イケメン

My child — my light

Your children have been hurt.

characters: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel

w: 4,3 k

warnings: not to be read by anyone who's sensitive about fathers. bullying, mdi, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft, +18, maternity certificate, child abuse. Fem!Y/N

a/n: [Y/D/N] — your daughter’s name. [Y/S/N] — your son’s name. My father is strict and I never tell him if something is happening to me. So I wanted to make the men from LADS into fathers you can only dream of. English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open. Dividers belongs to me.

Sylus:

Lately, you both have noticed that your child has become withdrawn: he doesn't join you at the table, stays silent, and spends all his time in his room.

Your heart aches every time you see bruises on your son's face. You have anxiously asked him more than once, “Sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

He answers your questions sharply and coldly, “No.”And then he goes to his room. At first, it seemed like it was just a teenage phase, but your motherly heart tells you that something bad is happening.

Sylus often spends time with you and has noticed his son's behavior, which has alarmed him. Something had to be done. And so, after another outburst from your son, who retreated to his room, Sylus stroked your head and went after the boy. “Don't worry, Kitten, I'll talk to him.”

After knocking on the door and not hearing a "Come in" in response, Silas stood by the door for a while, thinking about the right words, and then opened it. “Hey, buddy, can we talk?”

“I'm not in the mood... Dad,” your son mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. Taking a deep breath, the man walked into the room and sat on the edge of his son's bed. “You haven't been yourself lately, do you want to talk to me?”

[Y/S/N] shook his head negatively. Deep down, he wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but he was scared.

“Son...” Sylus rarely addresses your child like that, only when he has something truly important to say. “Know that your mom and I have your back, no matter what. We're not your enemies, and we'll always be on your side.” He ruffled his son's hair. “Remember that we care about you and your feelings. You don't have to talk now, but you can tell us whenever you're ready.” Sylus gave his son a gentle smile and got up from the bed.

“Dad, wait!” The man stopped at the door, turning his head towards his son. “I... thank you.”Sylus nodded in response. “And I'm sorry for making you and Mom worry. You know, these are tough times... people have become more ruthless, ha-ha.” [Y/S/N] laughed nervously and looked away. Sylus felt like he was looking at you, because when you're worried, you start laughing nervously and avoid eye contact.

“Are other kids bullying you?” Sylus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” your son said, taking a deep breath.

“Then who?” The man's face became more serious.

“Well, at first, it really was just some kids, and I could handle them myself, but then... their parents started picking on me too. I don't understand why everyone hates me so much... I haven't done anything wrong...” Your son couldn't hold back his tears any longer and began to cry, trying to hide his tears from his father. Sylus took a few large steps and was by his son's side, holding him tightly. “You're not alone. As long as your mom and I are around, no one will dare to even look at you the wrong way.” And so it was. Sylus's anger was uncontrollable, much like your own. As soon as you found out WHAT was happening to your son, you wanted to tear everything apart. How dare anyone touch your child?! Well, let me tell you, you paid back your child's tormentors in full—they're in the hospital with broken bones, and the children are so intimidated that as soon as they see [Y/S/N], they start to shy away. Now, no one will mess with your son everyone suddenly wanted to be friends with the kid whose parents are the most dangerous people in the country.

Zayne:

He's the kind of father who's rarely home due to work. But the moment he gets a chance to see his family, Zayne drops everything. No matter how exhausted he is, his main priority is making sure his beloved princesses are doing well.

Today, he got home earlier than usual, but found the house empty. Glancing at his watch, it was one in the afternoon, so his daughter must be at school. But what about his wife? Zayne kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen. A note on the refrigerator read, "Gone to the store, be back soon ♡"

Smiling, Zayne walked into the spacious living room, where a plasma TV hung on the wall. He turned on the news and sat at the table, opening his laptop. Well, while you're away, I might as well get some work done.

About thirty minutes later, you returned from the grocery store, laden with bags. Spotting your husband in the living room, you set the bags down in the kitchen and approached him, kissing him on the cheek. “Hi, honey, how's work going?”

“Hello, darling. Everything's fine. How was your day?” Zayne asked, taking off his glasses and closing his laptop. He pulled you closer by the waist and kissed you softly on the lips. “Oh, Zayne, my day was good too. Is [Y/D/N] in her room?”

At your question, Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't she be at school?” He glanced at the time with concern. It had been an hour since he got home, and his daughter still wasn't back.

“What?... Her classes ended half an hour ago, and it's only a 10-minute walk from school...” You tapped your chin, deep in thought. “What if something happened on the way home?!” You immediately sprang into action, heading to the hallway and grabbing your windbreaker. Zayne followed you. But just as you were about to leave the house, the door opened and your daughter walked in.

“Mom? Dad? Are you guys going somewhere?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

“Sweetheart! You scared me half to death!” You immediately pulled your daughter into a hug, but quickly released her when she hissed in pain. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where? Here?” You gently touched her shoulder. Her composure crumbled, and she simply burst into tears, burying her face in your stomach.

Zayne furrowed his brow and approached the two of you. Stroking his daughter's hair, he scooped her up in his arms, simultaneously removing her street shoes, and headed upstairs to her room. After tidying up a bit, you followed your husband.

“Snowflake, what's eating you?” Zayne asked softly, carefully laying her down in bed.

“The girls... the girls in my class ganged up on me because a boy likes me... Daddy, it hurts so bad.” She didn't hold back her feelings when she was with her dad. He never pressured her and always knew how to handle these situations. Zayne listened patiently, wiped the tears from her face, and kissed her forehead. “Don't be afraid of anything; Daddy's here.” His words resonated not only with your daughter but with you as well.

You stood outside the door, hearing every word. Zayne never made empty promises. After settling your daughter, he exited her room and noticed your worried eyes. With a sigh, he stroked your hair. “She's being bullied at school.”

“I see...” you said, feeling a surge of anger. How dare anyone lay a hand on your child? You were ready to go and tear them all limb from limb. Zayne could clearly see your fury.

“Honey, calm down. Tomorrow, we'll go to the principal and try to sort things out peacefully...” remember these words, kids, because the next day YOU were the one who had to calm HIM down he froze the principal's office and nearly skewered the parents of the kids who bullied your daughter with icicles.

Caleb:

He loves sparring with his son because it's a chance to bond and teach the kid some self-defense. The only problem? [Y/S/N] takes after you and can't land a decent punch to save his life. He's too worried about hurting his dad. Caleb's always saying he needs more killer instinct.

But lately, your son's been dodging training sessions like the plague. When asked why, he just shrugs it off with a quick, “I'm tired.”

Caleb's not one to force his kid into anything, but it's been bugging him. [Y/S/N] used to be all hyped up for a friendly spar, practically dragging Caleb into the ring. Now, the mere mention of "fighting" makes him clam up. And Caleb's not happy about it. Not one bit.

“Don't you think [Y/S/N]'s been acting kinda weird lately?” You asked, drying the dishes. A mother's intuition is never wrong, and you knew something was up with him.

"Maybe he's just worn out from school?" Caleb shrugged, switching the news to "The Avengers."

“Do you wanna talk to him?” You put down the plate and towel, walking over to him. “I'm worried…” You wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder blade, inhaling his scent.

"I'll try." Caleb squeezed your hand, which was resting on his stomach.

Your son came home from school and went straight to his room without saying hello. He tossed his backpack aside and flopped onto the bed, closing his eyes. But then he remembered the bruises and winced. It hurt like hell. [Y/S/N] started scratching his chest, as if trying to rip his heart out of his body from the unbearable pain. Heartache. Bruises and cuts heal, but a shattered soul? That's another story. [Y/S/N] didn't even hear the knock on the door, his father's voice, or him approaching the bed. Feeling a hand on his head, he startled and turned to see his father's stern gaze. “Dad…”

“I'm here,” Caleb announced, and upon hearing his words, his son launched himself into his father's arms, momentarily forgetting his stinging wounds. “What's been going on with you lately?” your husband asked, gently stroking his son's back.

“I hurt, Dad. I hurt so much.”

You entered the room, instantly drawn to your family. Seeing your son clinging to his father, uttering “I'm not okay,” nearly shattered your heart. Kneeling by the bed, you embraced your child as well, kissing the top of his head. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“My friends... they're hurting me.” Wriggling out of your and Caleb's embrace, [Y/S/N\] pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the angry bruises. You gasped, covering your mouth in horror. “But it hurts more here...” Your son placed his hands over his chest, indicating his heart. You and Caleb had instilled in him that you never hurt your friends, so your child never retaliated – because hitting a friend was like hitting himself. But not all kids were raised with the same values. Rage consumed Caleb. He shot up from the bed and stormed out of the house. Where to? Neither you nor your son knew. “Mom... are you... are you proud of me? Did I do good?” your child asked, nestled in your lap.

“Baby, I've always been proud of you, I am proud of you, and I always will be. Listen, just because you consider someone a friend doesn't mean they feel the same way about you. Friendship has to go both ways, not just one. Stick with those who truly value you, okay?” you asked, holding out your pinky.

“Okay.” He linked his pinky with yours and smiled.

Meanwhile, Caleb was raising hell at the principal's office and throwing punches at the fathers of your child's classmates. “If I ever hear that my son is being hurt again, you'll regret it. I'll shove apples so far up your asses, you'll be tasting them for weeks! Got it?!”

Well, the outcome? Your son is no longer bothered one father didn't get the memo and is now in the hospital with apples in his backside.

Xavier:

Your daughter was always a firecracker, that's why absolutely everyone loved her: passersby, classmates, and acquaintances. She could connect with anyone. Xavier saw you in her – just as impulsive as her mother.

But as we know, when someone is widely loved, there are those who start to get envious. They're like snakes, ready to strike at the most unexpected moment: slithering into the soul and thoughts, injecting venom to weaken and incapacitate their victim, making them easier to devour.

Your daughter had a friend, quiet and modest. You and your husband thought their friendship was very harmonious. Thought. Until your daughter clammed up. It was like her mouth had been sealed shut... but with what? Every time you touched your daughter, you felt a strange surge of foreign energy. “Evol?” spun in your head. But as soon as you tried to figure out more, you recoiled from the jolt. While waiting for your husband after his latest mission, you decided to keep an eye on your daughter.

Approaching her room, you felt a dizzy spell, as if something or someone was trying to invade your mind. Shaking your head and drawing your weapon, you quietly opened the door. The room was as dark as the abyss. Suddenly, something crawled on your leg. Barely finding the light switch and flicking it on, you almost fainted from horror: snakes. A huge number of snakes. And in the middle of these vile creatures was your daughter? No... it wasn't her. The girl looked like her, but those serpentine eyes... and oh god... that was YOUR daughter's body?! She lay on the floor, bitten by these creatures injecting their venom into her. “Oh, Mom!” the thing croaked, grinning wickedly.

“Xiangliu...” your daughter whispered, barely opening her eyes. “Please...”

“Silence!” the girl snapped, and the snakes immediately coiled around her feet.

“You're Xiangliu?” Your voice was like steel. “You're my daughter's friend, right? It's not cool to treat friends like that.” You drew the katana from your robe. “That's just not how it's done.” You lunged into battle, but a huge snake slithered out of the ground, blocking the path to Xiangliu. Oh yeah, your roof, and half the house, will need repairs. Just as you were about to cut down the vile creature, you felt a familiar evol and caught a glimpse of light flashing past you. “Xavier!” you cried with relief. But remembering your daughter, you rushed forward, dodging Xiangliu's attacks. Finally reaching your daughter, you scooped her fragile and pale body into your arms. “Honey, please, open your eyes!” You shook her shoulder, but there was no response. “Xavier!” you cried, tears welling up.

“I'll handle this, get out of here!” your husband yelled. You know he can handle it, after all, your husband is the best hunter. Holding your daughter carefully, you raced to the hospital. Thank god it was close to your house.

“Zayne!” you shouted, spotting your childhood friend. “Zayne, help!”

“Get her on a gurney, quick. Venom?” Zayne asked, seeing the purple marks all over her body. You nodded, clutching your hands to your chest and following the doctors. “Don't worry Y/N, I'll make an antidote and everything will be fine.” He gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder before disappearing with the medical team. Slumping into a chair, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down. “Y/N!” You heard your husband's voice and immediately jumped up. “Where's [Y/D/N]?”

“Zayne and a team of doctors are on it. They're working on an antidote...” You buried your face in your husband's shoulder, tears welling up. Right now, all you could do was pray that your daughter would be okay. “And where...?”

“I handed her over to the police for safekeeping,” Xavier replied, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You both sank into the armchairs, waiting for Zayne.

About three hours ticked by before Zayne finally appeared. “The poison was potent, but I managed to find an antidote. She's sleeping in a room now; you can visit her.” Zayne's calm tone instantly eased your anxiety. She was going to be alright.

“Thank you, Dr. Zayne,” Xavier said with a slight smile, shaking the doctor's hand. Zayne returned a polite smile and, with one last glance at you, left.

Gently easing the door open, you both stepped inside. Your daughter was breathing softly, looking less pale than she had just hours ago. You let out a shaky breath and stroked her hair. “Mom?... Dad?...” her tiny voice whispered.

“Stay still, princess,” Xavier said, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

“What happened? All I remember is playing hide-and-seek with Xiangliu at her house, and then... nothing.” You and Xavier exchanged a look of dread.

“When did you play hide-and-seek with her?” you asked, glancing at the calendar. If your daughter had been acting strange for the past few days, was that really your daughter at all?

“Well, you let us play outside so we wouldn't break your favorite vase.” Oh no... no, no, no. Three days! For three days, some other girl had taken your daughter's place! How could you have been so blind?! “I'm such a terrible mother...” Tears streamed down your face. “I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!”

“Mom... why are you crying?” The girl looked at you with confusion, then at her father. “Dad, what's wrong with her?”

“Nothing, honey, your mom's just being an overprotective worrywart, you know how she gets. You get some rest; Mom and I will check in on you later,” Xavier lied, not wanting to scare your daughter. Taking your hand, he led you out of the room. “You're not the only one who dropped the ball, honey. I didn't like that girl from the get-go, so I'm just as guilty for not voicing my suspicions.”

“We could have lost our child... I'll never forgive myself.”

“Me neither. That's why we'll make it up to her and keep a closer eye on her, especially when it comes to the people she brings into our home.” Xavier chuckled, remembering the time your daughter brought home a homeless man and introduced him as her friend. The look on Xavier's face had been priceless. The man now works as your gardener, by the way.

“That's for sure,” you said, smiling, understanding what your husband was laughing about.

Yes, you'd made a mistake. But together, you would fix it and become the best parents you could be. With parents like you, [Y/D/N] would definitely be safe.

Rafayel:

Rafayel was throwing a grand exhibition and needed his gorgeous wife by his side to help greet guests. The only problem? They had no one to watch their son.

“Maybe we should hire a nanny?” You suggested, scrolling through profiles on a website.

“Hmm, not a bad idea. How about this one?” Rafayel said, pointing to a young woman. “Lots of stars and rave reviews.”

“Alright, I'll give her a call.” After dialing the number, you arranged for her to come over the next day. “Okay, great, thank you.” Gently massaging your temples, you headed into the living room, where Rafayel and your son were painting.

“That's awesome! You're doing great! Definitely his father's son!” Rafayel proudly raised his brush, smirking.

“Mommy's!” [Y/S/N] exclaimed, spotting you. He hopped off the chair and ran to give you a hug.

“WHAT?! How dare you steal my son from me, woman!” Clutching his shirt dramatically, he placed the paintbrush on his forehead and pretended to faint.

“Such a drama queen,” you sighed, and your son nodded in agreement. “Listen, sweetie, your dad and I need to go to an important event, and we don't have anyone to leave you with. So... we decided to hire a nanny for you. Be good tomorrow, okay?” You stroked your son's hair.

“You got it, Mom!” He squeezed you tightly, smearing paint on your clothes. “Oops...” Your son stepped back and looked at your stained outfit. “Mom, I didn't mean to!” He ran to Rafayel, hiding behind him. “Dad, save me!”

“Ooh! You finally remembered you have a father?” Laughing, Rafayel lifted your son above his head and started spinning him around. Laughter filled the room, creating a warm, familial atmosphere.

The big day arrived in no time. You and Rafayel got ready and waited for the caregiver, explaining everything that needed to be done. The girl seemed sweet, so you didn't worry too much while you were at the exhibition.

However, as soon as you and your husband left, it was like a switch flipped. The girl acted like she owned the place: she grabbed some chips from the cupboard, turned on the TV, and... SHE SPILLED ON RAFAEL'S FAVORITE COUCH!

“That's Dad's favorite couch! Don't mess it up!” your son exclaimed, standing in front of her, blocking the TV.

“Get lost, kid.” She shoved him aside, popped a chip in her mouth, and your son hit his head on the couch edge. He clutched his head and started to whimper. “Can you shut up?!” she barked, cranking up the TV volume.

“Leave me alone!”

“That's it! You’re just too much!” She found some tape in the kitchen and, wrapping his mouth and limbs, carried him to the closet. “Sit here and think about your behavior, you little brat.” She even switched off the light. For some reason, your son was terrified of the dark and never slept without a nightlight. Panic gripped him; he cried and tried to kick the door with his swaddled legs, but he was too weak.

“I’ve got a weird feeling…” you murmured after greeting another guest.

“Maybe you’re just tired?” Rafayel shrugged.

“No. We need to go home. I have to see my son.” You rushed to the exit, your heart racing.

“Sweetheart! Wait!” But you didn’t reply. “Oh, that woman. Hey!” He called his assistant. “There’s hardly anything left to do, so finish the show yourself, alright?”

You could feel that something was off.

As you swung the door open, an eerie silence greeted you—no one was in sight. But then, a loud voice broke through the stillness. A television show, perhaps? You stepped into the living room, your heart pounding, and froze in shock. Rafayel stepped forward slightly, his expression mirroring yours, both of you utterly dumbfounded.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” he exclaimed.

“Why are you here so early? This isn’t what you think!” the girl began to stammer, her eyes wide with panic.

“Are you kidding me?!” you shot back, leveling a steely glare at her.

“Exactly! You were just five minutes ago fooling around with some loser on MY couch!” Rafayel shouted, his anger boiling over.

Meanwhile, your mind raced as you scanned the room for your son. Where could he be? Panic clawed at your stomach until your ears caught a faint knocking sound coming from the pantry. With urgency, you flung the door open. What you saw made your heart drop—there was your son, tears streaming down his cheeks, wrapped in duct tape.

“Mommy!” he cried, and you rushed to him, your heart breaking at the sight.

“Shh, sweetie, it’s okay. Mama’s here,” you whispered softly, carefully peeling the tape away from his small frame. Just then, Rafayel stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury as he locked onto the so-called "nanny."

“What the hell is going on?!” he barked, his rage palpable.

You held your son close, cradling him against your chest as if that alone could shield him from the chaos erupting around you. The tension in the room crackled like electricity, and you felt a fierce protectiveness take hold.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” you said with steely determination, heart pounding in unison with his.

“She's wrecked Dad's couch! I told her not to mess it up! She shoved me, and I hit my head and started crying!” With tears streaming down his cheeks, your son lamented about the girl. “And then she wrapped me in tape and locked me in the pantry without any light.”

“Rafayel, hold our son for a minute.” You lifted the little boy and handed him over to Rafayel. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, your husband is a true gentleman who would never lift a finger against a woman, even if she were as terrible as this nanny. But you could, because you're also a woman.

With a fierce determination, you pushed her into the hallway, where she collided with the corner of the wall. Standing tall before her, you seethed, “You laid hands on my son?!” Grabbing her by the hair, you delivered a sharp slap across her cheek, pulling her toward the door with a firm grip.

“It hurts!” she screeched, a mix of outrage and fear in her voice.

“Good,” you shot back, your eyes blazing. “Maybe you'll think twice before laying a finger on my child again.” The air was thick with tension, a silent understanding that you wouldn't let this slide. In your mind, you were ready to do whatever it took to protect your family.

“I'm telling you, my son was hurting too, you little witch!” You hurled her out the door with a fierce shove. “This is just the beginning. I’ll make your life a living hell, you little brat.” Slamming the door behind you, you returned to your loved ones, planting soft kisses on their foreheads and wrapping them in warm embraces. “I wish I could've just taken her out,” your husband chimed in, pouting playfully.

“Looks like you've taken on the role of dad's personal bodyguard, huh? Desperately defending my favorite couch, like a true hero!” He scooped your son up and, with a playful flourish, set him down on the floor, heading toward the bathroom for the first-aid kit.

“Y/N! You coming or what?”

“Yeah! Just tidying up a bit, I’ll be right there!”

“Mom! Hurry up! Dad doesn’t know how to handle wounds!”

“Not true! I totally know what I’m doing!”

“Get that enema away from my head! Mom! Please!”

And just like that, the house buzzed with that familiar family atmosphere again: laughter, playful chaos, and a guy who practically jumped out the window to escape your wrath, fearing he'd end up just like that girl he cheated with.

in love? I know it's impossible to resist that look. (LMAO God, I sick in the head🤪)

(Kkkk LMAO! I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't help but make a joke.)

© 2025 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages.

Lost // Xavier x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

He finally spots her, on that trestle bridge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s too late.”

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

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

“It will.”

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

She’s gone.

… She’s gone.

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

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

You had to be okay, please be okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

dumping these here

Xavier and his continued love for scaring and teasing MC 😭

he's such a bully sometimes lol

via: Love and Deepspace IG

Caleb's new myth X-02 sketch

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon

Lumiere re-run: Aftermath

📖⬅⬅⬅

Xavier, you're such a meanie... >n<!!! you better come home early the next banner or your cheeks will be so sore...!

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

It's Xavier rerun week!

A Request(if you like it): maybe Luminere x on-the-run mc(maybe even an MC that works in the n109zone for whatever reason/evilmc)? Maybe a lil demanding dom Xavier action?

Thanks in advance if you can!

I hope this is what you were looking for❤️❤️

TW:Smut

🌟You again?🌟

You find yourself in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the N109 zone, air thick with tension.

You hear a soft, almost inaudible sound behind you, like the whisper of fabric on fabric. You turn around and see him, Lumiere, the bane of your existence.

His eyes, as piercing and cold as you remember, are fixed on you with a intensity that makes your blood run cold. He's not smiling, but there's a cruel, almost sadistic glint in his eyes.

You see him take a step towards you, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He's enjoying this, the hunt, the anticipation of finally ending your life. You know he won't hesitate, not after all this time. You've seen the way he looks at you, the hatred and disgust in his eyes.

You take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not afraid of him, no, you're afraid of what he's capable of. You've seen the destruction he can cause.

He takes another step closer, a grin spreading across his face. He loves this, loves the power he has over you, loves knowing that any moment could be your last.

"You look nervous y/n" he says, his voice a mocking drawl. "Don't tell me you're scared, are you? After all this time of chasing each other, you're finally going to give up?"

He's close now, close enough that you can see the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his hand clenches into a fist at his side.

You blink, disoriented, as Lumiere suddenly vanishes from your sight. The sudden absence of his presence leaves you feeling exposed and vulnerable, heart pounding wildly in your chest.

You quickly scan the warehouse, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant drip of water and the ever present hum of the city outside.

You know he's still here, watching you from the darkness. He's not the type to run away, not when he has the upper hand. No, he's playing with you, enjoying the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of finally ending your life.

You tighten your grip on your dagger, the cool metal a comforting weight in your hand. You won't let your guard down, not for a moment. You've trained for this and you won't let him catch you off guard.

Suddenly, you hear a crash behind you, the sound of something heavy and metal hitting the ground. You spin around, dagger out in front of you, just in time to see a large, rusty pipe come tumbling down from the rafters above.

You dive out of the way, rolling to the side as the pipe crashes to the ground where you were standing just a moment before. You come up in a crouch, your dagger still out in front of you, your heart racing in your chest.

That's when you see him, his figure darting between the shadows, moving with a speed and agility that defies belief. He's coming at you, grin on his face, a long sword in his hand.

You know he won't hesitate, and neither will you. And only one of you will walk away from this warehouse alive. And as he charges at you, you let out a fierce battle cry and charge at him, your dagger out in front of you, ready to meet him head on.

He's fast, too fast, and he anticipates your moves, leaning back to avoid the blade. In that moment you see your chance. You drop to the ground, rolling beneath his outstretched arm, and come up behind him, dagger pressing against the small of his back.

"Don't move," you hiss, "or I'll run this blade through you."

He freezes, his body tense as he drops the sword. You can feel the slight tremble of rage and frustration that runs through his body. He's not used to being caught off guard, not used to having the upper hand taken away from him so suddenly.

"You think you're clever," he says, his voice mocking growl. "But you don't have the guts to do it, do you? You don't have what it takes to take a life, not even mine."

You press the blade harder against his back, until you can feel it digging into his flesh, until you can see the first bead of blood welling up on the surface.

"Don't test me," you warn him "I've been fighting for my life for months, been running from you, been looking over my shoulder every moment of every day. And now, now that I finally have you at my mercy, you think I'm going to hesitate?"

You can feel his muscles tense, can sense the way his mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this situation. But there is no way out, not this time. This time, one of you will die, and sure as hell it won't be you.

You hold your breath, staring at the glisten of his blood on your blade, a sense of satisfaction coursing through you. But your moment of triumph is short lived, shattered by his mocking words.

"You think you got me at a disadvantage?" Lumiere's voice is a dangerous rasp in the darkness, sending a chill down your spine, and then he disappears.

Before you can react, before you can tense and track his movement, you feel the cool silver of your own dagger pressed against the delicate skin of your throat. The edge bites into you, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make your heart race with fear.

At the same time, you feel the firm press of his body against your back. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, holding you in a grip that makes it impossible to struggle. He's so close, too close, his body a furnace of heat that seeps into your skin, making your blood run hot and fast.

His breath is hot against your jaw, his lips brushing against your ear as he leans in close, cold steel pressing harder against your throat as he traces the tip of your own dagger along your jugular" You know, you've been a thorn in my side for far too long. Always chasing you across the city, always just out of reach, always slipping through my fingers like smoke"

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your heart pounding so loudly that you're sure he must be able to hear it. But even in this moment of fear and vulnerability, you refuse to give in, refuse to let him see the terror that grips your heart. You lift your chin, your eyes flashing with defiance as you meet his gaze.

"You talk big for a man in your position," you retort "But I know you won't do it. You can't do it. Killing me here, like this, it's not your style. But I won't give you that satisfaction."

You feel the sharp sting as the dagger's tip pierces your skin, a single red droplet trickling down your collarbone. Your heart hammers wildly in your heaving chest as the cold steel drifts lower, the point pressing gently but insistently over your racing heart.

Lumiere's voice is low in your ear, his breath hot against your neck. "Oh, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to enjoy it. I've dreamed of this moment for months, and now, at last, I have you right where I want you."

"I would have thought you'd at least try to torture me for information." you say, holding his stare 

A smile curls his lips "I already know everything I need to know, this isn't about information," he breathes "This is about revenge.

Your fingers inch towards your pocket, moving with a deliberate slowness as you try to keep your action hidden from him. The cool metal of the dagger's hilt brushes against your fingertips just as he begins to speak.

"Don't think I haven't noticed your little attempt to grab that hidden dagger" he purrs, "I know everything about you. I've been watching you for months, learning your every move, your every habit...."

"Fuck you!” you cut him off.

"Watch your tongue" he snarls, the dagger digging a bit deeper into your flesh as a result of your outburst. The pain is blinding, white hot and searing, drawing a gasping cry from your throat.

But even as you cry out, you're already moving, adrenaline surging through your veins. Your left hand comes up in a swift, desperate punch, your fist connecting with the side of his jaw with a sickening crunch.

He grunts in pain, his head snapping to the side from the force of your blow. For a moment, his grip on you loosens, the dagger's edge slipping from your skin, a thin line of blood welling up in its wake.

Lumiere's angry snarl cuts off abruptly as your fist swings towards his face once more. He barely manages to jerk his head to the side, avoiding the blow. In the same motion, he slams you back against the rough brick wall, knocking the air from your lungs with a painful grunt.

His right hand drops the dagger and shoots out to grab your wrists before you can strike again, his fingers digging into your skin as he wrenches your arms above your head, pinning you more firmly to the wall with his body. You jerk and struggle against him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you try desperately to break free. Angry, vicious curses pour from both your mouths, your voices rising to a feverish pitch as you scream and snarl at each other.

The distance between you shrinks, your faces just inches apart, breaths mingling, eyes locked in a furious, hate filled gaze. And then, without warning, his lips are on yours.

It's a kiss filled with all the anger and frustration that has been building between you for months. Suddenly, he lets go of your wrists and your arms fall over his shoulders.

His lips move roughly over yours, demanding, brutal, punishing. He nips at your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste of it mingling with the taste of him.

You feel the sting of the bite, the pain searing through you, but it only serves to ignite something dark and desperate within you, so you bite back, your teeth sinking into his lower lip, tasting your own blood on his skin.

He snarls into the kiss as your nails dig into his shoulder. His hand fists in your hair, gripping the strands tightly, using them like a rein to control your head as he devours your mouth with hunger. You feel the sting of hair being ripped from your scalp, but it only adds to the sensations overwhelming your senses.

Your teeth sink into his bottom lip once more, biting down hard to taste his blood mingling with your own. He hisses, and in retaliation, he forces his knee between your thighs, roughly pushing your legs apart, the hard muscle pressing insistently against your core.

You both moan into the kiss.

You kiss him back with a fervor that matches his, your lips moving against his with unrelenting passion as he presses his thigh harder between your legs, forcing them to open wider, a primal need surging inside you, threatening to engulf you completely.

Unable to resist, you find yourself rolling your hips forward, grinding down against the hard muscle of his thigh. Your body moves on its own, instinct taking over as you mirror his movements, lost in a haze of sensation.

You gasp as his hand slides down your shoulder, your shirt strains against your chest, your nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks as his thumb grazes over the swell of your breast.

But before you can process it, his teeth are on you again, sinking into the soft flesh of your lip. You cry out, pain mixing with pleasure, the sound caught in your throat as his teeth pull and nibble at your lips.

Your own hand moves on its own, trailing down the muscles of his chest. Your fingers find the leather of his belt, wrapping around it tightly, desperately, pulling at the buckle as if your life depended on it

His lips leave yours, trailing a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your face, your jaw, your throat. You can feel his breath, ragged and hot against your skin, his tongue snaking out to taste you, to trace the contours of your jaw. He bites and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh, marking you.

You moan, the sound catching in your throat as your head falls back against the wall, giving him better access to your throat. Your fingers finally manage to undo the buckle of his belt, the leather slipping through the loops of his pants with a soft, satisfying sound.

At the same time, his hands move and roughly grab the fabric of your skirt. He pulls it up, the fabric slips over your thighs, the cold air hits your hot skin as he gathers the skirt around your waist.

You don't stop him. You can't stop him. Instead, you find yourself pressing harder against his leg, your hips rolling instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction, that pressure, that promise of relief from the ache that consumes you.

He groans against your neck as you grind against him. His fingers trail down your thigh, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. You shudder as he shifts his leg away and his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, your core clenching, empty and aching, desperate to be filled.

A broken moan escapes your lips as he traces your slit and without warning, he's pushing your panties to the side, the scrap of fabric a flimsy barrier against the thick length of his fingers. You cry out, as he thrusts two fingers deep inside you, your walls clenching down around them.

Your head falls onto his shoulder, your nails digging into his chest as you struggle to gasp for breath. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and the wet sounds of your arousal fill the air. His thumb finds your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves throbbing and swollen, begging for his touch.

His lips crash against yours once more, swallowing your cries of pleasure as he pulls his fingers from your dripping core. His hand moves to his own pants, quickly undoing the button and zipper with urgent movements.

You hear him growl, a sound of dark desire muffled against your lips as he grips your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. And then, with one hard thrust, he's inside you, his hard, thick length stretching you impossibly wide.

Your head falls back, a sound tearing from your lips that is somewhere between a moan and a scream. You feel every inch of his cock as it pushes deep inside you, the thick veins and ridges stretching you in a way that borders on pain, the sensation so intense, so overwhelming, that tears spring to your eyes.

He is big, unbelievably big, bigger than any man has a right to be. It stretches you to the limit, your walls squeeze around it, desperately trying to accommodate its girth.

His teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, as he pounds into you with a ferocity that borders on violence. His hips slam against yours, the force of his thrusts shaking you to your core.

Your fingers grip his hair desperately as you cling to him, nails raking over his scalp. You rake them down his back next, your short nails digging into the skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, leaving red lines in their wake.

He hitches your leg up higher, his arm sliding beneath your knee, lifting it up and out, opening you wider so he can fuck you deeper. You moan as he hilts inside you with each thrust, your back slams against the wall and you're sure it will be bruised by morning.

He kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue invading your mouth, dominating it, claiming it as his own. It's a filthy, wet kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation, and you feel yourself growing dizzy, your head swimming with the intensity of it all.

You wrench your mouth away, gasping for air, before you attack his neck with your own lips, your teeth sinking into the skin. You bite and suck, your own desperate need to mark him, rising up to match his own lust.

You had never known a passion so overflowing, a hunger so fierce that it threatened to devour you completely. It wasn't about gentle lovemaking, nor tenderly exploring each other's bodies. It was a battle, a war, the clash of two souls consumed by lust and rage and a need so desperate it bordered on madness.

Each hard thrust gives you a jolt of pain and pleasure, a sensation that leaves you wanting more. You are drenched, your arousal dripping down your thighs, coating his cock. Your body betrays you, welcoming his every touch, craving his brutal possession even as a part of you screams at the injustice of it all.

And yet, even through the haze of pain and pleasure, you feel a twisted sense of rightness, of inevitability. With him, in this moment, the old rules no longer apply. Boundaries crumble, leaving you raw, exposed and hungry for his touch like you've never been before.

You want to hurt him, to mark him, to make him feel a fraction of the agony and ecstasy that consumes you. Your nails dig into his back, your teeth sink into his skin, and still, you crave more because you fucking hate him. Hate him with every fiber of your being, with every ragged breath, every desperate, needy movement of your body.

Your body trembles like a leaf, shaking uncontrollably as he pounds into you with a force that threatens to shatter you into a thousand pieces. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants against your skin, the heat of it mingling with the sweat that coats your body like a second skin.

You arch your back against the wall, pushing your hips forward to meet his every thrust, desperate for more, for everything he can give you. Your fingers claw at his collar, the fabric twisting and tightening around his throat, probably hurting him and choking him but you couldn't care less.

His movements grow harder and faster, his need as desperate as your own. You can feel him swelling inside you, stretching you impossibly wider, the coil of tension in your belly winding tighter and tighter until you think you might shatter from the force of it all.

Your eyes roll back, vision blurring, your world narrowing down to the feel of him, the scent of him, the heat of his skin against yours. And then, his fingers are in your hair, gripping it tightly, painfully pulling your head back, exposing your throat to his lips.

You come undone with a scream, your mouth opening in a cry of ecstasy as he bites down hard on your neck. Your body convulses, shaking and shuddering, waves of pleasure crashing over you, drowning you, consuming you, leaving you gasping.

And you hear him groan, the deep sound vibrating through your very bones. His hips twitch and jerk against yours, the aftershocks of his release coursing through him, his grip on your hair loosening as he struggles to catch his breath. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

Your legs feel like jelly, the muscles having turned to liquid, unable to support your weight. It's a good thing he's holding you up, pinning you to the wall with his body, or else you would have collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap. Your fingers remain curled into his skin, the red lines of your nails etched into his flesh, a physical map of your desperation, your need, your hatred.

You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck and as the fog of lust begins to lift, as your racing heart starts to slow, a sense of icy horror starts to seep through your veins. Your mind, once hazy and clouded, starts to clear, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

Oh god. Oh fuck. What have I done?

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you frozen and stiff in his arms. You just fucked Lumiere.

A wave of revulsion crashes over you, the urge to push him away, to scream, to run, nearly overwhelming. But you're trapped, pinned, held in place by the grip of his arms, the weight of his body, the sickening realization of what you've done.

His body goes rigid against yours as the horrifying reality of what just transpired sinks in, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring. His head, which had been resting against your shoulder, jerks back slightly, the side of his head no longer leaning against yours.

How the fuck did this happen?!

Before he can say anything, you push him away. Your aching, trembling limbs suddenly find strength, a surge of revulsion propelling you forward, forcing him back.

He staggers, his softening cock slipping from your slick, swollen pussy with an obscene sound that makes your stomach turn. But he doesn't reach out to stop you, doesn't try to pull you back into his arms. He stands there, rooted to the spot, his eyes wide and horrified, as you yank your skirt down over your thighs, 

You walk away, your arms shaking, your legs unsteady. But as you put one foot in front of the other, as you force yourself to leave, you can't escape the echoes of his groan, the deep sound that still rings in your ears. The sound he made when he came inside you.

Each step feels heavier than the last, your panties growing wetter and stickier with the evidence of his release. You can feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of his self loathing a physical pressure that urges you faster, desperate to escape. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.

He is gone. Lumiere disappeared as suddenly as he appeared. But even as the sound of his disappearance fades, you know that he'll be back. That he'll return to torment you, to haunt you, to remind you of the terrible thing you've done.

Because deep down, you know this isn't over. No, this was just the beginning. The first step down a dark path from which there may be no turning back.

“Break up with her.”

You froze. The voice came from behind the office door—firm, cold, and far too close to your worst fear.

You had come to pick Jinwoo up. You were tired after a dungeon run and just wanted to go home, curl into his arms, and let the day melt away. But as your hand reached for the doorknob, you heard the words that made your blood run cold.

“She’s not fit to stand beside you, Sung Jinwoo. She’s not enough.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You stood there, motionless, the voices inside the Korean Hunters Association office cutting through you like a blade. You knew they were talking about you. They never liked you to begin with. You were a strong A-rank hunter, the second most powerful female hunter in Korea—but you weren’t Cha Hae-In. And worse… they knew your secret.

You stepped away, footsteps silent as you retreated.

Later that night, Jinwoo lay behind you, his arm draped over your waist, his warmth pressing against your back. His lips ghosted over your shoulder in lazy, affectionate kisses.

“You’ve been quiet,” he murmured into your skin. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?”

You sighed, holding his hand where it rested on your stomach.

“It’s not important. Focus on what matters right now.”

“You are what matters to me,” he whispered, burying himself further into the crook of your neck. “If something’s wrong, talk to me.”

You turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “Have you met Hunter Cha Hae-In?”

He blinked, brushing your hair behind your ear with the gentlest touch.

“I’ve seen her. Once or twice. Why?”

“She’s beautiful. Strong. The directors talk about her a lot.” Your voice was quieter now. “I heard they’re looking for someone to pair her with.”

“I’ve heard the rumors too.”

His expression stiffened. You nodded, then turned your back to him again, pretending to fall asleep. He could feel your distress, but you weren’t ready to say it yet. You weren’t ready to let him go either.

You stared at the wall in silence, wishing time would stop—wishing this moment could stay a little longer before everything shattered.

“Hunter Sung, this is an important discussion. Please try to see reason—”

“I’m done listening.”

Jinwoo stood from the conference table, his voice laced with suppressed fury. His shadow flickered unnaturally beneath his feet.

“This is the third time this week you’ve told me to leave her. What makes you think my answer will change?”

“Because it’s not about love, Hunter Sung. It’s about responsibility. You have power no one else can even fathom. You need someone by your side who matches that. Someone who can create the next generation of protectors.”

Jinwoo’s aura exploded in the room. The lights flickered as shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls. Everyone went silent.

“Don’t speak to me about responsibilities when you’re the ones trying to manipulate my life like it’s a political chess game.”

He turned, grabbing the doorknob.

“I said no. And I mean it.”

That evening, he came home late. You were waiting for him at the door.

He didn’t speak at first. He just pulled you into his arms and kissed you—desperate, almost like he was trying to remind himself that you were still here, still his.

“I’m sorry I’m late… Did you eat anything yet?”

“No. I waited for you.”

His embrace felt like home—safe, familiar, everything you ever wanted. And that made it hurt even more… because while he held on like nothing was changing, you already knew everything was about to end.

The next day, you were called in.

A private meeting. One of the directors. You had a feeling you knew what it was about—but you still went.

You met at a discreet coffee shop, far from headquarters.

“Please, take a seat.”

You sat, heart hammering.

“What I’m about to say is in the best interest of everyone. Please understand this is bigger than you—or even Hunter Sung.”

You said nothing, your silence permission enough.

“Hunter Sung has a duty. He’s more than a person now—he’s a symbol. He needs someone equal to him. Someone who can support the next era of hunters. That person is not you.”

You stared blankly ahead, fists clenched beneath the table.

“You are infertile. You cannot bear a child. That already makes you incompatible. Hunter Cha is not only an S-rank—she’s a woman who can give him an heir. Someone who will inherit his strength. You… cannot.”

It felt like someone had taken a knife to your lungs.

“Break up with him. This week. That’s not a request. It’s an expectation. The safety of the world depends on it.”

And just like that, he stood and left you there—gutted.

‘We need to talk. I need you to come home right now.’ You texted him, heart pounding with the weight of what you were about to say.

You sat on the couch, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes locked on the packed suitcase by the door. You had already decided.

Jinwoo arrived, dropping his keys on the counter. He saw the bag. Then he saw your face.

“Baby… what’s wrong? You’re not okay, are you?”

He rushed to you, kneeling in front of the couch, cupping your face.

You didn’t kiss him back.

“I’ve heard everything, Jinwoo.”

His shoulders stiffened. His expression shifted from confusion to dread.

“No. Don’t say it.”

“Please…” you whispered. “Understand that this is for the best.”

“No.” He stood, pacing. “If you’re asking me to break up, I won’t. I love you, Y/N. I’ve fought everything to be with you. I won’t stop now.”

“I can’t give you what they want, Jinwoo.” Your voice cracked. “I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you a child.”

“We’ll adopt.” He was desperate now. “We’ll find a way. It doesn’t matter—”

“It does.” You stood, holding his hands. “They want a legacy. Someone who’ll inherit your strength. That can’t be me.”

“Then let them want! I only want you…” His voice broke, raw and ragged. “I don’t care about legacies. I care about you.”

“But I care about you enough to let you go.”

His grip on your hands tightened like he was trying to keep you from slipping away.

“Please,” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t do this. Don’t choose them over me.”

“It’s not about choosing. It’s about doing what’s right.”

He turned away, trembling, swallowing back tears. “You were the only thing in this world that made me feel human again.”

“And you were the only thing that made me feel loved.” Your voice cracked as you stepped closer.

“The world needs you, Jinwoo. I’m not the one you’re meant to be with.” You kissed his forehead one last time, a trembling, silent goodbye.

“Goodbye, Jinwoo.”

You opened the door, not daring to look back—because if you did, you knew you wouldn’t have the strength to walk away.

“Was my love not enough?” His voice cracked behind you, barely audible. “Wasn’t it enough for you?”

You paused at the threshold.

“It was more than enough. That’s why it hurts.”

And then the door closed.

And he collapsed to his knees.

You didn’t look back as the door clicked shut behind you. Outside, the air was colder than it should’ve been. Maybe because you left everything warm behind. Maybe because you left your heart on the floor next to him.

Inside, Jinwoo remained still, his knees digging into the floor, your scent lingering like a ghost. His fists trembled as he stared at the door, hoping—praying—you’d come back. But the silence answered him louder than any goodbye ever could.

He let out a broken laugh through the tears.

“You said it was for the world,” he whispered to no one. “But you were my world.”