"Shut Up!" - LaDS Reactions.

Just Be Yourself

Xavier; Zayne; Rafayel; Sylus; Caleb x female!reader || with teenage kids!

Genre: fluff

Warnings: 300-600 words, lgbtq+ kids!, married lads&reader, reader likes women too in Sylus's part!

Note: as a pansexual person I know how much of a struggle coming out to your parents may be, but I believe our dear lads men would do a great job at creating a safe space for their kids to come out to them

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How would they react to their kids coming out to them?

Xavier was lying on the couch, peacefully watching tv and falling asleep when his 16 year old son interrupted his tries to take a nap.

"Dad?" he walked around the couch to get to him and shake his shoulder a bit.

"Hm..?" was the only response he got, Xavier not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I have something to talk to you about. Can you quit sleeping for a moment please?" and finally he saw his dad opening up his eyes (only half way) and sitting up.

"Yes?"

"Well I..." his son turned to look at the carpet, clearly stressed about something judging by the way he played with his fingers nervously.

Not rushing him Xavier simply stayed in one position, trying not to fall asleep.

"I'm... Gay..." finally he said, looking into his dad's eyes matching his own.

The next moment of silence seemed to last eternity, the teenager would lie if he said he wasn't afraid of his dad's response, even if you already assured him he'll accept him no matter what.

"Okay." that... Was it?

"Okay?" Orion repeated after Xavier, tension leaving him, allowing confusion to take place.

"Okay. It's not my business to tell you who to love." he stated like the simplest thing in the world.

In a second he was wrapped in a tight hug which he reciprocated a little too slow from the lack of his afternoon nap.

"You're the best, dad!" his son cried out into his shoulder, squeezing Xavier tighter before letting go of him to run somewhere "Mom, you were right! I can't wait to tell my boyfriend that he can come over for lunch!"

Xavier lied down again, getting comfy under the material of a blanket when...

BOYFRIEND?!

He looked in the direction his son disappeared to, not feeling sleepy any longer.

Sitting in the dining room with his laptop and a half finished coffee Zayne continued filling up patients reports regarding his last surgeries.

He heard footsteps coming from behind him, recognizing them as his child's he continued with his work not turning around to acknowledge the teen, expecting them to pass by the room on their way to the kitchen.

"Dad? Can I talk to you about something?" he heard the hesitation accompanying their voice.

"Of course, what's bothering you?" he said not taking his eyes off the monitor.

"Could you... Not focus on your work for a bit..?" the presence of vulnerability accompanying their quiet words made him worried.

"Yes, forgive me." he took his hands off the keyboard, turning his head towards the teen.

What he saw made him pause for a moment, brows arching in confusion.

There he was, his 16 year old son, standing with eyes dropped to the floor, nervous, almost crying and in... Make-up?

Seeing how they didn't seem eager to express what was bothering them Zayne decided to push the topic a little bit, already expecting what the conversation was going to be about.

"You look nice." he simply stated, not a hint of anger or disappointment in his voice.

The shock he saw on the teen's face the very next second spoke loudly, tears forming in their eyes.

With a hand gesture he asked them to come forward, taking their hand into his.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he gently stated, brushing one tears away from their cheek.

Nodding their head they tried to compose themselves enough to make a sentence leave their closing on the air throat.

"I... I want you to call me Ivy from now on." Zayne brushed their hair away from their eyes, the warm present in his eyes, reserved only for his little family.

"Ivy." he said, testing it on his tongue and nodding approvingly "I like it."

He saw the way his daughter bit her lip so as not to let out a sob before crashing her dad into a hug.

"Don't ruin your make-up, I know mom worked hard on this one." she laughed at the comment "To this day I remember how your mom cried at the party once, with a napkin under her eyes, refusing to smear her mascara."

"Mom's always been a girl boss, wasn't she?" they laughed together.

"That she was, and you're exactly like her." he felt the hug tightening up even more.

"Those god-damned SEAGULLS-" Rafayel screamed, looking at the mischievous bird that stole his paintbrush simply because he put it on a table for a second too long to take a sip of the tea made by you.

"Why are we yelling?!" now the artist didn't only scream but also jumped, startled.

"When did you get here?!" he looked with hurt at his daughter, holding a hand to his chest to calm his heart down.

"Stop yelling!" he heard you, his wife, screaming from the kitchen.

"Of course, cutie!"

"Sorry, mom!" they both answered, turning in the direction of your voice, your figure hidden behind a wall.

Rafayel looked at his daughter, waiting to see whether she wanted something or if he could come back to his peaceful (not really) lookout for inspiration.

"I have news~" she said, almost singing it, and swaying to the sides with a huge grin on her face.

"Hit me with it." he watched her happiness, preparing for the news of the century.

"I have a girlfriend!" she jumped up and clapped her hands in joy.

Rafayel almost fell from his stool.

"A what?!"

"I said something!" your voice rang from the kitchen again, with your head peeking out to send him a firm glare.

"I'm sorry, honey, love you!" he said to you before turning back to his daughter "A what." he pointed at her in shock.

"A girlfriend! You know, a girl, that I really, really like? Like you like mom?" she explained to him sarcastically, watching as he tried to process the information.

"Okay, first of." he raised a finger and looked at her with disappointment "I don't like your mom, I love her." he said firmly, it was important to correct that huge HUGE mistake his daughter said.

"I love you too, darling!" you butt in again, to which he pointed approvingly in your way, still hidden behind a wall and busy.

"And second." he didn't move his eyes away from his grinning daughter "You're too young to have a girlfriend!"

"Dad, I'm 16 years old! I'm turning 17 in half a year!" she protested.

"You're still a baby!"

"I'm not a baby anymore."

"To me you'll always be a baby!" he cried out, upset that his child grows up.

"Dad, pleasee-" she groaned in disbelief.

"Also since when do you like girls?!" he looked at her sternly "How come I didn't know about it?"

"Oh please, I couldn't be more obvious about it, I had a crush on every single one of the female characters in every single movie we watched together." she deadpanned to him to which he responded with his lips turning into a straight line, eyes half closed, a hand on his chin and thinking.

"Okay, yeah, the signs were there." he nodded his head "But didn't you have a boyfriend like a year ago?"

"Yeah, I'm bi, dad." she explained.

"Oh shit double the idiots to protect you from." his eyes widened in panic.

"Daaad." she groaned again, he was unbelievable. She raised her head to look up at the ceiling before her eyes fell back to him "So, you're okay with this?" she asked, a little bit unsure, but still calm.

"What, with you being bisexual? Sure, love who you want to love and all that. What I'm not okay with is all the idiots that are gonna try to win you over that don't deserve you. No one deserves you!" she laughed at his antics.

Yeah, she loved her drama queen dad.

"Father, I have something important to tell you." Sylus stopped humming, turning his head to sneak a glance at his 17 year old daughter. He was currently cooking dinner for you, since you were in too much pain to move due to your period, he wanted to spoil you in every way he could.

"Yes, Lilith?" he asked while taking out plates.

"I hate men." she said, standing with her arms crossed over her chest and sending a dead glare from those red eyes of hers.

"Just like your mother." he muttered, completely unfazed, still focusing on the task at hand.

"No, dad, I mean I'll never be with one, I hate looking at them, and want to throw up anytime I see one without a shirt." he still didn't look like the information shocked or hurt him "I like women, okay?" she said firmly, annoyed at his lack of reaction. Now he finally turned to look at her again.

"Like I said; just like your mother." he deadpanned. His daughter's mouth fell open in confusion.

"Wait, mom likes girls?" he nodded, not caring too much for the topic "But she married you?!" now he chuckled.

"Yes, you see, Lily, your mother hated men, always did, still does, saying that they are all scums and she'll never find herself in a relationship with one." she smiled gently, as if reminiscing his wife's words brought him joy "But then I came along, and now she hates every single man, except for me. Now, your mom is attracted to all genders, in case you haven't noticed yet." he looked at the teen, crocking an eyebrow.

"How was I supposed to notice?! Every time I am with the both of you somewhere in public all you two do is stare at each other and tease each other to the point I want to cry, cause I'll never have someone love me like you love each other!" she argued with him, making some very energetic hand gestures. Sylus only chuckled, yes, him and his wife are crazy over each other.

"Now, now, sweetie, I'm sure you'll find someone who'll love you just as much. Now I do have to say, I prefer you liking women too, I'm not a... Huge fun of teenage boys anywhere near my daughter." he said, coming back to focusing on the cooking.

"Thanks, dad, I knew I could count on you to understand." she said, more calmly this time, grinning right after "Oh! Also, I sneaked to mom like 10 minutes ago, we're doing a self-care evening today while watching movies, wanna join?" she asked, clapping her hands, like a kid talking about sweets.

"Sure, I don't see why not. Just make sure not to hug her too tightly on the sad scenes, she doesn't feel too well today." Lily nodded, running out of the kitchen right after to get into her pajamas.

She loved days on which her always busy father found the time to indulge in her little plans.

It was early morning, Caleb as usual woke up first to start off his day with making breakfast for his family. On any other day it would be you who'd join him in the kitchen first, before your kids wake up, especially on the weekend like this, but this time his oldest son was the one to greet him first.

"Hey, dad." he simply said, reaching out for a glass to pour apple juice into.

"What's got you to wake up at 7am on Saturday?" Caleb asked, focused on cutting vegetables.

"Didn't sleep well last night, I have something to talk to you about, I already talked to mom about this last week when you were gone on a mission, decided it's better to do it before Skye and Ethan wake up." he stated, as calm and collected as his father.

"Sounds serious, what's up?" he sneaked a glance at his son, still working on the breakfast.

"Well I... I have a partner. We hit six months together recently, and I wanted to... Invite them for dinner sometime, you know, so that you'll meet them." he explained slowly, Caleb listened in silence, connecting dots in his head.

"Where's the catch?" he said instantly when Alec stopped talking.

"No catch just..." the teen exhaled.

Caleb looked at the 18 year old boy, waiting for him to finish the thought.

"They're... Non-binary." he finally said, his dad's expression didn't betray how he felt about that "And since we never talked about stuff like that, I wanted to ask if that's... Okay with you."

"Date who you want to." he simply said "I just want you and your siblings to be happy." he put the perfectly chopped veggies on the pan.

"So you won't have a problem with addressing them accordingly?"

"Nope." he didn't hesitate "Now if that topic is over, go and set the table, usually your mom is the one helping me with that, but today you were faster than her, congrats." Caleb chuckled hearing his son groan.

"Waking up early is no fun." he stated before getting to work.

©alexrosa13 on tumblr

taglist @pozuki

xavier | 11:53 PM

"Xavier, is that you?"

"Yeah."

You hear the front door close gently, and it's immediately followed by the shuffle of heavy footsteps heading towards you. You look up from your phone, which you had been scrolling mindlessly on for the last hour, to see Xavier, still in his uniform, standing at the end of the sofa.

Before you can greet him, you see his knees buckle, and he falls face first onto the sofa, his face just landing next to your thigh, his long legs dangling from the arm rest.

You gingerly place your hand on his head, your fingers finding their way into his light hair.

"Xavier," you whisper his name, trying to stop him from falling asleep.

He grunts, the few syllables he tries to say muffled by the leather of the sofa. Then, you start to hear him snore.

"Xavier," you say, a little louder, giving the hair in between your fingers a soft tug.

He rolls his head to the side. "Tired," he mumbles, his eyes closed. "Sleep now."

"I know," you say, starting to get up from the sofa. "But you're still in uniform. Can you at least take a quick shower, get into some comfortable clothes and then go to bed?"

He gives you no answer. Instead, another soft snore escapes his lips, and you roll your eyes to yourself, before walking off.

There's a beat of silence before you hear his rushed, heavy footsteps.

---

"Xavier! Xavier, help!"

The door to the bathroom swings open, and you see Xavier, one hand gripping the handle, and the other the doorframe.

"What-"

Before he can say anything else, you rise from the side of the bathtub, and reach for his arm, pulling him into the bathroom. You close the door, and lock it behind you, preventing him from attempting escape.

Xavier stares at you, then his eyes flicker towards the bathtub, then back to you. You motion with your head towards the tub, which is covered in bubbles, with small tendrils of steam rising from it.

Xavier, having sensed your plan, sighs. "Are you serious?"

You press your back against the bathroom door. "Deadly. Get in the tub."

He shakes his head. It's dim in the bathroom, with only a few candles lighting the room, but you see a shy grin tug at the corners of his lips.

Wordlessly, he starts undressing, and you realize that you're still in the room with him. You inhale sharply, hoping that he doesn't notice, but his eyes meet yours, and he smirks.

"Are you going to watch me get naked?"

You immediately spin around, nose pressed against the door, hoping that he didn't see the flush spreading across your cheeks. You hear him chuckle as the last of his clothes fall to the ground. He lets out a soft hiss as he steps into the tub, and you hear the water splash at the sides of it.

"Oh... oh my..."

There are another few splashes as he submerges himself, and you turn again to see Xavier's head just slightly peaking out from the bubbles. He dunks his head into the water, then rises out of it again, his hair plastered to his forehead. He glances at you and gives you a drowsy grin.

"Thank you. This is heavenly"

You nod, and you turn to head out of the bathroom, but Xavier's arm shoots out of the tub and his soapy fingers wrap around your wrist. They're slippery, but his grip is tight.

"Can you... can you stay with me a little bit?"

You take a deep breath in before you give him a smile. "Of course."

You kneel at the edge of the tub, watch as his eyes start to flutter shut again. You reach for the shampoo bottle on the bathroom counter, pop it open, and squeeze some of it into your palm. You then shuffle around to the end of the tub where Xavier's head is, and you rub your hands together, producing some foam. You reach for his head, your fingers finding his hair once again. Xavier lets out a drawn out groan, which causes heat to spread across your cheeks, but you say nothing, and you continue massaging the shampoo into his hair.

You hear him start to snore again, and this time, you can't bring yourself to wake him up. You admire the small droplets of water that have formed on his eyelashes, the warm feeling going from your face to the pit of your stomach. His forehead is covered in suds, but you can't resist - you press your lips lightly against it, murmuring into his damp skin.

"Good night, Xavier."

THE LOVE OF A WRITER

Xavier x Writer!Reader

A/N: This is the first time I ever write on Tumblr, and also the first time I wrote something in 2nd person about LADS. English is not my first language, so I'd appreciate any type of feedback to improve my writing c: thank you for reading!

Summary: Xavier is coming to your apartment to watch a movie. While waiting for you in the living room, he finds a notebook that ignites a flame at the idea that someone else had stolen your heart.

Tags: Pre-relationship, fluff, some angst (just a little), sfw, jealous Xavier, conflicted feelings.

Words: 2,6k

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You had invited Xavier to come over to watch a movie, taking advantage of his day off. It was a regular activity you'd adopted since you'd become close after so much time being neighbors and coworkers. While you were in charge of cooking —since you didn't fully trust Xavier's cooking skills—, he was in charge of buying drinks and some snacks for the movie.

While you were waiting for Xavier to arrive, you decided to take a quick shower. You made sure to send him a text letting him know he could come in freely to get comfortable until you were done.

Xavier always made sure to bring your favorite snack or dessert as compensation for you always cooking something delicious for him. He usually didn't pay too much attention to what he ate, too busy hunting Wanderers and sleeping, only eating instant noodles and simple dishes that Xavier managed to cook without making a mess, or just go to a hot pot restaurant if he didn't feel like settling for his poor cooking. Every time you invited him over to eat was like a gift to him.

He entered your apartment silently, one of his hands carrying a bag with snacks and drinks to share with you during the movie. The other was holding his phone, still with your chat on the screen. Knowing that you were busy taking a shower, he walked to your living room and settled on the couch to wait for you.

He wasn't a nosy person, he respected your privacy a lot even when sometimes he was dying to know what was going on in your mind. So, whatever kind of secret you had, he would respect it because he knew you would tell him when you felt comfortable enough.

When he saw the open notebook on the table next to the sofa, he couldn't help but feel curious. He didn't think it was something private considering it was open, it's content revealed to anyone to see.

He picked it up with curiosity and looked at it carefully. It was a scruffy, plain notebook, nothing flashy. Xavier remembered having seen that notebook in the past: In a cafeteria where you two had agreed to go, you were absentmindedly writing in that notebook, oblivious to Xavier's gaze, and when he reached your side, you smiled at him and closed the notebook immediately. Or when he saw you by chance in a plaza, you were eating some donuts while your eyes focused on the notebook and your hand moved non-stop. That time Xavier didn't make you stop writing, it was you who stopped writing, putting away the notebook and grabbing your things before looking up and encountering his gaze.

It was inevitable that he felt curious about the content. What was it that had you so focused on writing? He thought he might come across lists, date reminders, or things like that. Maybe even some drawing. But what he found were pages full of text, some scratches and corrections here and there. Your handwriting varied in shape and size, sometimes clear and neat, other times sloppy, abrupt, and confusing.

Despite how overwhelming the interior looked, Xavier tried to read the first line of a paragraph.

«He is kind, gentle, and chivalrous. He easily attracts attention even when he doesn't mean to. People couldn't help but gravitate toward him like moths to a flame. Akira was simply exceptional».

Nothing in that paragraph had caught his attention until he read what followed.

«Maybe that's why I liked him so much».

He stared at the text, reading that last line over and over again. It was as if he couldn't quite comprehend what he was reading, as if the words didn't quite make sense. When he was finally convinced that what he was reading was not a product of his imagination, he began to read a few more lines.

«I liked to take advantage of any situation to be by his side. He was dense enough not to notice my intentions.»

«One of my favorite places is the beach when it's about to rain. I realized that's the exact color of her eyes. Other times they were the color of the starry night sky.»

«...and his lips were the most tempting thing the universe could have created.»

Many things went through Xavier's head too quickly, thoughts that merged together and were too confusing to say out loud. Only one thing stood out from all his mental chaos.

Who is Akira?

His mind tried to recall all the workers he remembered from the Association. He tried to remember if he had ever read Akira's name anywhere or heard it in conversation. After failing at that, he tried to remember if any neighbors in the building had that name, maybe someone he hadn't met but you had. The more he searched, the less he found.

By the time you got out of the shower and walked back into the living room, dressed and arranged comfortably, Xavier had a thoughtful expression, the closed notebook on the table next to the sofa.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a smile and approached the small table to see the contents of the bag he had brought. “As expected of you, you brought my favorite.”

You called him to come to the dining room, since you had left the food ready for when he arrived.

He didn't move.

“Xavier?” You called.

It took him a moment to snap out of his thoughtful state.

“Oh. Coming.”

You ate and talked peacefully, you asked him questions from time to time and he answered gently and kindly. Still, it was inevitable to feel that his responses were more careful than usual.

Once you settled in to watch the movie, Xavier took on a serious expression that was out of place considering the movie was mostly a comedy. Still, you didn't question it, you knew Xavier was sometimes strange in his own way, so you didn't think anything of it.

After a few minutes of the film, Xavier was unable to hold it any longer. Although the way he started the conversation wasn't... subtle.

“Do you like someone?”

You turned to look at him instantly, unable to believe that he had actually asked something like that out of the blue.

“What?”

For some reason, that answer irritated him. He wanted to ask you so many things. Ask you about that "Akira" you mentioned so often in your notebook, ask you if you truly meant everything you said in those pages. Ask you if it were true, what you thought of him. Did you see him as just a friend? Coworker? Neighbor?

Suddenly he realized how easy it was to lose you over something as mundane as you falling in love with someone other than him. It was like a punch in the stomach when he realized he might have already lost you.

For a second, he had a flashback to a conversation in the past, who knows how many years ago.

You saying that maybe you had fallen in love with someone, him replying that it was a good thing. You asking if he wasn't curious to know who it was, and him having to take a moment to say that it didn't matter, that he was happy for you.

Too guilty for not being honest with you.

Too jealous to accept that someone else had your heart.

“Do you like someone?” He asked again, unable to continue thinking about how unpleasant the feeling of deja vu was.

“Where does that question come from?” You laughed and he felt more irritation and his stomach turn over.

Was that a yes?

“Lately I've noticed certain things,” he lied. He was good at lying, he had been doing it for a long time. He was especially good at lying to you, unfortunately. “You smile more, your eyes sparkle... and we watch more romantic movies than usual.”

He said the last thing while pointing at the television with his chin. The main couple was in the middle of a romantic scene, looking at each other affectionately and sharing smiles.

“Oh,” you said. “I hadn't realized that.”

Again, an answer he didn't like.

“So? Is that a yes?” He settled back on the couch, turning his body to look directly at you. “Who’s the lucky one?”

You laughed again, leaning over the living room table to reach for a snack. Xavier pressed his lips together.

You weren't taking him seriously.

“I have no idea how you came to that conclusion, but I assure you there is no one.” You smiled at him sincerely. “It’s all just a coincidence.”

Lie.

The fact that you didn't want to tell him directly was another blow to the gut. You didn't trust him? You didn't want him to know? Why?

There was a silence in which only the movie could be heard. Xavier was no longer listening and you only paid half attention to it. Then he spoke again.

“Who is Akira?”

When those words left his mouth, he immediately regretted saying them because he knew he had sounded desperate.

Until he saw the change in your expression. You didn't laugh. Your smile froze and there was something in your eyes that confirmed he had asked the right thing.

He saw alarm.

“Who?” You asked, but instead of genuine confusion, he heard caution.

You knew who he was talking about.

“Akira.” He responded softly, his eyes focused on you, looking for more information with any change in your expression.

“Where did you hear that name?”

Faced with that question, Xavier had the decency to look away and look embarrassed. What was he supposed to tell you? That he'd snooped through your notebook without your permission while you weren't looking? What would that say about him? That would only prove you right that he was not trustworthy.

He couldn't bear the thought of breaking your trust. Not again.

Your gaze quickly searched for the table next to the sofa that was behind Xavier. It was closed, but you couldn't help but press your lips together, tense that it was within his reach.

As Xavier looked away, you stood up from the couch and leaned towards him. He immediately turned his gaze to you, eyes wide open as he watched you come closer. However, when he saw you step back with the notebook in your hand, he looked away.

“Xavier...” You kept your gaze on your notebook, your hands gripping it tightly. After a moment, you looked up at him, tense. “Did you read my notebook?”

Xavier swallowed before looking at you.

“It... wasn’t my intention.” He told you with sincerity and heaviness.

Again you two fell silent. The film had been completely forgotten by both of you. You looked at Xavier like you didn't believe he was real and he looked at you like you were about to break his heart.

Then, against all odds, you laughed.

“My god,” you gasped, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. “How embarrassing.”

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. He looked at you in confusion as you shook your head and looked back at him.

“It’s not what you think,” you said confidently. “I don’t like any Akira.”

It took Xavier a moment to respond.

“I read—”

“Yeah, I know.” You laughed again, this time rubbing your face with one hand. When you pulled away and Xavier could see your face again, he saw the slight blush on your cheeks. “But what you read isn't my secret diary or anything like that. It’s my writing notebook.”

Xavier remained silent, processing your answer. He went over your words again and again until he finally registered their weight.

“Writing notebook?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “A notebook where I write down spontaneous ideas I have to write stories or longer projects in the future.”

Xavier continued to look at you intently as you opened the notebook to the first pages.

“Here’s my character index,” you explained as you carefully showed him the pages. “Akira is one of them. One of the main ones, in fact.” You flipped more pages to the middle and showed him more messy text. “These are ideas that come to me out of nowhere. Sometimes they're full scenes, other times they're thoughts of a specific character.”

You looked up with a small smile.

“What you read were the thoughts of my main character about him at the climax of the story.”

With those words, Xavier breathed again. He let out a shaky sigh and looked away from your face. It was as if an invisible weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he couldn't help but bring his fist to his lips in an attempt to hide his embarrassed expression.

“I thought that—” He said but stopped, thinking that maybe what he said would only embarrass him more.

This time you laughed out loud as Xavier tried to hide his embarrassment by grabbing a snack from the table. He ate without looking at you, incredulous that his apparent rival was a product of your imagination.

“Why were you so curious to know if I liked Akira?” You asked between laughs, still not wanting to drop the subject.

“I just—” He took a moment to answer. “I was curious to know who was the person that you wrote so passionately about.”

“Mmh...”

Entertained to see this side of Xavier, you decided to tease him a little.

“Well, do you wanna know a secret?” You leaned closer to him, voice quiet. “Akira is inspired by a real person.”

That was enough to get his attention. He looked at you again, his eyes fixed on you, attentive, alert, with tension ready to creep into his bones.

“Who?”

“Nope!” You shook your head. “That's a secret!”

You crossed your arms and raised your chin with a definitive gesture, giving drama to your words. Faced with his silence, you couldn't help but glance at him and seeing his expression —as if ready to seek out the one who had inspired such passionate writing—, you smiled at him.

“He is the most trusted and important person in the world to me. I am grateful to the universe for sending me such a wonderful star by my side.”

And your smile —Gods, your smile— was all he needed to realize your words. It felt like a shared secret. Like a confession.

His frown relaxed and he opened his mouth to speak, although at first he was unable to do so.

“Am I...?”

“The movie!” You turned your full attention back to the television, too embarrassed to give him any more information than you had already.

Xavier didn't need anything else to understand, not when he saw the blush on your face and the way you were trying so desperately to distance yourself talking about the movie and interesting facts about it.

He let out a chuckle that made you blush even more and made you think that maybe you had shared much away. However, Xavier simply adjusted himself so that he was sitting closer to you and his pinky finger brushed against yours on the couch.

“I'd love to read more of... your main character's thoughts about ‘Akira’,” he said with a warm and sincere smile.

Xavier definitely wouldn't leave you alone until he had read absolutely everything you had written in your notebook, until you told him how or why you made certain decisions and, especially, why didn't you just use his name instead of Akira's.

“Why did you name him Akira?”

“I didn't want to name him like anyone I knew.”

“You could just use my name, you know. I would prefer that you... your main character thinks all that about me and not a stranger.”

“Stop—”

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A/N: Thank you for reading! I might write more about writer!reader with the other LIs. I'd appreciate any type of ideas for future fics ;>

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! (*´▽`*)

fiction | xavier

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe a particularly poetic hallucination.

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

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

Of course, that snapped him right out of it.

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

Stoic. Controlled. Maybe a little embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

So, marriage. Sure. Why not.

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

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

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

Great. Now you had to marry that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tried being the keyword.

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

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

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

Romance was off to a fantastic start.

—•

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

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

You could practically hear the wedding bells in their eyes.

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

He didn’t seem flustered at all.

Meanwhile, you were trying to remember how breathing worked.

The air outside was cooler, quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smooth.

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

“You’re nothing like I imagined.”

That time, you actually choked.

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier didn’t answer right away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That caught you off guard. “You read?”

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

“Wow. Multitalented and humble.”

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

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

Just like the quiet warmth growing in your chest.

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

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

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

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

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

—•

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, your brain had other plans.

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

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

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

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

You were engaged. To that.

And worse—you liked it.

—•

The first date was… heartwarming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told them we’d be fine at a café.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m with UNICORNS,” he said simply.

You blinked. “UNICORNS?”

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly choked on your steak.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

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

Of course he was a secret agent. Of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re worth the risk.

Nope. Still devastating.

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

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

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

Measured.

Like he was actually listening. Really listening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly tripped on the gravel. “Mom.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Terrified,” you muttered under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still.

He was sitting very close.

Not touching you, technically.

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

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

Steady. Quiet. Very hard to ignore.

You might’ve leaned slightly away from him.

And then just as quickly, leaned back.

No use pretending now. You were officially doomed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I was.”

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

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

—•

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

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

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

You threw a pillow at her.

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

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

“Apparently, your absurdly attractive secret agent fiancé.”

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

“Yes?”

“I think I’m doomed.”

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

You let out a muffled scream into your blanket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mocked me.”

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

You narrowed your eyes. “Shaiya.”

“Yes, Mrs. Secret Agent?”

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

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

“I knew you’d cave.”

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

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

You were so in trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

Mini-yous and secret agents.

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

This was getting out of hand.

—•

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

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

It was awkward at first.

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

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

Meanwhile, you were trying not to combust.

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

Like this mattered to him.

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

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

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

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

Your brain short-circuited. Your stylist cooed.

And you?

You forgot how to breathe for about seven seconds.

This wedding might just kill you.

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

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

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

You blinked, thrown for a moment.

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

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

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

Your heart betrayed you again with an uneven thump.

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

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

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

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

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

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

No teasing. No smug follow-up.

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

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

Yep. You were so doomed.

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

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

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

You felt powerful. Gorgeous. Slightly dangerous.

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

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

You shifted on your feet. “Too much?”

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

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

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

Either way, you were spiraling.

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

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

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

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

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

Your wedding dress.

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

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

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

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

Yep.

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

—•

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

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

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

And Xavier—of course—found you there.

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

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

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

And then, you exhaled. “You nervous?”

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

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

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Good? That’s it?”

He turned fully toward you, his voice lower now.

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

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

“It is kind of heavy,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poised. Steady.

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

Toward you.

He wasn’t smiling—not quite.

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

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

The music began.

Your hands tightened on the bouquet.

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

And the doors slowly opened.

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

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

Xavier.

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

The pressure in your chest eased, just slightly.

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

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

But his eyes—his eyes said everything.

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

A quiet certainty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t smile—he softened. Completely.

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

You weren’t nervous anymore.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

anyway, before illusio ends... let me... just... leave this... here...

9:57 AM - Xavier woke up in a cold sweat. He had a dream about Lumiere

SILENT COMFORT

❥ First time wearing his clothes

✎ AN: Xavier and MC are the best hunter duo, neighbours and close friends. A sudden predicament now threatens to change that dynamic (no angst, they're good). Reader is referred to as MC.  Word count: 1.7 k Disclaimer: I cannot guarantee these are 100% compatible with the story and lore, I don’t have all cards and my memory only stretches so far.

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❥ Xavier: You and Xavier finally return to HQ after a grueling long battle fighting wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon. Upon your arrival several coworkers showered you both with praise and applause earning awkward smiles from you, whereas Xavier remained as calm as ever as you both made your way toward the locker room. Suddenly you heard someone declare you and Xavier the best team of your branch. Feeling a warmth rise on your cheeks you carefully turn to look at Xavier who adorns a soft smirk whilst keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. He would never dare admit it, but he loved when people praised your teamwork. Not your skills individually, but the fact that you made each other better hunters and everyone knew it.

The door to the locker room closes behind you and a calm silence soothes both your headaches. Xavier looks at you for the first time since you got back and you both sigh in unison. A gentle smile plays on his lips as his body tries to relax. He stretches his arms out and turns his neck left and right in an attempt to loosen the strained muscles. You do the same. No one says anything but there is nothing awkward about this silence. You’ve worked together for so long now that you know the need for silence after long missions is a necessity, before you’re in any position to discuss the mission and how your tactics worked. You move toward your locker leaving muddy shoe prints in your path. Xavier disappears around the corner.

“Oh no…” You whisper as you stare at the contents of your locker. It’s not as full as you expected it to be. You look down at your uniform. It is covered in dirt, dust and mud. Taking the train home in your uniform usually grants you attention from strangers, but in its current state you’d basically be littering on the train. 

“What is the matter?” You jump at the sudden sight of Xavier peeking out from around the corner. He’s in the middle of pulling a clean shirt onto his toned arms. You can’t help but stare and let your gaze linger a bit too long on his sculpted torso. Only when you notice he’s started working on the buttons of his shirt are you able to regain your sanity. His brows furrowed at your strange behavior and he pauses his buttoning to cross his arms and give you a concerned stare. 

You swallow hard before you’re properly able to voice your concern. “I don’t have any clean shirts. I forgot I spilled coffee on my other one before we went out this morning.”

“Hm, this shirt is not really public transport friendly.” He moved closer to you and attempted to dust off the dried mud on your shoulder. He frowned. Not only was your shirt still dirty, his hand was too. He grabbed your wrist with the muddy hand and dragged you over to his locker. 

“You can borrow my hoodie?” He reached into the locker and grabbed his neatly folded white hoodie with his clean hand. 

“Why do you have your hoodie here? I thought everyone wore their uniform back and forth from work.”

“I faced a similar predicament as you are facing now, this morning. I had no clean shirts at home, but knew I had an extra here. I was supposed to do laundry yesterday, but I took a nap after work and forgot.”

You smiled at the thought of him napping, thinking of all the times you had accidentally woken him up when you’d call asking if he needed anything from the store, or if he wanted to join you for a jog. 

“Take it. I don’t mind sharing with you.” He smiled and you melted. It was just an innocent smile, but his hold on you was growing with every passing day. You had shared many things over the course of your friendship. Books, drinks, dinners… Nothing beat sharing the couch with him, napping in opposite corners with your legs tangled in the middle. He was too tall for either of you to get properly comfortable, but you easily dozed off each time anyways. However, sharing his hoodie seemed more intimate… Such a clichè… 

A familiar warmth reclaimed your face once more as you muttered out a thanks whilst returning his caring smile. You grabbed the hoodie and slowly turned around savoring an extra second of him in his half buttoned shirt before moving back toward your locker. That famous Xavier smirk reappeared when he carefully studied your frame as you walked away.  

You returned from the bathroom clean and dressed. His hoodie reached the middle of your thighs, and the sleeves reached beyond your fingertips. You were certain no item of clothing had ever fit you so perfectly. Clutching the collar you lift it to your nose and take in his scent still lingering on the fabric. Xavier… My Xavier… At least you wished he was. Such a terrifying thing to admit to yourself. You were coworkers and neighbours, adding a romantic relationship to the list seemed very risky. What if it didn’t work out? 

You reluctantly release the soft fabric from your grasp and take a few more steps to discover Xavier sitting at a bench waiting for you. Staring at you. His mouth stays quiet but his mind is racing at the sight of you being hugged by his favorite hoodie, almost an extension of himself. How he longed to wrap his strong arms around you. My MC…  

The train ride home is the same as any other day. You shared earbuds whilst engrossing yourselves in literature. He was reading a sci-fi novel about time travel, your recommendation. You had attempted to discreetly nuzzle your face into his hoodie keeping your book intentionally low so you’d have to crane your neck down to see it. Every time someone walked past you the wind would aid his scent to your nose and make you lose your spot on the page, but you didn’t mind. You were not able to maintain focus on the book anyways. Xavier seemed enthralled by the drama happening in his fictional world and for the first time you found yourself wishing the normally welcomed silence to finally come to an end. Speak, Xavier… Look at me, really look at me… But he doesn’t. 

You’re in the elevator slowly approaching the fifth floor. Each ding bringing you closer to an afternoon pining for the neighbour. You felt silly. You’d thought about Xavier a lot, but being engulfed in his essence seemed to have triggered something deep within you. 

Xavier had purposefully positioned himself slightly behind you in the elevator. He had been sneaking glances the whole way home, but with your gaze safely away from him, he could look for as long as he wanted. The incessant dinging of the elevator snapping him back to reality for a split second before his body refills itself with the warm and fuzzy feelings he always got when he was around you.

He felt such a strong sense of pride walking home with you today. He always hoped that any stranger who passed you would assume you were in a relationship, but today surely, no one could question it. The hoodie draping over your smaller frame was clearly his. You looked beautiful. His hand slowly crept upward as if to stroke your hair, but he did not dare to actually touch you. He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath as he longingly stroked the air behind you. 

The final ding of your journey startled you enough to make you lose your balance a bit. The back of your head was met by a soft palm that did not linger. You quickly turned to face Xavier and an unfamiliar expression stared back at you. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened and his ears were bright red. A stark contrast to his silver hair. 

“I’m sorry, I-I was just, uh.” The quilty hand that was still suspended in the air attempted to find refuge at the nape of his neck. You couldn’t come up with a response, too scared to make any assumptions regarding what his hand was doing so close to you.

“Oh, the door!” Xavier called out but the doors closed before he could get his feet to move. The sixth floor was now the next stop. His stop. Another ding and you’ve reached your final destination. He slowly cowers out of the small elevator and turns to face you as he exits. It looks like he’s about to say something but you beat him to it. Shit… You wish he had gotten the chance to speak first. 

“I’ll wash your hoodie and return it t-to you t-tomorrow.” Your vocal cords betray you as you can barely stutter out the words. Xavier slowly nodded before the action transitioned into him shaking his head vigorously. 

“No!” He exclaimed as he reached out to grab your arm. He misses but get’s a firm grasp on the sleeve of his hoodie quickly pulling you out of the elevator before the door closes, threatening to separate you from him once more. He wrestles with the idea of pulling you further into his embrace but settles on grasping your wrist with his other hand and holding it securely to his chest. 

“Would you maybe like to join me for dinner, MC? We can make something together, or get take out, whatever you feel like.” There is a sense of urgency and desperation in his voice and you can’t help but lean into the hope that his sudden lack of composure might mean what you hope it does. Your hand hovering over his racing heartbeat certainly gives off such an impression. This dinner invitation was different to past meals you’ve shared. 

You look up at him and smile fearing that your words will fail you. He catches on and lets out a sigh of relief as you both move toward his door. He suddenly pauses and reaches out to stop you.

“Just in case my intentions weren’t clear.” He says as his hand wanders up the sleeve of his hoodie searching for yours. His slightly sweaty palm gently grabs yours and you suck on your bottom lip trying to contain the smile threatening to explode. You slowly move further down the hallway as you both relax into the security of each other's touch. It feels so right… 

The door unlocks but before he enters he turns to you and says “Oh, um, please don’t wash the hoodie before returning it to me.”

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✎AN: And they lived happily ever after. Had to get a tiny bit of freak Xavier in at the end there, hope you don't mind. English is not my first language, so I hope you'll cut me some slack.

- Colonel Kaboom

Bunny!Xavier and his strange affectionate habits

there’s always something new with your bunny boyfriend. his habits are so strange!

✎ᝰ a/n: i guess this is a series now lmao. if i were to do zayne or caleb, what animals would they even be. cat and dog? we’ll have to figure this out >_>

dragon sylus version

mermaid rafayel version

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❥ he nibbles on you! it’s gotten to be a little bit of a problem, but xavier can’t help himself. he’ll nibble on your skin and hair until there are tiny little red marks painted on you. at first you thought these were little hickeys, but the real explanation is much more innocent.

bunnies nibble to groom you! he’ll especially groom you when you’re bed rotting or are too lazy to get up. he wants to make sure you’re clean and if you’re not taking care of yourself — he will! but he also nibbles to get your attention. xavier is known to be pouty and clingy, so if he’s low on your love today he’ll forcefully sit on your lap and nibble on your face until you give in.

❥ he hides in your hair. whenever xavier feels overwhelmed or stressed, he’ll go straight to you and dig his head in your hair. it’s a combination of your scent and your shielding hair strands that gives him a sense of safety. he likes the way your hair feels against his skin along with the way it keeps him warm.

but still — wet, dry, tangled, brushed; he really doesn’t care what your hair is looking like, as long as he can bury his nose in your scalp and close his eyes. this also makes for a good cuddling session!

❥ he eats everything. xavier has the appetite of three elephants and then another three elephants. whether he can cook or not is irrelevant, even if he burns something to the point of it being inedible, he’ll still eat it. snacks you’ve saved for later or baked good you’ve left out gets gobbled immediately by him, and it was only ‘til you scolded him that he stopped. stopped taking you food that is, he’ll still beg.

if he smells a meal in the house he’ll quickly sit next to you and smile silently, hoping that you’ll spare him a piece. he’s learned to be less greedy, go easy on him — but he’ll become extremely elated if you give him a quick nibble. he wouldn’t even ask for a full piece of chicken or bread, just a little slither is enough to keep him happy. he thinks of eating together as bonding.

❥ he mimics you. sometimes consciously, mostly unconsciously, xavier will pick up and mimic your habits. if you have a habit of playing with your hair, xavier will also start playing with his hair to mirror you. if you touch your necklace in thought, xavier will also touch his imaginary necklace while he thinks. it wasn’t until he picked up on your manner of sneezing that you realized you left an impression on him.

you didn’t say anything at first: finding it rather endearing how xavier unknowingly imitates you. but once you brought it up in passing xavier tilted his head in confusion. did he really mimic you that much? he was a little oblivious to that fact, apparently. but even with that realization, xavier doesn’t try and stop himself learning from you. in fact, he tries to tease you by imitating you even more. he loves being like you because he simply just loves you.

❥ he teases you with his ears. xavier knows how much you love his ears, so he’ll use them to his advantage to play. when you’re asleep and he wants you awake, he’ll climb the bed, lean into your face, and move one of his ears over your cheek to stir you awake. in a similar fashion, he’ll use his ears to wrap around your head or wrist as another way to embrace you. the fluffy feel of his ears was always welcome on your skin, it felt like a hug from a pillow.

but by far his favourite way to use his ears on you was when he lightly traced your midsection and thighs with the very tips of his fluff. it tickles you slightly, but the purpose of this tease was to get you riled up and beg for a little more contact. he obliges, of course, but slowly. he loves taking his time with you. by the end of it all, his ears around wrapped around your thighs as he satiates his hunger in a different way this time.

❥ he claps when he’s happy. this can be mistaken as a normal human habit, but xavier does it much more often and eagerly than any regular person. his hands will patter together rapidly to create a very quiet but joyful sound. he has no “normal” way of clapping, he only does it in one specific way to show how content he is. if he thinks the sound is too distracting for the moment, he’ll hide his hands behind his back and pitter-patter them there.

even over small things like finding his favourite ramen in-stock at the store, he’ll clap very quietly to himself before putting it in the cart, and later on, when he gets to show you what he got from the store, he’ll start clapping again from how happy he is to share his excitement. as reserved as he is on the outside, xavier is very chipper on the inside.

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ೃ⁀➷ FLUSTERING HIM — zayne, xavier, rafayel x gn!reader

it tends to be difficult to flustered the impenetrable dr. zayne. the crispy sizzle of bacon hits hot iron and the thick scent of popping fat flies into the air. you eye the tall doctor from your spot at the counter. a apron uncharacteristic of him is tied nicely around his waist. he cracks an egg with his empty hand, plopping the slimy yolk into a bowl only to whisk it into a frothy yellow mixture.

mornings with zayne have always been comforting. you watch him carefully, scurrying over to watch his cooking skills from behind. "do you want me to teach you?" he glances briefly down at you, a touch of affection in his green eyes. "no, i just wanna watch for now." he raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

a sleepy affection fills your heart and your arms slide around his waist from behind. pressing your face against his back, you take a chance to inhale the refreshing scent of his shampoo. zayne stiffens, taking a moment to pause his cooking as he feels your hands glide across his waist. heat floods into his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

"why'd you stop?" you murmur into the fabric of your shirt. "i couldn't remember what else i needed," he says, his calm tone wavering just for a second. his adam's apple bobs as he tries to ignore the way your touch elicits tingles up his spine.

xavier’s arm reaches over, pulling you closer as streaks of colorful light flash across the tv screen. you find your eyes growing heavy as you lean into his chest. the soft rising and falling from his breathing rocks you gently. you couldn’t remember by now who had suggested a movie, but neither of you seemed to mind much.

you don’t think it capable of flustering someone as calm and lackadaisical as xavier. but his own emotions are seen when the lights of the movie begins to fade and he strokes your arm with languid fingers.

you lean closer, intaking his scent as your eyes flutter close. sleep descends on you as the credits begin to roll. xavier skims over the varying list of names before turning to you. he nudges you gently, unsure if you’re awake or not. he calls your name but garners no response.

instead, you bury yourself deeper into his embrace, murmuring his name through parted lips. he pauses, staring you with a soft amazement and adoration. a tinge of pink colors his cheeks as he glances away from your endearing position. he wants to ask you not to catch him off guard like that, but lets out a sigh, covering his warming expression with the back of his hand.

it’s easy as breathing oxygen to fluster the stubborn rafayel. you snack on the stick-shaped chocolate biscuits, watching as he rambles on about one of his latest clients. you wonder if there was an easier way to get him to stop talking at the speed of light.

a final bite of your pocky sparks an idea and it seems rafayel has recognized it as well. he juts out his lower lip, pouting as he realizes you’ve dropped paying attention to his very important words. “are you listening?” he chirps, “this is very important, you know?”

you nod your head vaguely before placing the pocky stick against his lips. “first one to pull away loses.” you grin and you can already see the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of red. he stares at you before delicately biting down on the biscuit. “fine, but i won’t lose,” he mumbles.

you already know you have this in the bag the moment you bite down, inching closer to rafayel little by little. your eyes lock with his for a moment before a mischievous gleam strikes in your eyes and you’re tilting your head to the side as if ready to kiss him. immediately as his lips brush against yours, he bites down and pulls away. his eyes dart away as he tries to cover up his neck and face turning into a burning cherry. he mumbles something about letting you win.