How Do The LADS Men React When They Catch You Reading Smut. 🫣

Thank you for my request that has written. It was hot as heck!

Anyway, I am currently in a difficult moment so I wish you can write a comforting fluff of Xavier after she faced difficult moments (or moments that don't go as well and as planned from trying to buy tickets in advance online even she is quick that the seats are completely full to dealing such drama with friends or anything that upsets her)

Hope you have a wonderful day. I wish we can talk more often sometime. 🌟

hello!!! im so glad you enjoyed your request, and im so sorry that you're feeling upset and i really hope my next writing can help you!!!! youre lucky im feeling rly active today LMFAO so lets get to work!!!

.  𓂃 ଓ ۪   ݁ WHEN THE WORLD FALLS APART, I STAY 𓈒      x

SUMMARY: after a day filled with disappointment and emotional strain, you come home defeated. xavier senses the heaviness and offers quiet, unwavering comfort—no questions, just love. in his arms, you finds solace, he reminds you that even when everything else goes wrong, he will always stay.

CW: this piece includes themes of emotional distress, disappointment, and interpersonal conflict (e.g. friend drama, feeling overwhelmed). while the story is ultimately comforting and supportive, it touches on moments of emotional vulnerability and frustration. reader discretion is advised for those sensitive to these topics!!!

WC: 1.1K!

NOTES: for any xavier fans who are just feeling a bit down in the dumps rn . . . reqs are open if anyone want something similar with another character!! (doesnt have to be l&ds)!

The rain had started hours ago. Not a dramatic, cinematic downpour—just that steady kind of drizzle that made everything feel heavier. The kind of rain that matched the weight of a day gone completely wrong.

It had started with something so simple. Xavier had been excited all week—hell, maybe even longer. There was this event, something you both had been talking about forever. Something that should’ve been easy. Just a few clicks, some fast fingers, and the tickets would be yours. But when the page finally loaded—seconds after the timer hit zero—it was already over. Sold out. Not even a single seat left. The screen mocked you with its red lettering while your heart dropped.

And that had only been the beginning.

After that, it was like the universe decided to pile it on. A conversation with a friend had turned unexpectedly sour—passive-aggressive words, little jabs that cut too deep, and the kind of tone that made it clear something had been festering for a while. You tried to be patient, tried to talk through it, but somehow it twisted and escalated, and suddenly you were left with that horrible, hollow feeling. The one that came from wondering if you’d just lost someone who once felt safe.

By the time you made it back home, the silence felt like too much. Too loud. Too sharp. You dropped your bag by the door, didn’t bother to pick it up, and all you could do was sit on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at nothing, overwhelmed.

That’s when Xavier came in.

He didn’t barge in with noise or questions. He just stepped in quietly, gently closing the door behind him like he already knew—without you saying a word—that today hadn’t been kind.

He saw you, and his face softened instantly. “Hey,” he said, voice low and warm, as if even his tone was trying not to disturb the fragile threads holding you together. “Didn’t even get a hello text. That bad, huh?”

You didn’t even answer. You just nodded once, your lips twitching as if you might try to smile but couldn’t quite make it happen.

Xavier walked over and crouched down in front of you, one knee on the carpet, the other arm resting lightly on your knee. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he murmured, his fingers curling softly around your hand, grounding you. “I’m here. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Your throat tightened, and you blinked fast, trying to fight the sting in your eyes. But Xavier noticed. He always noticed.

Without waiting for permission, he moved up onto the couch, tucking himself beside you, pulling you gently—carefully—into his arms. It wasn’t one of those dramatic movie hugs. It was quiet. Steady. He cradled you like he was built for it. One hand at the back of your head, the other curled around your shoulders, and his voice soft and close to your ear.

“Today can go to hell,” he said lightly, like he was trying to make you smile, even just a little. “Honestly, I’ll write a very strongly-worded letter to the universe. Something passive-aggressive and full of glitter so it never forgets.”

You let out a breath—something between a laugh and a sob—and he held you a little closer.

“I know how much you wanted those tickets,” he went on. “And it sucks. It really, really sucks. You were fast, you did everything right, and still—it didn’t happen. That’s not your fault. You didn’t mess up.”

You shifted slightly, resting your forehead against his shoulder, the scent of him—something warm and familiar, like lavender and the cotton of old t-shirts—helping slow your racing thoughts.

“And then your friends,” Xavier whispered, as if speaking it too loud would make the pain sharper. “God, I’m sorry. That’s the worst part, isn’t it? The people you think will always be soft with you, and suddenly they’re sharp and distant. That kind of hurt gets deep.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he pressed a loving kiss into your hair.

“But I want you to hear me right now, okay?” His voice was calm, steady. The kind of voice you could fall asleep to. “This one day doesn’t define anything about you. Not how capable you are, not how loved you are, not how strong. It’s just… a bad day. A really bad one. And you’re still here. You’re still breathing. That’s brave, you know.”

You didn’t answer, but your body relaxed a little, your weight leaning into his more freely. He felt it and smiled gently, rubbing small, lazy circles into your back.

“We’ll find something else,” he promised. “Another event. A better one. One with even more ridiculous merch tables and overpriced snacks. And you won’t have to fight the internet for it, because we’ll camp out, or I’ll build a bot, or I’ll buy from a sketchy guy named Greg on the street corner. Whatever it takes.”

You gave the softest laugh, and he tilted his head to look at you. “There’s that sound I love,” he whispered. “God, I missed that sound today.”

Xavier pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around the both of you in one smooth motion, his arm still around you like it belonged there—and it did. He shifted so you were lying down together now, legs tangled, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re okay around me,” he said. “You don’t have to be anything but real. Cry if you want. Be quiet. Rant about everything that went wrong. Or just lie here. I’ve got you either way.”

And so you stayed like that. Not talking. Not moving much. Just breathing, slowly syncing your breath with his, feeling the warmth of his hold chase away the lingering cold of the day. His fingers played lazily with yours, and his thumb stroked the back of your hand in the kind of rhythm that told you he could stay like this forever.

Eventually, your heart started to ease. The weight in your chest didn’t vanish, but it didn’t feel so unbearable anymore. Because you weren’t holding it alone. Because Xavier was there—solid, warm, unshakably kind—and somehow, that made everything just a little bit better.

Even if the world had been unfair today.

Even if people had let you down.

Even if the tickets were gone and the drama stung and nothing had gone to plan.

Xavier stayed. He stayed, and he loved you through it.

And for now, that was enough.

That was everything.

At first, I just wanted to make a silly eepy kitty Xavi drink milk, and before I knew it, I had already made all of this

Manifesting Lumiere...

When You Shatter A Glass

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

When you broke a glass by accident, what would be his reaction? And when he sees you scared, what will he say to you as a response?

Genre: fluff, comfort/no hurt Pairing: Xavier x fem!reader (usage of Starlight as nickname) Words: 965 Warning: none!

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

Zayne's || Rafayel's || Sylus' || Caleb's

ENJOY~!

The loud shattering glass sound resounds in the small apartment.

After finishing a full week of additional work, killing Wanderer in places that were not their verdict, the long-awaited holiday has come. Xavier who loves his sleep has no problem finishing his workload, even faster than what Jenna told him. With his own work finished, he decided to help his partner, knowing fully that it was a high-level fight and not wanting his partner to be hurt.

At one point, Xavier was glad that he arrived on time, not letting his partner get any wounds. The only problem was the overtime and how they barely got any time to rest. Xavier could just sleep all day to get his energy charged, but knowing his partner, Xavier has decided to prepare something for the two of them so they can relax together.

Yet, when Xavier calls her over, she wants to help him prepare for their leisure time. With the food that he has ordered and the drinks that they bought before they got the mission, Xavier has to tell her that she didn’t need to lift a finger. He was the host, he was the one who invited her to his house, and it was his responsibility to prepare everything. Her stubbornness left him to let her do anything she wanted in exchange for him to cuddle with her.

“Starlight?” Xavier called out, his voice laced with worry. It didn’t take too long before his face popped up in the kitchen. He could see the way her shoulders shiver, face full of worry and fear. “Starlight, what happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m … I’m so sorry, Xavier. I … I didn’t know what happened to me, my hand suddenly became weak and I accidentally dropped your glass.”

Xavier notices the change, how her voice becomes shaky and smaller with each second. Her eyes never found his since he stood near her. Still trying to find what worries her so much, Xavier reaches out his hand towards her, trying to be the anchor for her and calm her down. He didn’t like how she responded with just a glass being broken.

“Starlight, will you look at me?” With his guiding voice, calm and grounding, she slowly looked at Xavier’s blue eyes, trying to see if there was any anger inside his eyes. “Are you hurt? Did the shard of the glass get into you? Or did you step on it by accident?”

Xavier could see how she shook her head, hand still shaking a bit. It took a lot from him to keep calm, he didn’t like the way she got cautious around him—over a broken glass. Is there something bothering her? Is there something that left her shaking like now? What was the real reason for her response? Was there someone who shouted or scared her when she clumsily broke a glass?

With a shake of her head, she said, “I’m okay … but I need to clean this. I … I will be the one responsible for it! I will also pay you, or I will buy you a new one …!”

“Starlight, it’s okay.” Xavier’s voice became softer, clenching her heart more. Why is his response like this? “You can just sit and rest, I told you I will be the one to prepare everything. Ah, I’m not blaming you.”

“Why are you … so calm about this?”

“Because you didn’t need to overthink it.” Xavier’s hand finally reached her cheek, caressing it and grounding her even more.

His touch was gentle, telling her that she didn’t need to think about anything, to be scared of anything, or for her to be wary about her surroundings. He wouldn’t ever shout, nor blame her for breaking his glass. He could easily get another one, and he could replace it anytime. All Xavier wanted was for her to be safe.

“Now, let’s get you out of this mess first, okay?” Xavier offered a smile, asking for permission. When he got a nod as an answer, he didn’t waste time before lifting her and bringing her to his couch, letting her rest there. “I will be back in a short while, so wait here.”

“I’m sorry, Xavier.” Her words cut deeper than he could have imagined. He could even feel how her finger held onto his hoodie. “I’m so sorry, Xavier. I didn’t mean to act though and mess it up. I didn’t … I shouldn’t have ….”

“Starlight, I’m not mad at you. I’m not angry at you too for not listening to me. What’s more, I’m worried about you. If you’re hurt or if you got the shard by accident. You’re really sure that you’re okay, right? That alone is enough for me.”

Xavier squatted down in front of her, holding both of her hands before stroking the back of her palm with his thumbs. He could sense a cold feeling from her, showing how much she was scared about his reaction. Yet, the smile, the look Xavier gives, and the way he speaks to her, everything made her realize how important she is to him. As long as she is safe and unhurt.

“Let me take care of it, it won’t be too long and I will be back by your side in no time. Will you wait for me?” With a nod given by her, Xavier finally stood up, making sure he left traces of a kiss on her face. Her cheeks, her forehead, and the crown of her head. “Next time, you didn’t need to be so scared, I won’t ever get mad at you. And it was only glass, we can buy a new one, also I prefer it to be a couple. For you and me, okay, Starlight?”

Can't stop thinking about how Sylus is implied to have been abandoned by his kin as a child. He was rejected and let down and hurt by every. single. person in his life bar one simply because he wasn't dragon enough for one group, and not human enough for the other. He was an outsider and an outcast from his earliest days. Only one person ever made him feel seen and cherished. And yet he was willing to let go of this sole person when that seemed to be what she wanted him to.

Let that sink in.

From childhood Sylus was discarded and unloved, and had more than likely not had a single truly happy day in his life until meeting MC. She was the first person he ever had that cared about him. The only one to love, accept, and want him unconditionally. MC represents everything good in his life. She is the person who taught him his worth and that he is not the monster he believed himself to be. The one who made him feel human for the first time in his life, who showed him what it is to love and be loved, who introduced him to the beauty of music and of life. The one who willingly shared half a soul with him to save his life, and who helped shape the person he is today.

MC is everything to Sylus. He spent the (most likely numerous) decades after coming back to life searching the cosmos for her. He built Onychinus and his empire with the intent of ruling it with her by his side. He dedicates himself to taking down the evil corporaation that harmed her as a child. So much of what he's done and still does is for her sake, and in hopes of building a happy life and future together. In a lot of ways, he lives for her. She is the living embodiment of his happiness.

And yet... he was and is willing to let her go if that is what she wants or what is best for her.

Because his love for her is pure. At his core, Sylus' heart is pure, in spite of everything that he has endured.

My heart bleeds when I think of all that he's been put through. But it is so healing to see him be loved, treasured, and happy now, his recent birthday event being a prime example of that. He is living the life he always deserved but was out of his reach for most of his life.

There is a place for Sylus in this warm, peaceful world 🩷

‧₊˚🌷༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ Warmth of Spring

Tags! Love and Deepspace Xavier x Reader, Angst

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

(Not proofread!)

I wish you can write me a comforting Xavier fluff? I felt emotionally tired in the past few days of moments of things don't go well or as originally well planned. 😞

Hii you!

As a devoted Caleb stan, I may or may not have briefly short-circuited when I got your request for Xav fluff. But I’m also deeply honored you trust me with this mission. So here you go: 300ish words of Xav being sooooft. I tried to give you what your heart desires—with love, from a Caleb girl doing her best.

Hope you feel better soon,

Maps 🫶🏻

——————————————————————————

🩷 His light (Xavier)

The apartment is quiet when you come in, your body heavy from the day. You don’t say anything—and you don’t need to.

Xavier’s already on the couch, his book resting unread in his hand. The soft golden glow of his Evol begins to light the room, warm and gentle, like it’s reaching out to you. “The lamp’s too harsh,” he says simply. “This is softer.”

You nod, too tired to speak, and sink down beside him. He shifts wordlessly, letting you curl into his side. His arm comes to rest behind you, not quite a hug, but close enough that you feel the intent.

His light wraps around you both, dim and steady. It doesn’t buzz or flicker—it hums quietly, like it knows this is what you need.

The weight of the day starts to fade. You feel his hand gently brush your hair back, the touch warm and unhurried, as if he’s afraid to disturb you. Then it lingers—his fingers moving slowly, drawing quiet circles against your back in a rhythm that calms your heart more than any words could.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs quietly. “Just rest. I’m here.”

You breathe in the warmth of him, the soft scent of clean cotton and something faintly sunlit. His hoodie brushes against your cheek, worn and familiar, and you sink into it like a sigh.

“You’re safe now,” he adds, his voice even softer than before. “You’ve done enough for today. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

Then, you feel it.

A soft kiss pressed to your forehead—slow and grounding. He lingers there, just long enough to make your chest ache.

“You can fall apart with me, if you need to,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold the pieces.”

You drift.

And when you stir again, just for a moment, his head is leaning against yours. His Evol is still glowing softly, casting lazy golden patterns on the walls. His hand has never stopped moving—still tracing those gentle circles against your back.

He never moved. He stayed.

And somehow, that says everything.

——————————————————————————

Even if Xavier is my main ...

Sylus's bbd event is so fudging beautiful and pleasing and

Like

Ahhhhhh

Its too good and i was literally staring at this for 5 mins because it was so beautiful and gawd

And whoever made this, hatsoff sir or maam

I DISCOVERED A THING

You can press on the decorations in the Sylus Bday event and you get little commentary!!

your husband had a very convenient advantage over you.

and that would be picking you up— whenever and wherever.

falling asleep anywhere other than your bed was never an issue, not with him around. because rest assured— your very strong, very responsible and very devoted husband, has made it his mission to pick up his beloved wife and deliver her to safety and comfort.

you fell asleep on the couch while reading a book or watching a movie? no problem, he had already anticipated it. cue him carefully picking you up bridal style, grip firm but gentle, your head comfortably cradled against his chest. then, he'd start walking to your shared bedroom with slow steps— but not before staring at your sleeping face for a moment with a painfully tender gaze and pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. everytime you woke up, you would find yourself neatly tucked in bed with him holding you close to him or simply gazing at you in quiet awe, like you were the very embodiment of beauty itself. (to him, you were, even if you disagreed.)

now, that's not the only place where his strength came to use. whenever you decide to act stubborn and bratty, you'd best be prepared for a pair of large, steady and warm hands to suddenly settle themselves on your waist, hoisting you up over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. he'd go on about his day just like that as if he didn't have a living, breathing, adult-sized human creating a fuss over his shoulder. he'll only put you down when he feels like it. or maybe if you manage to bribe him with some affection… (spoiler; it always works.)

another time would be when you're feeling particularly lazy to get up from bed in the morning. you don't want to get up? that's fine too, he'll let you latch onto him like a koala— your arms lazily looped around his neck, legs around his waist, and his hand keeping you steady while he casually takes a sip of his coffee with the other. that's his life now. happy wife, happy life.

however, there was also a time when he had you questioning your entire existence. you were standing in front of a drawer, very much distracted by an item in your hands. it just so happened that your husband needed to get something from the said drawer. his solution? extraordinary. lift you off the ground by your waist, relocate you to the side, get his drawer business done and casually go on and about with his day. you only processed this a minute later and he had no idea why you kept on staring at him like he had personally rewritten the laws of the universe itself.

long story short, he loved picking you up— even during times when it was unnecessary. why? because he simply could. and also because it was the perfect excuse to have you in his arms yet again.

♡ nanami kento, kamo choso, ryomen sukuna, gojo satoru, geto suguru, fushiguro toji (jjk), sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb (lads), wriothesley, alhaitham, neuvillette, diluc, itto, kaeya, childe, zhongli (genshin), rengoku kyojuro, uzui tengen, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei (kny), ukitake jushiro, kuchiki byakuya, kyoraku shunsui, kurosaki ichigo, ishida uryuu, abarai renji, hitsugaya toshiro, jugram haschwalth (bleach), your favorite.

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

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

🖐️💥😈 Sylus 

You don’t even make it home.

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

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

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

"Cargo secured."

A second voice. Muffled. Hollow.

You twist wildly.

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

Luke and Kieran.

You thrash. “Put me down—”

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

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

Your stomach sinks. The car door swings open—

And you’re shoved inside.

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

Then—

Luke sighs. Long and exaggerated.

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

Kieran hums. "So full of life."

Your eyes narrow. “What.”

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

"He was so worried."

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

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

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

Your stomach drops.

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

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

Luke hums. "So he started getting creative."

Your breath hitches. "Creative?"

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence.

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

Luke sighs dreamily. "It still might be."

Your blood turns to ice.

And then—Luke’s head tilts toward you.

"Now…?"

Kieran completes it, a beat later.

"Now he has you."

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

N109 Zone. His estate.

The car door swings open—

And you’re hauled out like luggage.

"Handle with care," Luke hums.

“I am handling with care," Kieran murmurs.

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

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

“Welcome home, Miss.”

And then—they’re gone.

You whirl after them. “HEY—”

A quiet sound.

Fabric rustling. A slow, deliberate exhale.

You freeze.

And then—you turn.

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

But his eyes. They burn.

You swallow.

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

Silence.

He just… watches you.

Then—slowly, smoothly—

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

One. Then the other.

Rolling his sleeves up, inch by inch.

Your stomach twists.

“Sylus.”

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

And you—

You fucking run.

You BOLT.

Straight toward the door. It’s locked.

You curse.

Behind you—he clicks his tongue.

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

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

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

You sidestep. He matches you.

“You ignore my calls.”

You swerve left. He steps right.

“I tear this city apart looking for you.”

You dodge back. He adjusts effortlessly.

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

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

Then—his patience snaps.

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

And suddenly—

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

He has you.

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

Bringing you down over his lap.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—”

"Ah, ah, ah.”

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

"You made a very poor choice, Kitten."

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

He pulls your pants down.

Your entire body jolts. “Wait—”

The first smack lands. Sharp. Stinging.

You jerk violently.

Then—the second.

Then—the third.

“Sylus—you absolute bastard!”

A low chuckle vibrates through his chest.

“Six days, Sweetie.”

Another smack.

“You think you get away with that?”

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

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

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

“You sure you can handle that right now?”

You growl.

And then—

You bite him. Hard. Right on the thigh.

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

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

And then—

You see it. The rage is gone.

And in its place—

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

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

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

Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

You slide forward, onto his lap.

His breath stutters.

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

He shudders.

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

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

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

“…You won’t have to.”

Silence.

Then—

His grip tightens. And just like that—

He is never letting you go again.

❄️🩸💔 Zayne

You already know where he is.

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

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

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

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

And then—you see him.

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

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

But then—

A switch flips. His entire presence shifts.

Cold. Professional. Untouchable.

His eyes meet yours. And he says nothing.

No relief. No anger. Nothing.

Just pure, hollow emptiness.

You swallow hard. Force yourself to continue.

“Zayne—”

“You need medical attention.”

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

Your stomach twists.

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

“You’re pale. Have you lost blood?”

You inhale sharply. “Zay—”

“Concussion?”

“No—”

“Fever? Infection?”

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

And you realize—

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

And something inside you breaks.

Your legs wobble.

You sway—

And then—

You collapse.

The reaction is instantaneous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then—

His steps slow. His breathing evens.

And suddenly—

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

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

His arms loosen. Too loose. Too fast.

And suddenly—you're falling.

You gasp sharply, hands instinctively grabbing at him—

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

But barely.

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

Then—flat, quiet, lethal—

“You lied.”

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

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

Your throat tightens.

And then—before you can stop it—

Tears prick at your eyes.

Your voice comes out small, weak, broken.

“Zayne… my leg hurts.”

Everything stops. The air in the room shifts.

And suddenly—

The rage is gone. His walls crumble.

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

“…I lost you.”

Your heart cracks wide open.

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

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

His breath stutters.

You press your forehead to his.

Hot. Unwavering. Eternal.

“Only death could take me from you.”

His eyes squeeze shut. And when they open again—

There’s nothing left but raw, agonizing devotion.

Then—

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

🪑🍎🎖️ Caleb

The door clicks shut behind you.

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

And then—you see it.

The chair.

Placed dead center in the room.

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

Your stomach tightens. And then—a voice.

Cold. Measured. Absolute.

"Sit down."

You turn sharply—

And there he is.

Colonel Caleb. Not your Caleb.

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

No.

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

And you are his captive.

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

"Sit. Down."

Your spine stiffens. “No.”

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

You stumble, cursing—

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

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

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

Like he hasn’t slept in six days.

A tablet activates in his hand.

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

And then—his interrogation begins.

His voice is calm. Clinical. Devoid of warmth.

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

You blink. “What—?”

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

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

"Interesting."

A swipe of his fingers. Another screen appears.

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

You stare. “...For reading?”

His brows twitch.

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

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

A beat of silence.

Then—softer now, dangerous in its evenness—

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

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

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

And you snap.

"You are losing your fucking mind."

His jaw tightens.

And then—

The gravity releases.

You lurch forward, finally able to move—

But before you can get up—

he’s already there.

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

His face is inches from yours. His gaze burns.

"Are you fucking someone else?"

Your breath catches. Your pulse thunders in your ears.

And then—

You laugh.

Sharp. Bitter. Furious.

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

“Look at me, Caleb.”

He doesn’t move.

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

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

"I’m on the edge of it."

Your chest tightens.

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

His fingers loosen.

And then—

"Six days."

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

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

His thumb brushes over your cheekbone.

"I couldn't breathe without pain."

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

“Caleb—”

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

His voice wavers.

And then—softer, rawer, almost desperate—

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

Your chest aches.

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

His jaw twitches.

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

You exhale shakily.

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

Silence.

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

Leaves.

The door slams.

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

And finally, finally, the tears fall.

But then—

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

Your breath shudders. His grip tightens.

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

You shake your head.

“Caleb…”

His forehead presses against your shoulder.

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

Your heart clenches.

“Caleb, I always come back.”

He flinches.

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

"You have to trust me."

His lips part, but no sound comes out.

Then—barely above a whisper—

"I can't lose you."

Your fingers tighten against his jaw.

"You won’t."

Silence.

Then—

He kisses you.

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

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

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

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

His breath shudders. He shakes his head. 

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

Your brows furrow. “Caleb—” 

He swallows. 

"If you’re better off without me—" 

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

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

“…You are my universe,” you whisper. 

His hands shake against your back. 

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

His breath shudders against your lips.

And then—his voice drops, quiet but unshakable. 

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

🗡✨🌥 Xavier 

The door clicks shut behind you.

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

Calm. Measured. Unshakable.

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

You freeze.

Xavier is already there.

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

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

Then—calmly, unhurriedly—he turns the page.

And finally—his gaze lifts to yours.

Cold. Slow. Too calculating.

"Six days."

Your stomach tightens. "Xav—"

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

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

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

And then—a small smile.

Soft. Almost friendly.

Which means you’re in deep, deep trouble.

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

You exhale. "Xavier—"

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

A pause.

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

Your jaw tightens. "It wasn’t—"

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

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

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

Your stomach drops. Because he knows.

You inhale sharply. "Xav—"

He shakes his head.

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

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

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

You hesitate.

Because you were on a mission. A classified one.

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

And yet—he knew nothing.

You try anyway.

"I had a—"

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard. "I can’t—"

"Mm. Right. Classified."

Another small nod. A slow, deliberate blink.

"As are all major operations within the Association."

His fingers drum lightly against the armrest.

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

You say nothing.

Xavier exhales through his nose—almost disappointed.

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

You flinch.

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

Pity.

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

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

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

His fingers lace together.

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

Your breath catches.

"You what?"

He hums.

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

Your hands clench.

"Xavier—"

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

A flicker of something colder in his expression.

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

Your stomach turns.

"Xavier, I wasn’t—"

He clicks his tongue.

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

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

"Imagine my relief."

Silence.

You exhale sharply. "Xav, I—"

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

Your throat tightens.

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

He tilts his head slightly, studying you.

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

Your chest tightens.

"You think I wanted to—"

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

His voice lowers.

"But you still did."

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

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

A long, slow breath.

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

Silence.

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

He exhales.

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

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

Your heart slams against your ribs.

"Xavier—"

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

"Xavier, you’re coming back, right?"

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

And then—

"Ask me again in six days."

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

🧜🏻‍♂️🧑🏻‍🎨🌊 Rafayel 

You are exhausted.

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

Instead—

You come home to chaos.

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

And then—the sight of him.

Rafayel.

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

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

And surrounding him—beautiful women.

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

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

And then—

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

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

You tense.

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

"My muse. My inspiration."

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

"The very heart of my art!"

A sweeping gesture.

And then—

He motions toward the canvas-lined walls.

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

But—ruined.

Slashes through the canvas.

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

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

"What the actual fuck is this?!"

He gasps, mock scandalized.

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

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

Then—he grins.

Crooked. Reckless. Infuriating.

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

A sigh.

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

You march toward him. He tilts his head.

"Careful, cutie. You seem upset."

"You’re a fucking disaster."

He laughs.

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

You grab his wrist, yanking him toward the exit.

“We’re talking. Now.”

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

His smile widens.

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

Your jaw clenches.

"This is pathetic."

Another laugh, lighter this time.

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

You snap.

And shove him into the pool.

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

And for a brief, glorious second—silence.

Until—

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

He pulls you down with him.

Cold water engulfs you, shocking your senses.

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

And suddenly—

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

And now—it’s just you and him.

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

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

He gestures lazily toward the water.

"You throw me in my own fucking pool?"

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

You turn to climb out—

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

His eyes—darker now. Sharper. Focused.

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

"And we’ll have problems."

You glare. "Let. Go."

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

“You’re not walking away from this.”

Your pulse spikes.

"Rafayel—"

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

Your breath catches.

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

"Then say it."

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

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

To your clothes.

Soaked. Clinging. Revealing everything.

His pupils darken. And then—his jaw tightens.

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

Your breath stutters.

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

He tilts his head.

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

"A Wanderer shattered it!"

He lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.

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

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

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

His voice drops.

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

He leans in, breath hot against your lips.

And then—

He kisses you. Desperate. Possessive.

Your legs wrap around his waist, instinct taking over.

His grip tightens.

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

"You deserved it."

His fingers dig into your hips.

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

"Maybe I should throw you again."

He grins against your skin.

"I should make you pay for that."

"Raf—"

"Mm. Shh."

His hands travel lower, pressing you harder against him.

Your breathing turns shallow.

"Your paintings," you murmur.

"I’ll paint more."

"You hated me for six days."

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

"You didn’t want to see me again?"

He grins against your collarbone.

"Try leaving me again, cutie."

His grip tightens, unshakable.

His breath is hot against your ear.

"And I promise—"

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

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