Husband?

Xavier and his continued love for scaring and teasing MC 😭

he's such a bully sometimes lol

via: Love and Deepspace IG

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Not now!

Notes: masterlist \ Part 1

Summary: Your husband is calling you, but a little gremlin keeps declining it.

Tag: @teewritessmth @mitskunicheesecake @rcvcgers @vspxriddles @iloveh4nge

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Zayne

Zayne sat in the doctor’s lounge, his phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the call ring. Once. Twice. Then—

Call Declined.

His brows furrowed slightly. His hands, steady enough to perform the most delicate heart surgeries, tightened around the phone. He tried again.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Zayne exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip relaxing, Maybe you were busy. You were probably playing with Elias or cooking dinner Mayne in the shower? He wasn’t the type to overthink, but something about the repeated declines made his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t happy about.

Still, he didn’t want to be a nuisance or cause you unnecessary troubles. He wasn’t the type to text “Call me” like other husbands either, He just sat there for a moment, staring at his phone, before getting up and heading back to work.

He had patients waiting.

Back home, Elias sat cross-legged on the couch, his tiny fingers curled around your phone. Every time it vibrated, his eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he pressed the red button.

“Papa’s calling,” you pointed out, watching from the kitchen as Elias, without a second thought, hung up again.

He didn’t say a word. Just held the phone like a little dragon hoarding treasure.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked over, sitting beside him. “Sweetheart, why are you declining Papa’s calls?”

Elias finally looked up at you. His expression was unreadable—so much like Zayne’s that it almost made you laugh. After a moment, he mumbled, “He’s busy.”

You blinked. “That’s why you’re hanging up on him?”

A short nod.

Your heart softened. Elias was a quiet child, much like his father, and even at four years old, he had an odd way of thinking. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t being stubborn. In his little mind, he just thought he was helping.

You smiled and ran a hand through his soft raven colored hair. “Baby, Papa wouldn’t call if he didn’t want to talk. He’s probably on a break and missing us.”

Elias frowned slightly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He shifted on the couch, staring at the phone. “…Oh.”

You chuckled. “Should we call him back?”

Elias hesitated, then nodded.

Zayne was halfway through reviewing a patient’s chart when his phone vibrated.

Incoming Call: My Love

His fingers moved instinctively, answering before the first ring finished. “Hello?”

“Papa.”

Zayne blinked. It wasn’t you. It was Elias.

The little voice on the other end sounded almost… guilty?

“Elias.” Zayne glanced at the time. “You should be in bed soon.”

A pause. Then, in a quieter voice, “…I hung up your calls.”

Zayne froze. He hadn’t expected that. His first instinct was to ask why, but before he could, Elias continued.

“You were busy. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Zayne’s grip on the phone tightened. He looked down at his hands, But right now, his own heart ached in a different way.

He wasn’t good with words. Never had been. But there was one thing he knew.

“Elias.” His voice was firm, steady. “You never bother me.”

Another pause.

Then, a quiet, “…Oh.”

Zayne exhaled. “Is Mama there?”

You took the phone, laughing softly. “Your son thought he was being considerate.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.” His voice was softer than usual. “Tell him he can always pick up my calls.”

“I think he understands now.” You turned to Elias, who was now curled against your side, looking deep in thought. “Say goodnight to Papa.”

Elias hesitated, then muttered, “Goodnight, Papa.”

Zayne swallowed. He wished he was home.

“Goodnight, Elias. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Zayne finally stepped through the door that night, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, and Elias was asleep in his room.

Or so he thought.

As he passed Elias’ door, a tiny voice mumbled, “…father?”

Zayne stopped. Slowly, he pushed the door open.

Elias was sitting up in bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Zayne hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. But he walked inside, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with his small hands and grabbed onto Zayne’s sleeve. Not saying anything, just… holding on.

Zayne stared at him before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Then, without a word, he gently rested a hand on his son’s head.

It wasn’t much.

But for them, it was enough.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Xavier

Xavier stood in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, his sword still dripping as he exhaled. The fight had been over in minutes—another nest of Wanderers cleared out.

He wasn’t in a hurry to return to headquarters. Instead, he yawned and pulled out his phone, pressing your number.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Xavier stared at the screen, brow twitching slightly. That was odd. He tried again.

Call Declined.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn’t a man prone to overreaction, but something about his own family declining his calls irritated him. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe you were busy. Maybe—

He teleported.

One second, he was in a ruined village surrounded by monster corpses. The next, he was in the living room of his own home.

The sight that greeted him made his left eye twitch.

Leo and Livia—his five-year-old twins—were sitting on the couch, your phone between them, giggling.

Livia saw him first. Her eyes widened, and she smacked Leo’s arm. “Abort mission! Papa’s here!”

Leo nearly dropped the phone. “Crap.”

Xavier didn’t speak for a moment. He simply stared, exhausted, disappointed, and vaguely impressed all at once. “…You two.”

The twins immediately shot to their feet, but it was too late. He was already in front of them, towering over their tiny forms. His sword was still strapped to his back, his hunter uniform stained with dried Wanderer blood.

They didn’t look scared. If anything, they looked ready to bolt.

“…Explain.” His voice was even, calm—but that made it worse.

The twins exchanged glances before Livia, ever the mastermind, said, “Mom said you were busy!”

Leo nodded rapidly. “Yeah! You were fighting monsters, right? We didn’t wanna bother you!”

Xavier sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples. “You declined my calls.”

Livia pouted. “Well… yeah.”

He inhaled deeply. He was not good at this. Discipline, affection—none of it came naturally to him. He could gut a monster in seconds, but parenting? That was an entirely different battlefield.

He crossed his arms, giving them a firm look. “That’s not happening again.”

Leo groaned. “But why? You never talk much anyway!”

Xavier blinked. He squatted down to their level, eyes narrowing. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Livia elbowed Leo. “Idiot. Now we’re really in trouble.”

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted beyond belief. He should just pick them up and force them into a timeout—he had the strength for it. But before he could, Livia clapped her hands together.

“Leo, Plan B!”

Leo gasped. “Yes, Plan B!”

Xavier frowned. “What the—”

Before he could react, Livia sprinted left while Leo ran right.

Teleportation was an option, but honestly? He was too damn tired. He just sighed and walked toward the kitchen, knowing exactly where they’d end up.

And there you were, standing at the counter, watching the chaos unfold like it was a normal Tuesday.

Without looking at him, you asked, “I take it you figured out why your calls weren’t getting through?”

Xavier leaned against the counter, exhaling. “Your kids are demons.”

You raised a brow. “My kids?”

He gave you a tired look. “They didn’t get it from me.”

Before you could argue, the sound of a crash echoed from upstairs.

A beat of silence. Then Leo’s voice: “I’LL FIX IT, I PROMISE!”

Xavier closed his eyes, counting to ten.

An hour later, the twins sat on the couch, pouting as Xavier stood in front of them. He wasn’t a loud father. He didn’t yell. But his silent disappointment was somehow worse.

“You’re not getting out of this,” he finally said.

Livia crossed her arms. “It was for a good reason.”

“It was for a stupid reason.”

Leo kicked his legs. “But we didn’t wanna distract you.”

Xavier sighed, rubbing his face. “…You’re my kids. You can always talk to me.”

Livia blinked. “Even when you’re fighting monsters?”

He crouched down, staring at them. “Especially then.”

For the first time, the twins looked guilty.

Xavier softened just a fraction. He wasn’t great at showing affection to kids. He wasn’t the type to hug them randomly or constantly hold them. But he reached out, ruffling their hair roughly or cuddle up with his little demons.

“Next time you hang up on me, I’m making you run laps.”

Leo gasped. “That’s child labor!”

Livia clutched her chest. “You’re cruel, Father.”

Xavier stood, sighing. “You’ll live.”

That night, when the twins were asleep, Xavier sat beside you in bed, rubbing his temples.

“I don’t know how to handle them.”

You smiled, playing with his hair. “You’re doing fine.”

He scoffed. “They don’t listen to me at all.”

You chuckled. “They do. They just like pushing your buttons.”

Xavier sighed, leaning into your touch. “…Next time they ignore my calls, I’m teleporting them into a cold lake.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sure you are.”

Xavier didn’t respond. He just yawned, closed his eyes, and finally—finally—slept.

Love Beneath the Depths

(part 1)

Xavier x f!reader

Sequel to Love Beyond the Surface (part 1)

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

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

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

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

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

Why is she here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Xavier?"

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

"Oh, it's you."

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

For what?

For who?

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

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

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

That’s… weird.

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

Your stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

You hold your breath, waiting, hoping.

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

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

────── ♡ ──────

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

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

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

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

Shjt–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────── ♡ ──────

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

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

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

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

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

Silence…

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

"Just part-time." You reply carefully.

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

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

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

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

"You turned me down pretty fast last time."

Your stomach twists slightly.

"Because you had the wrong person."

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

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

────── ♡ ──────

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

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

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

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

You had no idea how he would react.

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

He’s here. Again.

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

Because now, you have a new problem.

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

Which means you need a new job.

And more importantly, you need to cut him off.

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

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

Who knows?

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

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

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

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

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

And then—nothing.

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

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

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

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

────── ♡ ──────

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

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

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

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

Is he… flirting?

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

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

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

Oh, great. I love when customers do that.

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

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

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

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

A shadow falls over your desk.

"Is there a problem here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Great.

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

Xavier raises an eyebrow. "Library cryptid?"

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

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

You blink as he sets it on the counter.

"…?"

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier reaches for it, but then he pauses.

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

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

Your stomach drops.

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

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

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

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

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

And by people, you mean you.

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

Yay…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach twists.

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, taking the paper with slightly unsteady hands.

Xavier is looking for you.

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

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

Not my problem anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes she’s okay.

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

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

Despite that, she still noticed him. Every time.

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

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

His eyes narrow.

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

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

His grip tightens around the paper.

An accident. A careless mistake.

But now, it’s his lead.

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

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.

Brother ... someone at last.. wrote it

THANK YOUUUU

Omggg

Bookish MC .. lets goooooooo

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

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

Sylus

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

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

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

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

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

Zayne

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

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

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

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

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

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

Xavier

Your shared love of reading is your love language.

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

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

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

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

Caleb

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

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

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

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

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

Rafayel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ vaccine

— synopsis: you go to akso hospital to get your child their vaccine.

zayne was always the one to handle these things, but now that he's gone—

you don't know what to do.

— note/s: n/a

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

i.

“mommy, are we gonna see daddy?”

you freeze with your hand on the car door, your child’s small voice cutting clean through the dull hum of the engine. there’s a soft rustling sound as they shift in their car seat, wide eyes peering at you expectantly from the rearview mirror.

you swallow. “no, baby.” you keep your voice steady, soft. careful. “we’re just going to the hospital to get your shots.”

their face scrunches up. “but daddy always gives me my shots.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pressure beneath your ribs. “i know.”

you don’t tell them why it’s different this time. you don’t tell them why daddy isn’t coming home.

you climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. the seatbelt clicks into place, and you adjust the mirror. you breathe. in and out. your wedding ring catches the light as you grip the steering wheel. zayne’s ring sits cool and heavy against your collarbone, hanging from the delicate chain around your neck. you reach up and press it between your fingers.

“mommy?”

you glance back at them. “yeah?”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me for being brave, right?”

you smile. it’s thin. it wobbles at the edges. “yeah, baby. he’s always proud of you.”

ii.

the hospital smells like disinfectant and stale coffee. you adjust your child on your hip as you stand at the reception desk, the too-bright fluorescent lights making you feel exposed.

the receptionist glances up. “can i help you?”

“um.” you hesitate. “my child has a vaccine appointment?”

the receptionist taps at the keyboard. “name?”

you give it. the receptionist hums and scans the screen.

“do you have the vaccination record?”

you open your mouth. close it. “uh… no. sorry.”

“that’s okay.” she types a few more things. “we can look it up. when was the last time your child got their MMR booster?”

your mind blanks. “uh… i don’t know.”

the receptionist raises an eyebrow.

“my husband usually handled that stuff,” you add quickly.

the receptionist looks up at you then, a flicker of recognition sparking behind her eyes. her gaze drops to your ring and then to the chain around your neck. her face softens. “dr. zayne?”

your throat tightens. “yeah.”

a pause. “i’m… sorry for your loss.”

you nod stiffly. “thanks.”

she glances toward the back. “do you want to sit down? i’ll have someone come get you soon.”

“yeah. okay.”

you settle into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area, your child curling against your side. they tug at your sleeve. “mommy?”

“yeah?”

“do you think daddy would be proud of me if i don’t cry?”

you press your lips together and kiss the top of their head. “he’d be proud of you no matter what.”

iii.

the nurse who calls you in knows you, too. you see the flash of recognition in her eyes when she reads the file.

“you’re dr. zayne’s wife?”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry for your loss.”

you manage a thin smile. “thanks.”

she looks at your child. “alright, sweetheart. ready for your shot?”

their hand curls around your sleeve. “is daddy gonna do it?”

the nurse’s expression falters.

you stroke their hair. “no, honey. daddy’s not here right now. but this nice nurse is going to take care of you.”

their lip wobbles. “but… what if it hurts?”

“it might,” you say softly. “but you’re brave, remember?”

their eyes shine. “like daddy?”

“just like daddy.”

the nurse smiles kindly. “alright, big kid. let’s get this over with.”

your child squeezes their eyes shut as the needle goes in, their hand clutching yours. they don’t cry.

when it’s over, they beam up at you. “i was brave!”

you stroke their cheek. “so brave.”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me!”

the nurse’s gaze flickers toward you. you know what she’s thinking, but you don’t say anything.

“yeah, baby.” your voice shakes. “he’s so proud.”

iv.

you walk back through the hospital corridors, your child skipping at your side. your wedding ring feels heavier than usual on your finger. zayne’s ring presses cold against your chest.

the hallways are familiar. too familiar. you pass by rooms zayne used to work in, faces zayne used to know. they all look at you with soft eyes and hushed voices. you hate it.

your child’s hand tugs at yours. “can we get ice cream now?”

you smile faintly. “yeah. we can do that.”

they light up. “can i get chocolate?”

“of course.”

“and can we tell daddy that i was brave?”

you don’t answer right away. your hand closes around the ring at your neck.

“he already knows,” you say quietly.

you walk through the automatic doors, stepping into the sharp brightness of the afternoon sun.

that night at 3:07 a.m. | xavier

synopsis : Sequel to 3:07 a.m.

content : angst(obviously), non-related to the game events, non-cannon, just purely xavier x reader but in our world :)

writer’s note : part one can be found here. I was inspired to write this peace thanks to the lovely @hiqhkey <3 you were right, the angst potential in this was wew. It took me awhile to piece together how to write this one because I wanted angst but I also wanted closure, I hope you enjoy this one as well :D

You came into his life like turbulence—unexpected, disarming.

And yet, your voice was the calm that followed the storm.

Xavier doesn’t remember how it began.

Maybe it was that first night. 3:07 a.m.

He had meant to call someone else—fingers fumbling, mind clouded, emotions in disarray.

But it was your voice he heard.

Soft. Quiet. A melody that lingered longer than it should have.

He didn’t hang up.

He listened.

And then he called again.

It became routine, though neither of you called it that.

He’d come home from work, shower, lie in bed.

Waiting.

Sleep never came easy for him.

But you did.

At 3:07 a.m., he would dial your number.

And you’d answer, always.

“Hey,” you’d breathe into the line.

His heart would falter, just a beat.

It wasn’t love. Or maybe it was.

He couldn’t name it, but it left him aching.

He wanted to tell you that your voice was beautiful, that it soothed something in him he didn’t know needed soothing.

But he never did.

Instead, he’d ask about your day.

You’d ask about his.

It was your thing—he calls, you answer.

No questions. No promises. Just presence.

But slowly, the lines blurred.

He caught himself thinking about you more. Wanting more.

But the words never came.

He’d see you sometimes—crossing the street, sitting in your favorite café by the window, head bowed in quiet focus.

He never waved.

Never approached.

Because 3:07 a.m. was sacred.

And he was afraid that in the daylight, it might mean something else.

Or nothing at all.

So he waited.

For nighttime.

For your voice.

—•

Then came a night that didn’t sound the same.

You answered, but your voice held sadness.

It rattled him, the heaviness of it.

He wanted to reach through the phone, hold you, take the weight from your shoulders.

But instead, he stayed silent.

You told him about a boy you liked.

His stomach turned.

He should’ve known. He should’ve seen it coming.

It was him. It had to be.

Still, he smiled where you couldn’t see.

And said, “Maybe he’ll come around.”

“Maybe,” you whispered.

If only he’d realized it then.

—•

“Do you think some people are just… meant to belong to each other?” he asked one night.

The question came unannounced. Raw. Honest.

You laughed, soft and almost shy.

But you didn’t answer.

And he didn’t press.

Neither of you ever did.

But that night, he told himself it was time to move on.

If you had felt the same way, you would’ve said something.

Wouldn’t you?

Still, the thought nagged at him, cruel and persistent.

You always picked up.

He opened his mouth. Almost.

But he swallowed it down.

“You still there?” he asked, knowing full well you were.

“Always.”

That word settled in his chest like warmth, and yet it ached.

“I saw a fox tonight,” he murmured. “It ran across the road like it didn’t care if it got hit.”

He didn’t know why he said it.

Maybe to see if you’d understand.

Maybe it was his confession in disguise.

“I thought about stopping,” he added, voice low. “I didn’t.”

Silence stretched between you. His breath hitched.

Then you said, “You never stop.”

His heart clenched.

“Maybe I should.”

It hurt, saying that. Like swallowing glass.

He changed the subject.

Pretended it didn’t mean anything.

And when your voice grew soft with sleep, he noticed—he always did.

“Go to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, ending the call before you could reply.

His heart was racing.

In the dark, he whispered to himself, “Why didn’t I just tell her?”

But the moment had passed.

The weight of everything left unsaid pressed down on him, suffocating and sharp.

He sighed into the stillness of his room.

“Maybe it was never meant to be.”

But oh, it was.

It really, really was.

—•

Eventually, life got busier.

Or maybe he made it that way—chasing distractions just to drown out the ache in his chest.

He didn’t know what it was exactly.

Rejection? An answer he didn’t want?

All he knew was that your silence—your lack of anything—gnawed at him until it became unbearable.

So he filled his days with noise. With work. With anything that wasn’t you.

But the nights stayed quiet.

Too quiet.

When he came home, the stillness in the air was heavier than usual.

He moved through his routine on autopilot, then lay in bed with his eyes shut, pretending he could sleep.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe I won’t call tonight. Maybe she will.

But curiosity clawed its way in.

He peeked.

3:05 a.m.

He watched the seconds crawl.

3:06.

His thumb hovered above your contact.

3:07 a.m.

Before his mind could stop his heart, he called.

Tonight, he told himself. Tonight, I’ll ask her.

“Hey,” your voice came through, soft and steady.

Like you had been waiting. Like always.

“Hey,” he echoed, but the word felt fragile—smaller than he meant it to be.

“Rough night?”

“No. Just… long.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything he couldn’t say.

This was it—his window.

If he didn’t say it tonight, he’d let you go.

But then you asked gently, “Wanna talk about it?”

And he hesitated.

Why didn’t he just tell you?

He exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Not really.”

“Okay.”

His mind swirled—What if she feels the same?

Will I regret this silence tomorrow?

Still, the words stayed lodged in his throat.

Instead, “Tell me something nice… anything.”

Because he wanted to hear your voice again. Wanted to feel close to you, even if you were slipping through his fingers.

And you did.

God, you did.

You told him about the dog you saw with its head out the window, tongue flapping like it owned the world.

You told him about the heart-shaped cloud that vanished before you could take a picture.

You told him about a song that reminded you of him.

His heart faltered at that—but still, nothing.

He only hummed, listening like it might be the last time he’d ever hear you.

“Do you think…” he started, then stopped. His courage faltered mid-sentence.

A pause.

“What?” you prompted, gentle.

His breath caught. “Do you think we’ll still talk like this… a year from now?”

You laughed.

And it shattered him.

Why was that your reaction?

“You’re the one who calls,” you said simply. “I just pick up.”

He fell silent. One beat. Then two.

“Yeah… I guess you do.”

He gathered what was left of himself. “I hope you sleep well tonight.”

There was a pause, quiet but heavy.

“Are you not calling tomorrow?” you asked softly.

His chest ached. That was his moment—his chance to say something real.

But instead, “I don’t know.”

And he ended the call.

Alone in the dark, he whispered, “I need to move on.”

A tear slipped quietly down his cheek.

The next night, he stared at his phone.

Thumb over your name.

Hovering.

He shouldn’t call. He couldn’t.

His heart wasn’t whole enough to risk it again.

So he didn’t.

He shoved his phone beneath his pillow and closed his eyes.

If she wants to talk, he told himself, she’ll call.

But a voice inside him whispered something else—Maybe she’s waiting, too.

Still, he forced himself to sleep.

No more.

—•

Day One.

He woke with a racing heart and reached for his phone.

No missed calls.

No texts.

Nothing.

The absence stung more than he expected.

And there it was—his answer.

You hadn’t called.

He sighed, the weight of regret and hopelessness pressing into his ribs.

That was it.

That was the end.

He got up and started his day, pretending he hadn’t waited.

Pretending it didn’t hurt.

But good god, it did.

Day Three.

He didn’t mean to look.

But at 3:07 a.m., his eyes flicked to the clock anyway.

His chest ached with a hollow kind of yearning, the kind that sits heavy behind the ribs and doesn’t say a word.

He didn’t call.

You didn’t either.

The silence had settled into something familiar now.

It used to be comfort. Now it was absence.

Still, he told himself, This is what moving on looks like. You asked for this.

But it didn’t make the loneliness feel any less real.

Day Five.

He passed your favorite café on his way home.

The table by the window was empty.

Or maybe it wasn’t—you just weren’t in it.

He didn’t stop to look too long.

That night, he didn’t touch his phone.

He left it across the room, face-down.

But at 3:07 a.m., he still turned in bed, waiting for the sound that wouldn’t come.

Week Two.

He met someone new.

She was kind. Confident. The type who smiled with her whole face.

She asked for his number first, and he gave it without hesitation.

Not because he was ready, but because he wanted to be.

They started talking. Messaging.

Late night conversations, but never at 3:07 a.m.

That time belonged to someone else.

Still did.

But he didn’t say that out loud.

Week Six.

He liked her company.

She laughed at his jokes, touched his arm when she smiled, remembered how he took his coffee.

She made things feel easier.

Lighter.

And yet—some nights, when the world had gone still and he was finally alone with his thoughts, he still reached for his phone.

Not to call her.

But to scroll through your old messages.

The short ones. The long ones. The ones where you sent voice notes because texting was too slow.

He missed you.

Quietly. Constantly.

Like background noise he couldn’t tune out.

Month Two.

He was dating her now.

Their photos lived on social media—her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist.

His smile looked real.

People said he looked happy.

And sometimes, he was.

But he never told her why he always seemed a little quiet around 3 a.m.

Why he never answered calls past midnight.

Why his smile never quite reached his eyes when a particular song came on the radio.

Because there were things he had buried—like old postcards you never send but can’t throw away.

He didn’t talk about you.

But sometimes, when he was with her, and the world was soft and kind,

he wondered if you ever stared at your phone too.

If you ever hovered over his name and decided not to press it.

If you ever missed him at 3:07 a.m.

And in that wondering, he realized—He hadn’t moved on.

Not really.

Not fully.

He was just learning how to live with a ghost that still answered the phone.

—•

Month Six.

He proposed.

It was quiet, understated—just the two of them beneath a canopy of lights and the hush of the evening breeze.

She smiled. She cried. She said yes without hesitation.

He kissed her like he meant it.

And he did.

He meant it.

But as the ring slipped onto her finger, something stirred deep in his chest—an ache, dull and persistent.

Not regret.

Not quite.

Just something unsettled.

Something he hadn’t named.

Something left over.

Because even now, even here, part of him wondered if you ever thought about him.

If you’d feel anything at all when you found out.

If you’d feel… nothing.

And maybe that would hurt more.

Later that night, while she slept soundly beside him, his eyes flicked toward the clock.

3:07 a.m.

He didn’t know why he still looked.

Maybe he just always would.

Month Eight.

Healing came slowly.

Not like a breakthrough—just a quiet fading of the noise.

The days stopped feeling like a performance.

The silences became lighter.

He caught himself smiling more. Meant it more, too.

And he started seeing her not as someone who filled a space, but someone who fit.

He still thought of you.

But not always.

Not the way he used to.

There were moments—brief ones—when your name crossed his mind in the middle of a song, or when he passed that café window you used to sit by.

But it didn’t sting as much.

It just… lingered.

Like something that might have been.

Something gentle. Undefined.

A feeling, not a fire.

Still, on some nights, when the world was quiet and he couldn’t sleep, he’d wonder.

Did you ever think of him, too?

Month Ten.

The wedding planning began in earnest.

Color swatches, catering menus, playlist drafts.

She filled journals with ideas, kept Pinterest boards titled forever.

He helped where he could.

Smiled. Showed up.

Even laughed when she made him try three kinds of cake in one sitting.

It was real.

And it was good.

But some nights, when she’d doze off beside him with a notebook still open in her lap, he’d scroll through his contacts until he found your name.

He never pressed it.

He never would.

But part of him still paused there.

Not because he wanted to go back.

But because he still hadn’t figured out if he should tell you.

Not to ask for anything.

Not to confess anything.

Just… to let you know.

“I’m getting married.”

A sentence he rehearsed and never said.

And maybe he was afraid that if he did, you’d say, “I always thought you would call.”

Or worse—That you’d say nothing at all.

So instead, he locked his phone and turned off the lamp beside the bed.

He wasn’t in love with you.

Maybe he never had been.

But there had been something.

And it never quite left.

Almost One Year Later.

3:07 a.m.

The numbers glowed dimly in the dark, like they always did—unchanged, untouched.

He hadn’t planned to call.

He hadn’t even thought about it.

But somehow, he was already staring at your name.

Already pressing call.

The dial tone echoed once.

Twice.

Three times—Then a soft click.

You answered.

There was only breath on the other end.

Faint. Familiar. Present.

His heart stuttered.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. Steady.

Silence.

He swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

Still, nothing.

Just you, breathing. Listening.

Maybe frozen in place. Maybe waiting for more.

And he gave it to you.

“I just…” he started, and the words stuck, catching in his throat. He let them fall anyway.

“I’m getting married.”

The quiet thickened. Not even a gasp. No sigh.

Just your silence.

“I wanted to tell you myself.”

There was a pause.

Then, your breath barely above a whisper, “Why now?”

He let the silence stretch before he answered.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I kept thinking about you. About how I never said goodbye.”

Another pause.

Your voice cracked, just slightly. “I would’ve answered.”

His chest tightened.

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

There was a long silence. Neither of you filled it.

He listened to the stillness like it was the last piece of a song he couldn’t finish.

And then, softly—like it cost you something, “I’m happy for you.”

His heart stuttered.

He hesitated.

There were words at the edge of his tongue—things he might have said if this were a different life.

But instead, all he gave you was, “Goodnight.”

And the call ended.

No goodbye.

Just the quiet click of something finally closing.

—•

The air was still.

Rows of guests sat under soft morning light, flowers swaying gently with the breeze, as music began to hum low and steady.

Xavier stood at the altar, hands clasped tightly in front of him, breath slow.

He wasn’t nervous—at least not in the way everyone expected him to be.

He felt the weight of the moment. The finality. The beauty of it.

And the ache.

Then—like a pull, a presence he couldn’t ignore—his gaze lifted.

And there you were.

Standing quietly near the back. Almost hidden. Almost not there.

But he saw you.

Your eyes met his, and the world narrowed.

Just for a moment, it was quiet.

Just for a moment, it was 3:07 a.m. again.

There were no smiles exchanged.

No nods.

Just something suspended between you—years of silence, almosts, and words that never made it past the throat.

But it was enough.

He understood.

So did you.

And then the music changed.

The crowd rose to their feet, turning.

She appeared—his bride, radiant and glowing, the embodiment of everything he had chosen.

He looked at her, heart steady.

And when she reached him, he took her hand with warmth, with care.

The ceremony moved forward.

Vows were spoken.

Promises made.

And when he leaned in to kiss her, he did so gently, tenderly, with a love that had grown slowly, earnestly.

Applause broke out.

The world opened again.

And when he turned, just for a second—just instinctively.

He saw you.

You were walking away, slipping through the crowd with that small, knowing smile on your lips.

The kind that said everything.

He watched you disappear around the corner, and it struck him.

That was your goodbye.

Not in words.

Not in tears.

Just in the way you let go—with grace, with quiet acceptance.

And maybe that was what you both needed.

Not closure. Not confession.

Just the soft acknowledgment of what once lived between you, and what would no longer linger.

He turned back toward the crowd, toward the life he’d chosen.

And the ache in his chest softened, like something finally exhaled.

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."

SILENT COMFORT

❥ First time wearing his clothes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- Colonel Kaboom

Love Beyond the Surface

Part 1 !

Tag: Xavier x f!reader, Zayne x f!reader Warning: reader is not MC, angst, no comfort (yet), parallel universe(isekai), third-person

"You're in love with someone who is not me." "How can you be so sure?" "Cause I'm nothing like her" "It's not the looks or personality that I'm in love with. It's the soul"

You know them, but they don't know you. Still, no barrier you erect can conceal the truth of their discovery.

Part 2! [Rafayel, Sylus] x reader

✦.────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────────── .✦

You truly love the game, you really do. The atmosphere, the intricate details, the beautiful lighting that sets the perfect mood, and the voice lines that bring each character to life. It all comes together so beautifully.

The protagonist of the game is strong, smart, and undeniably beautiful, exactly like what you would expect in a game like this. And she’s nothing like you. Or rather, you're nothing like her. There are moments when you can’t help but feel a twinge of envy, but other times, you just push it aside and enjoy the ride.

But now, as you look at her across the street with your own eyes now, you're sure that you are definitely not her. You let out a quiet sigh, turning away and heading back to your temporary resting spot in this world. The weight of the different life is heavy in your thoughts. You need to find a way to get back.

✦.────────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────────── .✦

🐇 XAVIER:

"No matter how many times it takes, no matter where you are… I will find you."

The street is as busy as ever, people moving past in a blur. He can't wait to get home after his mission and take a nap. Somehow, he catches a glimpse of someone and instinctively reaches out. 

The sharp honking of a car pulls him out of his thoughts, and his gaze snaps back to her, the stranger he had grabbed. For a brief moment, he's taken aback, confusion crossing his face as he processes the fact that she isn't the person he had mistaken her for.

Xavier exhales sharply, trying to steady himself. "Apologies." He says, his voice rough and edged with frustration. "I thought you were someone else."

"…It's okay…" The girl says softly.

Xavier nods silently, still feeling a deep sense of guilt and regret. He can't help but still notice the similarities. He looks at her for a moment longer before breaking the silence.

"It's just..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You really do look like...this person I know." 

She looked at him warily, as if caught off guard, her tone flat but with a slight edge. "How so?"

Xavier scratches the back of his head, his eyes roaming her face once again, as if trying to pinpoint the similarities. He catches himself, realizing how that might sound. "You're just…similar."

"…Whoever you’re looking for." She says, her voice flat, as she steps closer to him. "I'm afraid I'm not them. You must have mistaken." She adds, her words clear, as if she is offering him a quiet but undeniable truth.

Noticing that he didn’t respond, she huffed, a mix of frustration and resignation settling in,  feeling like the conversation had reached its end. With no more words to say, she turned and started to walk away.

In a moment, panic sweeps over Xavier, a feeling that he's about to lose something important. His body reacts before his mind can catch up. His hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her back.

"Wait." His voice is a little hoarse, a mix of urgency and uncertainty. His grip is firm, but not forceful.

Xavier watches her intently, his gaze never leaving her face as he studies her features. There's a comforting presence that he responds to in her demeanor.

"I...I was just wondering..." He starts, his voice faltering for a moment. "What food do you like?"

"Pardon?"

Xavier's cheeks redden slightly, realizing how odd the question must sound. He rubs the back of his head, trying to play off his curiosity.

"I just... I was just curious." He says, his voice a mixture of embarrassment and honesty.

"…Why? You're going to take me out for dinner or something?" She let out a small laugh, but it quickly fades when she notices he doesn’t laugh back.

Xavier's heart skips a beat at her laugh, a genuine smile almost forming on his lips. He'd be lying if he said the idea didn't sound appealing.

"I just thought it would be nice to know more about you." He finally manages to say it, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

"... You do realize we just met, right?" She asked, tilting her head slightly as she studied him.

Xavier nods, unable to tear his gaze away from her. His heart rate is still quickened, the mixture of shame, curiosity, and newfound attraction swirling within him.

"Yes." He says, his voice soft and genuine. "That's why I want to know more about you..." He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his usual cool demeanor. 

She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes softened, almost pleading, as if silently hoping she would say yes. The vulnerability in his gaze was impossible to ignore. She wasn’t sure if it was his sincerity or the weight of the moment.

"I'm sorry... It's just that I'm a bit busy at the moment." She said, her voice soft but firm.

Xavier's heart sinks, a mix of disappointment and understanding washing over him. He had been caught up in the moment, the closeness, the connection he felt.

He nods slightly, a small sigh escaping his lips. "Right. Of course."

He steps back, putting a little more distance between them, and averts his gaze

She nods, offering a soft, half-hearted smile. "I hope you find the person you're… looking for… Have a nice day."

The words hang in the air for a moment, a gentle attempt at parting that feels heavier than intended.

Xavier's gaze lifts, his eyes meeting hers for a final moment. The disappointment is still there, but he manages to force a smile onto his face, even if it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah." He replies, his voice a little hoarse. "You too."

He watches she walks away, the space between you two stretching further with each step. Each footfall feels like a silent reminder of what’s slipping out of reach.

"I will find you." "I don't want to be founded."

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🦭 ZAYNE:

"When you and the world wake up, I hope we do not met again"

Zayne was beyond exhausted. The hospital was packed with patients. He had been on his feet all day, working tirelessly to treat and care for everyone who came through the doors.

So he changed his course after work, heading for a nearby coffee shop. He noticed he was the only customer left, likely due to the late hour or approaching closing time. 

The sound of ringing fills the air as the door opens. A person steps in behind him, moving to the counter to place an order.

"Hi, can I get a…?"

The person's soft, clear voice pierced Zayne's ears as he heard them place her drink order. He blurted out the name of the drink before he could stop himself. 

The person tensed, quickly turning to face him, her eyes widening in surprise as if she recognized him.

Zayne quickly averted his gaze, pretending to be completely engrossed in looking at the decorations.

She stared at him briefly before returning to her order, speaking quickly. "Yeah and I would like a dessert with it too... "

"It seems we're out of dessert for tonight, he’s already taken the last one." The attendant said with a regretful tone.

"Oh." Her voice tinged with disappointment

With a hint of hesitation, he spoke up. "If you’d like, I can give it to you." 

"That …won’t be necessary. You come first, after all." She stammered, offered a polite smile

Zayne shook his head slowly. "No, it's really alright." He said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I can go without it for tonight." He paused, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment.

Zayne was caught off guard by his own actions. Why on earth was he offering his dessert to a complete stranger? Was it just an impulsive gesture, or was there something else driving him?

After a brief pause, he discreetly looked her up and down, his expression thoughtful. "Have we met before?"

She widened her eyes in surprise, then offered a sad smile. "I don't believe we did."

Odd… Zayne thought, his suspicion not quite quelled. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was so familiar about her. She didn't look like anyone he knew, and yet he was convinced he had seen her somewhere before. Regardless of it, he strangely feels a sense of contentment when he sees her.

She glanced at him briefly, uneasy under his gaze. "You... just got off work?" She asked, hoping to shift the focus.

"Yeah, the hospital nearby." Zayne replied casually, his gaze still fixed on her. 

His suspicions were not eased, no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. There was just something so oddly familiar about her, as if he had seen her before somewhere, in some other place in time. He couldn't quite place it, and it was driving him crazy.

She nodded slightly, her gaze flickering briefly. "You work quite... late."

"It's a part of the job." Zayne replied with a shrug, his expression remained neutral.

She smiled nervously, each question she asked only deepening the awkwardness. Feeling the tension grow, she fell silent, unsure of what to say next, hoping the quiet would ease things.

Zayne found himself wondering if she visited the coffee shop frequently. The location was slightly out of the way and secluded, which made him question if she came here often.

"Do you come here often?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them. "There aren't many places open this late."

"Not... really." She replied, a slight shrug lifting her shoulders. "I just discovered it a few days ago…"

Zayne nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly. He couldn't shake off the feeling of worry growing inside him. Here she was, a lone girl in a quiet area so late at night.

"You know, you really shouldn't be walking around alone... especially at this hour." Zayne found himself saying without thinking, his concern finally getting the better of him.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, a defensive edge creeping into her tone. "I can handle myself." She said, her words sharp but quiet.

The waiter approached and handed Zayne his drink first, breaking the conversation for a moment. He gave a small nod of thanks.

Zayne glanced at his watch, realizing just how late it had gotten. He took one sip of his drink, holding up the cup before turning back to her.

"I better get going. Got an early day tomorrow." 

The words slipped out almost instinctively, as if he felt the need to let her know, even though there was no real reason to. His gaze lingered for a moment, unsure if he should say anything more.

She didn’t answer or glance at him, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. A sense of disappointment washed over him, he must have offended her. Without a word, he turned and walked out, silently hoping their paths would cross again.

"I hope we do not meet again." "So do i."

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I know it sound deludelu but i just need some angst in my life a bit. I'll post the rest later. Also no hate to the MC. Her character is well-built, and i love her personality.