𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

Brother ... someone at last.. wrote it

THANK YOUUUU

Omggg

Bookish MC .. lets goooooooo

Hello again May I humbly request hcs for the LADS with a bookish MC wherein they are a voracious reader and they love going to bookstores and book fairs to collect and read books

Sorry for the wait @yukiotacon hope you enjoy. sorry for any mistakes i didn't catch

Sylus

The moment he realized books brought you peace, Sylus took it as his personal mission to create a sanctuary for you.

He literally bought you a whole bookstore. Not just any bookstore a gorgeous, two-story haven filled with sunlit reading nooks, old wooden shelves, plush velvet chairs, and a built-in café that always has your favorite teas, pastries, and snacks.

The store's stocked with both modern titles and incredibly rare finds. You never know what's going to show up next on the "New Arrivals" shelf but it always happens to be a book you've been dying to read.

He never interrupts your reading, but he always makes sure your space is comfortable adjusting your blanket, slipping in a warm cup of tea, or brushing your hair back when it falls over your eyes.

Quietly watches you read with a small smile, because seeing you that content is his favorite view.

Zayne

Zayne isn't showy with it, but he's so deeply thoughtful. He remembers everything you say in passing, including those hard-to-find books you've mentioned once five months ago and somehow, they appear.

You'll come home to a package on your desk with a note in his handwriting

You said you read it once in middle school but couldn't remember the title. Thought this might be the one." And it always is.

Loves curling up in bed with you, both of you reading in peaceful silence under soft lighting. Sometimes your legs are tangled, other times he has an arm wrapped around you while reading over your shoulder.

he really enjoys discussing books with you. He asks thoughtful questions, and he listens because your mind fascinates him.

Secretly uses your favorite quotes in conversations. You catch him sometimes and it always makes you smile.

Xavier

Your shared love of reading is your love language.

You and Xavier have a weekly book club, just the two of you. You pick a book each week and meet in your favorite cafe or your living room floor with snacks to discuss it like you're presenting at a conference.

Sometimes you read the same book aloud to each other, switching off chapters. It often ends with him laying his head in your lap, eyes closed, just listening to your voice.

Your dates often involve indie bookstores, secondhand shops, and seasonal book fairs. He lives for seeing your face light up when you find something new.

Also the type to annotate books you've both read with little notes in the margins like "This reminds me of us." or "Tell me what you think of this scene....I had....ideas"

Caleb

Caleb's not a huge book guy, but you loving books? He's been supporting that since day one.

He used to save up his allowance to buy you books when you were kids and to this day, if there's a release you're excited about, he's already preordered it for you.

Has surprised you with signed copies of your favorite author's books more than once. You're still not sure how he managed it, but you caught him on the phone once saying, '"Yeah, she cried. Worth it."

Loves watching you get immersed in a book, your little facial expressions, the way you chew your lip or gasp dramatically and will absolutely tease you, "Don't fall in love with some fictional nerd when you've got the real deal right here."

Will carry your books for you without complaint and has mastered the art of finding a cozy spot to wait while you spend two hours in a bookstore.

Rafayel

he loves that you're a passionate collector of stories.

Uses his vast network of connections to do the most youve met your favorite authors, attended private book launches, and once, he surprised you with a signed first edition of a book you thought you'd never even see in person.

When you're stressed, he whisks you away to iconic libraries around the world

And he's always right by your side, letting you explore at your own pace, hand intertwined with yours.

Has a whole room in your shared space set up as a private library, complete with elegant shelves, hidden reading nooks, warm lighting, and a lounge that practically whispers "read here."

He may not always understand your love for fantasy or tragic romance novels, but he loves hearing you talk about them. His eyes are glued to you as you rant, theorize, or quote dramatic lines with flair.

Occasionally reads something you love just to impress you and of course he always pretends he didnt cry at the sad parts (he did).

uhh, dazai loses his ability for a day so he can pet the big cat <3

How the LADS boys would cuddle you

pairing: reader x Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus & Caleb (separately)

cw: fluff, gn reader

a/n: This is my first time writing! (sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or other things!)

Zayne

There's nothing he loves more than coming home after a long day at the hospital, lying down beside you, and holding you close.

Loves putting his hands under your shirt for warmth while cuddling.

Hearing your heartbeat calms him and slowly lulls him to sleep.

Xavier

He lies on top of you with his face nuzzled in your chest breathing in your scent.

Falls asleep almost instantly. (sleeps like this for hours)

He loves it when you play with his hair and lightly scratch his scalp while he dozes off.

Rafayel

Spooning you while he holds tight (you're definitely struggling to breathe).

He'll whisper things in your ear (compliments, complaints, ...).

He loves to pet, touch and and play with your hair (will braid it if it's long enough).

Sylus

He has his arms wrapped around your back, slowly caressing your sides while you're straddling him. (Not in a seductive way, as much as he loves that.)

Your face is nuzzled in the crook of his neck as his head rests on yours.

(If the twins find you, they're definitely taking a picture of their boss-man napping with Miss Hunter.)

Caleb

His head is resting on your stomach between your legs while he has his arms wrapped around your waist.

His grip on you is tight but not painful so you can't escape. (again)

His fingers caress your back slowly as you both fall asleep.

He will occasionally look ap at you just to admire your face in silence.

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

_____________________________

"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."

_______________________

the song lyric: Wiege - Alien Stage

_________________________

To be continued

__________________________

Part 4 »

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.

You had an argument, and in the heat of the moment, you took on a secret mission—disappearing without a trace or warning for six days. He won’t let that slide, will he?

(⚠️ Warning: Slightly angsty and dramatic) 🔥 UPD: Guys, I hear you loud and clear about Xavier, and I'm already working on his full story. Let me know if you want more about the others (or any specific one).

🖐️💥😈 Sylus 

You don’t even make it home.

One second—you’re stepping toward your door. The next—you're grabbed.

A sharp yelp leaves your lips, but it’s already too late.

One hand clamps down on your shoulder, the other hooks around your legs, and suddenly—you're airborne.

"Cargo secured."

A second voice. Muffled. Hollow.

You twist wildly.

Two figures in black masks, sharp beaked visors, curved horns on their hoods.

Luke and Kieran.

You thrash. “Put me down—”

"No can do, Miss," Kieran hums, flipping you upside down just slightly.

"Our Boss gave very strict orders," Luke murmurs.

Your stomach sinks. The car door swings open—

And you’re shoved inside.

Kieran and Luke plop down beside you, silent as shadows.

Then—

Luke sighs. Long and exaggerated.

"Such a shame," he muses. "She was so pretty."

Kieran hums. "So full of life."

Your eyes narrow. “What.”

They tilt their heads in unison. Luke’s fingers drum against the seat.

"He was so worried."

Kieran exhales. "On the first day, he simply waited."

Luke nods. "Second day, he sent people out. Checked hospitals. Crime scenes."

Kieran’s head tilts. "By day three… well, we all knew something had to bleed."

Your stomach drops.

Luke stretches, relaxed. "Four syndicates fell in one night. Just in case one of them had you."

Kieran sighs. "On the fourth day, he realized that wasn’t enough."

Luke hums. "So he started getting creative."

Your breath hitches. "Creative?"

Kieran taps his chin. "That warehouse in N109 Zone? The one that burned to the ground?"

Luke leans closer. "Day five. Still no sign of you. He collapsed an entire district."

Kieran shrugs. "Nothing personal. Just a message."

Luke tilts his head. "And then day six came."

A beat of silence.

Kieran chuckles. "You know, Miss… If you hadn’t shown up today, N109 Zone would’ve been repainted in blood by sundown."

Luke sighs dreamily. "It still might be."

Your blood turns to ice.

And then—Luke’s head tilts toward you.

"Now…?"

Kieran completes it, a beat later.

"Now he has you."

The car slows. Your chest tightens. And then—you realize where you are.

N109 Zone. His estate.

The car door swings open—

And you’re hauled out like luggage.

"Handle with care," Luke hums.

“I am handling with care," Kieran murmurs.

They carry you inside. Set you down with eerie gentleness. Smooth out your jacket. Brush imaginary dust off your shoulders.

Then—they step back. Bow, deep and slow.

“Welcome home, Miss.”

And then—they’re gone.

You whirl after them. “HEY—”

A quiet sound.

Fabric rustling. A slow, deliberate exhale.

You freeze.

And then—you turn.

Sylus is standing across the room. Calm. Collected. Expression unreadable.

But his eyes. They burn.

You swallow.

“What the fuck was that?” you snap, motioning toward the door.

Silence.

He just… watches you.

Then—slowly, smoothly—

He shrugs off his jacket. Lets it fall onto the chair. His fingers move to his cuffs. Undoing them.

One. Then the other.

Rolling his sleeves up, inch by inch.

Your stomach twists.

“Sylus.”

He doesn’t answer. His hands move to his belt. He unbuckles it. Pulls it free.

And you—

You fucking run.

You BOLT.

Straight toward the door. It’s locked.

You curse.

Behind you—he clicks his tongue.

“Oh, Kitten,” he murmurs, voice low, almost amused.

You spin, darting behind the desk. He follows. Casually. Slowly.

“You disappear for six days,” he murmurs, voice smooth, mocking, deadly.

You sidestep. He matches you.

“You ignore my calls.”

You swerve left. He steps right.

“I tear this city apart looking for you.”

You dodge back. He adjusts effortlessly.

“And now,” he exhales, tilting his head, smirking lazily, “you’re running.”

You hurl a stapler at him. He catches it. Drops it. Sighs.

Then—his patience snaps.

A sharp pulse of red energy explodes outward. The desk flips. The chairs crash against the wall.

And suddenly—

You are out of places to run. Before you can move—

He has you.

A sharp yelp rips from your throat as he grabs you, spins, and drops into his chair—

Bringing you down over his lap.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—”

"Ah, ah, ah.”

His palm glides down your back. Teasing. Amused. Smug.

"You made a very poor choice, Kitten."

Your heart pounds. His fingers hook into your waistband. And in one sharp motion—

He pulls your pants down.

Your entire body jolts. “Wait—”

The first smack lands. Sharp. Stinging.

You jerk violently.

Then—the second.

Then—the third.

“Sylus—you absolute bastard!”

A low chuckle vibrates through his chest.

“Six days, Sweetie.”

Another smack.

“You think you get away with that?”

You snarl, thrashing. “You—I’ll kill you!”

"Oh?" His hand presses against your lower back, keeping you pinned.

Then—lower now, smooth as silk, dripping with mockery—

“You sure you can handle that right now?”

You growl.

And then—

You bite him. Hard. Right on the thigh.

His breath hitches. Then—a slow, dangerous laugh.

He grabs you. Turns you over, setting you between his legs, hands gripping your chin—forcing you to look at him.

And then—

You see it. The rage is gone.

And in its place—

Something raw. Something wrecked. Like he’s aged years in just six days.

His voice—when it comes—is low. Hoarse. Unsteady.

“…I thought Ever carved you up for spare parts.”

Your stomach drops.

"You really think," his fingers twitch against your skin, "I was just waiting?"

His eyes flick over your face, scanning, memorizing. And then—softer now, almost broken—

"If you hadn’t come back tomorrow, I would’ve wiped them off the face of the earth."

Your eyes sting. Your hands reach for him, trembling.

You slide forward, onto his lap.

His breath stutters.

And then—you kiss him. Hard. Desperate. Unyielding.

He shudders.

Then—his hands clench around your waist, crushing you to him. When he pulls back—forehead pressed against yours, breath uneven—

“…Next time you disappear,” he murmurs, lips brushing your cheek, voice shaking with something terrifyingly real, “I’m not looking for you.”

Your heart cracks. You shake your head. You cup his face. Hold him there.

“…You won’t have to.”

Silence.

Then—

His grip tightens. And just like that—

He is never letting you go again.

❄️🩸💔 Zayne

You already know where he is.

Zayne isn’t home. Of course, he isn’t.

So you do the only thing that makes sense—you head straight for Akso Hospital.

By the time you step through the pristine glass doors, you’re already talking.

“I know how this looks, but I can explain—”

And then—you see him.

Standing near the nurses’ station, uniform crisp, posture rigid, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat like he’s carved from ice.

For a second—just a second—his breath catches.

But then—

A switch flips. His entire presence shifts.

Cold. Professional. Untouchable.

His eyes meet yours. And he says nothing.

No relief. No anger. Nothing.

Just pure, hollow emptiness.

You swallow hard. Force yourself to continue.

“Zayne—”

“You need medical attention.”

His voice is calm. Impersonal. A doctor speaking to a patient. Not the man you know.

Your stomach twists.

He doesn’t ask where you’ve been. Doesn’t ask why you disappeared. Instead—he starts listing symptoms.

“You’re pale. Have you lost blood?”

You inhale sharply. “Zay—”

“Concussion?”

“No—”

“Fever? Infection?”

His eyes flick to your scraped knuckles, the dried blood on your sleeve.

And you realize—

He’s not angry. He’s protecting himself. He’s shutting down. Like he already convinced himself you weren’t coming back. Like he already mourned you.

And something inside you breaks.

Your legs wobble.

You sway—

And then—

You collapse.

The reaction is instantaneous.

A sharp inhale. A rush of movement. A sudden, firm grip catching you before you hit the ground.

Zayne’s arms lock around you. One around your back, one under your legs, holding you effortlessly. His breathing is uneven. His fingers tremble against your skin.

“Hey—!” His voice is no longer detached. It’s urgent. Terrified.

He tilts your face up, eyes scanning for injuries, pupils blown wide with panic.

"You—" His breath shudders. “Shit, you're—”

But you don’t answer. Because you keep your eyes closed. Because you know exactly what you’re doing.

And for a moment, it works. For a moment, he’s yours again. For a moment, his walls are completely, irreparably shattered.

Then—

His steps slow. His breathing evens.

And suddenly—

He stops. And you feel it. That one single, damning second of realization.

Your eyes are closed, but you can hear it. The sharp, cold click in his mind as he figures it out.

His arms loosen. Too loose. Too fast.

And suddenly—you're falling.

You gasp sharply, hands instinctively grabbing at him—

But he catches you at the last second, lowering you onto the cold, sterile floor of his office with just enough control to keep you from truly getting hurt.

But barely.

His jaw is tight. His nostrils flare. His hands press into his thighs like he’s physically holding himself back from losing control.

Then—flat, quiet, lethal—

“You lied.”

Your stomach drops. You open your mouth—and then you feel it.

A sharp, aching throb in your knee. It hits all at once—the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of everything that happened.

Your throat tightens.

And then—before you can stop it—

Tears prick at your eyes.

Your voice comes out small, weak, broken.

“Zayne… my leg hurts.”

Everything stops. The air in the room shifts.

And suddenly—

The rage is gone. His walls crumble.

His gaze snaps to your knee—swollen, bruised, torn fabric revealing skin already darkening with a deep, painful contusion.

And just like that—he’s on his knees. The doctor in him takes over.

His hands tremble as they press to your leg, fingertips ghosting over the bruised flesh like it physically pains him to touch.

He leans down. And presses a soft, lingering kiss to the bruised skin.

Your breath catches.

His forehead presses gently against your knee. And then—a whisper, barely audible, like he’s afraid of his own voice.

“…I lost you.”

Your heart cracks wide open.

He inhales sharply, his fingers tightening against your leg, like he’s still trying to convince himself you’re real.

You slide off the chair. Sink onto the cold, sterile floor. Your hands come up, cup his face.

His breath stutters.

You press your forehead to his.

Hot. Unwavering. Eternal.

“Only death could take me from you.”

His eyes squeeze shut. And when they open again—

There’s nothing left but raw, agonizing devotion.

Then—

His hands reach for you. And this time, he doesn’t let go.

🪑🍎🎖️ Caleb

The door clicks shut behind you.

Something feels wrong. The air is too still. Too perfectly controlled.

And then—you see it.

The chair.

Placed dead center in the room.

The apartment is spotless. Too spotless. Like someone scrubbed it raw, wiped away every trace of warmth, every sign of life.

Your stomach tightens. And then—a voice.

Cold. Measured. Absolute.

"Sit down."

You turn sharply—

And there he is.

Colonel Caleb. Not your Caleb.

Not the man who kisses your forehead every morning. Not the man who makes you breakfast even when he’s running on two hours of sleep.

No.

This is the soldier. The commander. The man who could level entire cities with a single order.

And you are his captive.

Your jaw tightens. “Caleb, what the hell—”

"Sit. Down."

Your spine stiffens. “No.”

A flick of his fingers. The chair scrapes forward, slamming into the back of your knees.

You stumble, cursing—

But before you can react—a force clamps around you. G-forces shift. Gravity bends. The chair drags you back to the center of the room.

Then—weight locks around your limbs. You can’t stand. Can’t move. Your pulse spikes.

His face is unreadable. His eyes—stormy, dark, endless.

Like he hasn’t slept in six days.

A tablet activates in his hand.

Several floating screens appear around you, flickering with surveillance footage.

And then—his interrogation begins.

His voice is calm. Clinical. Devoid of warmth.

"In the hours before your disappearance, this man entered your building. Do you know him?"

You blink. “What—?”

He gestures at the screen. A blurry security cam shot.

You squint. “That’s—a fucking courier.”

"Interesting."

A swipe of his fingers. Another screen appears.

"You placed an order at a bookstore six days ago. Three books were delivered. For what purpose?"

You stare. “...For reading?”

His brows twitch.

"Curious. You spoke to the courier for over five minutes. What was discussed?"

Your hands clench into fists. “How the hell would I know?”

A beat of silence.

Then—softer now, dangerous in its evenness—

"You really expect me to believe you don’t remember?"

Your blood boils. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”

He swipes again. More footage. More records. More evidence that means nothing.

And you snap.

"You are losing your fucking mind."

His jaw tightens.

And then—

The gravity releases.

You lurch forward, finally able to move—

But before you can get up—

he’s already there.

A single step. One hand gripping the back of your chair, tilting it back—

His face is inches from yours. His gaze burns.

"Are you fucking someone else?"

Your breath catches. Your pulse thunders in your ears.

And then—

You laugh.

Sharp. Bitter. Furious.

You gesture at yourself—the dirt, the bruises, the blood still crusted on your sleeve.

“Look at me, Caleb.”

He doesn’t move.

“Does this look like a woman having an affair?”

His fingers twitch against the chair. His voice drops to a whisper.

"I’m on the edge of it."

Your chest tightens.

“I don’t doubt that, you psychopath.” You shove against his arm, but he doesn’t budge. “Now let me up so I can strangle you.”

His fingers loosen.

And then—

"Six days."

Your breath hitches. His hand moves. Curls around your jaw, firm but careful.

"Six days. Eight thousand six hundred forty minutes."

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone.

"I couldn't breathe without pain."

Your throat tightens. Your rage collapses into something else entirely.

“Caleb—”

"I searched. I traced every lead. I turned this country inside out."

His voice wavers.

And then—softer, rawer, almost desperate—

"If you hadn’t come back, I would have burned everything to the ground."

Your chest aches.

“…I had a mission. It was classified.”

His jaw twitches.

"Then tell me—" His voice turns sharp, edged with something almost pleading. "Tell me you weren’t running."

You exhale shakily.

“You’re so obsessed with losing me, Caleb—maybe that’s why you always do.”

Silence.

Something in his face breaks. He straightens. Turns away.

Leaves.

The door slams.

And you collapse to your knees. Your hands come up—cover your face—

And finally, finally, the tears fall.

But then—

A soft creak. A shift in the air. Warmth.

Arms wrapping around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace.

You freeze.

His voice is hoarse, quiet, trembling with something raw.

"You’re the only one who can destroy me without lifting a hand."

Your breath shudders. His grip tightens.

"One word from you," he murmurs, "and I’m gone."

You shake your head.

“Caleb…”

His forehead presses against your shoulder.

"I tried. Every day. Every second. I tried not to hold on too tight." He exhales shakily. "But I can’t."

Your heart clenches.

“Caleb, I always come back.”

He flinches.

You pull back just enough to cup his face. His eyes are stormy, desperate, flickering with pain.

"You have to trust me."

His lips part, but no sound comes out.

Then—barely above a whisper—

"I can't lose you."

Your fingers tighten against his jaw.

"You won’t."

Silence.

Then—

He kisses you.

It’s not gentle. It’s desperate. Devouring. Starved.

His hands tangle in your hair, holding you to him like he’ll die if you pull away.

A single tear escapes down his cheek. And you catch it with your lips.

“…I’m sorry,” you whisper. “Caleb, I’m so sorry.”

His breath shudders. He shakes his head. 

“No.” His voice breaks. "You don’t apologize to me." 

Your brows furrow. “Caleb—” 

He swallows. 

"If you’re better off without me—" 

Your hand flies up, slaps over his mouth. He freezes. Tears well in your eyes. 

“Don’t. Say. That.” His chest rises sharply. You lean in, press your forehead to his. 

“…You are my universe,” you whisper. 

His hands shake against your back. 

“No matter what we do, no matter what happens—” You press your lips to his, slow, deep, endless. “I will always come back to you.” 

His breath shudders against your lips.

And then—his voice drops, quiet but unshakable. 

"You will never disappear on me again without warning. Not now. Not ever."

🗡✨🌥 Xavier 

The door clicks shut behind you.

You barely take a step inside before a voice cuts through the air—

Calm. Measured. Unshakable.

"Ah." A quiet exhale. "Look who finally remembered they have a home."

You freeze.

Xavier is already there.

Sitting in the living room, one leg crossed over the other, a book balanced in his hand—like your sudden reappearance was nothing more than an interesting plot twist.

He doesn’t look up immediately. He finishes the sentence he’s reading first.

Then—calmly, unhurriedly—he turns the page.

And finally—his gaze lifts to yours.

Cold. Slow. Too calculating.

"Six days."

Your stomach tightens. "Xav—"

"Mm. No." He holds up a single finger.

The room falls silent. And somehow, that’s worse.

You watch as he closes the book. Carefully. Precisely. Then—without breaking eye contact—he sets it aside.

And then—a small smile.

Soft. Almost friendly.

Which means you’re in deep, deep trouble.

"You look tired," he murmurs, tilting his head. "Traveling, were you?"

You exhale. "Xavier—"

"Oh, no. Let me guess." His fingers tap idly against the armrest. "You were simply busy."

A pause.

"Too busy, in fact, to answer a single message."

Your jaw tightens. "It wasn’t—"

"Ah," he interrupts softly, as if realizing something.

His eyes flick over your torn sleeve, the faint bruises on your arms. Then, slowly—he smiles.

"Or," he murmurs, "did you lose your phone again?"

Your stomach drops. Because he knows.

You inhale sharply. "Xav—"

He shakes his head.

"No, it’s alright. I understand." He leans forward slightly, resting his chin against his knuckles. "I’m sure you had an excellent reason."

A beat of silence. Then—mild amusement, carefully laced with steel:

"Would you like to tell me what it was?"

You hesitate.

Because you were on a mission. A classified one.

Because he wasn’t supposed to know. Because you work together.

And yet—he knew nothing.

You try anyway.

"I had a—"

"A mission?" His brow lifts, a polite flicker of curiosity. "Fascinating."

His tone is smooth, unbothered. And that—that is when you know how angry he really is.

He gestures vaguely toward the stacks of reports on the table.

"Tell me, darling, which mission was it?"

You swallow hard. "I can’t—"

"Mm. Right. Classified."

Another small nod. A slow, deliberate blink.

"As are all major operations within the Association."

His fingers drum lightly against the armrest.

"And yet, strangely—" He tilts his head. "Not a single record of your assignment exists."

You say nothing.

Xavier exhales through his nose—almost disappointed.

"And here I thought," he murmurs, "we were supposed to trust each other."

You flinch.

His gaze softens. Not with kindness. But with something far worse.

Pity.

"You must have had your reasons, of course," he muses.

A small sigh, like he’s humoring a child.

"I imagine you thought it was necessary. Sensible, even."

His fingers lace together.

"Just as I found it necessary to send out a search party on day three."

Your breath catches.

"You what?"

He hums.

"By day four, I expanded my resources. You'd be surprised how quickly information spreads when you know where to look."

Your hands clench.

"Xavier—"

"Day five, I began considering alternative outcomes. Some of them, admittedly, rather unpleasant."

A flicker of something colder in his expression.

"Ever been forced to sit in a room full of people trying to convince you that your partner is dead?"

Your stomach turns.

"Xavier, I wasn’t—"

He clicks his tongue.

"Day six, I received word that you had finally resurfaced."

He leans back. Folds his arms. And then—a soft chuckle, utterly humorless.

"Imagine my relief."

Silence.

You exhale sharply. "Xav, I—"

"Did you know," he interrupts, voice light, conversational, detached, "that people tend to avoid looking a grieving man in the eye?"

Your throat tightens.

"Not that I was grieving, of course." He taps a finger against his chin. "I don’t make a habit of mourning people until I see a body."

He tilts his head slightly, studying you.

"But I imagine it must have been quite the inconvenience, being dead for six days."

Your chest tightens.

"You think I wanted to—"

"Oh, I know," he murmurs. "You didn’t want to disappear."

His voice lowers.

"But you still did."

And for the first time—he is no longer smirking. His blue eyes bore into yours, steady, sharp.

"You made a decision that left me in the dark."

A long, slow breath.

"And I need to know," he says softly, "if you would do it again."

Silence.

You don’t have an answer. You don’t think there is one.

He exhales.

Finally, he leans back. Gazes at you for a moment longer.

Then, calmly—he stands. Smooth. Effortless. Precise. And then—he walks past you.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

"Xavier—"

He doesn’t stop. You push to your feet.

"Xavier, you’re coming back, right?"

Finally—he pauses. Turns his head, just slightly.

And then—

"Ask me again in six days."

The door closes behind him. And this time—you’re the one left behind.

🧜🏻‍♂️🧑🏻‍🎨🌊 Rafayel 

You are exhausted.

Every part of you aches. Your body demands sleep, warmth, peace.

Instead—

You come home to chaos.

Loud music. Laughter. The scent of wine, perfume, candle wax, and indulgence.

And then—the sight of him.

Rafayel.

Lounging near the pool, half-leaning against an ornate chair, a glass of red wine dangling lazily between his fingers.

His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to hint at toned muscle beneath, his sleeves rolled up, his perfectly tousled hair falling over his forehead in an effortlessly careless way.

And surrounding him—beautiful women.

Drinking, laughing, leaning toward him like he’s some fallen deity of temptation and excess.

Your stomach twists. A tight, burning rage coils in your chest.

And then—

He sees you. His eyes widen—just slightly. And then—a slow, almost lazy smirk.

"Ah." He lifts his glass dramatically, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who's finally returned!"

You tense.

He rises to his feet, arms spread as if welcoming royalty.

"My muse. My inspiration."

His voice carries over the music, over the murmurs of people starting to notice the tension.

"The very heart of my art!"

A sweeping gesture.

And then—

He motions toward the canvas-lined walls.

Your breath catches. Because they’re all of you. Dozens of paintings.

But—ruined.

Slashes through the canvas.

Paint smeared and splattered over your likeness like an artist in rage, in agony, in heartbreak.

The fury in you erupts. Your voice cuts through the music.

"What the actual fuck is this?!"

He gasps, mock scandalized.

"Oh, you don’t like them? What a tragedy!"

He downs the rest of his wine in one smooth gulp, tossing the glass aside with a careless flick of his wrist.

Then—he grins.

Crooked. Reckless. Infuriating.

"And here I was, drowning in sorrow, channeling my unbearable suffering into art."

A sigh.

"But alas." He shrugs dramatically. "Seems the muse herself has returned."

You march toward him. He tilts his head.

"Careful, cutie. You seem upset."

"You’re a fucking disaster."

He laughs.

"You’re six days late to that realization."

You grab his wrist, yanking him toward the exit.

“We’re talking. Now.”

His body moves, but his feet don’t follow. Instead—he pulls against your grip.

His smile widens.

"Oh?" His voice drips with amusement. "Dragging me away already? Jealous, cutie?"

Your jaw clenches.

"This is pathetic."

Another laugh, lighter this time.

"Ah, but it was all I had!" He places a hand over his heart. Theatrical. Overdramatic. Perfectly insufferable.

You snap.

And shove him into the pool.

He barely has time to react—water crashes around him, drenching his white shirt, dragging him under.

And for a brief, glorious second—silence.

Until—

His hand grabs your wrist. You yelp, but it’s too late.

He pulls you down with him.

Cold water engulfs you, shocking your senses.

When you resurface, gasping, furious, he’s already brushing his hair back, blinking at you through wet lashes.

And suddenly—

The playfulness is gone. The crowd has vanished. Thomas made sure of it.

And now—it’s just you and him.

And for the first time tonight—he’s quiet. His voice is lower, slower.

"You storm into my house. Onto my estate. Into my party. And then..."

He gestures lazily toward the water.

"You throw me in my own fucking pool?"

You pant, teeth gritted. “Your—house? Great! I’ll leave you in your fucking house—”

You turn to climb out—

And he grabs you again. A firm grip. Unshaking.

His eyes—darker now. Sharper. Focused.

"Make another move, cutie." His voice is dangerously low.

"And we’ll have problems."

You glare. "Let. Go."

He doesn’t. Instead—he pulls you closer.

“You’re not walking away from this.”

Your pulse spikes.

"Rafayel—"

"Do it," he whispers. "Say it to my face."

Your breath catches.

"You want to leave?" His hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer, forcing you to feel the heat radiating from his soaked body.

"Then say it."

Your hands shake. You flick water into his face, desperate to break the tension.

He doesn’t even blink. Instead—his eyes drop.

To your clothes.

Soaked. Clinging. Revealing everything.

His pupils darken. And then—his jaw tightens.

"You left me for six days," he murmurs.

Your breath stutters.

"I left for work, not you, you hysterical maniac."

He tilts his head.

"That’s the same thing. And your phone?"

"A Wanderer shattered it!"

He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.

"Ah, yes. And I suppose you were also too busy fighting for your life to send me one. Single. Fucking. Message?"

You exhale sharply. "Raf, you’re insufferable. A party? Seriously?"

"How else am I supposed to handle soul-crushing heartbreak?"

His voice drops.

"Tell me, cutie." His fingers skim your waist, trailing fire in their wake. "How else was I supposed to drown my suffering?"

He leans in, breath hot against your lips.

And then—

He kisses you. Desperate. Possessive.

Your legs wrap around his waist, instinct taking over.

His grip tightens.

"You threw me in a pool," he whispers against your lips.

"You deserved it."

His fingers dig into your hips.

"You waltz in after six days and just—throw me?"

"Maybe I should throw you again."

He grins against your skin.

"I should make you pay for that."

"Raf—"

"Mm. Shh."

His hands travel lower, pressing you harder against him.

Your breathing turns shallow.

"Your paintings," you murmur.

"I’ll paint more."

"You hated me for six days."

"Endlessly." He kisses your throat, voice dropping further.

"You didn’t want to see me again?"

He grins against your collarbone.

"Try leaving me again, cutie."

His grip tightens, unshakable.

His breath is hot against your ear.

"And I promise—"

His hips press forward, slow and deliberate, sending a sharp jolt of heat through you.

"You won’t be able to walk for a week."

Love Beneath the Depths

(part 1)

Xavier x f!reader

Sequel to Love Beyond the Surface (part 1)

Words: 3220 Warning: hint of suicide, slow burn, reader is not MC, parallel universe(isekai), grammar & spelling

INTRO: Your fingers lingered on the book as you handed it, the soft glance you gave without meaning to. Just this time, can he borrow your heart… for a little while?

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

You mutter a quiet curse under your breath as you bend down to pick up the scattered books, carefully arranging them back onto the shelf.

The familiar scent of aged paper and ink surrounds you, but it does little to calm the frustration bubbling inside.

Why is she here?

Your fingers pause for a brief moment as your gaze shifts toward the girl standing just a few feet away. Or should you call her the MC? The main character of this whole ordeal. She shouldn’t be here, at least, not in the library, not during your shift.

Of all the times she could have chosen to appear, why now?

You shrink back, pressing yourself against the bookshelf. Maybe if you stay perfectly still, she won’t notice you. You are just a background character, a random human in the grand narrative of her life. Nothing more, nothing less.

I am an NPC. I am just an NPC. I am not here.

You repeat the mantra in your head like a desperate prayer, silently urging the universe to redirect her attention elsewhere.

Time stretches unbearably, turning seconds into minutes, maybe even hours in your mind. And then, finally, she starts walking away.

You exhale sharply, relief washing over you like a cool breeze. Please leave. Please leave.

But then recognition flickers across her face. Her lips part, and then…

"Xavier?"

You groan, already feeling a headache forming. Without thinking, you grab the nearest book and lightly bump your forehead against it, as if that could somehow knock this entire situation out of existence.

"Oh, it's you."

Xavier’s voice is casual, but there’s a slight hesitation, a pause just long enough to make your stomach twist. You watch as his gaze flickers around the library, scanning the shelves, the tables, the spaces between them. Searching.

For what?

For who?

Panic grips you before logic can. Without thinking, you drop into a crouch and scramble beneath the nearest table, pressing yourself into the shadows like your life depends on it.

From your hiding spot under the table, you can hear her voice light up with excitement the moment she sees him. She starts talking fast, animated, rambling about something you can’t quite make out.

Xavier, on the other hand, replies in short, clipped responses. His voice is steady, neutral, maybe even a little disinterested.

That’s… weird.

This is the moment where he’s supposed to be captivated by her every word, yet, right now, he looks almost… distracted. And then, just for a second, his eyes flicker away from her to the side, toward the table.

Your stomach drops.

He couldn’t be looking for you… right? There’s no reason, no logical reason.

You watch as his gaze lingers for a moment too long, scanning the shelves, the tables, your hiding spot. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you press yourself tighter against the wooden legs of the table.

Meanwhile, she’s still talking, completely oblivious. You can’t even focus on her words anymore. He shifts. Take a step. But just as he moves, she tugs at his sleeve, dragging his attention back to her.

"Hey, are you even listening?" The girl huffs.

Xavier blinks, as if snapped out of a daze. "Yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?"

You hold your breath, waiting, hoping.

She sighs. "We should get going." Her voice is light and casual.

Footsteps shuffle against the library floor, and for a moment, you think it's over. They're leaving. You're safe… for now.

────── ♡ ──────

The rhythmic tapping of keys and the quiet hum of the library fill the air as you scan books at the checkout desk, barely looking up as the next person steps forward.

"Just put your books here." You say, reaching for the scanner.

A familiar voice responds, softer than usual. "Okay…"

Your fingers pause for the briefest moment before you force yourself to look up.

Shjt–

Stay calm. Stay calm. He won’t recognize me… right? Please don’t recognize me.

Xavier stands before you, shifting his weight slightly, a few books stacked in his arms. But that’s not what catches your attention. It’s the faint bruise along his cheekbone. It’s subtle, but up close, the lighting highlights the uneven coloration, just enough to make it noticeable.

You narrow your eyes slightly. "…What happens to your face–" Your hands fly up, covering your mouth. Idiot. You were supposed to avoid drawing attention.

He blinks, as if caught off guard by your question. Then he lifts a hand, fingers brushing absently against the bruise before dropping them. "This? It’s nothing."

You don’t respond right away. Just stare at him.

Xavier exhales, shifting the books in his arms. "Just ran into some trouble, that’s all." His voice is casual, too dismissive.

You don’t take the bait. Instead, you scan the book in his hand and slide it back toward him. "Did you at least put something on it?"

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then a low chuckle. Not his usual sharp, teasing kind. It’s softer, almost amused. "Are you worried about me?"

You roll your eyes and push the next book through the scanner. "Forget I asked."

"Too late." His voice is quieter now, a little too pleased.

You huff, choosing to ignore him as you finish scanning his books.

────── ♡ ──────

The library is quiet, the steady rhythm of shelving books filling the air. You barely glance up until you catch movement from the corner of your eye.

Xavier stands in front of a tall bookshelf, reaching for a book just out of grasp. His fingers brush the spine, but he hesitates, his arm stiff, a faint wince crossing his face before he tries again.

You sigh and step over. "Here." Easily, you pull the book down and hand it to him.

Xavier blinks, as if surprised you even noticed, then takes it. "…Thanks."

You watch him for a second. "You shouldn’t be reaching like that if you’re hurt."

Silence…

"… You work here often?" He asks, shifting slightly, like he’s trying to steer the conversation into something more natural.

"Just part-time." You reply carefully.

"Oh." His grip tightens a fraction more, then loosens again, as if he’s catching himself. "So you’re not always here."

"That’s kind of how part-time works." You say dryly, hoping to cut this conversation short.

But instead of taking the hint, he exhales softly, almost like that wasn’t the answer he wanted. "Right."

For a moment, neither of you speak. You should walk away. You should.

"You turned me down pretty fast last time."

Your stomach twists slightly.

"Because you had the wrong person."

"I know." His voice is calm, even. "I just thought..." He stops himself, shaking his head slightly. "Never mind."

A strange tightness coils in your chest. You don’t know why, but the way he says that, like something fragile, makes you uneasy.

────── ♡ ──────

You can still remember, the first time you two met, Xavier behaved more… different.

He looked completely shocked, standing in the middle of the street like he had just seen a ghost. You hadn’t even realized he was nearby at first. If you had, you would have taken a different path, avoiding him entirely.

Back then, you had been terrified. Not just because he had seen you, but because you didn’t know what he knew. Did he know you weren’t supposed to be here? That you weren’t from this world?

The thought alone had sent a chill down your spine. You had feared that he might follow you, that he would demand answers… answers you didn’t have.

You had no idea how he would react.

You steal a glance at him from across the library, pretending to be busy stacking books.

He’s here. Again.

Ever since that encounter, Xavier has started coming around more often. Too often. You don’t know if it’s a coincidence or if he’s deliberately showing up, but either way, it’s unfortunate for you.

Because now, you have a new problem.

There is no way you can keep working here, not when the risk of him figuring out your secret keeps growing by the day. If he hasn’t already started piecing things together, it’s only a matter of time.

Which means you need a new job.

And more importantly, you need to cut him off.

You’ve tried to brush it off, to tell yourself you’re just being paranoid, but the facts won’t let you.. Based on everything you’ve learned from the game… Xavier doesn’t react well to things he can’t explain. And you’re that something.

All you want is to go unnoticed, to stay out of his sight. Even though you love him, his story, his character, the way he was written to be compelling and complex. As a character, he was fascinating. But in reality? In your reality? He was dangerous.

Who knows?

Maybe one day, instead of just appearing in the library, he’ll show up somewhere worse. Like your apartment. Probably with a sword in his hand and your head on the ground.

And that? That’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

Your fingers hover over the small stone hidden in your pocket, its smooth surface unnervingly cool against your skin. You’ve only ever known of the protocore in standard colors, you don't know why this one turn black.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as you think back to that day. It happened in your first week here, when you're still not familiar with the traffic.

The truck had been coming straight for you, too fast, too close. You remember the blinding headlights, the deafening screech of tires, the sheer terror of knowing you couldn’t move in time.

And then—nothing.

The truck had passed right through you, like you weren’t even there. Like you were just a ghost.

You never figured out what happened that day or what that stone did. And you never wanted to find out.

Because if you did… It would mean admitting that something was deeply wrong with your presence here.

You sigh, pushing those thoughts to the back of your mind. Dwelling on them won’t help.

────── ♡ ──────

"Okay… and you’re good to go." You slide the book across the counter, offering a polite nod.

But the man on the other side doesn’t move. He just… stares at you.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the scanner. "… You need something else sir?"

He keeps staring. A slow, creeping smirk tugs at his lips.

Is he… flirting?

You honestly can’t tell. If he is, it’s bad. Like, uncomfortably bad. The kind of bad that makes you want to disappear under the desk and pretend this interaction never happened.

Your grip tightens on the scanner as you force a strained smile. "…Do you need anything else?"

The man tilts his head slightly, eyes still locked onto you. "Nah," he drawls, amusement lacing his tone. "Just… taking my time."

Oh, great. I love when customers do that.

You resist the urge to groan. "Well then can you please take your time somewhere else." You say, keeping your voice perfectly polite.

The man doesn’t leave. Of course he doesn’t.

Instead, he just stands there, staring at you like you’re some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out. His smirk lingers, his posture relaxed but unnervingly present.

You grip the edge of the counter, debating whether to just pretend he doesn’t exist.

A shadow falls over your desk.

"Is there a problem here?"

Xavier’s voice is casual, but there’s an underlying edge to it, subtle, sharp. You blink, barely processing his sudden appearance. When did he even get here?

The man glances at him, and for the first time, his smirk falters just a little. "Nah, no problem." He says, though his tone isn’t as confident as before.

Xavier doesn’t respond right away. He just stares, his expression unreadable, his presence somehow making the air feel heavier.

The man shifts uncomfortably. Then, finally, finally, he mutters something under his breath, turns on his heel, and walks away.

You let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing slightly. You narrow your eyes at him next. Suspicious.

"You’re here a lot." You point out. "Don’t you have something better to do?"

He tilts his head slightly, considering. "Not really."

Great.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Look, thanks for the whole 'intimidating presence thing', but I’m fine. You don’t have to keep showing up here like some…" You wave a hand vaguely. " …library cryptid."

Xavier raises an eyebrow. "Library cryptid?"

"You know what I mean." You huff. "If you’re just here to loiter, I’m going to have to ask you to check out a book or leave."

For a moment, he just watches you, unreadable as ever. Then, he reaches for a book from a nearby shelf.

You blink as he sets it on the counter.

"…?"

"You said I had to check something out," He says smoothly. "I’m just following the rules."

You glance at the book’s cover. The Beginner’s Guide to Cooking.

Slowly, you lift your gaze back to him, deadpan. "Seriously?"

Xavier meets your eyes, completely unfazed. "What? I’m expanding my interests."

You sigh and scan the book, going through the motions. "Remember to return it on time," you say, sliding it across the counter.

Xavier reaches for it, but then he pauses.

Your brows furrow slightly, and you glance up at him, only to catch his gaze locked onto your wrist.

More specifically… the faint, almost unreal lines tracing along your skin.

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

You turn pale, heart lurching as you realize what he’s seeing. In your rush today, had you forgotten to cover it?

Quickly, you set the book down on the table beside him and pull your hand back, tucking it out of sight. Your heart pounds in your chest, but you force your voice to stay steady. "Something wrong?"

Xavier’s expression flickers, too fast to read. Then, he looks up, meeting your eyes.

"…No." He says smoothly, picking up the book. "Nothing at all."

You watch as he picks up the book, his movements smooth, controlled, too controlled. Then, he simply says. "See you around." and walks away. ────── ♡ ────── The next morning, you call in sick.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

A full week passes, and you still haven’t set foot in the library. You know you’re being paranoid. Xavier hasn’t done anything, hasn’t confronted you.

But the memory of his eyes lingering on your wrist, that brief pause, it’s enough to keep you away.

So you stay holed up in your apartment, staring at the black protocore on your desk, fingers hovering over it but never quite touching. You should be figuring out a new job, making a plan, doing something.

Lincoln City isn’t exactly kind to people without proper documentation.

And by people, you mean you.

Most jobs require some kind of passport, ID, or legal paperwork, things you, an entity from another world, very much do not have.

Yay…

So, here you are, scanning every job advertisement you can find. Which, as it turns out, isn’t much.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. Looks like it’s going to be another long week of avoiding certain people and figuring out how to survive in a world that doesn’t think you exist.

────── ♡ ────── "He's looking for you."

You blink, frowning at your colleague. "What?"

The words catch you off guard. You were just here to formally quit your library job… politely, of course. Luckily, the woman in charge is reasonable, not the type to make a fuss.

Your supervisor barely glances up from her computer, fingers still tapping at the keyboard. "That guy. Xavier, was it?" She tilts her head slightly. "He’s been asking about you. Came by a few times this week."

Your stomach twists.

You keep your expression neutral, though your mind is already racing. Why? What does he want?

"…What did you tell him?" you ask carefully.

She shrugs. "Just that you’ve been out sick. He didn’t ask much else, but he didn’t look convinced either." She finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. "You in some kind of trouble?"

You force a laugh. "No, nothing like that."

She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she doesn’t push. "Well, if you're here to quit, just sign this, and you’re good to go."

You nod, taking the paper with slightly unsteady hands.

Xavier is looking for you.

"The library gets more crowded when he's here." Your supervisor adds idly, tapping at her keyboard. "Those loud girls who can't keep their gossip to themselves… it's unbearable."

Of course, he is handsome, after all. You suppose it was only a matter of time before people started hovering around him like moths to a flame.

Not my problem anymore.

────── ♡ ────── Xavier leans back in his chair, staring blankly at the paperwork spread across his desk. It’s not that he can’t focus, he just doesn’t see the point. The words blur together, the numbers meaningless.

"Didn’t you mess up your shoulder last week?""

The voice pulls him out of his thoughts. His colleague stands in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised.

Xavier barely reacts. He shifts slightly, rolling his shoulder with ease. Right. That.

"Heals fast." He mutters, flipping a page in the report.

"Uh-huh." There’s skepticism in the tone. "Looked pretty bad to me. Thought you were gonna need a sling."

Xavier exhales, resisting the urge to rub his temple. He should’ve expected this. He had leaned into the whole thing just enough, winced at the right moments, let his grip falter slightly, made sure she noticed. And she did. She had looked at him. Talked to him.

But now she is gone. And pretending didn’t matter anymore.

"You think too much." Xavier says simply, turning his attention back to the paperwork.

A scoff. "Sure. And you don’t think enough." His colleague lingers for a second before stepping away.

His jaw tightens. His gaze flicks toward the stack of books on the edge of his desk, the ones he never actually needed, just an excuse to be there. Some had been recommended by her, offhand suggestions he pretended not to care about at the time.

He hopes she’s okay.

That mark on her wrist… He hadn’t meant to notice it. It was only a fleeting glimpse when she pulled her hand away, but the image stuck with him. The raw redness of irritated skin, the faint lines of something beneath it. Some new. Some old.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him. It lingers, festering, gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Despite that, she still noticed him. Every time.

Even when she tried to keep her distance, her eyes would flicker toward him whenever he had a new injury, small glances, subtle frowns. She never asked, but he saw the way her fingers twitched, like she wanted to reach out but held herself back.

With a sigh, he reaches for those book, flipping it open absentmindedly. A small slip of paper flutters out, landing on his desk.

His eyes narrow.

It’s a pharmacy receipt, nothing serious, just something over-the-counter, painkillers maybe, with the pharmacy’s name is printed at the top..

She must have bought it before vanishing. Maybe she even went there often.

His grip tightens around the paper.

An accident. A careless mistake.

But now, it’s his lead.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Art work and char: belong to Infold Game ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

nightlight.

xavier [沈星回] + female reader

synopsis. you have a wet dream.

genre & contents. 18+! MDNI! pure smut, porn no plot…, threesome (lol), oral (receiving + giving), p in v, established relationship. wc; 1.2k+

author's note. um… i don't even know how to explain this one. the idea just popped into my mind and i had to write it before i exploded. enjoy <3

Gloved hands caress your inner thigh slowly.

Your eyes flutter, a soft sigh escaping your bitten lips. His fingers hook onto the waistband of your sleep shorts, pulling them down in one swift motion. Your back arches off the bed, feeling his breath dangerously close to your wetness.

“I’ve barely touched you, angel,” he moans softly, hiking your legs over his shoulders. The white jacket he wears is cold against your warm skin. You can’t find the words to speak, only gasping in response when he pulls your panties to the side.

His hands grip your thighs; a tender, slow flick of his tongue that makes you thrust your hips up, entirely too impatient with his lack of urgency. He chuckles lowly at your shameless need. Another agonizing swipe of his tongue, and your hands come up to grip his silver hair.

“Nnngh— s-stop teasing m-me.” you plead, looking at his blue eyes, adorned by an ornate mask. His eyes glimmer with the moonlight seeping through your bedroom window.

“But I like hearing you beg for me.” he whispers, and you can feel every word against your dripping cunt. You sigh, making your frustration known. But you sense it only serves to indulge him.

“P-please,” you implore once again, this time his fingers coming up to toy with you.

“Mmm,” his gaze is heavy, admiring the sight before him. “Okay, angel. You know I can’t resist you.”

He steadies you, lapping at your dripping folds like a man starved. You’re writhing, moaning and pulling at his strands. He’s relentless, holding you down in place as he guides you towards your sweet release. You’re close, so close—

“Y/N?”

You still, turning towards your bedroom door where the sound of your boyfriend’s voice was heard. Your eyes widen, choking on your words.

“X-xavier?!” you gasp, coming up onto your elbows. You stare at him in disbelief, turning back to the man in between your legs. How… how could it be…?

Xavier walks towards the bed, hand coming to hold the back of your head. His face is inches away, pink lips tempting you. He’s completely covering your vision, but a small kiss to your thigh reminds you of the other him.  

Lumiere.

“So greedy,” Xavier whispers, pulling your head back. “You really need two of me?”

“I…” The words die on your tongue as the man below you hits a particular spot with his tongue.

“I can please you just fine.”

Xavier’s eyes darken, jaw clenching. He pulls you in, lips crashing against yours in a fervorous kiss. You moan, melting into his touch. It’s easy to lose yourself with him; you don’t even notice the absence between your legs until another hand grabs your jaw.

You barely have time to register what’s happening, Lumiere’s lips replacing Xavier’s. You wonder how they could feel the same but be so different. His kiss is rougher, messy and wet. He’s more controlling, guiding your tongue with his own. 

Xavier growls behind you, climbing over you and wrapping your legs around his hips. He grinds into you, his hard cock barely contained by his sweatpants. You moan into Lumiere’s mouth.

“Over here, angel.” 

You pull away, a string of saliva falling from your lips as you turn to look at your boyfriend. Beside you, there’s a dark chuckle. What the hell was happening? You were too turned on to question it further. 

Xavier revels in your redirected attention, pulling his sweatpants down. His cock slaps his skin, red and throbbing for you. You bite your lip, unconsciously spreading your legs wider. Your dripping cunt is ready for him, but you're pulled away before you can feel him inside.

You squeak at the sudden movement, Lumiere’s strong arms pulling your head to the edge of the bed. He stands over you, a slight smirk on his face as he pulls his own pulsing length free. Your eyes widen, mouth falling slightly agape.

“I want my fun, too.” He brings his tip to your lips, and you part them without question.

Below, Xavier grabs your legs once again, spreading you open and teasing your pussy with his tip. You moan, and Lumiere takes it as an opportunity to bury his cock deeper into your mouth. A light slap against your thigh, a reminder of where to keep your attention.

“Mmmmph!” 

Xavier pushes into you slowly, inch by inch. The stretch makes you arch your back, moaning sweetly against the cock in your mouth.

“Fuck, angel,” Xavier groans once he’s fully inside. You tighten around him. “It’s like you were made for me.”

Then they pull their hips back, slamming back into your gaping holes. Moaning and whining with every brush against your throat, every stretch of your walls. You’re turned into a mess under their unabated pounding. 

Drool is dripping out of your mouth, Lumiere’s cock hitting the back of your throat with every stroke. Tears pool in your eyes, but you don’t pull away, his low groans encouraging you to take him even deeper.

Xavier holds you in place, nails digging into the sides of your thighs as he slides in and out of you. He’s whining, your tight walls coaxing him back every time he pulls away. You’re being completely defiled by them, but you don’t want them to stop.

Their thrusts are sloppy now, a sign they were close. And so were you.

“Hey!”

You ignore the little voice, trying to focus on the coil tightening in your belly. Xavier feels good, so good inside of you. 

“Hey!”

The voice is persistent, and suddenly you find your mouth empty. Lumiere nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, wake up!”

You groan, squirming away from the hands shaking your body. Flipping over, you yelp, falling over the edge of the bed.

“Ow!”

You rub your shoulder, opening your eyes to see that you’re no longer in your bedroom. Instead, it’s your boyfriends. The blue moonlight is gone, replaced by sunlight peeking through the white curtains. Sitting up, you look around, only to find Xavier looking at you with concern.

He’s on the bed, sheets pulled over his waist. Definitely not the boyfriend that was fucking you stupid.

“You okay?” he asks, voice laced with sleep. 

“Uh… what happened?” your voice is raspy. You stand to grab the glass of water by your bedside table, chugging it like it was the only water left on earth.

All you can do is nod and swallow, suddenly very aware of the wetness sticking to your underwear.

“I think you were having a nightmare. You kept mumbling my name in your sleep.” he pouts, tapping the space next to him.

You give in, crawling back into bed and into his warm embrace. Xavier caresses your cheek gently, and you can’t help the way your face heats at the lingering memory of your dream. 

“What was it about?” 

You nuzzle your head in his chest, unable to face him directly. He places a barely there kiss on the crown of your head.

“I don’t… I don’t even remember.” you lie, but he doesn’t press further. Soon his breathing slows, and he’s asleep once again.

You close your eyes, willing your mind to go back to that beautiful moonlit room with Xavier.

And Lumiere, of course.

since Xavier girlies on x is talking about Xavier's ability to go back in time, do you think that he's already past his last spring on earth but he just keeps going back in time just before it ends?

This is one of my fav xav arts i have seen ....🥹🥹

Its so gooood.. AHHHHHHHHHH