When You Shatter A Glass

So I received this ask from anon:

I have recently had a very uncomfortable experience...I am a uni student and have to travel via train sometimes. I was in my seat, wearing headphones, and I could see in the reflection of a window that there were 3 guys looking at me and one of them was all spread out touching himself. Later, that man came to sit next to me and tried to talk to me or get me to look at him. I was just ignoring him, and staring into my phone and pretending not to hear him since I had headphones over my ears, but I could hear them talking about me. They kept daring each other to touch my hair and stuff like that.

Later when we had to get up to get off the train, they walked up to me and kept "brushing" theirs hands "accidentally" against me.

Thankfully nothing happened because they lost me in the crowd once I got out of the train but I was super scared they would follow me

I am so so so sorry you had to experience that. My heart was breaking as I read your ask🥺 I know exactly how that feels, to be completely helpless in those situations. I hope you stay safe always and be sure to always travel with a companion next time🥹

Here is the request for the LADS boys reacting to the events/finding out what happened to you.

You tell them what happened—the train, the way you were stared at, touched, followed. Your voice shakes by the end of it, even if you’re trying to keep it steady.

You didn’t want to make it a big deal. You just needed someone to know:

Zayne

He doesn’t speak at first.

But you see it—the shift. The stillness. Like something inside him tightens, coils too tightly to breathe. His face remains calm, but his eyes say everything. Fury, quiet and buried, held back by habit. By choice.

“They touched you?”

His voice is soft. Too soft. Like he’s trying not to believe it.

You nod.

He inhales slowly, jaw flexing as he exhales through his nose. Then his hand scrubs over his face, once, grounding himself. “Did you report it?”

You shake your head. “No. I was scared. I just… I just wanted to leave.”

His gaze flickers toward the floor, then back to you. “You did what you had to do. I’m not angry at you.”

He hesitates. Then quietly adds, “I hate that I wasn’t there. That you had to face that alone.”

You glance away, and he steps in closer. Not fast. Not overwhelming. Just enough to rest his hand gently on your arm, the warmth of his skin an anchor.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “tell me. Call me. Text me. Anything.”

His voice lowers, thick with the words he struggles to say aloud. “You matter to me more than you think. Don’t go through something like that alone again.”

Later that night, he doesn’t leave your side. He lets you sleep curled against him, one arm around your waist, the other brushing soft strokes through your hair. And every time you shift in your sleep, he murmurs something under his breath.

“You’re safe now.”

“I’m here.”

“They’ll never get near you again.”

The next morning, he drives you to campus.

Kisses your forehead before you get out of the car.

Then heads to the hospital.

It’s a quiet day, until three men are wheeled into the ER. Minor injuries. Nothing urgent. But Zayne hears them laughing. Whispering. Mentioning a girl.

The words catch his ear.

Train. Girl. Scared.

He stills. Completely.

He doesn’t ask questions.

He reads the chart, notes the names.

And when the others step out, Zayne lingers behind. Alone.

What happens next isn’t in the textbooks. It isn’t written into the Hippocratic oath. But he’s a surgeon—he knows exactly where it hurts. Where to press. Where to leave no trace.

Later, when a nurse asks why all three patients discharged themselves early and limped out without a word, Zayne simply nods and goes back to work.

He never mentions it to you.

He just holds your hand a little tighter the next time you walk through the city.

Sylus

There’s a pause.

Not hesitation—calculation.

A flicker in Sylus’s crimson eyes as he scans every word, every tremble in your voice, cataloging and analyzing it with terrifying precision.

You can almost hear the gears turning. Quiet. Lethal.

“Did you get a good look at them?” he asks. The question is sharp, deceptively calm.

You shake your head, voice small. “No. Just… their voices. One of them was touching himself. Then he sat beside me. Tried to talk to me. They were laughing. Daring each other to touch my hair.”

Sylus doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

But his jaw sets, ever so slightly. A muscle ticks in his cheek.

“Scum like that,” he says, voice low, “always think they’re untouchable. Like the world won’t notice when they disappear.”

He doesn’t pace. Doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to. His fury manifests in stillness—in the way his fingers lace together too tightly, in the frigid control of his tone.

“You’re not taking the train again. Ever.”

“That’s not—Sylus, it’s not realistic—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

His voice slices through your protest like a knife. “I’ll walk with you. Drive you. Put a goddamn tracker on your coat if I have to. But you’re not going near that station alone again. Next time, they won’t even get close enough to breathe near you.”

Silence. Then something shifts in his eyes as they flicker down to your clenched fists.

His tone softens—but only slightly. “I know you were scared. And I hate that they made you feel powerless.”

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your hand. Careful. Controlled.

“But you’re not small. And no one gets to make you feel that way. Not under my watch.”

You nod, and he pulls away.

“Luke. Kieran,” he calls out, without raising his voice. His eyes stay on you. “Get her home. Stay with her.”

Mephisto swoops in and lands on the back of his chair, watching in silence as Sylus stands.

He doesn’t bother turning. “You were tailing her. Track them down.”

His voice is low. Icy.

And Mephisto launches into the air with a mechanical screech that echoes like the end of a countdown.

Within minutes, they bring them to him.

Three men. Faces bloodied, defiant—until they meet his eyes.

There is no grand speech. No threat.

Only Sylus, standing over them like death incarnate, sleeves rolled up, gaze as sharp as a blade.

He leans in, smile cruel and quiet. “Let’s see how untouchable you feel now.”

By the time he’s done, they can’t so much as whisper your name.

And Sylus?

He wipes the blood from his hands with surgical precision. Straightens his coat. And walks out without looking back.

You never hear their voices again.

Rafayel

He goes very still.

The kind of stillness that unsettles the air, that draws the light out of the room without a sound. His expression—usually teasing, theatrical, bold—shifts.

Not into anger. Not yet. It becomes unreadable.

Cold in a way that doesn’t suit his fire.

“They touched you?”

The words fall low, sharp. Stripped of all his usual lilt. Dead serious. Dangerous.

You nod.

His hands curl at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The crackle of heat that usually dances around him is absent. It’s quiet. Controlled. But the restraint is louder than any fury.

“Give me their names,” he says. “Or their faces. I don’t need both.”

You shake your head. Quiet. “I don’t want revenge… I just wanted to feel safe again. That’s all. Just… stay.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Not disappointment—never that. But something else. Like the desire to burn the world colliding with the aching need to be what you asked for.

He exhales through his nose. Shoulders relax just enough for him to step in.

Then his arms are around you, pulling you in, holding you so tightly you feel real again. His warmth wraps around you, not scorching—just steady, grounding. Like embers at your back.

“Then that’s what I’ll be,” he murmurs into your hair. “Your safe place.”

A beat.

“But if they so much as breathe your way again,” he adds, voice quieter, crueler, “I won’t be as merciful.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingers there. “You did nothing wrong, love. You hear me? I’m proud of you. And I’m so, so glad you’re here.”

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper, “I was scared.”

He tucks you closer to his chest, hand cradling the back of your head.

“I know, cutie. I know.” His voice softens like dusk, like waves kissing ash. “It’s over now. You’re with me.”

You fall asleep in his arms, safe in the heat of him.

And later—when the moon is high and your breathing is steady—he slips away. Silent. Focused.

CCTV footage. Street cameras. Reflections in windows. It doesn’t take long. He’s always been good at finding the shadows people try to hide in.

By dawn, three men are reported missing.

One is found knee-deep in a freezing river, babbling about glowing eyes and a voice that promised worse.

The others? Well.

Let’s just say they won’t be going near open water again.

And Rafayel?

He returns before you wake. Washes the blood off his hands.

And makes you tea.

Xavier

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then goes still—completely still.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. You can see it in his eyes—the disbelief, the horror. Like something in him can’t reconcile the image of you—you—with the violation you just described.

“They were… watching you?” he repeats, slowly. “And they touched you?”

You nod.

Xavier’s breath hitches, his hand tightening ever so slightly at his side. He looks shaken—not by fear, but by the weight of helplessness. His voice comes quiet, almost broken.

“I—I don’t understand… how anyone could think that’s okay. How they could look at you and—”

He stops himself. His jaw clenches. It’s subtle, but telling. Xavier rarely shows this much emotion all at once. You see the storm gathering behind his calm.

Then, with careful control, he steps closer. His hand reaches for yours, warm and trembling faintly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That you were scared. That they made you feel small.”

He swallows. “You should never have had to feel that way. Not for a second.”

His eyes lift to yours, and they’re unwavering now. That quiet strength he carries, the kind most people miss—it sharpens into something else. Resolve.

“I wish I had been there,” he says softly. “Because I would’ve stopped them. I would’ve made sure they never looked at you again.”

Then, quieter—like a vow spoken into the space between heartbeats—

“You won’t ever be alone again. Not if I can help it.”

He holds you that night, as long as you’ll let him. A steady presence. A silent promise.

But when you’re asleep—peaceful at last—Xavier slips away. Quietly. Deliberately.

He tracks them down. It doesn’t take much.

He already had access to security feeds, transport records, street cameras.

He watches the footage once, then again, jaw tightening.

Then he finds them.

And Xavier doesn’t scream. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t need to.

All he says, in that low, even voice of his, is:

“You made her afraid. That was your first mistake. I won’t give you time to make a second.”

They don’t know what hit them.

And the next time you take that train, no one dares come close.

No one even looks at you the wrong way.

Not with Xavier walking beside you—quiet, composed, protective as ever.

But now, there’s something different in the way people step aside when he passes.

Something cold.

Something earned.

I maybe an alien or a ghost honestly.. but am real 🤣🤣🤣

its 6 30 am here .... 🥲

Thanks for tagging me -first time got tagged🥲😭 i do have friends .. on tumblr who r real cuz ....irl friends.😃

@sylusbigapples - idiotic real person but would stay in a fictional world much rather

Uhm so I'm doing this.

So apparently there's a lot of fake ass people on Tumblr who will just interact with you for comments and or followers or attention. So uhm I'm tagging ppl and they repost this and tag their moots too pls.

@fishtheflowerchomper

@fishgutzz

@notrighttonight

@tygerlilyrotsaway

I def would tag more but I've just interacted the most with these individuals :3

Please be real moots! I love u all anyways lmao

You get gravely injured instead of the LADS boys

with [chubby reader]

[chubby reader, don't like it, don't read it]

Summary: You jumped in front of them during a fight and got severely injured instead.

warnings: extreme injuries, angst, blood, crying, comfort, fluff, gn! reader, reader and the boys fight together against wanderers/ criminals and are already in a relationship, probably ooc because we haven't seen the boys when they're extremely worried yet, if you work in the medical field beware, extremely inaccurate

⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Xavier:

Xavier's wrapped his muscular arm around you and he helped you as you limped forward. Every step felt like another slash to your thigh and you whimpered out. You jumped in front of Xavier without any hesitation; he was distracted. He didn’t see the sharp weapon coming. You on the other hand did. You saw it coming, and jumped in front of him like a fool. Dizziness surrounded your vision, and you exhaled shakily as dark spots danced around your vision. You collapsed to the ground and felt Xavier's arms around you. He pressed his pretty hand firmly against your plush and bloody thigh and you cried out in pain as you tried to shove him off. Xavier's hand tightened and tears began rolling down your face. You knew that he was just stopping the bleeding, but in your woozy mind it was the biggest betrayal. Xavier yelled something into his phone , which you couldn’t understand. He gripped your face tightly and gently smacked against your cheeks, but you didn’t respond. You just smiled and you took in his features.

His usual soft expression was sour. He breathed heavily, causing his chest to heave quickly. Xaviers sky blue eyes were dark and wet, his nosrils flaring with every shaky inhale. His mouth was pulled into a frown and formed words you couldn't hear before your eyes rolled backwards and you slumped back.

When you woke up again, you laid in a white hospital bed. The pungent odor of disinfectant invaded your nostrils and a soft beep sounded through the room. Your looked around in confusion and followed the tubes going in and out of your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw messy blonde hair slumped on your hand. Xavier. His face was buried in your palm.

You called out his name and Xavier immediately jumped out of his seat. His hands were trembling and his mouth was slight agape. His clothes were messy and dark purple crescents grazed his undereye. Xavier opened his mouth but the words were stuck in his throat. Not even a single squeak could be heard.

"Xavier?", you croaked out carefully and watched his expression. He looked down to the floor when silent sobs raked through his body. Your eyes widened and your heart squeezed painfully. Xavier’s lip trembled and tears rolled down his face. He furrowed his eyebrows and his trembling lips were pulled into a deep frown.

“Why did you do it?“, he asked you quietly.

You looked at him and before you could respond Xavier walked towards you in quick and heavy strides. He firmly grasped your shoulders and very gently shook you.

“I asked you something. Why would you do that?“, Xavier spat out. “Never do that again. I could never live with myself if you.. Oh god, please. Please, please, please. Don’t ever do that again. Not for me, not for anybody else. Okay? Please.“ Xavier’s angry voice turned into one of pure despair and his hands left your shoulders. He grabbed your hands with trembling hands. His long and slender fingers wrapped around your soft ones as he buried his face in your hands. You let him cry his heart out.

Your leg will recover form this injury. However, the image of you laying in a pool of your own blood will never leave Xavier’s mind. You jumping in front of him because of his own incompetence. Its unacceptable. The memories haunted his deepest nightmares and he‘d never forgive himself for it.

• during remission, Xavier treated you like a doll. He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t but he couldn’t help it. You’re so precious to him and he almost lost you. He was very gentle and loving with you (not that he wasn’t loving before) and he helped you wash yourself. It was a bit difficult for you to take care of yourself because of your leg, but Xavier will be there every step of the way. Sometimes, he laid awake at night and couldn’t stop replaying the scene of you getting hurt. The absolute despair and fear he felt at the thought of losing you. He’d stroke your cheek and cuddle your round body into his. Sometimes he’d even shed a fear tears.

Zayne:

You didn't even know how it happened. One minute you and Zayne were fighting side by side against the wanderers and in the next, the wall next to Zayne collapsed. Your heart dropped to your stomach and everything around you seemed to slow down. The debris fell too quickly for you to call out to Zayne and warn him, so you ran without any hesitation. Everything that happened after was just a mere blur. You pushed him out of the way and felt as if a million sledgehammers landed on top of you before you were out like a light. The last thing you heard was Zayne yelling out your name.

You woke up with a violent throb in your head. It felt like somebody was splitting your head into two pieces and the blinding light didn't help at all. You looked down and found yourself in a clean bed. Your eyes popped up and saw Zayne's broad back. His white button- up was crumpled and his sleeves were rolled up unevenly, which exposed his scarred forearms. Zayne's dark hair was tussled and he was checking the scans of your body. You moved and a sharp pain shot through your head and through the right side of your body. You winced sharply and exhaled shakingly.

Zayne's body froze; his scarred hand hovered over the scan and his shoulders tensed. Yet, he remained still and didn't turn around. You both just sat in silence for a few seconds until you called out to him.

"Zayne?", your voice was very raspy.

He exhaled softly and turned around to face you. He looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot and he had deep eyebags under his eyes. A few parts of his body were covered in bandages and plasters. Zayne took a few shaky steps toward you, but then stopped dead in his tracks and cleared his throat.

"You-", his voice cracked and his lip trembled. He looked down to the ground and closed his eyes. Zayne clenched his jaw and exhaled deeply. He looked up again and his expression was emotionless.

"You are severely concussed and have suffered some fractures. Your remission will take a few months, but you will heal. The fight ended well. The wanderers were taken care of, and nobody else was hurt." Zayne explained monotonely, his gaze focused on your medical records.

"Alright", you responded raspily and you winced at the pain in your head.

"I've given you painkillers just before you woke up, they should kick in soon." He responded in the same soft and monotone tone and you sighed. "Zayne, are you okay?"

"Don't ever do that again."

You blinked up at him in confusion and he finally looked up from the records. Ice crystals formed around his neck and he stared intently at you. You're beginning to miss the time where he wouldn't look at you.

"What? You mean save you? Of course I would do it-"

"Baby, please." He begged. A few unintended sobs bubbled out of his chest and his shoulders shook as he continued to cry silently. He buried his face in his hands as his shoulders kept heaving.

You stared in shock. You've never seen him cry, especially this hard. Even when he was sad, he usually kept his icy facade up.

"If it ever comes down to it, please, please, just let me die. Don't ever make me live through that fear again. Please. I can't take it. When I had to remove all the debris from you, not knowing whether you're alive. No, just don't." Zayne replied, his voice was almost completely gone and the tears had dried on his face.

You slowly sat up and ignored the throb in your head. Zayne watched you and helped you up. You opened up your arms for him and Zayne immediately buried himself in your plush chest as your thick arms engulfed him. He cried silently into your chest and you ran your fingers through his dark hair.

"I'm sorry, shh. I'm really sorry."

• during remission: he'll of course be your doctor (let's not talk about the ethics of that) and take care of your healing process. He'll supervise your every move almost obsessively. Zayne will be extremely strict regarding the process and won't give into your cute little faces. Not this time. He'll wash and massage your pretty round body for you almost daily. Once you start feeling better, he'll punish you during sex. It'll be deep and intimate. You scared the absolute shit out of him and he needs you to never do that again.

Rafayel:

You laid on the ground with a deep burning sensation across your chest. What just happened? You were fighting with Rafayel and then..

The painful sensation in your chest doubled and you whimpered out in agony. Your head turned to the side and you saw Rafayel fighting with vehement vigor. His moves were aggresssive and powerful as ripped the wanderers apart. After he finished them off, he ran in your direction.

"No,no,no. No, youre okay. Fuck! You're okay.“ He pressed his hand against your ample torso and agony ripped through you. You screamed out in pain and immediately tried squirming away, but you were unable to do so. Tears ran down Rafayel's face, but he pressed down further and ignored your screams. He held his phone to his ear and called somebody for help, but you couldn't be bothered to listen further. You focused on Rafayel's hand, though; Rafayel's hand, which pressed down on your chest earlier was extremely bloody and you stared at it in shock.

Rafayel followed you gaze and shook his head. "You're totally fine. The paramedics are coming, okay? They'll be here soon. Just stay awake, stay awake for me. Cutie, please."

You nodded and widened your eyes. Rafayel nodded and pressed his lips to your forehead. "Perfect. Just like that. Just stay awake with me and then when the paramdedic come, we'll just go home. Fuck." His voice broke at the end and you nodded. You widened your eyes yet again and ignored the pain in your chest. "You shouldn't have done it. It would've just hit my side. I would've been fine." Rafayel gritted out.

"It’s my job as your Miss bodyguard, isn’t it?", you asked weakly. The pain in your chest was thankfully dissappearing, but so was your of the awareness of everything around you. Rafayel's eyes snapped to you and his jaw dropped. His face was pale as he stammered out. "No. No, I didn't want-".

Sirens blared in the background and Rafayel was ripped out of his thoughts and exhaled shakingly. "Thank God. We're okay, alright? Just hold on for a bit longer, we'll be okay soon. Please."

Your eyes started to close. "No! No, its okay! They're almost here. Please, stay awake." He cried out as you lost your consciousness.

You woke in the hospital room and saw Rafayel by your side. Around your chest were bandages. You winced out and Rafayel's eyes snapped to you. He smiled softly and stroked your cheek. "Hi, cutie. How are you doing? The doctor said it'll leave a nasty scar, but remission will be a breeze."

You smiled at him. "I'm okay, and you?"

Rafayel looked straight ahead for a few seconds before looking back at you with a weak smile. He held up a thumb and you chuckled drily. "If I knew I could get you to shut up, I would've ended up in the hospital sooner." Rafayel exhaled through his nose but remained quiet otherwise. His shoulders dropped and he looked down to the ground. He looked utterly defeated and you could not take it.

"Rafayel-", he interrupted you quietly.

"You're fired." Rafayel leaned over and set his chin down on the back of his hands.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but he stayed quiet throughout. You rubbed his back and he closed his eyes. "I didn't tell you to be my bodyguard, so that you could go ahead and sacrifice yourself for me. I hired you so that you would be around me, not so that you can die a morons death." He mumbled, his voice soft.

You wanted to reply sarcastically or say something that'll make him laugh, but you just couldn't.

"Rafayel, I'd do it aga-", Rafayel interrupted you while shaking his head. His face was adorned by a soft and genuine smile. "I know you would, but this will never happen again. I won't allow it. I won't even allow the opportunity to arise. Don't worry. I'll make sure it won't happen again."

• during remission, he'll slowly start behaving like his normal self again. He'll be fun and will make you laugh, but he was so very deeply affected by the situation. He'll be more aggressive towards potential threats and doesn't allow you to defend yourself. It'll take some time for him to let you do any dangerous activities (if ever), but you both slowly heal. He buys you beautiful flowy gowns and clothes that don't rub against your scar, and he will paint your new body in ever single position you could think of. He quite literally worships you; feeding you while you're propped somewhere comfortable, rubbing oil on your scar and other parts of your rounded body.

Sylus:

You woke up and saw Sylus‘ furious face above you. Your ears were ringing and your shoulder felt like it was on fire. Sylus‘ clenched his jaw and yelled something to somebody on the other side of the room. You couldn’t hear it, though. You couldn’t hear anything due to the ringing in your ears. You remember what happened now. Sylus talked to some of his “business partners“ and they turned out to be rats. They pulled the gun on him faster than Sylus could pull out his own. He was caught off guard- once. He was careless one time. And you jumped in front of him when they pulled the trigger.

The metallic taste of blood hit you and you felt something pour out of your mouth. You looked up at Sylus in confusion, his chest heaved quickly and he furrowed his eyebrows. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape. He looked.. scared. Sylus has never looked scared before.

You lost consciousness and woke up in Sylus‘ room. You were bandaged properly and wore clean oversized clothes. You had an IV- injection and looked around the room.

Sylus sat on his black couch with a glass of wine in his hand. He quietly drank it and looked out of his window. You smiled fondly and called out his name, your voice husky.

His head turned to yours and he smiled softly. It didn’t reach his eyes. He stood up and slowly walked over to you. His evol slowly engulfed you. It felt firm on your un-injured parts and gentle on your chest and shoulder area. He looked down on you with an unreadable expression.

“What happened?“, you asked him and tried to wiggle your feet. Everything seemed normal.

Sylus hummed softly, his husky voice low. “You took a bullet for me and I killed the attackers. I was careless. That won‘t happen again. A doctor patched you up and that’s it.“

You raised an eyebrow at his abrasive tone and he raised an eyebrow at you. His face was expressionless and he leaned down to your ear. He kissed the shell of your ear and gripped your cheeks between his large hands. His grip was firm and he gently turned your face towards him.

“Don’t ever play the hero again. Recklessness is stupid. And you’re not stupid. You’re clever. Don’t do it again- I‘m serious. Not for anyone else, and especially not for somebody like me.“

“Sylus, I love you. You would do the same for me and-“

“Yes. Yes I would, in fact. So let me repeat this again.“ Sylus leaned back toward your ear and whispered in it. “If you do that again, I’ll kill a person. Your noble sacrifice will have been for nothing. And if you happen to die during one of your heroic missions, you can’t even begin to imagine the damage I would do to the world. And you can trust me on that.“

You gulped and looked at him. Your heart raced and the monitor beeped. Sylus immediately relaxed his face and sighed. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed your temple. His lips stayed there for a long time and you blinked up at him.

He stroked your cheek and kissed you softly.

“Asshole“, you mumbled and Sylus chuckled against your cheek. The vibrations made you smile and Sylus put his hand on your plush stomach.

“You really, really scared me.“ Sylus mumbled softly.

“Sorry“, you replied and Sylus helped you sit up.

• during remission: Sylus will service you in any way he can. He‘ll cook for you, bathe you. He’ll buy you any instrument that you may need for physical therapy and will do all of your exercises with you. Will not get upset at all if you snap at him when you’re in pain. He‘ll massage your scars and will offer sexual remedies. Though, he will never be this careless again. The memories of you laying in your own pool of blood will haunt him til he dies.

Caleb:

You were pretty confused. Yesterday, you and Caleb fought side by side against criminals. They were vicious and dangerous, but Caleb and you were managing well. Well, until you jumped in front of Caleb and got flung against the wall in his stead. Your back took the brunt of it and you were out like a light immediately. When you woke up yesterday evening, they told you that the damage was minor. Your back was extremely badly bruised, but it could’ve turned out so much worse, so you were very happy. The reason why you were confused was why Caleb wouldn’t show up. It was after- visiting hours yesterday after your surgery, so that wasn’t all to surprising, but he didn’t visit you today either.

You were being released today and walked out of the hospital. You sighed and saw a a tall man in a familiar uniform waiting in front of the hospital. Caleb stood in front of you in his colonel uniform. His face was emotionless and he looked at you from the top of your head to your shoes.

“Caleb, Hi.“ You greeted in confusion.

“Are you okay?“, he asked monotonely and you raised your eyebrows and nodded. He sniffed and nodded. Caleb bent down and took your bag and started walking.

“Okay..“, you replied in confusion and trailed after him.

You reached the car and he put the seatbelt on you and drove the two of you home. He still hadn’t said anything and stared at the road. When the two of you reached his house, he helped you up the stairs. His hand wrapped firmly around your wrist and he slowly led you over to the bed.

“Okay, do you wanna tell me what’s going on with you or should we just pretend that everything is normal?“

You sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Caleb stood in front of you and clenched his jaw. He looked down at the ground with tight fists and his lips wobbled. Your eyes softened and Caleb fell to his knees. Tears streamed down his face and he pressed his face into the plush of your thighs. He sobbed his heart out as his shoulders shook. You gently stroked over his scalp and let him cry.

“Don‘t you ever fucking do that again. It doesn’t matter if it happens to me, but it can’t happen to you- it just can’t. Fuck. There’s no me without you. Just kill me if you had to choose between the two of cause I’d follow you anyways. Please just don’t-“, you interrupted his rambling and cupped his cheeks. He cried and leaned into your touch like a puppy and you stroked away the tears under his eyes.

“I‘m okay, it’s just a bruise. A big one, but just a bruise nonetheless.

Caleb sniffed and wiped his tears. He looked up at you and took of your shirt. Caleb slowly rose and walked over to face your back. He let out a scoff and you looked at him. His eyes were laser focused on your injury and he didn’t say anything for a few minutes until he pulled out his phone. He took a picture of your back and then gently nudged you until you laid on your stomach.

“I have something to do, but I’ll be back right after. Do you need food? Painkillers? Do you need to pee?“, he asked and you sighed.

“You‘re leaving again? You already weren’t there yesterday.“ The words tumbled out before you could stop them and his breath hitched.

“The only reason why I wasn’t there is because of the same reason now. I swear to you on everything that I’ll be back after this. I’m so sorry that you were alone today.“

You nodded in agreement and he leaned over and tenderly kissed the rolls of your back. “Get some sleep. I’ll take care of the rest when I get back.“

Caleb reached his work building and walked quickly through his office and saw the criminals from yesterday. They got away after he heard the crack of your body against the wall. Caleb shook himself out of that nightmarish scenario and looked at the beaten and bloody criminals in front of him. It took the entire day, but he finally found them. Their lair wasn’t as well hidden as they’d hoped. He crossed his arms over his chest and pulled out his phone. He opened up the gallery to reveal the picture he took of your injury and he showed it to them.

“Remember that? Cause I do.“

Caleb stared at the picture until he memorised every single detail of it and and put it back in his pocket.

“I remember every single thing about it.“ Caleb tilted his head to the side and used his evol to apply pressure on their backs. The criminals started screaming and Caleb smiled. He needed to hurry up, you already felt neglected by him.

When Caleb made his way home after he finished up his business, he found you in the same position he had left you in. Your injury was still exposed and he stared at it. This was his fault. His shame and his burden to bare.

“Caleb?“

“Yes, pipsqueak?“

“I think I was wrong. I do need your help to pee.“

He chuckled softly and helped you sit up. He gently grabbed your hands and led you to the bathroom.

-during remission: pretty much nothing changes. He‘ll still do most of the chores around the house (because he wants to do them) and will feed you, cook for you, bathe you, and do the laundry. He‘ll never tell you about what he did to those men and you never ask him. Some nights the memories of your bruised body keep him awake, though. On these nights he‘ll want to bury himself in your ample chest and never leave.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 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.

✨ LUMIERE, OUR LORD AND SAVIOR ✨

Artist: @Vega23al_

PLEASE PART 2 ON THE SELF DOUBT ANGEST PUHHHLEEEEEEASE

SELF-DOUBT │ PART 2

Pt.1

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader (reader is implied to be the MC in Caleb's part)

SYNOPSIS: Part 2 of "Self-doubt" - comfort!!

A/N: Finally, it's here. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

Finally deciding to go home and drown your sorrows in sleep, you stood, your limbs heavy, your breath unsteady. But before you could take a step, the sound of approaching footsteps stopped you in your tracks.

Soft at first, deliberate, hesitant—yet steady. Familiar.

You didn't have to look up to know who it was.

A quiet sigh left your lips. "Xavier."

He didn’t speak right away, but you could feel him watching you. There was no judgment in his gaze, no demand for explanation. Just patience. A patience that made something fragile inside you crack even more.

Wordlessly, he sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, even in the biting chill of the night. Neither of you spoke, and for once, the silence wasn't unbearable. It was different. Softer.

"You scared me," he finally admitted, his voice quieter than usual, as if he was afraid that speaking too loud would shatter whatever fragile state you were in.

You swallowed, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. "I’m fine."

Xavier hummed, unconvinced. "You’re not. But I’m not here to force you to talk. I just... didn’t want you to be alone."

Something thick lodged itself in your throat at his words. The lump of emotions you'd tried so hard to suppress threatened to spill over.

"Why?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, so raw it almost hurt to speak. "Why do you always—"

"Care?" he finished for you, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes remained serious. "Because you matter to me. You always have. And I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know one thing for certain—you are not some afterthought. You are not unworthy. You are not less."

Your breath hitched, eyes burning. "You don’t understand."

Xavier exhaled, running a hand through his hair, frustrated but not with you—with whatever had made you feel like this. "Then make me understand. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll sit here with you until you do. If you want to pretend everything is fine, I’ll let you. But I’m not leaving."

You turned to him then, really looked at him. At the certainty in his expression, the unwavering belief in his eyes. It was so infuriatingly Xavier—so effortlessly kind, so utterly steadfast—that it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t put into words.

You opened your mouth, but no excuses came. No lies. No ways to push him away.

Instead, your voice cracked, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, "I don’t know how to stop feeling like this."

Xavier didn’t hesitate. He reached out, hesitantly at first, as if giving you the choice to pull away. But you didn’t. You let him take your hand, let his warmth seep into your cold fingers, grounding you.

"You don’t have to do it alone," he murmured. "I don’t care how long it takes. Just… don’t shut me out."

The dam inside you broke.

A choked sob tore through you, your body shaking under the weight of everything you had been holding in for far too long. And Xavier—he didn’t flinch, didn’t let go. He simply pulled you close, wrapping you in the kind of embrace that felt less like comfort and more like something solid. Something safe.

You clung to him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be.

His fingers traced slow, soothing circles against your back, his breath warm against your temple. "I don't want you to disappear into the dark. If you let me, I'll stay."

The words, so simple yet so profound, settled into your chest like an ember, slow-burning and tender. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze, and in the hush of the night, something unspoken passed between you—something delicate, something inevitable.

Xavier’s thumb brushed the damp trail of a tear from your cheek, his touch unbearably gentle. "I see you," he murmured, and before you could think, before you could hesitate, he was leaning in.

It was soft, barely there—a whisper of a kiss against your forehead, a silent promise. Not rushed, not demanding, just steady. Just real.

And for the first time, you let yourself believe it.

Zayne

The city had always been too loud, yet tonight, it felt impossibly quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against your ribs, heavy and suffocating, filling the spaces between heartbeats with something unnamed and unrelenting. The café door had long since closed behind you, but the ghost of Zayne’s presence still lingered, his voice a phantom echo in your mind.

You walked without direction, only moving because stillness felt too much like surrender. The night air was crisp, laced with the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen, and you breathed it in as if it could cleanse the weight of everything left unsaid. But it didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Your phone remained in your grasp, screen dark, thumb hovering over his name in your messages. A message unsent. A confession you didn’t dare put into words. You had told yourself you would let this go, let him go—but wasn’t that the cruelest kind of lie?

You stopped beneath the glow of a streetlamp, light spilling over you in fragile, golden threads. Your breath wavered, hands tightening around the fabric of your sleeves. And then, against every instinct screaming at you to forget, to move on—you typed.

“I’m sorry.”

It was inadequate. A pitiful offering for the storm that had brewed between you. But before you could backspace, before you could rethink, you pressed send.

The reply came faster than expected.

“I’m still here.”

Three words. Simple. Unwavering. And yet, they shattered something deep inside you.

You closed your eyes, letting the night swallow you whole. You should have walked away. You should have ignored him the way you had trained yourself to. But Zayne had never been someone you could ignore. And perhaps, just this once, you didn’t want to.

With unsteady fingers, you called him.

The line rang once.

Twice.

A third time.

And then—

“Come back inside.”

His voice was quiet, intimate in a way that sent a tremor through your chest. He wasn’t asking. He wasn’t demanding. Just offering. Leaving the choice in your hands, as he always did.

Your throat tightened. Your heart ached.

For a long moment, you said nothing. You listened to the silence stretching between you, to the quiet promise hidden in his words. And then, with a breath that felt too much like surrender, you turned on your heel, retracing your steps back to the light.

When you stepped back inside, the café was quieter than before. The world outside had not changed, and yet, everything within you had shifted. Zayne was still there, waiting, his gaze unreadable but warm. A cup of something hot sat across from his own, waiting for you, as if he had always known you would return.

You sat without a word, hands wrapping around the warmth of the cup. For a moment, there was only the quiet hum of the café, the soft clink of porcelain, the steady presence of him beside you. And then—

“I never wanted to be someone unreachable,” he murmured, his fingers resting just inches from yours on the table. “Not to you.”

Your breath hitched, something fragile pressing against your ribs. “Zayne—”

“I see you,” he said, voice as steady as the earth beneath you. “Not as an afterthought. Not as someone passing through my life.” His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and unwavering. “But as someone I want in it.”

Something deep inside you cracked wide open.

A shuddering exhale left your lips, and before you could stop yourself, your fingers brushed over his—hesitant, uncertain. But when he turned his palm upward, intertwining his fingers with yours, it was effortless. As if he had been waiting for this moment, just as much as you had.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight in your chest eased. The walls you had built so carefully, so stubbornly, faltered in the warmth of his touch.

And for once, you let them fall.

Rafayel

The world felt quieter without him in it.

You told yourself it was for the best, that you had made the right decision. And yet, as the days bled into nights, as the hours passed in dull monotony, you found yourself reaching—again and again—for something that was no longer there.

For him.

For the sound of his laughter, for the weight of his presence filling the spaces you hadn’t realized were empty. For the warmth he carried so effortlessly, the kind of warmth that lingered long after he was gone.

But you had done this to yourself.

And now, you had to live with it.

Or at least, you thought you did—until the knocking started.

Soft at first. A hesitant tap against the door, as though testing if you were even home. And then, more insistent. Steady. Patient. Unyielding.

You ignored it, at first. Pressed your hands against your ears and willed it to stop, to go away. But the universe was never that kind.

“Cutie.”

Your breath caught.

Muffled through the door, but unmistakable. His voice—soft, coaxing, laced with something raw beneath the teasing lilt. A plea hidden in a single word.

You curled deeper into yourself, fingers tightening around the blanket you had wrapped around your frame. If you stayed silent, he’d leave. If you waited long enough, he’d realize you weren’t worth it. That you were doing him a favor.

But he didn’t leave.

He sighed, the sound heavy, filled with something you couldn’t quite name. And then—

“I’m not mad at you.”

The words struck harder than you expected. You squeezed your eyes shut, hating the way your heart clenched, the way your resolve wavered like sand beneath the tide.

“I just...” A pause. A shift, as though he had leaned against the door. “I don’t understand.”

You swallowed. You didn’t want him to understand. Didn’t want him to see the ugly, selfish parts of you, the ones that whispered that maybe—just maybe—you wanted him to fight for you. That you wanted to be more than just another passing moment in his life.

“I thought you knew by now.” His voice was quieter, words woven with something impossibly tender. “You don’t have to keep up with me, cutie. You were never supposed to.”

Your throat tightened.

“I just wanted you there.”

Your fingers twitched. Trembled. Your resolve, already fraying at the edges, threatened to unravel completely.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to see me right now,” he continued, and there was something steady in his voice now. Certain. “But don’t think for a second that I don’t see you.”

A shaky breath. Yours, not his. He was always so sure. So steady. A lighthouse in a storm you hadn’t even realized you were lost in.

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything left unsaid. And then, softer—

“I miss you.”

Your hands clenched into the fabric of your sleeves.

A choice.

A breath.

A surrender.

With trembling fingers, you unlocked the door.

The moment it cracked open, he was there.

Rafayel—bigger than life, impossibly beautiful in the dim light of the hallway. But his eyes, sharp as they were, softened the moment they met yours. He looked at you as if you were something precious. Something worth waiting for.

Something he would wait for, as long as it took.

You exhaled, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. And for the first time in days, you let yourself be selfish.

You stepped forward, barely a breath between you, and before you could think better of it, his arms were around you.

The embrace was immediate, crushing in its intensity. His hands found the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he held you tight, as if to assure himself you were real, here, not slipping through his fingers like a dream about to fade.

“Don’t do that again,” he murmured into your hair, voice uneven, raw in a way you had never heard before. “Don’t shut me out.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, knuckles white, grounding yourself in the warmth of him.

“Okay,” you whispered, breath hitching when he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands cradled your face, touch achingly gentle, reverent, as if memorizing the details of you in case you disappeared again.

He searched your face, gaze flickering between your eyes, your lips, before he exhaled sharply, like he had just made a decision. And then—

Soft. Slow.

His lips brushed against yours, a question, a promise, a silent plea. You melted into him, sighing against his mouth, letting yourself be held, letting yourself be wanted.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

“Come inside,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, something warm, something yours, and just like that—the world wasn’t so quiet anymore.

Sylus

The hours slipped by in hazy disarray, the wine glass now empty, the room a blur of half-formed thoughts and aching silence. You could feel the chill of the night seeping deeper into your bones, but it wasn’t the cold air that made you shiver. It was the weight of your own thoughts—the gnawing self-doubt, the quiet loneliness that seemed to stretch out forever, wrapping itself around you like an unwanted lover.

You told yourself to be strong. You told yourself to forget. To move on.

But it was impossible to ignore the echo of his name in your mind, the memory of his touch, the way his eyes had looked at you—so soft, so gentle, like you were something more than just a fleeting shadow in his world. You had convinced yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter to him. But now, in the silence of your empty apartment, that lie was unraveling at the edges.

You were not enough for him, and yet you had never wanted anything more.

The sound of your phone vibrating again cut through the haze, and for a moment, you simply stared at the screen. The name flashed once more.

Sylus.

The familiar pang of longing twisted in your chest, a sharp, bitter ache. You didn’t want to open it. Didn’t want to be reminded of everything you couldn’t have. You had closed that door, hadn’t you?

But the phone buzzed again. And then again.

Without thinking, your thumb slid across the screen, the message lighting up the dim room.

"I’m outside."

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You blinked, the words swimming before your eyes. Your pulse quickened. He was here. And for a moment, you almost convinced yourself to ignore him, to let him be just another chapter you could close. But that wasn’t you, was it? You were never one to run from what you felt, no matter how terrifying it seemed.

The sound of his footsteps echoed against the hallway, distant but unmistakable. The way his boots hit the ground with that gentle weight, as though each step was taken with purpose. You felt the air shift as he drew closer, your skin prickling with the intensity of his presence.

The door knocked softly, almost too softly, as though he was waiting for you to make the first move. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you hesitated.

“Please,” his voice reached you, quieter now, as if spoken through the layers of pain you had wrapped yourself in. “Let me in.”

Your breath caught, and without thinking, you turned the knob.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Sylus.

The light from the hallway cast him in a soft glow, outlining his silhouette in such stark contrast to the darkness behind you. His eyes—those eyes, the ones that could see straight through every defense you put up—were soft. Warm, even. There was an urgency to his gaze, but also a tenderness, as if he was afraid to touch you too suddenly, afraid to break the fragile moment that existed between you.

“I couldn’t leave,” he murmured, and his voice cracked just the slightest bit as he spoke, his own emotions laid bare.

Your heart ached at the sight of him, standing there, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. The man who had once seemed so untouchable, so unreachable, now seemed almost fragile in his need for you.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, voice shaking.

But he stepped forward anyway, and in that moment, everything shifted. His hands were warm when they cupped your face, his thumb brushing away the traces of tears you hadn’t even realized you were still holding back.

“I do,” he said, his voice low and firm, yet undeniably soft. “I do, because I’ve never needed anyone the way I need you.”

And with those words, your world fell away.

Without another word, he pulled you into him, his embrace fierce yet gentle, as though he was afraid you would slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough. His scent enveloped you, familiar and grounding, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to sink into it. You let yourself surrender to the warmth of his arms, the only place that felt like home anymore.

“I was so afraid,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. “So afraid of being nothing to you.”

His fingers threaded through your hair, and he pressed his lips against the top of your head, the softest kiss, a promise more than a gesture.

“You were never nothing to me,” he whispered. “You were never a fleeting thing. I just... I didn’t know how to show you, not when I was so terrified of losing myself in you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, the depth of his words reflected in the dark pools of his eyes. For the first time, you saw it—the same raw vulnerability, the same fear of not being enough that you had harbored so deep inside.

And in that moment, it no longer mattered who was enough or not enough. All that mattered was that he was here. And so were you.

You kissed him then—softly, slowly, as if testing whether the world would allow such a moment of peace to exist. But his lips were insistent, and soon enough, the kiss deepened, your worries melting away with each touch, each press of his body against yours. The weight of your doubts lifted, replaced by something far more comforting, far more real.

In his arms, you were not lost. You were not a fleeting moment. You were everything.

And as the night wrapped itself around you both, the air no longer felt cold. It felt warm. It felt like home.

Caleb

It was almost absurd, how you could feel so much for someone, and yet, never have them see it. Caleb, your constant. The one who would always be there to crack a joke, to make you laugh when the world felt heavy. But as time passed, it became harder to pretend. Pretend that the ache in your chest was just something you could ignore, pretend that you could be content with the role of the background character, the one who never got the spotlight.

You stared at the ceiling, the dim glow of your phone still lingering in the darkness, his name burning through the cold night. You were so tired of pretending, tired of holding everything inside, locking it away like some precious treasure only you could see. But it was suffocating you, this secret love, this thing you never asked for but couldn’t escape.

The steady buzz of your phone in your hand felt like a pulse, like a lifeline, but also like a reminder of everything you couldn’t have. It hurt too much to answer. It always did. Because with Caleb, every conversation felt like an act of theater, a performance where you smiled and pretended to be happy, to be fine, when the truth was you were drowning. Drowning in a love that never had a chance to be returned, that was never meant to be returned.

Another message lit up the screen, and your chest tightened. "Pipsqueak, please answer me. I’m worried."

Worried. His words rang in your ears, his concern always just enough to make you feel seen, but never enough to pull you from the depths of your own feelings. You wanted to scream at him. To ask him why, after all this time, he still didn’t see you. Why couldn’t he see what was right in front of him?

But you couldn’t. Because if you did, you would break. And breaking meant losing him entirely. It meant letting go of the one piece of your life that was still solid, the one thing that still anchored you to the world.

With a trembling hand, you turned the phone face down on your nightstand, the silence between you now absolute. The emptiness felt suffocating, but you couldn’t take back what you had already done. You had locked him out, not just from the room, but from your heart. And maybe that was the best thing for both of you.

But as the hours passed, the weight of that decision grew heavier, until it felt unbearable.

Your phone buzzed again. It was him, and this time, you didn’t hesitate.

You picked it up, feeling that familiar pang of hope and fear coil in your chest. There was no turning back now. He was calling, and you—well, you couldn’t run anymore.

“Hey,” you whispered, almost too quietly. The sound of your voice was fragile, like it might shatter if you said too much.

“Y/N, you okay?” Caleb’s voice came through, low and concerned, but there was something more to it this time. Something you hadn’t noticed before—the way his voice lingered, the way it softened when he spoke your name.

“Yeah, just tired,” you replied, forcing a smile into your tone. It wasn’t enough to mask the sadness, but it would have to do.

There was a pause on the other end, and then he sighed. “You’re lying.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. "Am I?"

“Yes,” he said simply. “I know you better than that.”

And for the first time, you felt the walls you’d carefully built between you begin to crack. Caleb, as oblivious as he was, somehow always knew when you were hiding something. It was frustrating, maddening even, but in that moment, you couldn’t deny it. His understanding of you, his ability to see through your armor, made everything feel even more impossible.

“I’m fine,” you said again, but it was weaker this time. "I just… I need some space, Caleb. It’s nothing. Really."

His voice softened, as though he could sense the lie even through the phone. “I don’t believe you.”

You were silent for a long moment, the weight of the conversation pressing in on you. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had to say, but the words felt tangled in your throat.

“Caleb,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, “I just—sometimes, I feel like I’m invisible to you. Like no matter how much I try to be there, it’s never enough.”

And there it was. The truth. The raw, aching truth that you had buried for so long.

You waited for him to speak, to laugh, to dismiss your feelings as something trivial. But instead, there was a silence so thick it felt suffocating.

And then, in the quiet, he finally spoke.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” Caleb said, his voice unusually quiet, the usual teasing lilt replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “I… I never saw it like that. But I should have. I should’ve seen how much you’ve always been there. How much I’ve taken you for granted.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. You didn’t know how to respond. You didn’t know if you even could.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continued, and there was something in his voice now that made your heart ache. “You’re not invisible to me, pips. You’ve never been.”

And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe him, just for a little while.

You didn’t know what would happen next, what this would all mean, but for once, it didn’t matter. Caleb had seen you. Really seen you. And that was enough to keep you holding on.

“I’m here,” you whispered. “Always.”

And in the space between those words, something shifted, like the universe itself exhaled, allowing you both to breathe again.

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

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕒𝕡𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕋𝕚𝕞𝕖

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader Prompt: “No, you can't stay here.” Words: ~1.1k Genre: Angst, No Comfort Notice: Some spoiler of Xavier's Myth, Shooting Stars, although not entirely aligned

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

He staggered back, clearly surprised by how your muttered words reverberated loudly in the otherwise dimly lit room. Cerulean orbs searched for yours skilfully, eyes bright as they were when tracking Wanderers in the darkest of nights.

“What did you say?” A hint of disbelief was palpable in Xavier's voice.

You stepped away from the shadow, hands trembling as you struggled to steady them. Despite anticipating this moment, when confronted with reality, you found yourself questioning whether you could truly accept your sacrifice without harboring any regrets.

“I said, no, you can't stay here.”

Revelation dawned on him. Despite Xavier’s frequent drowsiness, he remained inherently sharp. It was one of the attributes that had made him a highly respected hunter.

“How long have you known?”

“Enough time to understand the over-complicated truth.”

Irritation briefly flickered in his eyes. He looked at the thinning veil behind him, clearly cursing the other party that stepped through it earlier. “Jeremiah told you.”

“I was the one who convinced Jeremiah to tell me everything. You shouldn’t kick his ass when you see him again.”

Xavier couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at that. Jeremiah, though physically not imposing, could defeat anyone on mind games. That’s why he brought him along on the mission as he needed a logical partner.

He couldn’t comprehend why Jeremiah had agreed to divulge the secrets they swore to keep between themselves—especially to the one person he had hoped would never uncover the truth.

“Besides, you’re not as secretive as you thought, Xav.” You gave him a small, sad smile. “I guess that's what makes us human, right? Despite not being a normal one, having an aether core-fused heart, or having lived for a hundred years, we still can’t stop ourselves from showing our deepest desires during moments of vulnerability. I used to believe that she was your unforgettable first love or perhaps an ex who taught you a crucial life lesson. However, that’s just me shying away from the undeniable.”

As much as you had steeled yourself for this moment, your vision began to blur, and Xavier was fast to engulf you in his hug. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his lithe but muscular figure, feeling his warmth and further breaking your heart.

He buried his face in your hair, taking a deep breath to blanket himself in your scent like he always did.

“That’s not true,” his voice came out shakier than he intended.

“But it is, Xavier. You don’t know how many times you called out to her in your sleep. Or sometimes when you look at me, I can tell that you don't truly see me for who I am in this current existence. You can’t deny this, because in doing so, you’re also hurting her…me.”

You had to force your head up to fully face your light. Xavier wouldn’t let you step away from him.

Gently cupping his cheeks, you urged him to focus on your next words. “Face it, Xav. Your queen and I… our resemblances are solely physical. We’re two entirely different persons, made up of distinct personalities. If she was the reason why you were in this timeline in the first place, you cling to the hope of going back to her one day, don’t you? You wouldn’t abandon her eternity, right?”

His hug tightened. “I’m sorry,” he said after some time, head bowed in shame. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Truly, deeply sorry for making you feel less than your worth.”

Despite his painful acknowledgment, you found yourself relaxing, accepting your fate. Xavier's thumbs gently wiped away the tears that had escaped from your eyes.

“But you’re going to be here all alone,” his voice cracked, almond eyes cloudy. “I can’t go back and live peacefully knowing that.”

“If what Jeremiah told me is the truth, I have left you more than once. It’s your time to experience having someone be there when you’re back. This is the time to redeem myself, even when the timeline has gone haywire.”

Xavier shook his head furiously. “We won’t know if the alternative aether core would work. If I go back and learn that I will lose you again and Philos, I would rather stay here with you in the past.”

“You know it will work, that’s why you were so insistent on sending Jeremiah back alone with it, and selfishly waiting at the other end just to make sure it disappears, an indicator that Philos has accepted the aether-core. You know how much Jeremiah wants to go back there, and for everything he has done for you, you believed it was your turn to help him. I can’t take you away from her; it’s not right. It’s not my time to have you.”

“What difference does it make when I’m also willingly leaving you here? You understand that once I step through that veil, we’ll never meet each other again in this timeline.”

As if aware of its existence, the veil dimmed. You eyed it wearily, realizing that the swirling vortex of electric blue and silver had turned almost transparent.

“Xavier,” you sighed when he cupped your hand, reveling at the contact, “we both know that my time in this realm will end, I can’t be immortal here. I would rather face the certainty of our eternal bond in another dimension than linger in the fleeting confines of this world.”

You placed your fingers against his lips, silencing his upcoming argument. “You do realize that if you abandoned me in the future, I would despise you, don't you?" you made a playful comment to lighten the mood, but he was miserable. Filled with guilt and disappointment that he couldn’t control the situation.

You guided his head down to meet your lips halfway. As both of your lips touched in a bittersweet embrace, a silent farewell woven into each tender touch. The palm pressed against his heart felt its rapid beats.

“Goodbye, my light. Be happy,” you whispered those words to his lips.

Xavier should have known that whenever you were around, his caution melted away. That was his greatest weakness. He registered the force that caught him entirely off guard a second too late.

Xavier reached out his hand, losing momentum. “Y/N! Wait—!” he called out, voice tinged with urgency.

As his body was hurled into the closing veil, it snapped shut, swallowing his unfinished words. Sobs wracked your body, each wave of emotion sent your body crashing to the wooden floor.

Moonlight peeking through the windows cast its glow upon the intricate gold of the gigantic frame before you.

Where the veil had shimmered moments before, there was now only emptiness, revealing a cold cement wall that stood as a cruel reminder of the end of a chapter you could never revisit.

While seemingly nearly empty every night, a profound silence enveloped Philo Flower Store differently. Vibrant blooms began to wilt, their once lively hues fading into desolation, while the lush vines that once cascaded down nearby buildings now curled and browned.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

The night is still young... and here i am sitting and rethinking everything ... i love xavier... and like him before i even played the game and i couldn't pin point exactly what drew me to him the most .. even after sylus and caleb came out ... i am loyal to this man ... a bit too much

And now i can play the game and ya .. just..

It is very well written about his characteristics and his personality and i do know and have seen to tumblr how people mischaracterize him ..

Well.. after everything .. the man underneath all the mask is who i resonate and relate to and love as well.. even if he is a game character .. he bring comfort and joy to me and lightens up my day even if by 10 per cent ..

I would say.. this man is also an introvert and doesnt really like talking about himself therefore ..

The original person whose writing i am reblogging

Hats off in trying to understand him and put it so beautifully in words ...

Enjoy my rant about this man

As much as I also laugh and joke about Xavier being jealous of Lumiere, I also absolutely get it. So be prepared because I have THOUGHTS.

✨ In defense of Xavier ✨

I cannot speak for all his jealousy, but I can speak on my own interpretation. Unfortunately, since I joined in October, I completely missed his Lumiere myth. I also don’t want to spoil myself too much in case I get the rerun, so some of this is just my own interpretation based on his character.

But I don’t think Xavier is explicitly jealous of *himself,* guys. I think when he asks “Who do you like more, me or Lumiere?” He’s not asking it literally. He is asking the main character, he is asking us as the player, “Do you like me or do you like the mask I wear?”

Now, I’m biased. I actually wrote a drabble on this concept for Victoria with her first (and still canon!) love interest from Ninjago, Lloyd. There’s some character parallels here I won’t go into detail with. But that was a topic the two had to navigate at first. Being the object of so many peoples’ affections while in an alter ego can absolutely raise a lot of questions. And in this example, Lloyd was wondering if Victoria was in love with the persona he has to put up for public perception, or the person he truly was. Of course Victoria loved him for him, not for the mask.

I think Xavier is doing the same here.

Xavier is a crown prince. He’s a vigilante. He’s a hero. But at the end of the day he is XAVIER. He’s gone through so many jobs, so many roles, he’s worn down many different masks. Someone falling in love with the mask is the last thing he wants. I was discussing this with my therapist the other day, that’s something that drew me to both Rafayel and Xavier.

They both have masks, literal and figurative, that they hide behind. Falling in love with the mask does nothing. It’s the person underneath that’s more important. It’s why Rafayel asks “Will you still love me, no matter who I become?” It’s why Xavier asks who the main character prefers, him or Lumiere. It speaks to my own life as someone placed on a pedestal, constantly wearing a mask of perfection and untouchability. It irritates me when people claim to have feelings for me when they haven’t found the person behind the mask. It shows they’ve fallen in love with an idea of me, not with who I am as a person.

I’ll gladly make jokes about his own jealousy too, but there’s a lot more to it. It frustrates me to see all of the love interests mischaracterized or even outright demonized.

So, in defense of Xavier, when he asks if you like him or Lumiere more, keep in mind.

Are you in love with the man, or the mask?

everything about this memory was perfection but i couldn’t stop thinking about this part 🥺🌟