How The LADS Boys Would Cuddle You

Hey Little Stars ✨

The Prompts are up! 🎊

XavMC Week 2025 will be held from [10th - 16th May]

Post your works from 10th onwards, and tag your creative works with: xavmc week 2025

RULES:

Any form of creative content is welcome 😊fanarts, fanfiction, video edits, image edits, cosplay, glint photobooth pics, socmed AUs, etc..

Post your creations with tag: xavmc week 2025 (late creations will be reblogged within 2 weeks after the event ends)

TAG NSFW CONTENT WITH 🔞 + OTHER APPROPRIATE TAGS

STRICTLY NO AI 🚫

XavMC content only (your own MC is fine). No other LI ship.

Have fun! 💞

For any queries, feel free to send asks 💞

Originally for my friend in the LaDs server I’m in.

After learning about Xavier's myth, finally, I'm feeling soft for him. Meanwhile I mostly started liking Xav more already because of my friend. So now I'm going to be soft about him on main.

When the light of the early morning sun filtered gently through the curtains of your apartment, you awoke to the feeling of an arm slung over your waist. Cradled gently in Xavier's arms, you carefully turn over to look at him. It wasn't as though seeing his sleeping face was uncommon, but it was as novel as the first time you'd been graced with the sight.

Despite his nature, Xavier always tried his best to be awake to spend time with you. Your hunting partner even had his notification volume at a decibel you were certain no one else ever would just to make sure he didn't miss your texts and calls when you were apart.

You couldn't help yourself and brushed your fingers over his forehead, brushing back the hair covering the skin there to plant a tender kiss on the uncovered area. A giggle had to be stifled when his nose scrunched a little and he pulled you deeper into his embrace, inadvertently forcing you to bury your face in his shoulder. There was a happy hum, barely there, when Xavier finished shifting you to be closer. The feeling was a bit ticklish as the vibrations of the noise rumbled in his throat.

You decided the dawn was too early to rise and begin the day, especially when your prince still yet slept. So you slowly sunk deeper into the peaceful quiet Xavier brought you and returned to the land of dreams to greet your lover. The noon sun would be next to bring you back to the waking world. Plenty of time to frolic in starlit fields with the man who would give you his everything just to make you happy.

The next you woke, the feeling of soft hands and softer kisses brought you into wakefulness. Xavier's fleeting touches gentling you into the waking world. "Good morning, my star. The night was long, but you were there in my dreams. So it wasn't too bad being asleep all this time," were the first words to light upon still sleep drowned ears. "Good morning, Xavier," you got out sleepily, smiling when he responded with another kiss; this time on the lips.

"We could stay here. There's still time," Xavier began. "Whatever you decide, whatever you want- I want that, too."

"We could. Buuut- I'm sure you're hungry by now," was your reply. Which was promptly met by a still bleary-eyed look of eagerness, your bunny-like boyfriend enjoying the idea of eating. "I've got you." And then you were being carefully scooped up into his arms and set down. He shuffled forward, holding you up while still rubbing the remaining drowsiness from sleep-soft features. The rest of the short noontime was spent in such a way. The two of you groggily moving together, Xavier taking care to hold up most of your weight and thoughtfully move thing and hand them to you when necessary. It was sweet. Your sleepy boy doing his best to help your equally sleepy self, holding onto you tight all the while.

He gave you a silent look of apology while you made breakfast, wishing he could do it for you. But while he was highly capable as a hunter, the kitchen was certainly not a battlefield he could brave. Which meant that whenever you caught glances of him whilst moving about the kitchen, you saw his eyes stuck to your form. Xavier's eyes never once strayed, watching you now that he was given the opportunity to stare. You were perfect in his eyes. So strong, so capable- Even able to do things he couldn't. You couldn't help matching his hopeless smile, teeth peeking out before your hand covered the upward curve of your lips. This was met with a pout and a certain hunter stalking towards you to move your hand. "Don't do that. I like your smile."

You were cheesing again. Silly man.

An entire day off spent together is a day well spent, no matter how you chose to fill those precious few hours.

A movie together, dinner, getting ready for bed...

Laying down with him, arms once again secure around your middle and face nuzzling into your nape with a tender "I love you", you wanted to do it all over again. All the simple and mundane days you got to spend with your shooting star that made all your wishes come true. You'd gather up all the stardust of the quiet moments together until next you could hold this fleeting star in your arms.

fiction | xavier

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe a particularly poetic hallucination.

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

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

Of course, that snapped him right out of it.

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

Stoic. Controlled. Maybe a little embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

So, marriage. Sure. Why not.

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

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

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

Great. Now you had to marry that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tried being the keyword.

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

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

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

Romance was off to a fantastic start.

—•

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

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

You could practically hear the wedding bells in their eyes.

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

He didn’t seem flustered at all.

Meanwhile, you were trying to remember how breathing worked.

The air outside was cooler, quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smooth.

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

“You’re nothing like I imagined.”

That time, you actually choked.

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier didn’t answer right away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That caught you off guard. “You read?”

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

“Wow. Multitalented and humble.”

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

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

Just like the quiet warmth growing in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

—•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, your brain had other plans.

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

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

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

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

You were engaged. To that.

And worse—you liked it.

—•

The first date was… heartwarming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told them we’d be fine at a café.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m with UNICORNS,” he said simply.

You blinked. “UNICORNS?”

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly choked on your steak.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

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

Of course he was a secret agent. Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re worth the risk.

Nope. Still devastating.

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

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

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

Measured.

Like he was actually listening. Really listening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly tripped on the gravel. “Mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Terrified,” you muttered under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still.

He was sitting very close.

Not touching you, technically.

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

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

Steady. Quiet. Very hard to ignore.

You might’ve leaned slightly away from him.

And then just as quickly, leaned back.

No use pretending now. You were officially doomed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I was.”

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

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

—•

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

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

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

You threw a pillow at her.

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

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

“Apparently, your absurdly attractive secret agent fiancé.”

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

“Yes?”

“I think I’m doomed.”

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

You let out a muffled scream into your blanket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mocked me.”

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

You narrowed your eyes. “Shaiya.”

“Yes, Mrs. Secret Agent?”

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

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

“I knew you’d cave.”

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

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

You were so in trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

Mini-yous and secret agents.

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

This was getting out of hand.

—•

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

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

It was awkward at first.

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

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

Meanwhile, you were trying not to combust.

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

Like this mattered to him.

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

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

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

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

Your brain short-circuited. Your stylist cooed.

And you?

You forgot how to breathe for about seven seconds.

This wedding might just kill you.

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

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

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

You blinked, thrown for a moment.

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

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

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

Your heart betrayed you again with an uneven thump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No teasing. No smug follow-up.

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

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

Yep. You were so doomed.

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

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

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

You felt powerful. Gorgeous. Slightly dangerous.

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

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

You shifted on your feet. “Too much?”

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

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

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

Either way, you were spiraling.

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

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

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

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

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

Your wedding dress.

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

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

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

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

Yep.

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

—•

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

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

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

And Xavier—of course—found you there.

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

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

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

And then, you exhaled. “You nervous?”

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

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

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Good? That’s it?”

He turned fully toward you, his voice lower now.

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

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

“It is kind of heavy,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poised. Steady.

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

Toward you.

He wasn’t smiling—not quite.

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

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

The music began.

Your hands tightened on the bouquet.

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

And the doors slowly opened.

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

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

Xavier.

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

The pressure in your chest eased, just slightly.

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

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

But his eyes—his eyes said everything.

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

A quiet certainty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t smile—he softened. Completely.

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

You weren’t nervous anymore.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

Headcanon -

Barista Caleb takes your order

Details: dokidoki fluffy coffee caleb, maybe he adds apple juice and a squeeze of lemon? 700ish words.

“Morning,” he says, a slow, easy grin tugging at his lips as he leans against the counter. His voice is smooth, low, but carries just enough amusement to make you feel like he’s been waiting all morning for someone interesting to talk to. “First time here?”

You blink, thrown for a second, before shaking your head. “Uh—no, I’ve been here before. Just… not with you taking my order.”

“Ah,” he hums, like this is important information. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to make sure your experience today is exceptional. What can I get for you?”

It’s almost unfair, how casual he is about it. You manage to give him your order, your voice steadier than you expect, but the moment he nods and writes your name on the cup, you realize you might be in trouble.

Because he is breathtaking.

Not just in a pretty-boy, “oh, he’s attractive” kind of way. No, it’s the way he moves—fluid, self-assured, a quiet kind of charisma that doesn’t demand attention but holds it anyway. His apron is tied perfectly at his waist, snug but comfortable, emphasizing his lean build. He works with an effortless grace, hands moving with quick, precise motions as he sets up your drink like he’s been doing it all his life.

And then there’s the new barista.

You notice them standing beside him, apron still a little too crisp, movements stiff with nerves. He notices too.

“Hey, you good?” he asks, his tone light, but genuinely concerned.

The newbie nods, but hesitantly. He watches them for half a second, then gestures toward your order.

“Wanna make this one?”

They freeze. “Uh—me?”

“Yeah, you,” he grins, nodding toward the espresso machine. “C’mon, it’s just one drink. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“…I mess it up?”

“That’s the spirit,” he teases, nudging them lightly with his elbow. “But seriously, don’t worry. I’ll walk you through it.”

You watch as the newbie hesitantly steps up, hands fumbling with the portafilter. He lets them struggle for a second before stepping in behind them, close enough that his voice drops slightly, quiet and patient.

“Here, let me help.”

And then he does something devastating.

He reaches out, his hands brushing over theirs as he adjusts their grip, fingers steady and sure. “You wanna lock it in like this. Feel that little click? That means it’s in place.”

The newbie nods, but their breath catches slightly, and—yeah, okay, you can’t blame them. He is warm, too close, and entirely too unaware of how unfair it is to exist like this.

“Good,” he says, pulling back just enough to give them space. “Now, hit that button—yeah, that one. You got it.”

You swear you see the newbie swallow hard, cheeks dusted pink. He doesn’t comment on it—maybe he’s too focused on the drink, or maybe he’s just used to this.

Because you are feeling the exact same thing.

The drink comes together eventually, and the newbie looks both relieved and still slightly dazed. He claps them on the shoulder, offering a quick, reassuring grin.

“See? Not so bad,” he says. “Next time, I’m letting you handle it without the assist.”

They make a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a nervous gulp.

And then, finally, he turns back to you.

He picks up your cup, spinning it slightly between his fingers before sliding it across the counter toward you.

“Here you go,” he says, his voice just a little softer now, a little more directed at you. “Hope you like it.” And then, after a pause, his smirk deepens.

“If not… guess you’ll just have to come back so I can make it up to you.”

Your fingers tighten around the cup, heat creeping up your neck. Your brain offers you several possible responses—flirty, cool, clever—and you say none of them.

Because all you can think about is how easy it would be to just ask. His number. His shift schedule. Anything that would let you turn this brief interaction into something more.

But the words sit heavy on your tongue, unspoken.

You just nod. And walk away.

And as you take your first sip, the new barista catches your gaze, their expression a perfect mirror of yours—slightly dazed, a little overwhelmed, and absolutely thinking the same thing.

This isn’t just a barista.

This is a problem.

And then you glance at the counter one last time, at the name tag pinned neatly to his apron.

Caleb.

—————————————————————————-

There’s more barista Caleb! Check my masterlist 🫶🏻

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.

Cosy Mornings // Multi x Reader

Hey guys! I come bringing tooth-rotting fluff. In this there's only Xavier and Raf (Separately) as I work on the other guys' fics, which will be in part 2 of this :)) Concept: A cosy morning with your boyfriend. Tags: Fluff, very fluffy, fem reader Word Count: 1060 in total Masterlist

Xavier

Music plays softly in the background as you sway to the beat. The sweet smell of pancakes permeates the air around you, the morning sunlight beaming through the open windows, the breeze cool on your skin. You flip the pancake in the pan before moving to prepare the fruit ready to top off your breakfast. Xavier’s hoodie hangs off of you like a dress, keeping you cozy in the morning daze, your hair still a mess, sticking up in odd places. 

It’s the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. He wouldn’t mind waking up early every day if it meant he could see you like this, in his apartment, in his clothes, swaying to music, a carefree atmosphere surrounding you. His blue eyes, still hazy from sleep, track your movements as you move around his kitchen, the sunlight illuminating your figure. He leaned against the doorway, giving himself time to admire you.

You were ethereal, a goddess walking the earth. You chose him, again and again, in this life and in the past ones. He was the luckiest person in the world to have you by his side, he never doubted that. A gentle smile was etched into his face as he pushed off from the wall until his arms wrapped around your waist, his face pressed into your neck. 

“Good morning love.” You smile sweetly, your voice was quiet in a way that added to the cozy atmosphere. His lips pulled into a full smile as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

“Good morning honey.” His voice was muffled, but the contentment that echoed through it was clear as day. 

“Breakfast is nearly done, could you set the table?” He grumbled slightly about having to part from you, but the complaint was quickly chased away with a soft kiss to his lips. He did as you asked, making coffee and setting up the cutlery, before turning the music up on your phone. 

You look at him curiously, turning the stove off once the last pancake landed on the stack.

He reached out his hand, grasping yours and pulling you into his embrace, swaying to the lyrics of the song. You giggled, wrapping your own arms around his neck as his snaked around your waist. 

“The pancakes are gonna go cold.” You whisper, not willing to break the serene atmosphere that settled around the two of you. A grin spread across your lips, heart skipping a beat. Instead of a reply, you’re greeted with a slow gentle kiss, his arms tightening around you. You sigh into the kiss, unhurried, content with just holding each other as you move to the music. Pulling away, you gaze into his eyes, deep blue and filled with admiration, overflowing with the love he held for you. 

Rafayel

The sky was still dark when you arrived on the beach, the waves crashing on the shore. You jogged ahead, pulling him along with you. The breeze hit you, chilly in the morning hour, fresh with the smell of the wide ocean in front of you. You take a moment to breathe, to take it all in, before turning to Rafayel, a wide grin already spread across your face. His smile is amused, an eyebrow arcing.

“Where’s all this energy coming from, Cutie?” He chuckled, letting himself be pulled along the sand until the two of you stood by where the waves greeted the land. 

“Well, I’ve been wanting to see the sunrise with you for a while. This is the first time we’ve managed to get up on time, let me be excited about this!” You laugh, pressing yourself closer to his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you look up at him. You get a chuckle back in response, as he presses a kiss to your hairline before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Besides, you’ve been looking for inspiration right? Maybe this beautiful sunrise will help with that.” You say as you turn to look to the horizon, any minute now the sun will come up and will paint the sky into a stunning array of colours. 

You adjust your scarf before taking a sip of your own coffee, letting the warmth spread through you, nuzzling closer to Rafayel. His arm rests across you back, the hand on your hip holding you close as a comfortable silence fills the air between you. 

Within minutes, the first pinks and oranges spread across the sky, a breath getting stuck in your throat in awe. The sun rays finally peak across the ocean, showering the two of you in a golden light.

Rafayel’s eyes drop to you, as you admire the scenery. The view he’s more interested in is you, how the hue of the light brightens your face, how your eyes are full of joy, the small smile on your rosy lips. You are glowing, a blissful sort of comfort settles inside of him as he studies you. 

You were here, with him. By his side. He had found you again, his beloved bride, his most devout follower, the person who held his heart. After so many tragedies in the past, he finally had his happy ending, the love of his life by his side. His sunset coloured eyes don’t leave your face for a second, even as you turn to look at him. 

Oh. He has found his new favourite colour. Your eyes met his, shining with pure glee, before softening at the sight of him, a smile permanently planted on your lips. He must be making some sort of funny expression as all he receives is a soft laugh from you, before a gentle kiss is planted on his lips. Your soft lips glide across his for a moment, before you pull away, a hand coming to cradle his cheek.

“The view is over there, Love.” You say, a teasing tone in your voice. He huffed a laugh.

“I prefer the view over here.” He replies, a smirk appearing on his face, before his lips meet yours once again, his arm pulling you closer. The kiss was gentle, content. You bring your arms around his neck, pulling away to meet his eyes. His gaze was filled with mirth, full of love and joy and admiration. In that moment, he had found the inspiration he’s been searching for.

Save me Lumiere~

A RANT

I just realized something as i am on tumblr and on insta. .. it physically hurts me that i can't reblog LADS fic or art or comic ... any content on lads on instagram ..... 🙂🙂🙂 and here

I have become so confident and shameless at this point ..... its concerning 😆😆

Cuz at first i was afraid and scared to either reblog write or comment on any fic but then i realized

~ Wait .... they r writers and readers tooo.. and as a writer and reader i would love if anyone commented or liked or reblogged ny works.. so whats stopping me

So

Yes

Thats my rant

Thank you for coming to my rant 😉🤣😆😂😂

And be prepared for me to find posts and comment on them ... 🤪🤪

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.

Can you...

Read 📖⬅⬅

...give me one last kiss?

🎵 One Last Kiss - Utada Hikaru 🎵

===

Just in time before Dec 7... another song lyric inspired piece இ௰இ I can't tell if my heart is ready or not