but lately, an unshakable heaviness had settled in your heart, dimming your once vibrant spirit. Despite your unwavering love for Xavier, nurtured and deepened through time, the weight of depression had become an unwelcome companion.

You lounged in the bedroom of your shared apartment, having not left bed since the previous afternoon. Xavier noticed the deterioration, how you stayed awake till morning, slept through the day, and needed reminders to eat. When he checked on you, concern etched in his features, you waved him off with a feeble excuse about needing a break from hunting, urging him to focus on work.

How was he to continue his day knowing the woman he cherished was in pain? He knew better than to pry when you weren’t ready to open up, fearing it might worsen your state. Yet today, when he returned home, you greeted him at the doorway in one of his hoodies and shorts, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “Miss you,” you whispered, seeking solace in Xavier’s embrace. He held you tightly, his voice a comforting balm as he asked, “How are you today, my love?” Tears welled in your eyes at his tenderness, and as they spilled over, Xavier gently lifted you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

His murmured reassurances were soft as he laid you down, his hand soothingly rubbing your back. “I’m here. I won’t leave,” he promised, his caring gaze a lifeline in the storm of your emotions. Gratefulness swelled within you for a boyfriend as attentive and loving as Xavier.

Quickly shedding his work clothes for comfort, Xavier slid under the covers beside you. His skilled hands encircled your waist as he drew you close, pressing kisses to the crown of your head. You clung to his scent, fingers tightening on his shirt as if afraid he might vanish. Tears continued to streak your cheeks, each one a testament to the ache in Xavier’s heart. He leaned closer, kissing away your tears, silently urging you to speak.

“Sorry for pushing you away lately,” you finally began, your voice cracking with emotion. Xavier shook his head gently, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears. “You don’t need to apologise, angel.”

“I feel so lost, Xavi... I don’t understand what I’m feeling... I love you, that hasn’t changed, but I feel drained, empty. I feel like I’m just going through the motions, like a hollow shell. I push you away because I’m terrified of dragging you into this void with me. I feel selfish that you take care of me like this, like some sort of burden.”

Xavier listened quietly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. When you finished, he caressed your hips tenderly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Never feel terrified about ‘dragging’ me anywhere. Whatever you’re going through, I want to be there with you. I love you deeply, and I’ll be patient. If you need space, I’ll give it. If you want me close, I’ll stay. If you want to stay in bed, wear my clothes, I’ll support you every step.”

His eyes held yours with unwavering sincerity, offering you his heart and strength. You hiccupped through a smile, feeling a weight lift as Xavier’s words enveloped you in warmth and security. “I love you,” he whispered again, his touch tender against your tear-streaked face.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, leaning into his touch. Xavier kissed you lovingly, pouring his heart into the moment, promising silently to be your anchor in the storm until the darkness lifted.

“If you feel like a void, let me fill it with everything I have to give,” he murmured against your lips, sealing the vow with a kiss.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

You sit beside Xavier on the bench in the park, watching people pass by as golden afternoon light filters through the leaves. The air smells of fresh-cut grass and distant food carts. A stylish couple walks past, the woman’s laughter musical, her confidence evident in every step.

“I wish I was pretty like her,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, your fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden bench.

Xavier turns to you, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. His brows furrow deeply, eyes widening just a fraction.

“What... did you say?” he asks, his tone remaining even despite the clear puzzlement in his eyes. He shifts his body toward you, giving you his full attention.

“Nothing, just...” you gesture vaguely toward the retreating couple. “Sometimes I don’t feel very attractive. Especially around people like that.”

Xavier stares at you for a long moment, looking genuinely bewildered. The silence stretches between you, broken only by distant children’s laughter and birdsong.

“I don’t understand,” he finally says.

You start to explain, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his unwavering gaze, but he gently places his hand over yours, the warmth of his palm surprising against your skin.

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head slightly. “I mean I don’t understand why you would think that. It doesn’t make sense.” His thumb traces a small circle on the back of your hand. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he states matter-of-factly. “I’ve always thought so.”

Coming from Xavier, the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“You don’t have to say that,” you protest weakly, looking down at where his hand covers yours.

Xavier shakes his head, leaning closer. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. I don’t...” he pauses, carefully selecting his words, “understand how you can’t see what I see.”

His fingers tighten around yours, the pressure gentle but grounding. “Every time I look at you, I...” He struggles with the words, clearly moving outside his comfort zone. A faint color touches his usually pale cheeks. “From a purely objective standpoint, the way you look—” He stops, frustrated with himself, and takes a deep breath.

“That’s not what I meant to say.” He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, there’s a rare vulnerability there. “What I mean is that you’re beautiful. In every way that matters. Your smile when you’re excited about something. The way your eyes light up when you talk about things you care about. How your whole face changes when you’re lost in thought.”

He reaches up with his free hand, hesitating just shy of touching your face. “I’ve remembered every expression you make. I’ve studied them all.” He looks away, embarrassed by his own earnestness. “You’re beautiful. Please, don’t think otherwise.”

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly, as if relieved to have expressed something he’s held inside for too long. He doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the afternoon.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

You’re helping Zayne organize his medical journals in his office as late afternoon shadows stretch across the polished floors. The pristine space feels both clinical and comforting—much like the man himself.

As you reach up to place a heavy volume on the top shelf, you catch your reflection in the large window overlooking the city. The bright lighting does you no favors.

“Ugh,” you mutter, tugging self-consciously at your clothes. “I look awful today.”

Zayne glances up from his desk where he’s been meticulously updating patient files. He sets down his pen, the soft click audible in the sudden silence. His eyes, usually so focused on his work, now study you with that penetrating gaze that seems to see beneath surfaces.

“What brought this on?” he asks, his voice filling the room.

“Nothing specific,” you say, turning away from your reflection. “Just... some days I don’t feel pretty, that’s all.”

Zayne stands. He gestures to the leather chair beside his own. “Sit.”

You comply, watching as he leans against his desk, arms folded across his chest. The setting sun through the windows casts half his face in shadow, highlighting the sharp angles of his features.

“Are you overthinking again?” he asks directly, but there’s no judgment in his tone. “Or did someone say something to you today?”

“Just overthinking, I guess,” you admit, fidgeting under his steady gaze.

He nods once, as if confirming a diagnosis. “I see.” He’s silent for a moment.

“Beauty is subjective,” he begins. “But if you’re asking for my opinion...” The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be the ghost of a smile. “You’re more than perfect. Inside and out.”

When you start to protest, he raises a hand to stop you.

“I don’t make observations lightly. You know that.” His eyes hold yours. “I’ve studied human anatomy for years. I’ve seen thousands of faces.” He leans forward slightly. “None of them affect me the way yours does.”

The admission seems to surprise even him, a rare moment of vulnerability from someone so carefully composed.

Suddenly, he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a small chocolate wrapped in gold foil. It’s from the exclusive chocolatier across town—the one he pretends not to favor.

He places it in your palm, his fingers lingering against yours longer than necessary. “Here,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Sweet for the sweet.”

Before you can respond, he leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead. The momentary closeness allows you to catch the subtle scent of his aftershave mingled with antiseptic.

“Now,” he says, straightening himself, “wait for me to finish organizing these journals so we can go home. I’m thinking of dinner at that place you like on Fifth Street.” He turns back to his desk, but not before adding, “And no more nonsense about not being pretty. I won’t have the person I care for most questioning their worth.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

You’re sitting on the private beach adjoining Rafayel’s seaside studio, watching him add final touches to a vibrant seascape painting. The ocean stretches endlessly before you, waves crashing rhythmically against the shore. The air tastes of salt and fresh breeze. Seagulls circle overhead, their calls mingling with the gentle lapping of water against sand.

Rafayel stands before his painting, completely absorbed in his work. Paint splatters decorate his rolled-up sleeves and there’s a smudge of blue across his cheekbone. The wind tousles his already disheveled hair as he captures the dance of light on water.

A group of beautiful people laugh further down the beach, their perfect silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. You glance down at yourself, then back at them, feeling suddenly out of place in this picturesque setting.

“I don’t think I’m pretty enough for this place,” you whisper, the breeze carrying your words away—or so you think.

Rafayel’s hand freezes. He turns to you slowly, paint-speckled fingers stilling on the canvas, his expression transforming from focus to complete disbelief.

“What did you just say?” His usually playful voice has an edge to it now, sharp as broken glass.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud,” you reply, regretting having spoken at all.

“No, no, no,” he sets his palette down with a clatter on the small table beside him. “You don’t get to say things like that and dismiss them as ’nothing.’” In an instant, he takes a seat on your side. “Did someone say something to you?” he demands, looking around the empty beach as if searching for culprits. “Which human do I need to have a word with?”

“No one said anything, Rafayel. It’s just how I feel sometimes,” you admit.

“That’s even worse! Your own mind betraying you like this?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “This is an emergency. A catastrophe of the highest order!”

He grabs your shoulders. “You are an absolute masterpiece. Do you understand? A masterpiece. I know art. I create art. I live and breathe beauty in all its forms. And you—” he pokes your cheek lightly, leaving a tiny dot of turquoise paint, “—are the finest creation I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

When you try to look away, embarrassed by his intensity, he gently tilts your chin back. The setting sun reflects in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold. “The ocean is jealous of your depths. The stars envy your brilliance.” His voice softens, becoming almost reverent. “And I would swim across every sea before I let you believe you’re anything less than stunning.”

He wraps his arms around you suddenly, clinging like a child. “Now don’t say such ridiculous things again. It offends my artistic sensibilities.”

He then stands, pulling you up with him. “Come on. We’re going to watch the sunset together. I’ll show you how I see you.” He places a brush in your hand, his fingers lingering. “And maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t look away.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You stand before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in Sylus’s penthouse suite, overlooking the sprawling N109 Zone from stories up. The city stretches below like a circuit board of neon and shadow, vehicles and people reduced to tiny moving points of light. The luxurious room behind you is bathed in the soft glow of artfully placed lamps illuminating his collection of rarities—collections plucked from across time and space.

Catching your reflection in the darkened glass, superimposed over the glittering cityscape, you murmur without thinking, “I don’t know why you keep me around. I’m not even pretty.”

The room falls silent. You hear Sylus set down whatever gem he was examining, the soft clink of crystal against metal followed by his steady steps as he approaches.

“What an odd thing to say,” he remarks, his voice silky yet sharp as a blade, “because you’re entirely incorrect.”

You turn to find him watching you, head slightly tilted.

“Did I hear you questioning your beauty?” A smirk plays on his lips, but his eyes remain serious, almost stern. “After all this time with me, you should know very well that I have exceptional taste.”

He closes the distance between you. He places his hands on your waist, positioning you both so your reflections are visible in the window. His gaze in the reflection holds nothing but admiration.

“Do you think I surround myself with anything less than perfection?” He gestures to the rare treasures adorning his collection shelf—items worth more than most people earn in a lifetime. “Do you imagine I would waste my time on someone who didn’t captivate me entirely?”

His fingers trace your jawline, feather-light. “Hundreds of rare gems, ancient artifacts, priceless paintings—I collect only the extraordinary, the unique.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “And yet, not one of these treasures compares to your presence and beauty.”

When you start to protest, he places a finger gently against your lips. “I don’t tolerate self-deprecation from the one person in this universe I genuinely cherish.”

He turns you to face him fully now, both hands cupping your face with surprising tenderness from someone so powerful, so used to taking what he wants. Your disbelief must show on your face because he chuckles softly.

“Your beauty is not up for debate, not even by you. Challenge me on anything else if you wish, demand whatever your heart desires—but on this matter, I will not yield.”

He steps back after brushing a kiss against your forehead, apparently considering the matter settled. “Now come here and tell me what you want instead of what you think you lack. That’s much more productive, don’t you agree?”

He gestures to the plush sofa. “Sit down and tell me about your day today. I haven’t heard you talking about it.” His expression softens further. “Let’s talk about that instead.”

As you join him, he casually drapes an arm around you, pulling you closer. “And tomorrow,” he murmurs against your hair, “I’ll show you exactly how beautiful you are to me. I have something special planned—something worthy of you.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

You’re absently scrolling through your phone as you accompany Caleb while he sorts through Fleet reports in his home office. The space reflects his dual nature—military precision in the organized shelves and structured workspace, but touches of warmth in the photographs and mementos from his DAA days. The soft glow of multiple screens illuminates the room as rain patters against the windows, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Caleb sits at his desk, brow furrowed in concentration as he reviews security protocols. His uniform jacket hangs on the back of his chair, sleeves of his standard-issue shirt rolled up to reveal his forearms. Despite the late hour, his posture remains perfect—the Colonel, always on duty.

Glancing up, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflective surface of a dormant monitor. The unflattering blue light highlights every perceived imperfection.

“Ugh,” you mutter under your breath, running a self-conscious hand through your hair. “I look terrible today.”

Caleb’s head snaps up from his work. “What did you just say?” There’s a sudden alertness in his posture, as if responding to a threat.

“Just that I’m not looking my best,” you shrug, trying to downplay it, surprised by his intense reaction. 

Caleb stands, his chair rolling backward. His eyes narrow as he scans the room like he’s searching for enemies in a combat zone. “Who put that idea in your head?”

The protective edge in his voice takes you by surprise.

“No one, Caleb. It’s just how I feel sometimes.” You set down your phone, touched by his concern even as you try to ease it.

His expression darkens for a moment before he walks towards you. “Hey,” he says, crouching beside where you’re seated and taking your hands in his. “Look at me.”

When you meet his eyes, they’re filled with the same warmth they held when you were both kids, before the Fleet, before the incident—before everything changed.

“I’ve watched you grow more beautiful every single day since we were kids,” he says, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. The calluses on his palms catch slightly against your skin. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to be with you.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. Rain continues to drum against the windows, creating a private world just for the two of you.

“You’ve always been the prettiest person in any room to me. Always will be. Nothing compares to coming home to you.”

His smile returns. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of people try to catch my eye over the years. None of them even came close. It’s just not possible when my mind can only think of you.”

He presses a soft kiss onto your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “So no more of this ‘not pretty’ talk, okay? Or I’ll have to issue an official declaration about how gorgeous you are, and that would be really embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Based on this request.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know what's better than fluff? Dark fluff.

The kind where devotion borders on obsession, where love isn't just tender—it's consuming.

"I'd do anything for you, love," he murmurs, voice smooth, unwavering. "Anything you desire, and it's yours."

And the other doesn't hesitate, voice laced with something raw, something desperate.

"I want her to split me open—dig her fingers into my ribs and pry them apart. To hold my heart in her hands, feel the pulse of it against her palms, my blood staining her skin. I want her to pick my bones clean, crack them open, suck the marrow dry. I want to be ruined by her, consumed until there's nothing left of me but the taste of her name on what's left of my tongue."

Because love, when it’s deep enough, is a hunger—one that begs to be fed.

Save me Lumiere~