Hey Little Stars ✨

Dance With Me - Xavier

You can feel the breeze rushing through the trees you hear overhead as their leaves rustle. The wind plays with the hem of your skirt, making it flutter around your legs. The gauzy material feels like a feather as it brushes against your legs.

"Where are we going, Xavier?" You ask as he leads you further into the woods. "You'll see, just trust me." He responds, squeezing your hand. You do trust him, Xavier would never lead you to harm. Of that, you are absolutely certain. But you can't deny that curiosity burning in you.

A week ago, Xavier had asked you to clear your day for the 14th. He wanted to take you somewhere. He'd also requested you wear the white dress with thin straps and the silver star pattern sweeping up the skirt. You paired the dress with white flats and left your hair down.

"How much further?" You asked, becoming increasingly antsy about where he was taking you. "We're almost there, promise." He answered as he grabbed your other hand. "Step up now." He said, guiding you onto a hard surface. Guessing that it had been a rock when he guided you to step down again right after.

The breeze blowing seemed more free here. The space felt bigger. A few more steps, and he stopped and let go of both hands and moved away. "Xavier?" You call holding your hands out in front, trying to search for him. Walking carefully so as no to tripnor stumbled.

Your hand came into contact with something warm, and you smiled in relief. Feeling the slow, steady beat of Xavier's heart. His hand curled over the top of yours. His fingers brushed your cheek as he carefully slid the blindfold off.

You blinked several times as your eyes adjusted to the light. Several orbs of light were floating around you, just suspended in air. Looking up, you saw that they had completely set and the stars were shining brightly, scattered across the sky without competition.

"Oh wow." You said in awe, looking around. A large checkered blanket had been laid out on the grass, and a wicker basket was set on one of the corners.

"You told me that you'd always wanted to picnic under the stars, so what do you think." He said, gesturing to his spread. He handed you a bouquet of red, purple, and burgundy roses. They were the largest blooms you had ever seen. "Happy Valentiens Day." He said softly, watching you intently.

"Oh, Xavier, these are beautiful!" You say after finding your voice. You hold the flowers in one hand and reach up to kiss him. Placing your free hand on his face as you do. He wraps his arms around your waist and bends down to you.

"I got your favorite foods. I did try to make something myself, but..". He trails off, scratching the side of his head. You laugh, knowing he was absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. He did much better when you cooked together, but on his own... You just couldn't understand where he was going wrong.

"It's ok." You say smiling up at him. His sheepish expression is just too cute. "I love you, not your cooking skills." He smiles softly, a faint pink on his cheeks and ears.

Xavier unpacks the basket and pours you a glass of wine. Sitting down next to him, you snack on the food, watching him quietly. He seems to be thinking about something.

"Did you know we're supposed yo have a meteor shower tonight?" He asks, showing you his phone screen. You glance down at the article he had been reading. "Wow, I wonder if we're in a good spot to see it." You say and go yo grab a cherry as Xavier is also reaching for one. Your fingers touch. Instead of grabbing one, Xavier laces his finger with yours.

You grab a cherry with your free hand and press it to his lips. He stared at you as he bites it. Your faces heats up from his intense eye contact. You blink and look away flustered.

"No fair." You mutter and hear him laugh softly. You never should have told him you loved his gaze and how deep his eyes were. He used the knowledge on you every opportunity.

He pulls out a portable radio from the basket and starts fiddling with it, seemingly trying to find a station signal.

A few minutes later and a voice comes out. "... and now, for all you valentine lovers out there on this special day, we bring you this next song." You recognize the opening notes of an old song that was popular about fifteen years ago.

Xavier stands up and offers you his hand as Adele's voice starts singing. "Dance with me." You smile and take his hand.

He brings you in close, holding you tightly against his body as he begins swaying with you slowly. The moon shines down on you brightly.

You press your ear against his chest, listening to his faster than normal heartbeat and close your eyes. The feeling of home was over you. Adele's sweet voice is in the background as her song draws to a close.

Even after the song is over, Xavier continues holding you as you slowly move about the clearing.

A while later, he's getting your attention and telling you to look up. Bright flicks of light are blinking across the sky one after another. Just a few at first and then dozens.

"Wow, how pretty." You reach a hand out as if to try and touch them. Leaning back into Xavier's arms, you watch the lights fly across the sky, thinking that there is no place in the galaxy you'd rather be than right here with Xavier right by your side.

****************************************************

Yes, I was listening to Adele while I wrote this. Guilty.

I know what you might be thinking. Why didn't I post Xavier's story yesterday? The answer is simple! I had a hard time writing his story and have myself an extra day! Hence why I posted the first one on the 9th.

I prolly wrote and rewrote this one seven times.

I love Xavier. But he is SO HARD for me to write without him being completely OOC! 😫

I did try really hard, I hope you love it!!

LET THE LIGHT IN 𖤓

warning(s): anxiety attack, overthinking, rushed thoughts and emotions, use of y/n, angst/comfort

synopsis: xavier isn’t new to all of this, but he’s been noticing that the demanding pace of hunting Wanderers is starting to take a toll on you, his missions partner. he finds you spiraling and tries to assist, as best he can, whilst also trying to convey just how much you truly mean to him. ⟡ authors note he’s so yummy clueless boy with a soft spot for you supreme i love him okay byee ⟡

you can’t breathe.

you can’t breathe and your heart is beating frantically, trapped, a little bird against a cage, frenzied. you can’t breathe and the world has just turned on its axis.

your thoughts are ramped and you can’t breathe and your chest hurts and there’s a million things to do and — oh, what about that paperwork strewn across your desk, waiting to be filed? or that document you still need to do research on, and oh, didn’t captain jenna inform earlier that the squad had another meeting in ten, and didn’t you plan lunch with a fellow hunter at 3:00 and —

you feel a hand on your shoulder.

you turn and his blue eyes ground you.

his usual stoic face, flat of most emotions, is pinched at the corners. his eyes flicker across your features, scanning for physical injuries and the cause of your stress.

“are you hurt? y/n?”

he found you hunched in a corner, form tight and shoulders shaking. you may break any minute now, the tampered dam in your chest pushing and pushing and pushing till you feel you may choke.

xavier’s hand is warm, too warm on your shoulder.

you pull away from him. his voice keeps you close. you know how you sound right now, how your own voice sounds shaky and an absolute mess. “I— I can’t” your voice breaks off into a sob, and he’s there. “no— no it’s okay. it’s okay. what happened? I’m here, okay?”

his words sounded fuzzy in your head, distant and drowned in a fizz of bubbles. you take small, hiccuping gulps of air. you feel small. this was embarrassing. why are you crying right now, in front of xavier, of all people? he’s the top hunter in the association, unparalleled strength and a intuitive knack for the blade. he rarely ever shows signs of strain, which only makes you self-conscious as his blue eyes continue to flicker over you in worrying silence.

you jolted as you heard boots click outside, coming towards the break room you both were in. furiously you tried to wipe your tear-stained face to no avail, your shoulders still shaking. xavier raised his hand to you, hovering, hesitating, before softly murmuring “I’m going to get us out of here, okay?”

you felt a tingling sensation along your body and a white flashing light — when you blinked open your eyes, you found yourself sitting on a plush beige couch. the lighting was low, save for a few lamps and the distinctive smell of lavender you had grown accustomed to.

did he. . . just teleport you to his house?

your eyes flickered along the cozy display of warm mood lighting and modest decorating. in another situation, you would’ve laughed at how his home so easily mirrored him. you were definitely avoiding xavier’s presence, but he didn’t demand your attention. he had silently gone in the kitchen, returning with a steaming mug of tea and a box of tissues.

he sat down a respectful distance next to you, setting the tea on the wooden table in front of you and handing you a tissue. you silently eyed the cat themed coaster as he did so — cute.

“. . .y/n?”

you bawled up the white tissue into your fist, already feeling your bottom lip betray you and quiver. something about the way he uttered your name, soft and careful and delicate and full of concern, broke you. those blue eyes steady on you — a brilliant sky waiting for you to jump. to fall.

to trust him, fully.

the aloof man had a pull on you that you couldn’t describe in words. at first it was simple admiration as a fellow hunter. . .but it had blossomed into something more. you wanted comfort — you wanted him.

so you fell.

you collapsed into his chest, voice cracking and breaking along the seams as you sobbed, soaking the front of his hunters uniform. you expected him to pull away any minute now, grossed by your waterworks.

xavier didn’t. instead, his melodic voice quietly shushed you, rubbing circles into the small of your back. he pulled you closer, tucking your head underneath his chin in a smooth motion. his palms no longer felt too hot, but warm, familiar.

his voice spoke, both quiet and somehow taking up all the space in the room. “all of this hunter business can get to be a lot. for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. the best one. truly, I do.”

he held you together, molding your cracks with warmth and light and love in the form of his small smile.

you leaned off his chest to fully regard him, knowing you looked a puffy mess but not carrying, lost in the smell of him and the movement of his chest underneath the pads of your fingers. you wanted to hang onto every word he was saying now — breathed in the little enclave you two created.

“so don’t suffer in silence anymore, okay?” his cheeks were dusted a light pink, moving a piece of hair from your face. “this might be inappropriate for the job but, well, I… I care about you. more than a missions partner. more than I can ever put into words.”

his eyes were different, softer, kinder — the same look you thought you imagined he would give you after a successful mission together. he would always quickly look away if you caught him, rubbing at his nose with that nervous habit of his.

“xavier… what are you trying to say?” you croaked out hesitantly, heart dangerously beating in your chest as he comfortingly ran a hand down your stiff arm.

he cleared his throat, pale skin flushing a bit warmer at your direct stare. “I’m saying… let me take care of you, y/n. not just in battle but everyday of your life, of our lives.”

tears pricked in your eyes again, and you nodded, not trusting your voice as you looked into his blue eyes. he let out a content sigh in response, pulling you closer to snuggle his face against your ear.

“I don’t doubt your capabilities xavier, but will you truly be able to take full care of me? I really like those arcade plushies,” you teased lightly after a beat, feeling your body relax into his.

his eyes sparkled with mirth at your lighthearted joke, tightening his grip around you with a small laugh.

“…maybe you’ll have to get the plushies yourself. I’ll accompany you anytime for moral support. now, how about we call in sick for the day and take a nap together?”

“gladly.”

© SWEETEAAS 2024 do not repost/edit/copy my works. જ⁀➴ reblogs are appreciated!

(a.n) — my first time writing for love & deepspace ! this game has me in a chokehold and I wanted to take a spin at writing the bunny boy :3 personally, im on chapter 6 so sorry if there’s some inconsistency in his character — this is simply my take on him <3

— taglist: @prttyangelz @elusivemoon to feed my fellow love & deepspace fanatics (degenerates) 😌

past your bedtime.

"You never told me you knew about mythlogy." — "You never asked." You struggle to sleep during bedtime. Xavier has just the trick to send you straight to dreamland. - 779 w. not proofread.

cw.: nothing. just sleepy xavi

It’s 1 am when you give up on trying to sleep. You toss and turn on your side of the bed in hopes to find a comfortable position to maybe, if your body is merciful enough, take a nap before you have to get up again.

You’re sore, your back hurts from the mission you’ve finished in the afternoon and your feet throb at the slightest contact with the ground. Exhausted is what you are. You came home sure you’d fall asleep in a second and yet, here you are, still wide awake when the digital alarm on your bedside table hits 2 am.

You almost feel sorry for Xavier, who’s currently lost deep into dreamland, for moving around so much beside him. Oh how you envy his ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. You toss and turn for a while longer, going static when your ears perk at the sound of Xavier snoring softly in his sleep, a pair of strong arms snake around your torso and trap you close to him like the perfect little emotional support pillow. 

Accepting you won’t be able to move around anymore, you stare at the shape of his peaceful sleeping face in the dark, bits of his hair illuminated by moonlight seeping through the thin curtains. Struggling under his embrace as gently as possible, your hand leaves your chest to comb his blonde hair out of his face in affection. Xavier’s breath hitches, not tense, but surprised at the contact in his half-awake-half-asleep state.

You choke on a yawn trying to escape your lips as Xavier’s lashes tremble and his sleepy eyes meet your wide awake ones. 

“Why are you still awake?” You can barely see but you just know there’s the tiniest frown forming in his face. 

Afraid that if you move, you’ll make him lose his sleepy state, your hand freezes in place but never leaves his hair. “Can’t sleep. Sorry- did i wake you up?” You whisper.

Xavier has always been your knight in shining armor with the looks of the most stunning prince ever. And even though you’ve said multiple times you can stand up for yourself no matter what, he insisted that he’ll always be there when things get messy. So why are you, of all people, worried you’re interrupting his sleep? 

“why didn’t you wake me up earlier is the real question. C’mere” He mutters, his voice laced with sleep. Closing the space between you two, he pulls you closer by the small of your back.

“Xavi- go back to sleep, i’ll fall asleep soon-” It’s already impossible to make wide awake Xavier finish reports so you worry what a pain it’ll be to get him to get anything done in the morning if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

“Do you know the story behind ursa major and minor?” He interrupts you with no ceremony, yawning at the end of his question. 

“Xavier- we have work in the morning, now is not the time-” — “Shhhh…” A kiss is placed between your brows.

“Once upon a time…” — He starts slowly, like he’s reading a bedtime story to a toddler. When Xavier has something in mind, it’s impossible to change his mind. Stubborn man he was. 

“…The beautiful maiden Callisto had an affair with Zeus, and they had a son named Arcas.” A kiss to your forehead. His hand snakes under your shirt to trace light patterns on your back.

He yawns but continues anyway. — “To protect them both from his jealous wife Hera, Zeus turned both of them into bears, grabbed them by their little tails and threw Callisto and Arcas  into the beautiful skies.” 

Now it’s your turn to yawn, eyelids droopy with tiredness. His voice could be a lullaby on its own, everything about Xavier had a sense of… gentleness, love. Every touch of his fingertips on your back was an act of adoration, the slow kisses on your skin painting a constellation of his own making on your face.

“Because of that, their tails stretched out and can be seen to this day in the night sky.” He concludes.

“So ursa minor is Arcas and ursa major is Callisto. And they have twenty nine stars in total. Oh and-” At the sound of your slow paced breath makes him go quiet and a tiny, proud smile plays on his lips.

It doesn’t take him long to also fall asleep, never does. Curling impossibly close to your body, he takes a deep breath in your hair, inhales the fresh scent of your shampoo and presses a good night kiss on your hairline before falling into a deep slumber once again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading! (*´▽`*)

Xavier – Six Days of Silence

Alright, guys! Your reaction to MC’s dramatic disappearance (and the even more dramatic meltdown from the LADs—especially Xavier 👀) has been absolutely wild! I can’t thank you enough! 💖

I couldn’t just ignore your cries of despair and leave you hanging, so... I wrote a continuation with Xavier. 😏🔥

If you didn’t suffer enough in the last part, well—buckle up. 😈 But seriously, I’m beyond grateful for all the love and engagement, and now I’ve got just one question... who’s next?! 👀💀

Previous Part

The door closes behind you with a quiet click.

Silence settles.

It doesn’t matter that the apartment is empty. Xavier is still here.

Not physically. But in the way the air still feels heavy with the weight of his words. In the way your phone stays too quiet, too still, despite how many times you check it. In the way his white hoodie—the one you never returned—hangs loosely around your shoulders, fabric slightly too big, smelling faintly of something cold, something distant, something unmistakably him.

You should take it off. 

You don’t.

Not even when you curl up on the couch, pressing your face into the collar, trying to pretend that it doesn’t ache.

Trying to pretend that you don’t miss him.

But you do.

And it’s only been one night.

Day One – The Silence

The apartment is too quiet. Too hollow. The kind of silence that isn’t empty, but suffocating—thick with the weight of something unspoken, something unfinished.

Xavier doesn’t message you.

Not in the morning. Not in the afternoon. Not even at night, when the absence of his voice becomes unbearable, pressing down on your chest like a phantom weight.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That this is what you wanted. That he deserved it.

And yet, every time you reach for your phone—every time your fingers hover over the screen, itching to type something—anything—you stop.

Because if you start, you might not be able to stop.

And if you see his name flash across the screen, if you hear his voice—cold, restrained, the way it was when he told you to ask him again in six days—you might break.

And you refuse to be the first to break.

You told yourself you wouldn't do this.

Wouldn't pace the apartment, wouldn't reach for the door only to stop before your fingers brush the handle, wouldn't let yourself hover by the window as if expecting to see him below, walking with that same unshakable stride, hands in his pockets, the night folding around him like a living shadow.

You bite the inside of your cheek and turn away. This is ridiculous.

But it doesn’t stop your mind from unraveling the last time you saw him, the words that still sit on your skin like a bruise, aching, pulsing.

Two Weeks Ago

"You did it again."

Your voice was tight, measured, but it carried that dangerous edge, the one that meant you weren’t just angry—you were done.

Xavier stood in the doorway, his coat draped loosely over his shoulders, blood darkening the sleeve where it stuck to his arm. His own.

And yet, his expression remained unchanged.

"I handled it."

Effortless. Dismissive. As if bleeding out in the doorway wasn’t a cause for concern.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. "You went into the No-Hunt Zone alone."

He exhaled slowly, unbothered, unconcerned. "Yes."

You wanted to shake him. Wanted to rip through that maddening, unflinching calm that always seemed to turn every argument into a chess match—where he never lost control, never let emotion slip past the surface.

"You promised," you said, quieter now, not because the anger had left, but because it was worse—quieter meant sharper, meant it was sinking in.

His gaze flickered. Not quite hesitation, but something close. Something annoyingly unreadable.

"I never promised," he corrected. "I said I’d be careful."

"You almost died last time," you snapped. "Or did you forget?"

A slow blink. "I don’t forget anything."

The weight of that truth settled like ice in your stomach.

"Then remember this." Your voice wavered just slightly. "You’re not immortal, Xavier."

His lips twitched, a fraction of amusement in the gesture. "Debatable."

You took a step forward. "You think longevity makes you untouchable?"

"I think," he said, tilting his head slightly, "that I’ve survived worse."

You stared at him. At the blood drying against his skin. At the way he stood so still, so effortlessly unaffected.

And that’s when you understood.

He had already made peace with his own death. And he expected you to do the same.

The thought made something break inside you.

"You want me to be a widow before I even get to be a wife?"

It came out before you could stop it, before you could think.

A flicker of something crossed his face—not shock, not emotion, but stillness. A brief, split-second pause.

And then, he shut it down.

"You’re being dramatic."

You stepped back as if struck. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you curled them into fists.

And then you laughed—soft, hollow, bitter. "You’re unbelievable."

"I’m realistic," he corrected.

That was when you left. You turned on your heel and walked out, before the frustration, the helplessness, the aching, consuming anger could drag you under.

And he let you go.

***

Now, you’re the one left behind.

You should have told him then. Told him how much it terrified you, the thought of coming back one day only to find his body on a slab, cold, lifeless, just another statistic in the war against Wanderers.

But you didn’t. Instead, you left. And now you’re here.

Alone.

Your phone is still on the table.

You stare at it for too long, the words forming and dissolving in your mind. You should write to him. It’s always been easier to write than to say it out loud. Because words—especially the ones that matter—come with too much weight, too much risk of cracking, of unraveling.

You start to type.

📱 You: Xav, I—

Your fingers freeze. You stare at the unfinished message for too long.

Then you delete it.

You sigh, rubbing your hands over your face, trying to chase away the exhaustion clawing at your mind.

At some point, you fall onto the couch, curling into yourself. The hoodie is still wrapped around you, the fabric worn and familiar, carrying the last traces of him.

Your eyelids feel heavy. Just for a moment, you close them.

A sharp vibration against the glass table jolts you awake. For a brief, heart-stopping second, you think it’s him.

Your fingers scramble for the phone, your pulse hammering, already too desperate for his name to appear on the screen.

Instead—

A message from a random, meaningless system notification.

You let out a slow breath. Your hands are shaking.

Because you had been waiting for him. Because some part of you still hoped.

You curl deeper into the hoodie, pressing your face into the fabric. And finally—you let yourself admit that you miss him too much.

Day Two – What Remains

The knock is barely there. So soft, so hesitant, like a ghost of sound rather than something real.

For a fleeting second—your heart leaps.

You open the door. The hallway is empty.

A cold draft brushes against your skin, slipping under the fabric of his hoodie.

But there, at your feet—a small black bag.

You kneel. Fingers brush over the label.

Painkillers. Electrolyte supplements. Emergency field rations. The essentials.

Your phone vibrates.

📱 Xavier: Take these.

You stare at the message, breathing out slowly through your nose.

A moment. A hesitation. Then—you type.

📱 You: Didn’t realize you made house calls.

📱 Xavier: I don’t. But you looked like you were about to collapse.

The words sink in too fast. Too easily.

Because of course, he noticed. Because of course, he knew. Because even now—even after everything—he’s still watching.

Your grip tightens around the phone.

📱 You: So you’re keeping tabs on me now?

📱 Xavier: No need. I already know how reckless you are.

A pause.

Then—

📱 Xavier: Take the damn medicine.

You press your tongue against the raw sting of broken skin, the inside of your cheek already torn from the habit, fingers hovering over the screen.

You could ignore him. Could let the pills sit untouched, just to prove a point. Instead, you close your eyes. And swallow the first dose dry.

It’s not an apology. Not even close.

But it’s something.

And that’s why it hurts more.

***

The night stretches long and restless.

You wake in intervals—too hot, too cold, too aware of the ache in your chest that no amount of painkillers can dull.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, your fingers drift over the phone again.

You hesitate. Then type—

📱 You: You said six days.

A second passes. Another.

Then—

📱 Xavier: I did.

A breath catches in your throat.

He answered.

You don’t know why that surprises you. You don’t know why you expected silence.

📱 You: Then why are you here?

The response comes too quickly.

📱 Xavier: I’m not.

It shouldn’t sting.

It does.

***

Morning comes slow and suffocatingly heavy.

You don’t want to move. Don’t want to pull yourself from the warmth of the couch, the stale comfort of yesterday still clinging to the air.

But the world doesn’t stop just because your heart is cracked along the edges.

So you get up.

Force yourself into autopilot—shower, dress, coffee that you don’t even drink.

Your phone vibrates again.

📱 Xavier: Eat something real today.

You exhale sharply, tilting your head back against the kitchen counter.

Then—you type.

📱 You: Didn’t realize you were my dietitian now.

📱 Xavier: I’m not. But someone has to be.

Your jaw tightens.

📱 You: I’m fine, Xavier.

📱 Xavier: You’re lying, but okay.

The breath punches out of you before you even realize you’ve been holding it. Because he sees through you. He always does.

And you hate him for it.

You want to be angry. Want to tell him to back off. Want to remind him that he left first.

But instead—

📱 You: Did you eat?

A pause.

📱 Xavier: Of course.

You don’t believe him. But you let it go.

***

The day drags forward, sluggish and unforgiving.

By the time night falls again, you’ve checked your phone at least twenty times. You tell yourself it’s just habit.

It’s not.

You curl back into the couch, fingers ghosting over the hem of his hoodie, feeling the fabric twist between your hands.

You don’t know what you’re waiting for. 

You don’t want to know.

Day Three – Ghosts in the Rain

The rain is relentless.

It starts while you're still at work—a slow, heavy downpour that turns the streets into rivers, neon lights smearing across the wet pavement. You watch it for a moment through the glass, jaw tightening when you realize you left your umbrella at home.

Perfect.

By the time you finally step outside, the water is already pooling at your feet, seeping into your boots, soaking through the edges of your sleeves. You shove your hands deeper into your pockets, hunching your shoulders against the cold, and walk.

It isn’t far. Just a few blocks. Just enough time for the silence to creep in again.

Your phone stays still. Xavier doesn’t message you. You don’t message him.

You’re not even sure what you would say.

The air in the apartment is thick with dampness when you finally push open the door, shaking the water from your fingers. You toe off your boots, leaving a faint trail of wet footprints across the floor.

You reach for a towel—and stop.

Because there, just by the door, is a folded dry sweatshirt.

Not yours.

A white hoodie. 

His.

And next to it, a small, neatly sealed packet. Heat packs.

Your stomach twists.

Your hands tremble as you reach for your phone, wiping away the water still clinging to the screen.

📱 You: You’ve got to stop breaking into my apartment.

A pause.

Then—

📱 Xavier: I didn’t. But you always forget an umbrella when it rains.

You exhale sharply, pressing your tongue against the sting of broken skin inside your cheek.

📱 You: Right. You’re psychic now?

📱 Xavier: No. Just observant.

You hesitate, running your fingers over the fabric of the hoodie before pulling it over your head. It’s warm, slightly oversized, carrying the scent of him beneath the clean detergent—something golden, like sunlight caught in the fabric, soft and caramel-sweet at the edges, but beneath it, barely there, something sharper, something darker, like the last trace of dusk before night takes over. Unmistakably Xavier.

📱 You: You’re really committing to this whole passive-aggressive monitoring thing, huh?

📱 Xavier: Aggressive. There’s nothing passive about it.

The response is instant. Too quick. As if he’s been waiting.

Your chest tightens.

📱 You: And yet, for all your keen observation, you still don’t seem to notice when you do the exact same thing.

A longer pause this time.

📱 Xavier: Clarify.

You roll your eyes. Of course, he’s going to make you spell it out.

📱 You: No-Hunt Zone. 

📱 Xavier: That’s different.

📱 You: Oh? Because it’s you?

📱 Xavier: Because it was necessary.

You let out a bitter breath, pressing the phone against your forehead for a moment, closing your eyes.

📱 You: Right. That word again.

📱 You: I suppose me being gone was necessary too, then?

📱 Xavier: That was a choice.

📱 You: So was yours.

Another long pause.

For a second, you think that’s the end of it. That he’s not going to reply.

Then—

📱 Xavier: You’re still wet. Change before you get sick.

A sharp inhale.

📱 You: That’s all you have to say?

📱 Xavier: For now.

You stare at the screen.

For now.

It isn’t an admission. It isn’t anything close to forgiveness. But it’s not a dismissal, either.

It’s an opening. A crack in the wall.

You exhale, curl deeper into the hoodie, and let your eyes slip shut.

For the first time in days, the silence doesn’t feel quite as heavy.

Day Four – Running in Circles

You don’t sleep.

You try. You close your eyes, shift positions, breathe slow and deep, count the seconds, then minutes, then hours. But your mind refuses to settle. The silence is unbearable, pressing into your skin, sinking into your bones.

By the time the sky begins to pale, the city just beginning to stir beyond your window, you give up.

The clock reads 6:04 AM when you lace up your running shoes.

The air is sharp, crisp with the last bite of night still lingering in the wind. The streets are nearly empty, save for the occasional early commuter, their footsteps swallowed by the sound of your own—steady, rhythmic, a heartbeat against the pavement.

You push yourself hard. Harder than you should.

It’s reckless, this need to move, to exhaust your body so completely that your mind has no room left to think.

Because when you think, you remember.

You remember the way Xavier looked at you that night. How his voice never wavered, how he turned away before you could say anything at all.

"Ask me again in six days."

You push faster.

Your breath burns in your throat. The ache in your legs spreads, deep and insistent, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You run until the edges of your vision blur.

Until the exhaustion feels like something you can hold, something real, something that drowns out the ache in your chest.

Until the smell of coffee pulls you to a stop.

You’re standing in front of the café before you even realize it.

Your fingers curl against your palms, your breath still uneven. The air inside is warm, rich with the scent of espresso, cinnamon, something familiar.

Habit. Instinct. A mistake.

But still—you go inside. Still—you stand at the counter, order without thinking. Still—you reach for the cup, staring down at the neat label printed on the side.

Cappuccino. No sugar. Just how he likes it.

Your fingers tighten around the cup. You don’t hesitate. You walk straight back to his apartment, jaw clenched, pulse hammering in your ears.

And without a second thought—you leave the cup by his door.

You don’t knock. You don’t wait. You just leave.

Your hands still tremble when you reach your own door. You exhale, rubbing at your face, trying to push down the erratic rhythm of your pulse.

Then—you see it.

A second cup. Sitting neatly on your doorstep.

Your breath catches.

Fingers shake as you reach down, pressing against the warmth of the cup, the familiar weight of it. The label stares back at you, bold and unmistakable.

Latte. Just how you like it. From the same café.

The realization slams into you like a fist to the ribs. You were thinking of him. He was thinking of you.

At the same damn time.

Something twists, raw and sharp, in your chest. Then, as if he feels it—your phone buzzes.

📱 Xavier: Pushing yourself that hard after days of poor recovery is reckless.

Your fingers clench.

📱 Xavier: I suggest reading this.

A link. An article. Something about the dangers of sudden overexertion without proper conditioning.

A laugh bubbles up, breathless, bitter.

Of course. Of course he would turn this into a lecture.

📱 You: You’re unbelievable.

📱 Xavier: Clarify.

You wipe at your face, not even realizing your skin is damp, whether from sweat or something else.

📱 You: I’m not a civilian. I’m a Hunter. A trained fighter, just like you.

📱 You: I might not have your experience, but I’m not fragile. I don’t need a babysitter.

The response takes longer this time. A long, stretching pause.

Then—

📱 Xavier: Noted.

The words are too even. Too carefully chosen.

You see it immediately. He’s upset. But instead of fighting back, instead of defending himself, he just—withdraws.

It infuriates you.

📱 You: That’s it?

📱 Xavier: Would you prefer I argue?

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, hard enough to sting.

📱 You: Maybe.

📱 Xavier: Why?

Because at least then it would feel like something. Because at least then he wouldn’t be slipping away from you, wouldn’t be treating you like you weren’t worth the effort.

You suck in a breath, trying to calm the wild, uneven rhythm of your heart. Then you do something stupid.

Something reckless. Something you’ll regret the second you hit send.

📱 You: Funny how you only care about my recklessness when it’s convenient for you.

Silence.

One second.

Two.

Then—

📱 Xavier: Understood.

Just that. No defense. No cold, razor-sharp argument. No more words at all.

You stare at the screen. Then you hurl the phone at the wall.

The crack is instant, the screen splintering on impact. It falls to the floor, dark, dead, useless.

Something burns behind your eyes, frustration, exhaustion, anger collapsing into something too heavy, too unbearable to name.

Your hands quiver. You press them to your face, breathe through the ache blooming in your chest.

Then—

You stand. You grab your coat. You don’t stop to think.

You need a new phone.

Because what if he messages you?

Because even now—after everything—you still want him to.

Day Five – The Breaking Point

Silence should be a relief.

After four days of his constant, cold precision—the quiet should feel like a gift.

But it doesn’t.

It’s suffocating.

For the first time since he left you standing in that room, there’s nothing.

No message. No sarcastic remark. No quiet proof that, despite everything, he still gives a damn.

The absence cuts deeper than you expect.

You go to work anyway. Because you have to. Because stopping means thinking, and thinking means tearing yourself apart with what-ifs.

***

"Our agent successfully retrieved the Aethor Core." Captain Jenna’s voice carries through the room, steady, matter-of-fact.

A holographic map flickers to life above the conference table, casting shifting blue light against the faces of those seated around it. 

Your mission. Your work. Your risk.

You keep your expression neutral, spine straight, hands folded in front of you.

"Undercover infiltration into the Vasquez Syndicate was a success."

Murmurs spread across the table. You don’t move. You feel him before you see him.

Xavier.

Seated across from you, back straight, jaw locked, completely, unnervingly still.

You make the mistake of looking up. And that’s when you see it.

Not his usual sharp, quiet calculation. Not cold detachment.

No.

This is something else. This is contained rage.

It sits just beneath the surface—controlled, measured, but undeniably lethal.

Your stomach twists.

The Vasquez Syndicate. A name that sends ripples of unease through even the most hardened Hunters.

And you had gone there alone.

Undercover.

Without telling him. Without telling anyone.

You lower your gaze back to the table. Captain Jenna continues.

"Their leader was eliminated. Aethor Core secured. Minimal collateral damage."

The words should be a victory. You should feel something. Instead, your phone vibrates against your leg.

Once.

Then again.

Then again.

A steady onslaught of incoming messages.

Your fingers tighten against your thigh. You don’t have to check. You already know.

📱 Xavier: You have a death wish, then?

📱 Xavier: That’s what this is?

📱 Xavier: Of course. That makes sense. Why else would you walk into Vasquez’s den ALONE?

📱 Xavier: Did you think you were being clever?

📱 Xavier: Or was it a game? A test to see how close you could get before you were skinned alive like his last five victims?

📱 Xavier: Tell me, did you at least get a look at the furniture?

📱 Xavier: I hear human leather is in this season.

The blood drains from your face. You type quickly.

📱 You: Xav, I—

More messages slam into your screen before you can hit send.

📱 Xavier: Or wait—

📱 Xavier: Was it worth it?

📱 Xavier: Was the thrill of playing martyr that exhilarating?

📱 Xavier: You must have loved the dramatics of it. Walking through their front door, knowing exactly what would happen if they figured you out. How noble. How self-sacrificing.

📱 Xavier: I’m sure they would’ve written songs about you.

📱 Xavier: Would you like me to start composing one now?

Your stomach twists into knots.

📱 You: Xavier, stop.

📱 Xavier: Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?

📱 Xavier: Wouldn’t want that. Not after you’ve made me spend the last six days believing you were DEAD.

The breath catches in your throat.

📱 You: I wasn’t—

📱 Xavier: No? You weren’t?

📱 Xavier: Oh, forgive me. I must have been mistaken. You must have sent me a message before walking into the hands of a man who decapitates people for sport.

📱 Xavier: Oh, wait. You didn’t.

📱 Xavier: Because you didn’t tell anyone.

📱 Xavier: Because you thought you could handle it.

📱 Xavier: Because you think you’re invincible.

📱 Xavier: Because you learned absolutely nothing.

📱 Xavier: Because you’re a fucking idiot.

Your chest tightens, fingers shaking as you try to respond.

📱 You: I retrieved the Core, didn’t I?

The moment you send it, you regret it. The reply is instant.

📱 Xavier: Ah.

📱 Xavier: So that’s how little your life is worth?

📱 Xavier: A glorified rock?

📱 Xavier: Good to know.

You glance up, breath unsteady, and realize your mistake.

Because Xavier is looking at you. And his expression is unreadable.

No sarcasm now. No amusement. Just something flat and cold, buried beneath something much darker.

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the table.

You stand.

Move toward him, as if closing the space between you will break whatever this is, will fix whatever new fracture you’ve carved into the already fragile thing between you.

But the moment you take a step closer—he moves. A single flick of his fingers. A gesture.

Dismissal.

Like you are nothing. Like you aren’t even worth the fight.

And in his eyes—that unreadable fire.

You open your mouth. Try to speak. He beats you to it.

"You think I’m mad?" His voice is low, quiet, lethal. "You think this is anger?"

A slow, sharp inhale. Then—he stands. Looks at you like you’re a stranger.

"If you ever do something that fucking stupid again—"

A pause. A razor-thin breath.

"Don’t come back."

Silence.

It lands like a blow. It shatters something you don’t even have a name for.

And then—he walks away.

And for the first time, you wonder if six days was a mercy.

Because now—

You’re not sure this will ever end.

Day Six – Between Love and War

The knock against his door is sharp, deliberate.

No answer.

Your fingers tighten, knuckles aching as you knock again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

The realization sinks in slow, cold. You know where he is.

No-Hunt Zone.

Of course. Of course.

The hypocrisy of it claws at your ribs, burns hot behind your eyes.

He spent days throwing your choices back in your face, dismantling them with surgical precision, making sure you felt every ounce of his anger. And yet—he’s doing the exact same thing.

Alone. Again.

Without backup. Without you.

The fury in your chest solidifies into something unshakable.

You don’t think. You move.

You tear off your civilian clothes, slip into the gear that feels like a second skin, strapping on your weapons with methodical ease. Your mind is calm. Your body is not.

This isn’t just anger.

This is something raw, something bitter, something that coils too tight in your chest.

Because what if this is the time he doesn’t make it back?

What if he never even planned to?

***

You move fast, weaving through the crumbling skeletons of abandoned buildings, the faint blue pulse of your Hunter’s bracelet flickering at your wrist.

The fluctuations come sharp and erratic.

A Wanderer is near.

And so is Xavier.

The realization barely has time to settle before a hand clamps over your mouth, an arm hooking around your waist, dragging you back into the shadows of a half-collapsed structure.

You react instantly, twisting in his grip, but his hold is unbreakable. His breath is warm against your ear. Too steady. Too controlled.

"Tell me—" His voice is low, measured, lethal in its restraint. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

You rip his hand away, shove him back, your pulse hammering against your ribs.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you the same damn thing?"

His expression flickers—something sharp, something dangerously close to breaking—before it smooths out again.

"You shouldn’t be here."

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "And you should?"

His fingers twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t argue.

The air crackles.

A pulse of energy shudders through the ruined cityscape, sending vibrations through your bracelet.

You both freeze.

The Wanderer is close. Too close.

And you were too distracted to notice.

A deafening shriek splits the air.

You barely have time to react before something massive crashes into view, sending debris flying, the force of it shaking the ground beneath you.

It’s huge.

Bigger than any you’ve ever seen. Darker. Hungrier.

And something is wrong.

Your Evol pulses—but weakly, like something is suppressing it.

You glance at Xavier, see the same realization in his eyes.

The Wanderer lunges.

You move at the same time.

Dodge. Shoot. Pivot. Strike.

Your movements are precise. Automatic. Perfectly in sync.

But something is missing.

Resonance.

You grit your teeth, adjusting your aim, but the energy won’t connect.

Because you’re too angry. Too furious with him to let yourself fall into sync.

And so is he.

Your focus wavers—just for a second, just long enough to throw your balance.

You stumble.

A mistake. A fraction of hesitation.

The Wanderer seizes it.

It moves faster than you expect, faster than anything that massive should be able to.

A pulse of energy collides against your chest, sending you sprawling.

A second strike is coming—you see it, but you’re too slow, your body still recovering from the impact—

And then Xavier is there. Between you and death.

His sword clashes against the incoming blow, deflecting it just enough to send the Wanderer skidding back.

His breathing is uneven. Not from exertion, but from something else.

Something like rage.

"Are you hurt?" His voice is taut, dangerous.

You shake your head, pushing yourself back up.

"I’m fine."

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away from you. Like he doesn’t quite believe you. Like he’s assessing whether he just almost lost you.

You don’t have time for this.

"You really think you would’ve made it out of this alive?" You fire, voice shaking with frustration. "Look at it. Look at the size of that thing. And you came here alone."

Xavier exhales slowly through his nose. Controlled. Restrained.

"You came after me," he says, voice like a blade, slicing through the tension.

You shake your head, jaw tight.

"Of course I did. That’s what you do when you—"

The words catch.

His eyes are on you. Steady. Unwavering.

The air between you is thick, charged, buzzing with everything unspoken, everything you haven’t let yourself say.

Your fingers tremble around the grip of your gun.

"I—"

The Wanderer screeches.

The ground shudders.

You don’t think. You react.

Your hand snaps forward, closing over Xavier’s.

The second you touch him—

Resonance explodes.

A flash of light. A rush of energy so intense it steals the breath from your lungs.

The Wanderer staggers. Its movements falter.

You see the opening. So does he.

Two strikes. One shot. One kill.

The Wanderer dissolves. The air stills. The only thing left is a single Protocore, pulsing softly in the dust.

You’re both breathing hard, hands still locked together, neither of you moving.

And then—

His fingers tighten.

The world tilts, just slightly.

Xavier doesn’t look at the Protocore. He looks at you.

And when he steps forward, you step back, heat creeping up your neck.

But he doesn’t let you run. He cups your face, tilting it up until you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it."

Your pulse pounds.

"Xav—"

"Say it." His voice is low, demanding.

You swallow hard. You already said it once.

But now—he’s listening.

Now, there’s nothing between you but everything you’ve been holding back.

Your throat tightens. And then—you break.

"I love you," you whisper.

His breath stutters, caught between control and something raw. His hands slide lower, fingers gripping your waist, pulling you in.

And then—he’s kissing you.

Hard. Desperate. Unforgiving.

Your weapons hit the ground. His sword, your guns—forgotten.

The only thing left is this. The only thing left is him.

His breath is ragged against your lips, his hands urgent, searching.

"What good are my eyes if they can't see you?" he murmurs against your mouth.

"What use are my hands if they can't touch you?"

"Why do I need lips if not to kiss you?"

His forehead presses against yours. His voice is steady. Unshaking.

"And if you don’t let me love you the way I do—what’s the point of living at all?"

You exhale, shuddering. A quiet, breathless sound escapes you—half a sob, half a laugh, because of course he would say something like this, because of course it would be him. Your hands tighten against his shirt, gripping hard enough to ground yourself, to keep yourself from falling apart. 

And finally—you let yourself hold him back.

***

The Morning After – Promises in the Sunlight

The world is quiet.

Not the heavy, suffocating kind of silence that has weighed on you for days, but something else. Something warm.

Your body feels boneless, satiated, exhausted in the best possible way. The bruises on your skin tell a story—some earned in battle, others left by a different kind of war, one fought in the dark, in whispers, in hands that refused to let go.

And then—you feel it. Eyes on you.

You blink against the soft golden light spilling through the curtains, twisting slightly to find him.

Xavier is propped up on his elbow beside you, one arm tucked beneath his head. His gaze is unreadable, too intense in the quiet morning light.

But he isn’t watching you. Not exactly.

His fingers trail absently over your skin, following the paths where the sunlight dances along your shoulder, your collarbone, the curve of your wrist. Mapping you.

The way his fingers move—it’s almost reverent. Like he’s committing this moment to memory, like he’s terrified it might slip through his grasp if he blinks.

You reach for his hand. But he beats you to it.

His fingers curl around yours, guiding your hand to his lips, pressing the softest, most devastatingly tender kiss to your fingertips.

It nearly steals the breath from your lungs.

You swallow hard, your voice coming out quieter than intended.

"Xav…"

His grip tightens, just slightly.

"When we met," he murmurs, voice low, steady, unshaking, "you promised me something."

Your brow furrows. You don’t move.

"You said I would be your partner," he continues, thumb brushing absently over your knuckles. "In everything. In battle. In your reckless plans. In life."

His eyes lift to yours, and the weight of his words settles deep into your chest.

You can’t look away. Not now. Not from this.

Your throat tightens. "Xavier—"

"Don’t apologize," he says smoothly, shaking his head before you can even start.

But you need to. Because you hurt him. Because you left.

Because even though you both made mistakes, you forced his hand.

He sees it in your eyes before you can say anything, and his fingers tighten just slightly around yours.

"This isn’t about apologies," he murmurs.

His other hand comes up, brushing along the curve of your cheek, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"This is about what happens next."

You blink.

"I won’t force you to promise me anything," he continues, watching your reaction closely. "Not unless you mean it."

The warmth of his touch lingers against your skin, steady, grounding, heartbreakingly gentle.

"But I need you to understand something."

You hold your breath.

"I won’t make you worry again." His voice is softer now, more certain. More dangerous in its quiet conviction. "I won’t make you question whether I’ll come back. Because now I know how it feels."

Your eyes sting.

"Does that mean…" You hesitate, voice barely above a whisper. "No more No-Hunt Zone?"

The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Not exactly."

You open your mouth to argue, but he stops you with a single look. Before you can push him away, before you can get worked up, he leans in—pressing his forehead to yours.

His breath is warm against your lips.

"If I go," he murmurs, slow, careful, a promise wrapped in steel, "I take my partner with me."

Your chest tightens.

He’s serious.

This is his way of saying it.

His way of meeting you halfway.

His way of telling you that he’s not going anywhere without you.

You exhale slowly, pressing your forehead harder against his, letting the moment settle between you.

"...Okay."

The word is soft. Tentative.

But you mean it.

His fingers thread through yours, squeezing gently. The smallest, barest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Good."

He kisses you once, slow and deep, searing the moment into your skin.

And for the first time in six days—you let yourself believe it.

sorry i'm just a man and can only spare one set of clothes per drawing

me when someone experiences voilence and the lesson they learn is kindness

are you hearing things? certainly, an intruder didn’t break into your house just to clean up the mess you’d left behind this morning and cook your favorite dish, did they? no…unless this intruder was really, really nice and somehow knew you inside out.

but then it hits you.

caleb.

that's the only thought in your head as you rush over to the kitchen, stopping in the middle as you see your husband in a fucking apron, cutting up vegetables on the kitchen counter.

he looks up as soon as he hears your footsteps stop, a big, satisfied smirk on his face. yet despite the smugness, his expression is tender, displaying a love that makes your chest tighten with familiarity. before either of you can say a word, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and immediately melt into his touch.

he's warm, and most of all, real. in your arms. no words are said—they're not even needed as he returns your embrace, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing you to him like a long-lost piece of himself finally returned. you sink into the quiet gravity of his hold, the space between you dissolving as you breathe in each other's presence. time feels like it's folding in on itself—only the steady rise and fall of his breath tethering you to the moment, to him, to home.

you decide to break the silence, your hands gripping tighter on his clothes, voice muffled by your face in the crook of his neck. "caleb. you’re early. you’re- you're here." the words are slightly cracked, tinted with a quiet desperation and disbelief that has your heart pounding in your chest, still processing what was happening.

caleb only holds you closer, his voice thick with similar emotions. "'course i am, honey. wouldn't trade this for the world." he presses a soft kiss to your head, his hands gently running down your sides and stopping at your waist. he pulls away to look you in the eyes, his gaze filled with something so soft you could almost feel it in your hands. "the expedition ended early. i got home as soon as i could to surprise you."

your eyes drift up and down his face, his neck, any piece of him available to you—you drink it in, relishing in the man before you like a traveler would an oasis in the desert. you swallow, throat thick with longing as you struggle to say another full sentence.

but it doesn't matter, not when he knows exactly what you want to say. your emotions are written on your face, woven into every action, and even without words, caleb can feel it in the space between you, his heart long since in tune with yours.

taking a deep breath, you manage to speak, sniffling. "i was- i was counting down the days. i thought you wouldn't be home for at least a few more weeks-"

caleb only grins softly, tenderly slipping his hand beneath your shirt to feel your skin on his. "you know me, honey. i can't just stay away from you." he punctuates his words with a soft caress up your back, tracing your spine and sending a shiver through your body. it grounds you, his actions and affections so familiar and yet so unreal in the moment.

a small laugh manages to bubble from your lips, relieved and stupefied. you pull him in again, feeling his heartbeat against yours. he's here. all of him.

and suddenly, the exhaustion of the past few weeks, the impatience, the longing, the loneliness—it all fades away, and you're left with something that is so unmistakably home, because you're in his arms.

he lets out a relieved sigh of his own, chuckling slightly and shifting his body to better accommodate yours. in doing so, you're pulled away from him just slightly, the glint of something floating in the air catching your eye. your brows furrow together as the object catches your interest, peeking out at it from above caleb's arms.

a knife.

a floating knife.

you blink. your mind is still catching up with everything, but the sight of a knife hovering a few steps away from you—completely still, suspended in midair—pulls you out of your processing period. your brows furrow even further, your head stiffly moving to look up at your husband.

"caleb...?" as of that moment, his tender gaze had turned into a suppressed grin, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you knew so well. his hands squeeze your sides, voice teasing and lilted. "'sup, honeybunch? still need proof it's really me?"

your eyes flick between the knife and him, your voice slow and hesitant. "caleb, why is there a knife next to us right now?"

he laughs, and it's a warm sound that dissipates any tension in your body, a small smile pulling up at your lips despite the confusion. he leans in with a smirk, shrugging and ruffling your hair as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. "i don't know baby, you were pretty eager to get me in your arms. didn't stop to think twice that i was cutting up some veggies."

your face flushes as you process that he had only used his evol to move the knife he was holding away from the both of you. "...oh," is all you manage to squeak out as he laughs again, gently tugging on your hair to tilt your head upwards and to land a kiss on your forehead.

caleb smirks, his own gaze flickering between the knife and you, "someone had to make sure you didn’t end up with a gash on your hand while trying to tackle me."

you shake your head, still smiling and now slightly flushed due to his actions. "sorry, it was all just..." he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, grinning at the cute sight of your face. "there's no need for an apology, honey. i'm just doing my job as your husband."

he steps forward, the knife gently floating back down onto the counter with a soft clink as he places his hand beneath your chin. "our kitchen is quite the dangerous place, you know."

the playful edge in his voice and the cheeky grin on his face make you laugh, a soft, breathless sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. you shake your head, amusement dancing in your eyes as you finally take in your surroundings—the seasoned chicken resting in the bowl, the steam curling from the bubbling pot of your favorite broth on the stove, and most of all, the warm, inviting scent of home.

it isn't just the food or the careful way he’s prepared everything for you. it’s him, standing there, grounding you in a moment that feels almost too good to be real. the weight of missing him lingers faintly in your chest, but it’s lightened by the fact that, for the first time in weeks, he’s here.

caleb's eyes wash over you with amusement, his head tilting as his thumb caresses your cheek before gently pressing into your skin, affectionately squeezing your face. "you okay there, pips? looks like you're about to start crying over dinner."

his teasing lingers for only a second before something shifts. his touch, once playful, turns softer—more deliberate. his hands come up to cradle your face fully, his warmth seeping into your skin. it's only then that you realize why his expression has changed.

you were crying.

warm, salty tears are trickling down your face as you try to deny your current state, your lips trembling as you let out a shaky laugh. "ah, i’m-," you start off, but the crack in your voice betrays you. you sniffle, swiping at your face, affection and frustration mixing in your expression. "it’s not-”

but caleb just smiles, thumbs brushing away the tears before they can fall any further. "i know," he murmurs, voice as warm as his touch. "i know, baby."

caleb doesn’t say anything else—he doesn’t need to. instead, he pulls you in, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, letting them linger there for a few precious moments. his touch is grounding, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself lean into it completely.

his fingers stroke along your back in soothing circles, a silent reassurance that he’s real, that he’s with you. and you believe it. because how could you not, when his presence feels like the most tangible thing in the world?

after a few quiet breaths, he pulls away just enough to meet your gaze again, studying your face with something soft and knowing. “feeling a little better?”

you sniffle, nodding as you wipe at your eyes again. “yeah. just… didn’t expect this.”

he grins, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone one last time before he finally steps back, hands slipping down to rest at your waist. “well, i was hoping for a ‘wow, my incredibly handsome husband is the best for surprising me like this!’ but i guess tears of joy work too.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no real annoyance behind it. “if you wanted me to swoon, you should’ve walked in with flowers, colonel.”

caleb lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “damn, should’ve known i was dealing with high standards.”

“very high,” you confirm, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

he huffs out a laugh before squeezing your waist one last time and turning back to the counter. “cmon, pips. go set the table before you start crying again.”

you mumble sarcastically but oblige, pulling out the plates and utensils while he goes back to cooking. the kitchen is quiet save for the soft sounds of bubbling broth and the rhythmic chop of his knife against the cutting board.

it’s a comfortable kind of quiet—the kind that settles lovingly in your ribs, wrapping around your heart like the warmest embrace.

and when you finally sit down for dinner, across from the man who makes your world feel so much brighter just by being in it, you realize that no matter how long he’s gone, no matter how much you miss him, this moment will always come back to you.

because caleb always comes back to you.

Spring arrives... bringing... Lumiere!! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ ) و ✨

📖⬅⬅⬅

Flower prompts exchange

For @tillichan

Amaryllis- How would they act if you got sick or injured? How do you take care of them if they get sick or injured?

Xavier is somewhat of an airhead not gonna lie. Unless it concerns his lover aka you. When you get sick he’ll act somewhat like a mother hen but not a very good one. Xavier will insist on giving you some obscure medicine that he swears always helped him get better. That’s when you break it to him that…

“Xavier…baby…you are basically an alien”

Will he listen? Yes. Will he take it into consideration? Not really. Especially if the sickness lasts and isn’t getting better.

“Hey drink this tea I made you. Is there some medicine in it…? Maybe. Come on I even added honey so you can’t feel it!”

Now for food…Give him a star, this man learned how to cook your favorite dishes and even healthy snacks! Did he spend weeks training in his apartment and became the bane of existence of the fire department? Why are you asking questions you don’t want to know the answer.

But yeah, Xavier absolutely refuses to let you, his princess, do anything other than rest and get better when you’re sick. Unless it’s walks to have more fresh air. You even saw him speaking with you cat and dog, a serious expression on his face to explain the situation.

“Okay listen you two. She’s sick. Which means she needs to rest. You can’t demand snacks all the time now, yes I’m speaking to you adorable cat. Your mission is to cuddle with her, keep her warm and warn me if she’s trying to do chores. I’ll take care of the food- Why did you two whine?”

Even your animals fear him handling food. But as you can see, he takes over everything. Preparing tea just the way you like it, making sure you rest, even handling your responsibilities if possible. He is lowkey good at taking care of your garden. Your cat and dog immediately gravitate toward him, sensing his protective presence, and he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he makes sure they stay close, knowing their warmth and company bring you comfort.

At some point, he sits beside you, his presence both grounding and reassuring. If you struggle with the discomfort of being sick, he quietly soothes you, whether through reading aloud, playing soft classical music (he probably figures you’d appreciate that, given your background), or just staying near enough that you know you're not alone. And though he won’t admit it outright, you catch glimpses of how deeply he cares—like the way his brows knit together when you cough or how he lingers a second longer when tucking the blanket around you. Even when you’re sick, Xavier insists on cuddling. His excuse?

“I haven’t gotten sick in years. I doubt you can give it to me”

Famous last words.

Now if you’re feeling unwell due to an injury…it’ll be the same except he’ll have a guilty look in his eyes and will be more protective afterwards if it’s not a house injury of course. Xavier can’t help but think that this could’ve been prevented.

Now now now…a sick Xavier is a very stubborn Xavier. He’s still in denial that he got sick. It’s worse if he got injured, he’ll try to hide it but one of your animals will snitch on him by rubbing against the exact spot. Xavier will stay silent when you scold him for the reckless behavior. But you can see in his eyes that he’s touched by the concern and will let his guard down, letting you take care of him in his vulnerable moments.

By the way, if he gets sick right after you, he’ll tease you about it.

“Ah I seem to have caught the same illness as you how strange. And at such close interval. Perhaps this is the famous in sickness and in health”

Does he insist on taking his weird medicine? Yes. And they work on him because again it’s for his specie. So Xavier stop trying to argue.

It takes some effort to make him rest, but your patience and soft insistence are impossible to refuse. You prepare a warm drink for him, making sure it's not too sweet since you know he prefers subtle flavors. Your touch is gentle when checking for fever, but your concern is unwavering.

While he rests, you bring your cat and dog to sit near him, their calm presence acting as an unspoken comfort. You don’t overwhelm him with chatter, but you keep an eye on him, occasionally teasing him when he tries to downplay how bad he’s feeling. If he so much as tries to work while sick, you’ll give him a knowing look, one that silently says…

“Love. I dare you to accept that mission. I know you’re just looking for an excuse to buy snacks…ah ah! Don’t try to argue about this. Just sits down and sleep”

When he finally gives in and rests, you sit beside him, reading aloud from a book you know he might enjoy. The warmth of your presence, the softness of your voice, it’s more soothing than any medicine. And though he might not say it outright, the way he eventually closes his eyes and allows himself to relax tells you everything.

Xavier gets better rather fast. You’ve never seen a man rush faster to buy snacks in so called secret…But he also gets you a huge bouquet of flowers and your favorite food from the few restaurants that you like.

Begonia- Their reaction to you wearing their clothes

The moment Xavier sees you wearing his clothes, he freezes. His sharp eyes flick over you, taking in the way his jacket or shirt drapes over your smaller frame. There's no immediate reaction, just a pause, like he’s processing something he didn’t expect to affect him this much.

Then, his expression shifts. His eyes widen, mouth agape. Then he furrows his eyebrows. If you’re paying close attention, you might even catch the way his ears tint faintly pink.

“…did you lose your clothes? Not that I mind. I never thought my shirt could become such a cute dress”

Tease him about it. Maybe spin around or casually pull at the oversized sleeves. You’ll notice him trying to keep his composure in check. But ultimately failing.

“Did you pay for the rental? Or are you planning on excusing it with your cute face? You know what. I’ll forgive you if you pay with cuddles and wear my jacket so it smells more like you…”

Cue to him wrapping his arms around you for a long afternoon. He can’t properly explain it but it just makes him so happy when it’s you wearing his clothes. Despite Xavier often lending his clothes with no second thought to others, from now on he’ll refuse to do so unless it’s dire. He sees it as a you two things.

Fun fact, Xavier sometimes purposefully let you forget your jacket so you can wear his. He’s not being sneaky.

イケメン

📖⬅⬅⬅

‧₊˚🌷༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ Warmth of Spring

Tags! Love and Deepspace Xavier x Reader, Angst

✿⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁✿⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁✿

It had become a lullaby of sorts for Xavier. The rhythmic clicking of the clock as its little hand ticked in circles. No matter how much he stared at that clock that was slightly off center on the wall across his bed, he couldn’t tell you how much time has passed since he’s been confined to the uncomfortable mattress provided by the hospital.

While Xavier stared off into the distance through the window of his hospital room, watching the orange and red leaves of fall dance in the wind, a sudden crash of metal thins and utensils pulled him from his thoughts. With a curious gaze, Xavier turned his head towards the door. His soft eyes met your wary ones.

“Uh-! Sorry,” You scrambled around to pick up the items that you just dropped, “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Xavier just stared at you, wide eyed and confused. Why were you here of all places? He wondered to himself before stretching a smile at you.

“It’s alright. I actually don’t mind the company.” Xavier’s voice was like soft silk as he tilted his head and lightly chuckled. “You… Don‘t look like a doctor or nurse.”

You smiled and shook your head as you stood up, carrying the metal thin in your arms, “I’m a volunteer,” You motioned to the name tag on your shirt. “I was bringing this back to the storage room and, you know, tripped.” A small laugh came from you in an awkward attempt to cool your burning cheeks of embarrassment.

“No need to feel so embarrassed, I’ve had plenty of falls.” Xavier laughed along with you as you walked into the room. “I’m Xavier, and you are…”

“Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” That cheerful and carefree voice of yours made his heart ache. It was too much, but he forced the lump in his throat down.

That was the first meeting Xavier had with the you he knew now. Although you were different, so much of you were still the same. Like your smile and sparkling eyes that rivaled the stars. Ever since than you had started to pay him visits every now and then even long after your volunteer work was done. You two had a blossoming friendship.

“And then, there was this really tall mascot! It scared some of the kids away and I just couldn’t help but laugh!” You chirped on about your weekend to Xavier as he listened intently to your words.

All your visits have been the same. You would come back and tell him stories about your vacations, hobbies, events, and even just the mundane things that he seemed particularly interested in. Although he was stuck in bed most of the time, you seemed to breathe life into the porcelain white walls of his hospital room.

Xavier laughed along with you, “Did you get any pictures with it?” He sighed out with that gentle smile of his.

“Nope! I didn’t get the chance, I was too busy trying to calm down my nephew.” You frowned and sighed with a shaking head. “I’m so bummed! I would’ve love to show you it.”

“It’s fine. Hearing your stories is more than enough.” Xavier sincerely spoke out with a light hearted chuckle.

This was enough. Just being in the same room, talking about life, and having you by his side again. Even if his condition was getting worse, your being there made it bearable, until it became hard to ignore.

Xavier was getting thin. Sickly thin. He knew he didn’t have long until his time would be up, but he had already anticipated this. He knew it was only a matter of time before his body started to succumb to being in a foreign world. In his attempt to spare you any grief, Xavier would deny your visits and sleep. Until you had enough.

“Xavier, talk to me.” You had stormed into his room. “You’ve been denying my visits and even hide under the covers whenever you see me. Why? I thought we were friends.” The pain in your voice wasn’t hard to ignore. You were upset.

Xavier continued to lay in his bed with the blanket pulled over his head. He didn’t want you to see him like this. Not when he had gotten so weak and frail. But even though he didn’t want you to, he couldn’t help but pull the covers down and smile up at you.

“I’m getting worse.” Xavier spoke out with an unsettling smile as if he wasn’t dying. “They say I probably have a year left, but…” He bit his tongue and looked out of the window to watch the gentle snowflakes float down. “…I’d say I won’t even get to see spring.”

“What?” You were in disbelief. You couldn’t believe what he was saying and you couldn’t believe your eyes matter of fact. It had only been a month. “How are you so sure?”

“I just do.” Xavier looked back over at you and reached for your hand. “Don’t look so sad. I like it much better when you’re smiling.” His slender thumb brushed your palm gently.

Confusion and pain was clear on your face as you shook your head and grabbed his hand. “I’ll stay by your side, Xavier. Please don’t push me away anymore… I can’t stand it.” His eyes widened slightly as you brought his hands up to your warm cheeks.

And just like that, you two went back to the life you knew. You started to visit him more frequently and even started to take pictures of your outings so you could share them with him. While the weather was cold and frigid, you felt warm and safe being with him. Slowly, the snow covered streets and pavements melted as the weather warmed. And just as Xavier warned, he was getting weaker as the days went on. Spring was just around the corner.

“Do you like spring?” Xavier suddenly spoke out, his eyes locked on yours.

“I do. It’s warm and cool. And there are more things you can do compared to winter.” You nodded and smiled over at him.

“I wish we could spend next spring with each other. I would’ve loved it.”

“They said you had a year left… We’ll see next spring together again.”

Xavier’s expression wavered for just a moment before he chuckled and nodded. “Yes, we will.”

The weeks flew by and more snow melted as the creeping spring season approached. With a bouquet of fresh flowers in hand, you cheerfully made your way to Xavier’s room to celebrate the first day of spring. You were holding yourself back from rubbing it in his face how he would indeed make it till spring.

“Xavier~!” You cheered as you walked into his room and begun to prep the flowers. “These are the first flowers of the season. Mmm! They smell so nice!”

Xavier weakly looked up at you and smiled before reaching for your hand and holding it, yet he didn’t say anything.

“…Why are you so quiet? Come on, I told you you’d make it till spring. Look.” You pulled away and opened the window to let the warm air in. “It’s spring, Xavier. Spring.” You grinned happily to him.

“I know…” Xavier nodded slowly as he stared up at you with the wind brushing through your soft locks. “…But it makes this harder…” His usual meek expression hardened into a pained expression.

“…We’ll see next spring together too… so, it’s not too bad.”

“…I wish we could… I wish we could see everything together… not just spring…”

“…When you get better, let’s go see the world. I’ll take you to go see that mascot… Instead of bringing you flowers, we can just go see them…”

His hands laced into yours, mustering up enough strength to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. Even if you two never said it, you could tell what we wanted to say. He loved you.

“…Thank you for letting me see spring with you… Even if it was just one more time…” Xavier weakly smiled and brushed his thumb over your hand.

Xavier knew his words sounded strange to you, but he didn’t care anymore. He never cared about anything other than you whenever you were by his side. As of right now, all he really did care about was getting you to smile despite the tears that welled in your beautiful eyes he loved so much.

“You know… Your smile is much more lovely than any flower…” Xavier breathed out in a whisper, intending those words to only ever be heard by you.

Tears begun to fall as you sat on his bed and brought his hands up to your cheek with a sad smile. “Yeah, I know…” You sniffled, trying to ignore how cold his hands had gotten.

Slowly, Xavier’s eyes closed for the last time with his hands on your cheeks that could feel the stretch of your smile. As he held your cheek limply, his smile never wavered as he drifted into an eternal sleep. For once the room that was always filled with your laughter silenced to the pitiful sound of your sobs and the deafening beep of the monitor.

Tears streamed down your cheeks with your hand tightly grasping Xavier’s as the once soothing spring breeze wafted through the opened window. The breeze now unnaturally cold as it danced through your hair.

Xavier was gone and he took the warmth of spring with him.

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(Not proofread!)