lunexsparx

[lunexsparx]

Finally.

Summary:MDNI. You’ve been dating Caleb for a few weeks now, and he's been nothing short of perfect—sweet, caring, and careful almost to a fault. Clearly worried about coming on too strong, he's held himself back whenever things got heated. But you're tired of waiting.(This is the realistic version of how I think their first time would be... I'm working on a second one that's a bit more...absurd. heh)

Your phone vibrated softly, Caleb's name lighting up the screen. Your heartbeat thumped faster, anticipation crackling through your veins as you opened the message.

Caleb: Can't wait to see you tomorrow. Any special plans?

You smiled, biting your lip as your thumbs flew across the screen, emboldened by weeks of aching restraint.

You: I was thinking we could stay in. Maybe finally do more than just kiss.

Dots appeared instantly, dancing teasingly on your screen before his reply flashed back.

Caleb: more than kissing, huh? someone’s feeling brave tonight.

You flushed hotly but grinned wider, knowing exactly the reaction you’d provoke.

You: Are you scared, Colonel?

His reply was swift, but edged with a sincerity that made your heart melt.

Caleb: Terrified. but only because you’re my entire universe.

The next evening, Caleb stood at your door, pulse hammering erratically in his chest. Anticipation tightened his muscles, and he nervously raked fingers through his hair one last time before knocking softly. The door swung open almost immediately, and the sight of you standing there, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, made him pause, breath leaving him.

"Hey," he greeted you, voice rough with nerves and longing.

"Hey yourself," you whispered back, stepping aside to let him in.

He moved through the doorway slowly, his gaze never quite leaving yours. The air between you thickened instantly, charged with electricity that left both of you slightly breathless. Caleb reached for your hand, his fingers threading through yours instinctively.

"You weren't joking in those texts, were you?" he asked softly, a small, shy smile pulling at his lips, betraying his vulnerability. He needed to know for sure– he’d been unable to think straight since your text last night. 

You shook your head slowly, stepping closer until your bodies nearly touched. "I wasn't. I've wanted this—I’ve wanted you—for a long time, Caleb."

His free hand lifted, trembling slightly as he gently cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly across your skin. "Me too," he admitted quietly, violet eyes searching yours, open and earnest. "You have no idea how much."

With your heartbeat roaring in your ears, you leaned forward and brushed your lips against his—tentatively at first, then deeper as Caleb responded eagerly, the kiss igniting something fierce and consuming within you both. Caleb's hand drifted from your face, sliding into your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, tasting you fully, passionately, as if each press of your lips was a prayer answered.

When he broke away, breathless and flushed, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed tightly, voice thick with emotion. "Are you sure? We don’t have to rush—"

You silenced him with a gentle kiss, smiling softly as you met his gaze again. "I’m sure. I want you, Caleb. All of you."

His eyes darkened with barely restrained desire, the tender reverence now mingling with a newfound heat. He nodded once, decisively, pulling you closer against him as if afraid you might just be a dream.

"Then I’m yours," he whispered fervently, voice shaking slightly with the weight of the moment. "Always have been."

Your kisses turned urgent, breathless, laughter and soft gasps mingling as you stumbled together down the hall, bumping lightly against walls, his lips never leaving yours. The playful clumsiness made everything feel real, tangible, yet heightened the ache of anticipation simmering between you.

When you finally reached your bedroom, Caleb paused, breathing raggedly as he took in the familiar space now charged with new meaning. He'd spent countless hours in your bedroom over the years, comforting, laughing, supporting you—but now, it was different. Now, your room held a different significance–something almost sacred and far more intimate.

You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes wide and expectant, and reached out to gently tug him forward by the hand. Caleb swallowed hard, stepping between your parted knees, gazing down at you with a reverence that stole your breath. The intensity of his stare sparked something deep inside, a heat pooling low in your belly.

"Come here," you whispered softly, a gentle invitation.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a claiming kiss that sent fire racing beneath your skin. Caleb's hands traced slowly, deliberately down your sides, mapping your curves with possessive care, each touch deeper, more intimate than ever before. His fingers brushed the edges of forbidden territory he'd long denied himself–along your breasts, the curve of your ass, each stroke igniting desperate heat that made it difficult to breathe.

Your fingers found their way beneath his shirt, sliding up over the hard planes of his stomach, feeling him tense and flex deliciously beneath your touch. Caleb groaned softly into your mouth, his restraint shattering as your fingertips traced over the defined ridges of his abs, sending shivers cascading down his spine. 

"God," he gasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to shed his shirt, eyes blazing with hunger as he gazed at you. "You're making it impossible to hold back."

You smiled wickedly, trailing your fingers down his bare chest. "Good."

Caleb kissed you again, fiercely now, surrendering fully to the desire that had simmered between you for far too long. Amidst the deepening kiss, your hands drifted upward, beginning to unbutton your blouse, feeling far too overdressed with Caleb topless above you. Caleb pulled back slightly, noticing your movement, and took your hand gently in his own, raising it to his lips to press a lingering, heated kiss to your fingertips. His eyes remained locked on yours, intense and burning.

You gazed at him curiously until he guided your hand back to his chest, placing it firmly over his pounding heart. With a quiet, almost shaky breath, he whispered, "Let me."

Caleb's fingers trembled slightly as he popped open each button slowly, savoring the anticipation until your blouse fell open, revealing your red lace bra beneath. His breath caught sharply, eyes widening as he took in the intimate garment—a clear sign you'd been thinking about tonight as much as he had.

"You're beautiful," he murmured reverently, fingertips gently caressing the side of your breast, coaxing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes snapped to your flushed face, reading the aching desire clearly visible in your eyes. His hand fully cupped your breast, awe etched across his face as you arched instinctively into his grasp.

He teased your nipple gently through the lace, smirking slightly when you squirmed beneath his touch, the sight of you so beautifully vulnerable driving his pulse wild. He bent down, kissing you deeply once more before his lips began their slow, torturous descent along your throat, tracing the rapid flutter of your pulse, until he reached the erect nipple he'd teased mercilessly. Your breath hitched audibly as he lifted his gaze, catching yours beneath hooded, intensely darkened eyes. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as his tongue flicked out, swirling tantalizingly around the lace-covered peak, sending your hips bucking reflexively toward him.

Caleb took your nipple fully into his mouth, sucking gently through the delicate fabric, savoring your soft, involuntary sigh as your fingers tangled possessively into his hair. Just as you relaxed into his sensual assault, his teeth grazed you with a calculated bite, sharp enough to draw a sweet cry from your lips—one he knew he'd never tire of hearing.

His cock strained painfully against the tight confines of his denim, the aching pressure intensifying further as his finger curled under the thin strap of your bra, slipping it slowly down your arm to reveal your stiff, perfect nipple to the cool air. His throat went bone-dry, the blood roaring in his ears, leaving him momentarily dizzy as he stared at the vision beneath him: you, flushed, debauched, and utterly his. And Caleb knew, with overwhelming clarity, that this was only the beginning. While Caleb admired you, you reciprocated his exploration, gaze traveling hungrily down his body, lingering noticeably on the prominent bulge straining against his pants. Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, your eyes darkening with lust as they flicked up to meet his heated stare. The air around you crackled with a renewed intensity, charged and heavy with mutual desire.

Caleb drew a shaky breath, his pulse thundering in his ears as your fingers reached forward boldly, tracing the waistband of his jeans, making him twitch beneath your touch. Encouraged by his ragged breathing, you slowly popped the button, easing the zipper down inch by teasing inch. He shuddered deeply as you slid his jeans and boxer-briefs down, freeing him from their constrictive hold.

His cock sprang free, heavy and hot against your fingertips, eliciting a low, guttural moan from him. Your touch was tentative at first, a gentle exploration that soon grew confident and deliberate. Caleb's head tipped back with a sharp gasp as you wrapped your hand around him fully, stroking him with ease, your thumb swiping delicately over his sensitive tip. His hips jerked involuntarily into your grasp, driven by instinct and raw need.

“God, Pip,” he rasped, voice thick with desperation and awe, his eyes locking onto yours as he surrendered to your loving caresses. “You’re perfect.” He swallowed hard, voice roughened with restrained urgency. “But if you keep this up, I’m not gonna last.”

You smirked mischievously, but Caleb caught your wrist gently, pulling your hand away from him. His eyes flashed with playful challenge. “My turn now,” he murmured, voice dropping lower with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, easing them down slowly, so so so slowly.

You giggled as he tossed your pants over his shoulder, but the air leaves you when you see his face. He paused, momentarily breathless at the sight of you finally naked beneath him, your skin flushed and soft. His cock throbbed painfully as he wrapped his hand around himself, briefly seeking relief with a few pumps as his free fingers curiously brushed over your slick, heated pussy. The immediate response—a breathy moan and an instinctive arch of your hips—made his eyes widen in pure fascination.

Caleb repeated the teasing touch, entranced by your needy wiggles and breathless sounds, his lips pulling into a pleased smirk. "Oooh, you’re going to be the death of me," he cooed gently.

"Caleb!" you protested, desperation evident in your voice. "Not fair!"

Chuckling softly, he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your stomach before finally allowing his fingers to dip into your slick warmth. He teased erotically around your swollen clit, circling and pressing with natural skill. His eyes were riveted, breath held as he watched your hips grind into his touch, each movement more deliberate and desperate.

Abruptly, his fingers withdrew, drawing a pleading whimper from you. Your head lifted to glare at him accusingly, but your protest died swiftly when his tongue replaced his absent fingers. The sensation of his mouth on your aching cunt, warm and firm, had you crying out sharply, your thighs trembling. Caleb’s purple eyes locked onto yours from between your thighs, the intensity of his gaze driving you dangerously close to climax.

His tongue moved expertly (because everything Caleb puts his mind to is executed perfectly)—lapping at your folds, teasing your clit with soft flicks before pressing firmly, swirling in tight, deliberate circles. He sucked gently, alternating with teasing nips and thorough strokes that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body. Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as your heart pounded frantically in your chest, fingers clutching at his hair desperately.

"Caleb," you moaned deeply, voice breaking. "I'm going to—I'm so close—fuck!" “That’s my girl– give it to me,” you heard his gravelly voice in the haze of the overwhelming building pressure.

And then it crashed over you, an explosive wave of pleasure wracking your body as Caleb eagerly drank in every shudder, every cry, every trembling aftershock. Caleb moved upward slowly, eyes filled with intense emotions, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His cock, already slick with precum, pressed insistently between your thighs, grinding against your sensitive core, igniting fresh waves of need.

Breaking the kiss, Caleb tenderly cupped your face, staring deeply into your hazy, passion-filled eyes. "You want to keep going?" he murmured softly, concern mingling with raw desire in his voice. His heart hammered erratically as he awaited your response, knowing this was a critical moment for both of you. 

"Yes," you breathed eagerly, your voice strong and unwavering. "Please, Caleb. I want you."

He swallowed thickly, gripping his cock and guiding it slowly over your slick folds, deliberately teasing your oversensitive clit. Your hips bucked sharply, his name escaping your lips in an exasperated shout that nearly made him laugh, but the laughter died in his throat the instant his tip pressed against your entrance.

Slowly, Caleb began to ease himself inside, his large, thick cock stretching you with exquisite precision. He watched your face carefully, noting the brief flickers of discomfort despite your obvious eagerness. For a moment, you winced–and he hesitated, worried he was hurting you. Knowing he’d stop everything if you didn’t act, you wrapped your legs around him insistently, pulling him down with full force, taking him all the way to the hilt. The sudden, complete joining made you scream–Caleb moaned deliciously as your bodies connected intimately for the first time. 

He paused, allowing you to adjust, feeling your warmth pulse tightly around him. Tears stung your eyes at the fullness– the mind-bending sensation of him being so deep inside of you. His first careful movements were slow, almost cautious, as he eased himself gently in and out, your initial discomfort gradually melting into heated pleasure. Your fingers clawed down his sculpted chest, spurring him onward, his thrusts growing bolder and more confident with every pump.

"Fuuuck, Pip," he panted roughly, pressing his thumb firmly against your sensitive clit, circling rhythmically as his hips snapped faster, deeper. This was more than he could ever have hoped for– more than all the fantasies he’d entertained for years.The sight of your flushed face, your gasps and moans, the tight, wet heat of you surrounding him—it was all too much. You looked so good–too good. And when his name broke from your swollen lips with a desperate tone, Caleb gasped, his eyes widening as he felt himself reach his peak.

He withdrew abruptly, shuddering uncontrollably as he spilled thick ropes of cum across your abdomen, breasts, and thighs. "F-fuck—sorry," he groaned hoarsely, overwhelmed by the force of his climax, nearly losing his balance as pleasure overtook him entirely. You let out a soft, breathless giggle, your eyes meeting his as Caleb huffed out a gentle laugh, his face turning a shade darker with embarrassment. In that tender moment, everything felt brand new, utterly perfect. Ignoring the mess he'd made, Caleb lowered himself, pressing intimately into you, his lips brushing yours lovingly, fingers weaving tenderly through your hair as he kissed you deeply, worshipfully.

"I love you," he confessed softly, voice shaking with sincerity against your lips. "I've loved you for so long."

You smiled into his kiss, your own voice tender and full of emotion as you whispered, "I've loved you just as long, Caleb."

You kissed again, tears glistening in your eyes, hearts swelling with newfound closeness and vulnerability. Long moments later, when your heart rates had finally calmed, Caleb gently kissed your forehead, balancing his weight carefully to avoid crushing you.

"We should shower..." he murmured softly, brushing a gentle thumb over your cheek.

You grinned mischievously. "And then go again?"

Caleb chuckled warmly, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose. "We really do think alike, Pipsqueak."

Next up, the absurd take on their "first time". Almost done with it!

[lunexsparx]

Love's Echo

Summary: In the early stages of your blossoming relationship, you give Xavier a gift--unaware it echoes deeply across lifetimes.Just some short Xav fluff ! Enjoy!

Xavier moved through your kitchen with the focused intensity of a warrior approaching a battlefield—though the kitchen, historically, had been a far more challenging opponent than any wanderer he’d faced in combat. His precise movements echoed his skill with a blade, each slice of green onion sharp and deliberate, every stir of the broth carefully measured like a practiced strike. Ramen had become your newly shared ritual, primarily because it was the one dish Xavier had managed to master—a safe option where he'd previously left behind trails of burnt pans and blaring smoke alarms.

A quiet, contended smile curved Xavier’s lips as he caught your gaze lingering on him, your eyes soft with adoration–a  smile that had become a constant fixture on his face since your relationship began a few weeks ago.

"Enjoying the view?" he teased, his voice low, eyes sparkling as he placed the steaming bowls carefully on the countertop.

You tilted your head coyly, lips quirking into a playful smile that instantly made Xavier’s heartbeat quicken. "Maybe I'm just hungry," you teased softly, fingers gently grazing his hand, sending sparks of warmth through his entire body.

His azure eyes softened, the faintest chuckle escaping his lips. "I hope you're not relying on my cooking skills for that hunger," he murmured, brushing his thumb tenderly across your knuckles. Each touch felt deeply intimate– touches he’d waited lifetimes for– these simple, affectionate moments.

Settling together onto the sofa, the film you'd chosen soon became mere background noise—a soothing blend of quiet murmurs and flickers of color that bounced off the walls. Xavier felt his usual tension melt away as your laughter mingled with his, your head naturally finding its resting place on his shoulder.With practiced ease, he gently pulled you closer into his side, a comforting gesture that made you feel protected.

He sighed contentedly, his hand seeking yours instinctively, fingers tracing patterns over your palm, silent promises he hoped you felt as deeply as he meant them. But when your voice pierced the comfortable quiet, trembling slightly with vulnerability, his pulse fluttered anxiously.

"Xavier?"

"Hmm?" he replied softly, instantly attentive, his gaze full of curiosity as he looked down at you.

"I... have something for you," you confessed shyly, reaching into a small hiding spot beside the couch. The gentle tremor in your voice sent a ripple of anticipation through his soul.

"Secrets now?" He smiled playfully, masking the sudden rush of nervous emotion tightening his throat.

You laughed gently, the sound calming him as you placed a small box in his hands. "I wanted to make something special—just for you."

The air around him stilled as Xavier slowly opened the box, as if handling something potentially volatile--his breath catching sharply in his chest when he saw what you'd given him. Nestled inside was a delicate, beautifully crafted star charm—intricately detailed, shimmering in the soft moonlight. A wave of memories surged, a tidal force of love and loss, hope and grief crashing together within him. His vision blurred with unshed tears as he traced the delicate points of the star with his fingertips. How many times had he longed for this moment? How many lifetimes had he held onto these small tokens, aching for a love always cruelly snatched away?

"You made this?" Xavier whispered, his voice raw, barely audible, eyes searching yours with a depth you couldn't yet fully comprehend.

You nodded shyly, cheeks flushed with the vulnerability of your gesture. "The charms on your sword looked faded, so I thought... maybe you'd like a new one, from me."

Xavier’s breath halted, every cell in his body frozen in the aching realization of what this moment truly meant. His chest tightened painfully, a familiar anguish stirred by a thousand lifetimes spent yearning, pining for you, each one ending too soon, each one never quite granting him the peace to voice the words trapped endlessly within.

Yet now, here you were before him, real and warm beneath his starving touch, eyes wide with warmth and desire he'd waited centuries to witness. A desperate urgency overtook him as he cupped your face, hands shaking slightly, his eyes searching yours for the truth he'd always hoped to find but never let himself believe.

Without another breath wasted, his lips crashed into yours, a collision of longing and ancient devotion finally unleashed. The kiss seared through both of you, electric and reverent, his heart hammering furiously beneath your fingertips. Xavier's fingers grasped at you, possessive yet infinitely gentle, lips moving against yours in a silent promise he'd carried, hidden and protected, for countless ages.

Pulling back just enough to gaze deeply into your eyes, his voice trembled with raw, exposed vulnerability. "I have waited lifetimes to say this," he whispered, each word filled with aching sincerity. "I love you. I have always loved you, in every life, in every breath."

A gasp broke from your lips, raw with shock and threaded tightly with a desperate, burning need. "I love you too," you breathed, your voice shaky yet certain, anchoring him to this precious reality–a reality he’d only ever dreamed of.

Overwhelmed, Xavier pulled you into him, erasing any space between your bodies--his kisses shifting to heated explorations of your jaw, your throat—each press of his lips a vow, each touch steeped in awe and gratitude for the love he’d finally, finally been granted. The grief and loneliness of countless lifetimes melted away under the warmth of your embrace, leaving behind only the radiant promise of a future that belonged to the two of you, at long last.

Hours later, the moonlight painted soft silver patterns across your entwined forms. Nestled securely against his chest, you traced idle patterns on his skin, your voice barely above a whisper. "Xavier? The other star charms… do they have a special meaning?"

He smiled tenderly, fingers gently weaving through your hair as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his voice carrying a gentle, nostalgic warmth. "They’re reminders," he murmured, "to always stay by my partner’s side."

You sighed softly, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. "Then I’ll need my own charm," you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

His heart swelled with love, and Xavier pressed another loving kiss to your forehead, tightening his hold protectively. "Consider it done," he whispered, silently promising himself—and you—that this time, he would never let you go.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I'm working on smut, but Xavier just needed to have a really sweet moment before I could get my head back in the gutter!

[lunexsparx]

I absolutely adore Caleb. Don't get me wrong, but ....

Those kissing sounds 😬 IS IT CUZ HIS LIPS ARE CHAPPED?! MC needs to bulk order that boy some carmex istg 😅 Still love him though!

[lunexsparx]

THIS IS THE FACE I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR 😭👏🏻👏🏻💕💥

[lunexsparx]

LADS: Sent them LEWDS in public

Summary: The LADS have left you feeling neglected, so you decide to teach them a lesson. What happens when you send them lewds while they're in public? MDNI! (Suggestive, not explicit.) This was a silly piece, and my first "all LADs" fic!

It had been three entire days since your usually-charming upstairs neighbor decided to treat you like you’d committed some unforgivable crime.

And for what?

A tiny, perfectly reasonable suggestion.

All you’d done was gently imply—alright, maybe not that gently—that it might be insanely hot if Xavier wore the Lumierre mask while you did things to him that were definitely, unequivocally illegal in at least six countries.

Instead of pouncing on you right then and there, like a sane person, he'd looked at you with such profound horror you'd genuinely thought for a moment you’d accidentally confessed to murder. Without saying a word, he’d turned on his heel, and left. He actually just left you standing there, mouth open, dignity bruised, libido unsatisfied.

And now it had been three full days of absolute silence.

Three days of radio static—no texts, no teasing smiles across patrol, nothing. He'd even swapped shifts just to dodge seeing you, the dramatic bastard. Last night, you'd even tried peace offerings in the form of his favorite takeout, and he’d ignored that too!

Enough was enough.

Jealous of his own alter ego? That was the most ridiculous thing you'd ever heard. But fine. If Xavier wanted to act like a sulky teenager, you'd make sure to treat him like one.

War was officially declared.

You found him at headquarters, slumped in a chair after your patrol with Tara, looking every bit as miserable as he deserved to be. He was nibbling half-heartedly on a powdered-sugar donut, his posture screaming “pathetic” in a way that almost made you soften—almost.

His eyes flicked upward, briefly met yours, and then darted away guiltily, the tips of his ears turning pink beneath his silver hair. Oh, he was absolutely not ready for the diabolical storm about to descend upon him.

"Hey there, stranger," you purred sweetly, flashing him your most innocent smile. "Thinking hot pot tonight? You in?"

Xavier stared at you like you’d grown a second head, his eyes wide and dark as he slowly drew the powdered sugar-coated tip of his thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean. For one charged, heart-stopping second, you thought he might break—then he yanked his gaze away, finger removed from his lips.

“There’s a... briefing,” he mumbled lamely, shuffling awkwardly toward the conference room door.

Your stomach dropped. Oh, he was really doubling down, wasn’t he?

Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it, you’d come prepared. You had nuclear-level ammo today, and Xavier didn’t stand a chance.

Game on, Bunny Boy.

You followed him into the conference room, watching with disbelief as he strategically wedged himself between two occupied seats. Seriously?

With a dramatic sigh, you slid into the empty chair directly opposite him. If he thought refusing to look at you would save him, he was tragically mistaken.

The other hunters filed in, and Jenna began her usual monotone spiel about mission updates and statistics. You tuned her out instantly, your entire focus zeroed in on Xavier, whose azure eyes remained stubbornly glued to Jenna, as though looking anywhere else—especially at you—would ignite him on literal fire.

You knew him far too well for that. You knew exactly how difficult it was for him not to glance your way; you could practically feel him sweating from across the room.

Still, not even a single glance?

Well, he’d asked for it.

Carefully lowering your phone beneath the table, shielding the screen from wandering eyes, you scrolled through your collection of explicit selfies from last night. You’d planned these as playful rewards for when he finally apologized, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

And oh, the pièce de résistance.

There you were, wearing Lumiere's iconic costume, the shirt wide open to expose your bare breasts, nipples stiff and tempting. Your hand disappeared suggestively down the pants, fingertips teasingly hidden but clearly busy, eyes glassy with desire, lips parted as if mid-moan. It was raw. It was filthy. It was fucking perfect.

Smirking, you quickly typed your killing blow:

You: If you won’t be Lumiere, then I guess I’ll have to be.

Send.

Exactly five seconds passed between the delivery of your message and the moment Xavier's soul visibly departed from his body.

Across the conference room, Xavier shifted casually in his chair, pulled out his phone like it was nothing—and froze.

For a full second, you swore he stopped breathing altogether.

Then, as though hit by a delayed gunshot, he jolted violently enough that his knee smacked hard against the underside of the conference table.

THUD.

Coffee cups rattled dangerously. A rookie hunter squeaked embarrassingly. Jenna stopped mid-sentence, arching an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Xavier? Everything alright?”

Xavier opened his mouth, managed no sound, then tried again. “Fine,” he croaked weakly, voice cracking like he was thirteen again. “Just—leg cramp. Muscle...spasm. Sudden. Carry on.”

Jenna stared at him, the kind of look that clearly said she wasn't paid enough for whatever this was, before continuing her report without further comment.

But Xavier was fucked, and he knew it. Under the table, his hand fumbled desperately—obviously attempting, and spectacularly failing, to discreetly adjust his hardening cock. His breathing turned shallow, ragged, as though he’d just sliced through a thousand wanderers.

For several minutes you almost broke skin from biting your knuckle so hard, trying not to laugh. You expected to get some sort of reaction, but when it came to Xavier--you didn't expect THAT.

At last, he risked a glance in your direction.

The look he shot you was homicidal—wild, desperate, furious lust etched into every tense line of his body.

You offered him your most innocent smile.

Slowly, deliberately, you tilted your head just slightly.

Bit your lower lip.

Then, clearly and slowly enough for him to read your lips across the room, you mouthed:

“Call me Lumiere.”

Xavier’s palm slammed down on the table with a loud crack, making the rookie beside him choke on her coffee and Jenna stop mid-sentence again.

He stood abruptly—violently—his chair sliding backwards and hitting the wall behind him. “I—uh—emergency!” he stammered, voice strained with panic. “Personal emergency!”

Without another word, he practically sprinted out of the conference room, leaving confused whispers in his wake.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed violently in your hand.

Xavier: Elevator. Now. If you can still walk when I’m done with you, consider it a miracle.

A wicked grin slowly spread across your lips.

He was going to lose his mind when you showed up in the elevator already wearing his mask.

And you absolutely couldn’t wait.

You: Hey handsome. Come home and ruin my life a little? ❤️ Zayne: Saving actual lives, sweetheart. You’ll survive. Probably. You: Survival’s not guaranteed if you keep ignoring me. 😔 Zayne: Drink water. Do stretches. Think loving thoughts. You: My “loving thoughts” involve you naked and tied to a chair, FYI. Zayne: Medical emergency. Gotta go. Stop being trouble. You: No. 😇

You glared at your phone, dramatically collapsing face-first onto the couch with a frustrated groan. The cushions absorbed your grumbled curses, muffling your irritation. How many more nights had to be like this?

Fine. If Doctor Li was determined to pretend you didn't exist, you'd simply make yourself impossible to ignore.

You'd show him exactly what happened when he neglected his duties.

With determination and a mischievous gleam in your eye, you slipped into Akso Hospital, wearing your most convincing “definitely not about to do something reckless” expression. A few polite smiles later, you found yourself safely behind the door of Zayne’s private office.

Perfect.

The white coat hung invitingly from the hook on the wall, proudly embroidered with his name. With a small, affectionate smile, you ran your fingertips lovingly over the stitching. He’d earned every letter there—but he was going to have to earn you now.

You slipped out of your clothes, discarding them neatly on a nearby chair, and draped yourself in the crisp, cool white fabric. Buttoning exactly one button beneath your bust to tease rather than conceal, you placed his stethoscope around your neck, letting the cold metal rest suggestively between your bare breasts.

Then, perched casually against his desk, you carefully spread your thighs—just indecent enough—and snapped a photo.

You: I need a consultation, Doctor. I’m experiencing severe symptoms of neglect. 🖤

Send.

Meanwhile, Upstairs in the Boardroom

Zayne was enduring yet another agonizingly dull briefing on surgical budgeting, politely nodding at appropriate intervals and maintaining just enough eye contact to appear interested.

His phone buzzed softly. A quick glance to silence it, and—

He froze.

The image filled his screen with obscene clarity: You, half-naked beneath his white coat, lounging seductively on his desk. His heartbeat surged violently, blood roaring in his ears.

"—increase the budget allocation for anesthesiology—"

Zayne heard nothing.

His mind was busy unraveling.

"Dr. Li?" the hospital director asked, peering at him over her glasses. "You seem… distracted."

He stood abruptly, chair wobbling dangerously behind him. "Emergency page," he announced, voice crisp and convincing.

He didn’t even bother looking at his pager.

Without another word, he strode out, urgency radiating from him as he practically sprinted toward his office.

He burst through the door—and stopped short.

There you were, a living fantasy: draped across his workspace like an erotic muse, fingers leisurely twirling his stethoscope. You looked outrageously smug and impossibly beautiful.

"Doctor," you purred sweetly, batting your lashes with a smirk, "I've been incredibly patient, but I'm afraid my condition is deteriorating."

Zayne exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in mock-suffering. "You," he murmured with exaggerated weariness, eyes shining with reluctant amusement, "are an absolute nightmare."

He crossed the room in three confident strides, trapping you firmly between his arms as he braced himself on either side of your hips. The warmth of his body pressed intimately close, sending sparks rippling across your skin.

"But," he continued softly, voice dipping lower, "you're my nightmare."

Your grin widened, eyes sparkling triumphantly.

He brushed his nose gently against yours, mouth hovering dangerously close. "Now," he breathed, warm and teasing against your lips, "are you ready for a proper examination?"

His hands slid up your shoulders, skillful fingers hooking into the edges of the white coat. With a single swift movement, he stripped it from you, letting it pool loosely at your elbows. You gasped softly at the sudden exposure, your bare skin instantly heated under his heavy, possessive gaze.

He tugged the stethoscope gently but firmly, tightening it just enough to elicit another soft gasp from you. His lips curled wickedly.

"Because, sweetheart," he whispered hungrily, "I’m afraid I’ll need to be… extremely thorough."

Just as his mouth brushed against yours, the door swung open sharply.

"Dr. Li, I just wanted to—"

Yvonne froze mid-step. Her eyes widened comically, mouth falling open in pure shock.

You froze.

Zayne froze.

The three of you stood locked in a perfect tableau: you, nearly naked on his desk; Zayne gripping the stethoscope like a leash; and poor Yvonne wishing desperately she could melt into the carpet.

The awkward silence stretched unbearably—until you broke it with a cheerful, mortifyingly casual, "Hey, Yvonne."

Yvonne sputtered, her cheeks blazing scarlet. "I—uh—meeting—I’ll—clear your schedule, Doctor Li—sorry—!" She whirled around and fled, the door slamming so hard a framed diploma nearly toppled off the wall.

Quiet filled the room once more.

Slowly, you turned your gaze back to Zayne, prepared for irritation or embarrassment in his expression. Instead, what you saw in his eyes made your stomach clench and your knees weaken.

He looked feral.

His eyes were dark with barely controlled hunger, the curve of his mouth twisted into a dangerous smirk. A low, rich chuckle escaped him—broken and beautiful—and then he captured your lips in a fierce kiss that left you absolutely breathless.

When he pulled away, his breath was ragged.

"You," he rasped, voice low and trembling with the effort of restraint, "have absolutely no idea what you just unleashed."

His fingers tangled into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your face upward, exposing your throat. A startled, eager whimper escaped you as he guided you firmly down onto your knees, the cool metal of the stethoscope tightening once more around your neck, holding you in place, keeping you under his control.

"Now," Zayne murmured roughly, gently tracing your jawline with his thumb, eyes blazing with a promise that sent liquid heat pooling between your thighs, "about your consultation…"

He stroked your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, his eyes heavy and intensely focused on your form beneath him.

"Open wide, sweetheart," he whispered darkly. "Doctor’s orders."

He hadn't even noticed you were there.

Or if he had, he certainly wasn't showing it.

Rafayel moved through the exhibit like a reluctant storm—sharp smiles that didn't quite reach his eyes, quick jokes tossed over his shoulder, and half-hearted acknowledgments to anyone who cornered him. He was the living embodiment of forced politeness, an artist enduring the social equivalent of nails scraping down a chalkboard.

And god, he hated every second of it.

You knew it just by watching him: the tight set of his jaw, the slight twitch at the corner of his eye every time some fawning critic called him "brilliant" or "a visionary." The fake laughter he forced out sounded so pained that you cringed inwardly each time you heard it.

He wasn't here by choice. He was here because Thomas begged him to be. Sweet, desperate Thomas—his manager, friend, and occasional babysitter—had guilted him into playing nice. Apparently, being cursed with raw talent also came with mandatory public suffering.

But still, you had shown up tonight for him.

You'd dressed up, hopeful and ready to support him, a little nervous, and just a touch eager to catch his attention. He'd been busy with this exhibit for weeks, leaving you missing him terribly. A few texts back and forth proved he'd been working himself thin, so your attendance hopefully meant a lot to him. You imagined his face lighting up, maybe an overly dramatic embrace to embarrass you in public, something to make this exhausting night worth it.

But nothing like that happened.

Instead, you lingered awkwardly at the edges, becoming increasingly invisible with each passing minute. Every time you tried to approach him, some insufferable curator or overly-enthusiastic fan intercepted. A handshake here, a selfie there, a monologue about color theory that visibly drained Rafayel’s soul just listening to it.

Your heart sank lower with every failed attempt to reach him.

It felt ridiculous—standing alone, unnoticed, in a crowd full of people fawning over him. The ache settled deep in your chest, frustration twisting alongside a quiet, embarrassed loneliness. You knew he adored you in his own chaotic way, but in this moment, you felt utterly forgotten.

Before your pride could stop you, your hand slipped into your clutch, pulling out your phone. Your thumb hesitated, hovering over the screen.

You'd taken the photo a few days earlier. You’d laughed nervously, painting your body with cheap market paints, giggling as vibrant colors ran together, messy but charming in their chaos. Beautiful hues smeared across your naked skin. A self portrait with loving marks made only for him. You'd planned it as a playful reward for him, a private gift to congratulate him on surviving this night. Something so vulnerable and silly, you just knew he'd affectionately tease you about it...

But right now, it felt more like an act of desperation—maybe even your last chance to salvage your hurt feelings.

You attached the picture, pausing only a second to consider your message before typing something hopeful and just slightly teasing:

You: If only I’d had an artist’s touch when I made this… 🎨

Send.

There. It was done. Now, you could let him have his night. Your stomach twisted anxiously as you turned toward the exit. You wouldn't wait around feeling sorry for yourself any longer. And you absolutely were not going to cry.

Definitely not.

You were halfway to the door when you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering against marble flooring.

You whipped around just in time to see Rafayel frozen stiffly, staring down at his fallen champagne flute, the shattered glass glittering beneath his shoes like fragments of a broken sculpture. His phone still glowed in his hand, the faint light of your photo illuminating his wide-eyed, stunned expression.

For a moment, the gallery seemed suspended in time. Even Thomas stopped mid-sentence, mouth half-open, staring at Rafayel with alarm.

Then Rafayel slowly lifted his gaze, eyes dark with delicious chaotic delight.

He clapped his hands sharply, making several attendees jump. "Alright, show's over, everyone!" he declared with startling cheerfulness.

Music screeched to a stop. Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. Thomas sputtered helplessly, pushing forward in a panic. "Raf, what are you doing? Are you out of your—?"

"Emergency inspiration, Thomas," Rafayel interrupted smoothly, flashing a grin that promised chaos. "Artist emergency. Clear out these art vultures before I start tossing them myself."

He began herding the stunned crowd toward the doors like an overly enthusiastic sheep dog, casually waving away protests, ignoring horrified gasps, and outright laughing at anyone who demanded explanations.

In a matter of minutes, the gallery emptied completely, leaving you alone and slightly bewildered in the silent aftermath.

Before you could fully process what had just happened, Rafayel stormed across the gallery--intense eyes locked on yours, grabbing your wrist with gentle but firm insistence and pulling you toward one of the large, blank canvases still hanging on the far wall.

"Raf—" you began, but he pressed you lightly against the canvas, caging you in with his body. His breath was ragged, eyes intense and impossibly full as they traced your features with more affection than he'd ever shown you before.

"You," he whispered fiercely, voice low and roughened with barely contained emotion, "are the only masterpiece I've ever given a damn about."

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, teasingly lifting the fabric inch by torturous inch. "And clearly," he continued, mouth twitching with a teasing laugh, "you're in desperate need of a professional’s touch.”

It had been a week.

Seven miserable days of cryptic texts, all maddeningly brief and patronizing:

Sylus: Stay in tonight. Sylus: Miss you, kitten. Sylus: Be good.

No calls. No visits. Not even one infuriatingly charming late-night voicemail. Instead, your only visitor was Mephisto—the world’s most judgmental mechanical crow—who showed up at ungodly hours, tapping insistently at your window like he had something important to say but was choosing not to out of spite.

You hated this.

You missed Sylus with an intensity that bordered on psychosis. You simultaneously wanted to punch him in the mouth for ignoring your messages and pull him close and kiss him senseless for texting back. He was stubborn, distant, and maddeningly secretive—qualities that normally drew you to him, but right now were driving you toward sweet, reckless revenge.

When Mephisto landed again, this time eyeing you from the balcony railing like a gothic hall monitor, you decided enough was enough.

Sylus had left you unsupervised for far too long—and it was time he faced the delicious consequences.

You picked up the sleek black helmet he’d given you weeks ago. Custom-designed, glossy, stylish, perfectly fitted—an extravagant gift he'd tried (and failed) to dismiss as "just something practical." You’d teased him mercilessly about it, delighting in how he blushed faintly at your enthusiastic reaction.

Tonight, the helmet would serve another purpose entirely.

Pulling it on, you stripped off everything else, relishing the cool air and the way goosebumps prickled your bare skin. You sprawled across the bed, posed shamelessly, legs parted just enough to tease, fingers strategically hiding the most explicit details—but only just. The helmet gleamed wickedly, a striking contrast to your exposed body.

You snapped the photo.

With a satisfied smirk, you sent it off to Sylus, accompanied by the provocative caption:

You: Your kitten needs to play. 🐾

Send.

Deep within the heart of N109’s black market, Sylus stood at the head of a long metal table, staring coolly down a collection of men who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a wanted poster. Between them sat a precarious amount of glowing modified Protocores and weaponry—dangerous, volatile, and profoundly expensive.

Negotiations were quiet. Civilized, even, in that uniquely criminal way where civility masked a very real promise of bloodshed.

Sylus’s phone buzzed softly against the metal table. He ignored it, expression unreadable, shoulders loose, hands relaxed as though he had all the time in the world.

It buzzed again. Insistent. Demanding attention.

With a subtle sigh, he flicked open the screen, casually glancing down to silence whoever dared interrupt—

And his world halted.

Your photo filled the display, bold and stunning enough to seize every thought in his head. You sprawled like an absolute vision, sleek helmet shining, bare skin lush and inviting, fingers barely covering the part of you he now desperately wished they weren’t hiding. His breath stopped in his chest as he licked his lips.

The room felt suddenly suffocating.

His energy surged, raw and unchecked, in a way it hadn't in years—and certainly never over something as trivial as a photograph.

The modified protocores, hyper-sensitive to his Evol fluctuations, immediately picked up on the spike.

Then—

BOOM.

An entire weapons crate erupted, shards of protocores and sparks exploding outward in a brilliant shower of chaos. The table overturned. Gangsters screamed and dove for cover. The lights flickered violently, plunging the room into smoke-filled confusion. Someone yelled about assassins, another fired a panicked shot into the ceiling, and Luke and Kieran hit the floor with twin yelps.

"Holy shit, did boss do that on purpose?!" Luke shrieked from behind a smoldering crate.

Kieran coughed and laughed simultaneously, cackling, "Nah, you didn't see that look? He only looks like that when she's involved!"

Amid the destruction, Sylus stood unmoving, ruby eyes still transfixed on the intimate image before him. Smoke curled gently from the scorched edge of his coat, a faint dusting of ash settling into his white hair. His expression remained as calm and impenetrable as a marble statue.

One gangster staggered up to him, pale and trembling, clutching a bloody hand. "What the fuck was that, Sylus? Are you double-crossing us? Was this a hit—?"

Sylus didn't bother replying. He simply tucked the phone smoothly into his pocket, brushed off his sleeve, and fixed the shaking man with a flat stare.

"Emergency recall," he said calmly.

While alarms screamed and half the warehouse burned around him, Sylus turned to Luke and Kieran and said:

"Handle it."

Without looking back at the smoking ruins behind him, Sylus walked away, leaving a roomful of criminals sputtering in disbelief.

At home, you’d fallen asleep waiting for a reply, curled up and still helmet-clad, when the apartment door slammed open so violently you bolted upright, startled and blinking.

Sylus stood in the doorway, looking like he’d just survived an apocalypse—jacket scorched, boots dusty, eyes blazing and utterly unhinged. He kicked the door shut without a backward glance, filling the room with his overpowering presence.

"You probably got someone killed tonight, Kitten," he drawled, voice deceptively mild.

You snorted softly, waving him off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Oh, sure. I'm deadly, alright."

His expression didn't change, though his eyes darkened with intensity that sent a sudden thrill down your spine. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, a predator approaching prey that hadn't yet realized it was caught.

"I’m serious," he said softly, voice low and edged with dangerous amusement. "Two crates of weapons and Protocores exploded, half the black market nearly burned down, and I'm fairly certain at least one idiot accidentally shot himself in the foot."

You blinked, momentarily uncertain—then burst into bright laughter, your amusement echoing brightly through the darkness of the room. "Oh please," you said, still giggling. "Sylus, that's ridiculous."

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he reached for your helmet, carefully slipping it off and tossing it aside like an unnecessary barrier between you. His hands braced firmly on either side of you, trapping you effortlessly beneath him.

His Evol energy crackled lightly against your skin, prickling warmth everywhere he hovered close, setting your nerves alight.

"You have absolutely no idea," Sylus murmured, nuzzling softly against your temple, his voice dark and gentle as velvet against your ear, "the sheer havoc you wreak inside me."

Your breath hitched, laughter melting into something softer, warmer, undeniably affectionate.

"You came," you finally whisper into his ear. "You could have just texted me back," you teased gently, eyes dancing in the low light.

Sylus’s mouth curved into a faint, devastating smile, his gaze full of quiet adoration—and a promise of retribution. "And miss the chance to watch you try and kill me in real-time? Never."

His lips brushed yours, soft at first, then hungry—like he'd waited years instead of days. He kissed you slowly, deeply, utterly reverent, as though he’d willingly burn the entire world down just to ensure nothing stood between him and you again.

Caleb Xia was known across the fleet as a legendary figure of unbreakable discipline. Colonel Xia could hold his composure through anything—through battles, interrogations, and even prolonged stints in the punishing DeepSpace Tunnel. But tonight, back from yet another exhausting mission and desperate to dismiss his troops and finally collapse in private, Caleb was learning a painful truth:

He had absolutely zero defense against you.

It began innocently enough. Caleb stood stiffly at the fleet’s bustling command center, issuing routine post-mission orders. Soldiers marched up to him in a seemingly endless procession, saluting crisply as they reported their debriefing details. Caleb dutifully nodded, signed off on various datapads, and maintained perfect, ironclad control.

And then his phone buzzed softly in his pocket.

He slipped it out discreetly, expecting another boring update—only to find your name illuminated brightly, demanding his attention.

You: Calebbbbb. Answer meeeee. 🥺

Caleb's lip twitched. He could imagine your tipsy, adorable whine through the text. But professionalism required restraint, so he quickly typed a brisk reply:

Caleb: Working, Pip. Almost done.

But you clearly weren't feeling patient tonight.

Another buzz. Caleb checked his screen discreetly, eyes narrowing as his breath hitched involuntarily at your messages:

You: Working means ignoring me? Rude. I thought you missed me. 😭 You: You're mean, Caleb You: Ever since you joined your big bad secret club, you're no fun. 😔🍷

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, half-smiling despite himself. He could practically picture you sprawled on the couch, wine glass dangerously close to tipping onto the floor, cheeks flushed, lips pouting.

God, he missed you.

His jaw tightened slightly, heart thudding a little harder than it should. Caleb opened his mouth to bark a quick dismissal to the approaching officer—but he had no time. The soldier saluted sharply and began a lengthy status report, forcing Caleb to slide his phone back into his pocket with a silent curse.

The buzzing persisted—insistently, cruelly—in his pocket.

Finally, mercifully, he dismissed the soldier, and checked his phone again.

You'd sent a picture.

He quirked a brow and glanced around carefully, subtly angling the screen away from view as he opened the attachment. He regretted it immediately, a strangled noise nearly escaping his throat.

There you were, sprawled out lazily on your bed, cheeks flushed from alcohol and mischief. Wearing that damned red sports bra and matching boyshorts he’d glimpsed on you just once before a few weeks ago, entirely by accident—an image that had haunted his nights since. He'd felt guilty for seeing you in such a vulnerable state, even if it was an accident.

But this? You'd posed deliberately, your bare thighs slightly parted, your body arched invitingly on soft sheets.

He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as heat surged in his veins. This was not happening. Not now, not here—when he had a dozen soldiers still waiting for dismissal orders.

Another officer marched toward him, interrupting Caleb’s internal panic. Caleb forced his expression into its usual neutral mask, hoping his flushed neck and pounding pulse weren't too obvious. The officer saluted, rattling off data—Caleb heard nothing, his mind racing, pulse hammering between his ears.

He nodded robotically, scribbled a barely legible signature on the datapad, and sent the soldier away with more force than necessary.

His phone vibrated again. A new text.

You: You’re ignoring me again. Baaad colonel. Do I need to try harder?

His heart skipped a dangerous beat, fingers shaking slightly as he tapped back urgently:

Caleb: Pipsqueak. You shouldn't have shown me that--you've been drinking. Caleb: I'm almost done here. Just...Not. Now.

Your reply was immediate:

You: Oopsies. Already took the pic. Too late. 💋

Caleb’s stomach flipped violently. Another soldier approached, and Caleb cleared his throat sharply, bracing himself against the inevitable.

“Colonel Xia, the mission logs—”

“Yes. Fine. Proceed,” Caleb managed, hoping he sounded commanding rather than breathless.

While the soldier droned on, Caleb made the catastrophic decision to open your new photo.

Fuuuuuck. It was…far worse. You’d removed the sportswear entirely, leaving nothing but smooth, bare skin in its place. You lay on your side, a soft, fluffy blanket strategically draped over your hips, teasing him with the faintest promise of what was hidden beneath. The graceful curve of your breasts was perfectly visible, your skin illuminated by warm, inviting lamplight. Your eyes were playful, your lips curved in an achingly inviting smile, as though daring him to come home immediately and do something about it.

Caleb's brain short-circuited entirely.

For several frantic heartbeats, he forgot how breathing worked.

You couldn't possibly have—

He closed his eyes, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the image was already seared into his memory. Caleb felt utterly gutted—by longing, by frustration, by the fierce and consuming need he’d kept buried for far too long.

Caleb’s mind went completely blank. Every muscle in his body tensed, blood rushing downward at a dizzying speed. He realized, too late, that his breath had hitched audibly.

“Sir?” The soldier was staring at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Caleb coughed roughly into his fist, fighting desperately to regain control.

“Sorry—repeat your last point,” he growled hoarsely, blinking hard. The soldier cautiously continued, clearly worried about Caleb’s strange, flushed appearance.

Caleb’s phone buzzed yet again, ruthlessly relentless:

You: Bet you wish you were home now, huh, Caleb. 😘

The soldier finally departed, giving him one last curious glance. Caleb quickly turned away, leaning over a console to hide his increasingly obvious predicament. If he didn't have his long officer's coat, he'd be laughing stock of the fleet.

He texted frantically:

Caleb: Careful, Pip. When I get home you're going to pay for that.

But your reply destroyed any last shred of his composure:

You: Promise?  You: Btw... My glass of wine wore off a while ago. 🙃

Caleb closed his eyes, gripping the console so tightly his knuckles whitened. His uniform felt unbearably tight, his breathing shallow and uneven. But it wasn't just the sheer boldness or sensuality of your pictures that had wrecked him—it was the raw vulnerability behind your playful bravado.

You'd actually meant it.

After all this time, after carefully dancing around each other, you'd finally risked everything and showed him exactly how much you wanted him. No more teasing. No more pretending. Just your honest, unguarded desire laid bare—beautifully, heart-stoppingly bare—and he couldn't stand another moment being apart from you.

Not now.

“Lieutenant,” Caleb suddenly barked, addressing a startled officer nearby. “Dismiss the remaining personnel immediately. I'll review their reports tomorrow.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Ignoring the curious, whispered speculations behind him, Caleb strode swiftly toward the exit, doing his best not to stumble in his frantic rush. His heart battered wildly against his ribs, pulse thundering as he vividly imagined exactly how he'd greet you once he finally got you in his arms.

You'd completely unraveled him—and there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Author's Note:

This was definitely a challenge—but such a fun one! I'm genuinely impressed by all the talented writers who effortlessly create amazing LAD stories. If you enjoyed these little scenarios, please let me know—I’d love to write more! Also, if you have any specific requests or prompts, feel free to drop them in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[lunexsparx]

One Promised Real Proper Kiss

Summary: FLUFF ABSOLUTE FLUFF You and Caleb struck a deal in childhood that you're finally ready to cash in!

The rhythmic hum of the train echoed softly in your ears, the hypnotic sway of the carriage gently lulling your thoughts into a warm haze. Outside the window, Skyhaven approached rapidly, but your mind was far away—lost in memories of summers long past, vibrant and carefree.

You could almost feel the heat of the sun pressing down, carrying the drone of cicadas on a lazy breeze. It had been one of those perfect, sweltering days where your world was nothing more complicated than laughter and the cool splash of water beneath the sprinkler. Caleb's laughter had rung clear and bright beside you, both of you utterly drenched, hair plastered to your faces as you tumbled breathlessly in the soft grass.

“Pipsqueak, wait here, I’ll grab a towel,” Caleb had said, his voice affectionate yet authoritative even at that young age.

But you'd pouted defiantly, crossing your arms with an exaggerated huff. “I don’t need one, Caleb. I like being wet.”

“Oh, really?” Caleb’s eyes had sparkled mischievously, that familiar grin spreading slowly across his face. Before you could blink, he'd sprung forward, chasing after you with a fluffy towel fluttering behind him like a cape. Your shrieks and giggles pierced the humid afternoon as he finally caught you, tackling you gently to the ground. You squirmed beneath him, playfully protesting while the gentle tug of his gravity evol effortlessly kept you in place.

“That’s cheating!” you squealed, mock outrage dissolving into uncontrollable giggles.

“All’s fair in towels and war, Pip!” Caleb laughed, his voice warm and triumphant. Booping your nose as he finally relented, he carefully dried off your flushed cheeks and dripping hair. Each gentle swipe was an unspoken promise, a tender care etched permanently into your memory.

When exhaustion finally settled in, heavy and comfortable, the two of you had wandered lazily over to the swing set. Caleb took his usual spot beside you, settling in easily, legs kicking gently against the dirt as he extended his evol, giving your swing playful, airy pushes. Each surge of gravity sent your heart leaping joyfully into your throat.

“Higher, Caleb!” you begged, tipping your head back, delighted laughter spilling from your lips as your hair whipped around your face.

“One day you'll fly for real, Pips!” Caleb called out, eyes shining proudly as he propelled you skyward. “When I'm a pilot, I’ll take you all the way to the moon if you want.”

“Will we still live here?” your voice had been small yet earnest, your fingers gripping the swing chains tightly as you glanced back at him.

Caleb shrugged lightly, his confidence unwavering. “I'm sure Gran won’t mind. She’d love it.” His tone was casually reassuring, a balm to your fleeting worries.

You nodded thoughtfully, courage rising in your chest, emboldened by his certainty. “Will we be married?”

The question hung innocently in the air, yet it carried a weight that momentarily froze the cheerful momentum. Caleb’s heart skipped, his concentration slipping just enough for his evol to falter, leaving you suspended awkwardly mid-air.

“Hey!” you protested with mock irritation, legs dangling helplessly, kicking defiantly. “Let me down, Caleb!”

Caleb’s cheeks flushed crimson, quickly regaining control and gently setting the swing back in motion. But your piercing gaze stopped him cold when your feet finally touched the ground again, stomping forward to turn in his direction, your hands finding your hips as you fixed him with an accusing stare.

“What's wrong, Pipsqueak?” Caleb asked softly, the playful tone vanishing beneath a surge of genuine concern as he saw tears shimmering in your eyes. 

“Don't you want to marry me, Caleb?” your voice trembled, innocent and utterly heartbroken.

Caleb felt his pulse race, a storm of emotions swirling chaotically within him despite his young age. His mouth went dry, mind racing wildly, but as he met your hopeful gaze, his resolve solidified into something fierce and protective.

“I’ll marry you, Pip,” he finally said, voice unwavering, his heart clenching with a sincerity that startled even himself. He knew this was childish fantasy, innocent play—but looking into your determined eyes, he knew he was bound to you, fiercely protective, undeniably yours. He always had been. Always would be.

Your face brightened instantly, determination swiftly replacing any lingering sadness. You took a decisive step forward, tilting your chin up. “Then we should kiss, right? That’s what married people do.” You'd been watching princess movies lately, and it only made sense to ask such things.

Caleb swallowed visibly, heat flooding his face, his heart thudding violently in his chest. You were trouble, the very best kind—the kind he would gladly chase to the ends of the earth.

Caleb adored you more deeply than he could even understand, a feeling tangled up in fierce protectiveness and innocent longing. Of course, he wanted to kiss you—it was all he could do to resist. Yet, he knew instinctively you were too young to grasp what that kiss truly meant, even though he himself could barely comprehend the enormity of such a moment. A first kiss wasn't something to be taken lightly; it was something huge, something precious and unforgettable.

With a deep breath, Caleb gathered his courage and stepped closer, his heart thundering painfully loud in his chest. He leaned in slowly, gently, until his face was inches from yours, close enough to feel your nervous breath hitch and to see the flush rise softly in your cheeks.

"Someday, Pip," Caleb murmured tenderly, his voice low and careful. "Someday I'll be your first kiss. But—not yet, okay?"

He reached to affectionately ruffle your hair, but his hand froze midway as fresh tears shimmered in your eyes, betraying all your secret hopes. It dawned on him, with aching clarity, that you'd been longing for this kiss far longer than he’d realized—an innocent crush rooted deeply in trust and affection for him.

Caleb sighed softly, the warmth and amusement in his eyes mingling with something deeper and infinitely tender. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand and pressed his fingers gently against your trembling lips, forming a soft, respectful barrier. With a gentle tilt of his head, he leaned forward and lightly kissed his own fingers—a delicate, fleeting gesture full of sweetness and complete sincerity.

Your eyes widened dramatically, surprise and delight blossoming across your face in equal measure.

"That’ll have to do for now, Pip," Caleb whispered warmly, his smile gentle but certain, promises dancing across his violet eyes.

The moment hangs suspended, fragile yet undeniably precious. Caleb's heart pounds fiercely within his chest as he carefully watches your stunned expression. Wide-eyed, breath held, your fingertips drift upward, hesitantly brushing against the spot where his fingers had rested—a featherlight touch filled with wonder and innocent yearning.

“But Caleb…” your voice trembles slightly, still soft with disbelief, a whisper barely louder than the chirping cicadas around you. “That wasn’t a real kiss.”

He chuckles softly, straightening his posture to appraise you from his slightly taller height. “Not yet,” he replies, eyes warm and reassuring, holding your earnest gaze. “But I promise, Pip—when it's the right time, you'll know.”

Your lower lip protrudes in an exaggerated pout, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with mischievous resolve. Caleb recognizes the stubborn determination etched clearly upon your features. Despite himself, he loves that fierce tenacity about you. How could he not?

With a tender, playful smile, he reaches out again, finally tousling your damp hair, the soft strands sliding through his fingers. "C'mon now, Pipsqueak. Don't get all pouty on me. You've got a whole life ahead of you for kisses n' stuff."

“But I want kisses from you,” you insist stubbornly, stamping one small foot into the damp ground, droplets of water still clinging to your toes.

A gasp escapes him at your words, and a gentle ache spreads warmly in Caleb’s chest. And I want that too, more than anything, he thinks silently, watching your resolute expression. He knows you're both still too young, too untouched by the world’s complexities to fully grasp the gravity of such a promise. And yet, his young heart—fierce, loyal, achingly raw—has already committed itself entirely. He’d shift mountains, realign stars, and reshape galaxies if only to keep that radiant smile on your face.

“Alright, Pip. How about we make a promise?” Caleb crouches to your level, his hands gentle on your slender shoulders, his gaze sincere and steady. “When we're older—really older—I’ll give you a real kiss. A proper one, just like you want. Deal?”

Your eyes widen dramatically, blinking rapidly as the enormity of the promise sinks in. Slowly, a dazzling smile blooms across your face, chasing away all shadows and doubt. With a delighted squeal, you throw your arms around his neck, nearly tipping him backward onto the grass, your laughter bubbling over in joyful bursts. "Pinky promise!" you declare breathlessly into his shoulder.

His laughter blends seamlessly with yours as he gathers you close, warmth flooding through him like sunlight after rain. Caleb feels your heartbeat flutter happily against his chest and knows, without any shred of doubt, he would willingly dedicate his entire life to safeguarding that precious rhythm.

"Promise," he whispers softly, his pinky latched with yours.

*************

When the train announces Skyhaven approaching, your memories gently dissolve into the present. Your face warms softly at the lingering memories, and anticipation bubbles within your chest, knowing you've finally reached a moment with Caleb where something truly special could unfold.

It had been nearly a year since Caleb re-entered your life, each moment spent slowly rediscovering the delicate, playful balance you'd shared in childhood. Gradually, the pain of separation—the shadowy ache of secrets and betrayal—had receded, now barely a whisper on the edge of your consciousness. The darkness that once clouded your connection seemed almost nonexistent, replaced by a gentle calmness, allowing precious time together, even if only briefly. Every week you'd carve out space for one another, whether through messages and video calls or quiet evenings at each other's apartments.

Today, however, was special—it was Caleb's birthday. A smile spread across your lips as you carefully tucked the package of thoughtfully chosen items beneath your arm, excitement fluttering warmly in your chest. You’d playfully lied, telling him you couldn't make it today due to an unavoidable mission. Hearing the disappointment in his voice gave you a devious thrill. But you'd promised him something memorable upon your return anyway.

Knowing Caleb would still be attending to fleet duties, you quietly made your way to his apartment, slipping inside effortlessly using the biometric scanner. You hoped he wouldn't notice you'd been there right away. Even if he did, the surprise was more what he’d find–not that you’d been there.

With a mischievous gleam dancing in your eyes, you moved quietly through his apartment, strategically placing items around the space—a carefully crafted scavenger hunt, each object tied to cherished memories you both shared. The final gift, a deeply personal token, you gently slipped beneath his pillowcase, heart fluttering with the implications laid there.

Satisfied, you left as quietly as you'd arrived, slipping outside to wait patiently in a nearby park, excitement humming through your veins as you imagined Caleb discovering your surprise.

After some time, knowing he would soon return home, you pulled out your phone and typed a playful message:

"Wish I could be there today, birthday boy! I promise I'll make it up to you! Can you do me a favor? I think I left something by your fruit basket last time I was there—can you check when you get home? :D"

Caleb's POV

Caleb's phone buzzed softly just as he pulled into his parking spot, the screen illuminating with your name. He arched an eyebrow curiously, a playful smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as a warm flutter rose in his chest. Without hesitation, his fingers flew over the screen, quickly sending back a teasing reply:

"ooook, what have u gotten into this time?"

Exiting the vehicle, Caleb scanned the parking lot instinctively, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of you hiding nearby, your mischief-filled eyes beaming in the shadows. Seeing no trace, he shook his head in amusement and headed toward his apartment, a spark of curiosity igniting within him.

Once inside, Caleb paused, the silence confirming he truly was alone. Intrigued, he approached the fruit basket you'd mentioned, his eyes immediately landing on the apples—and beside them, a plush apple toy you'd undoubtedly won recently at the arcade. Chuckling fondly, he shook his head and picked up the note carefully placed beside it, unfolding it gently:

"Crisp and sweet, your favorite treat, But still, there's plenty more to see— Beneath the wings of ancient bugs, you'll find a clue that memories tug."

Caleb snorted softly, his grin widening, his heart swelling with affection. Quickly, he pulled out his phone again, sending a playful message back to you:

"cute poem, pipsqueak—when did you even do this??"

He hit send, pocketing the phone as he eagerly made his way to the living room bookshelf, knowing precisely what you'd meant. His eyes landed on the familiar volume, slightly ajar, titled prominently: "Jurassic-era Beetles and Insects." Memories surged vividly—the countless afternoons he'd spent enthusiastically sharing endless bug facts while you listened with genuine interest, your eyes wide and curious. He laughed softly, touched deeply by the thoughtfulness behind your clue.

Pulling the book free, another note fluttered gently to his feet. Caleb picked it up swiftly, grinning warmly as he read your next whimsical verse:

"Look now to wings of metal, fast— memories soaring from our past. You promised me that very soon we'd take a trip up to the moon."

Caleb's brow furrowed briefly as he tried to recall the exact memory your note referred to. Your shared past was filled with countless stories of aircraft and spacecraft, but his thoughts quickly settled on one he held especially dear—the F-26 fighter jet model proudly displayed on his desk. It was the one you'd openly admired, eyes alight with fascination, asking him eager questions while he passionately shared every detail. He'd never confessed to you that he'd dreamed of piloting it specifically because of you—because he longed for the day you'd stand proudly below, cheering him on. And remarkably, that dream had become reality. You knew, Caleb realized with a surge of emotion; somehow, you'd always known. His chest tightened warmly as he understood how deeply you'd listened, how genuinely you'd cared about his passions. They mattered to you simply because they mattered to him.

Slowly, reverently, he lifted the model plane from its place, uncovering yet another carefully folded note beneath.

"We'd dreamed to be among the skies, promises made with brightened eyes. Your journey’s path has brought you far— find our almost kiss beneath the stars."

Caleb’s heart immediately recognized the moment described—the almost kiss. It had been his graduation, that electric, unforgettable day when you'd leaped joyously into his arms and impulsively kissed his cheek before he could even react. The unexpected warmth of your lips had sent his heart spiraling into a dizzying flight, a moment so pure, so powerful, it never needed a photo to be immortalized. Now, it sat proudly in a frame on his bedside dresser.

His pulse quickened as he moved eagerly toward his bedroom, curiosity mixing deliciously with nostalgia. Carefully, he lifted the frame, his eyes lingering fondly on the captured joy of that unforgettable day. With a gentle breath, he turned the frame around, his smile deepening when he discovered another note folded meticulously into a playful paper airplane. He unfolded it slowly, savoring every moment:

"That kiss of pride, and oh so sweet, the memory makes your heart skip beats. But now, your final clue awaits— beneath the pillow, don’t hesitate."

Final clue? Caleb’s heartbeat accelerated, a pleasant nervousness flooding through him as he crossed the room toward the bed. He paused briefly, savoring the electric thrill of anticipation, wishing fiercely for just a moment that you were there beside him, eyes sparkling with playful mischief. But curiosity tugged insistently at his thoughts, and he reached beneath the pillow without further delay.

His fingers brushed another slip of paper, this one feeling thicker, something carefully attached to its back. He pulled it free, his chest tightening with warmth as he read the final note:

"When we were small, beneath bright sun, We dreamed of all we might become. With sprinklers high and laughter sweet, You made a promise we'd someday keep."

Caleb’s breath caught sharply in his throat as he carefully flipped the note over. In his hand lay a lovingly handcrafted token, reminiscent of the playful coupons you'd often exchanged in childhood, scribbled with vibrant crayons in familiar handwriting. Bright, cheerful drawings—a smiling apple, joyful doodles decorating the edges—and in bold, heartfelt letters, the coupon read clearly:

"One Coupon for a Proper Real Kiss."

Caleb’s breath halted, heart frozen in awe-struck disbelief as his eyes traced the words once more, each letter etched with tender intent. His pulse hammered wildly, a surge of raw, overwhelming emotion washing over him. He had loved you deeply, fiercely, and quietly for as long as he could remember—never daring to believe this day would truly come. Never daring to dream you'd find him worthy, that he could be deserving of your love.

But here it was, undeniable proof that you had seen him—truly seen him—all along. Every quiet glance, every giggle, every time he spoke of bugs, all his plane loving antics, every lingering smile, every shared laugh had meant something after all. You'd chosen him, wanted him.

Before his mind could spiral further, he quickly reached for his phone, hands trembling slightly as he typed:

where are u

The message barely left Caleb’s fingertips before the faint chime of your phone echoed softly just beyond the door, instantly followed by a gentle, tentative knock. His heart surged violently within his chest, a rush of emotions so fierce it nearly overwhelmed him. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he crossed the apartment in quick strides, fingers trembling slightly as he grasped the handle.

Swinging open the door, Caleb froze, utterly transfixed. You stood before him, a vision framed in soft evening light, casually dressed yet breathtakingly radiant. Your eyes sparkled brightly, a blush painting your cheeks with shy excitement. Caleb's breath caught sharply, the sight of you nearly too much to bear after years spent dreaming of exactly this moment.

Your gaze flickered meaningfully toward the coupon still crumpled tenderly in Caleb's shaking hand. With an adorably playful tilt of your head, your voice came softly, barely above a whisper. "Well?" Taking a couple steps forward, without breaking your gaze, your fingers rose slowly, pressing gently against his mouth, mirroring the sweet, innocent gesture from your cherished childhood memory. His eyes widened and his breath hitched--his lips parting beneath your touch. Your voice came softly, barely above a whisper, yet trembling faintly with the weight of years of longing. “Are you ready to cash that in yet?”

Words dissolved completely, evaporating before they could even form. Caleb’s throat tightened painfully, eyes burning as every emotion he'd ever buried came rushing forth—years of longing, secret hopes, unspoken yearning. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up, capturing your wrist gently, his thumb brushing tenderly over your pulse. With careful, reverent motion, he guided your hand down, your fingertips reluctantly leaving his lips. “Yeah…” Caleb murmured thickly, voice filled with an ache you knew in your own marrow, gaze locked firmly with yours, "but a real, proper one."

Without hesitation, he leaned toward you, finding you already halfway there, your lips meeting with a force that felt as inevitable and irresistible as gravity itself. The kiss was explosive, an overwhelming collision of pent-up desire and profound tenderness, shattering the years of quiet longing into a cascade of explosive emotion. Every nerve in Caleb’s body flared with newfound intensity, your gentle whimpers and desperate breaths echoing his own in perfect harmony. Each touch and each caress grasped hungrily for more, unearthing the deeply rooted bond that had quietly held you both together through every storm.

At last, it felt undeniably as though you'd both come home.

The embrace deepened fiercely, fingers entwined in each other's hair, pulling impossibly close, as though you needed to absorb each other to make it real. Your bodies pressed together tightly, heartbeats aligning in perfect rhythm, stripping away every hesitation--every doubt--every shadow that had chased you both.

Eventually, as your kiss gently softened, breathless and wide-eyed, you stared into each other’s eyes, the silence around you filled with awe and unspoken truths. The reality of a new future laid bare before you, one that spoke of forever--the one you'd always dreamed of. Caleb’s heart pounded fiercely, wonder shimmering clearly in his violet gaze, emotions too intense to conceal.

“Happy birthday, Caleb,” you whispered tenderly, voice shaking softly with warmth, laughter, and unmistakable love.

His smile blossomed, tender yet impossibly vulnerable, eyes glistening gently with restrained tears. Drawing you carefully inside, he closed the door with quiet finality, leaning his forehead gently against yours as a soft, heartfelt sigh escaped him.

“Best birthday ever.”

End. :)

I went through Caleb's storyline again and just NEEDED to give this boy some fluff! I really think he'll get his "first" kiss for his bday--what do you think? And so sorry, I was fighting for my life with those poems don't judge meeee LOL

[lunexsparx]

Xavier trying to tout the benefits of keto casually, secretly trying to prevent you from getting bread.