princessaffliction - Tumblr blog

princessaffliction · 3 days ago

Text

⋆.˚✮ thunderstruck 🤍 xavier 星回 ✮˚.⋆

⋆.˚✮pairing: bad boy/punk xavier x reader

⋆.˚✮word count: 6.2k

⋆.˚✮summary: popular among girls, distant and intimidating troublemaker—that’s how others saw him. gentle, charming and intelligent boy, who had no idea what personal space was—that’s how you knew him. and although the truth lied somewhere in between, one thing was certain: xavier would do anything to finally make you his. starting with asking you out, of course.

⋆.˚✮tags: bad boy xavier, punk xavier, college setting, kinda meet cute, but more like talking to each other for the first time cute, self-confident xavier, but also shy xavier, the duality of this man is insane, he has TATTOOS, and PIERCING, and he’s so djbdgdsb yess yess, i did it for myself i’m sorry, smoker xavier, but not for long hehehihi, he’s a gentleman, and totally whipped, like, absolutely whipped for the reader, sfw, yet!! if i continue it it would turn mdni for sure.

please let me know if u liked it and if u would be interested in reading more <33

“Aaaand he’s looking at you again.” Simone snapped you out of your thoughts, making your fingers stop their frantic movements over the keyboard. The two of you were sitting at the campus café, desperate to finish your assignments as quickly as you possibly could, thinking that each other’s company and your favorite sweet drinks might make the work at least a little bit more enjoyable.

And it actually worked—you were almost done with your essay, and judging by your friend’s relaxed posture and the fact that she had time to observe her surroundings, she must’ve finished hers too.

“Hmm? Who?” You asked with a small smile, noticing how the cream from her coffee sat above her upper lip, creating the illusion of a thin mustache and making her look like a cute little detective. You pulled out a napkin from the holder and brought it to her lips, muffling her next words in the process.

“Xavier, that punk guy who—oh, thank you, baby, it always makes me look like Freddie Mercury—who studies some kind of engineering.” You laughed softly at her added comment and placed the dirty napkin on your small, empty plate. “Girl, you heard what I said? Xavier. That Xavier has literally been drilling a hole in your head for the past hour or so, with those sexy—like, dangerously sexy—eyes of his. And that—that piercing—and, and, you know what? You don’t seem concerned in the slightest, what if he’s like, mad at you or something? He always looks kinda scary. Sexy-scary, but still.” The last sentence said in a whisper, and you snorted, picking up your iced drink and taking a slow sip.

“Oookay, I think I’ve heard enough.” You laughed and shook your head, one hand returning to the keyboard to save your file. “He’s not mad at me. I know him. If he’s looking our way, he probably recognized me, but is too shy to say hi.” You finished your drink with not-so-quiet slurp, your lips immediately letting go of the straw as you looked around bashfully, hoping no one had noticed.

“Too shy? Have you lost your mind? Or are there more scary-looking Xaviers around campus that I don’t know about?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice, and you closed your laptop with a sigh. You didn’t like that she called him scary, you always thought his usual pout, scowl or mask of indifference made him look kinda cute.

You checked the time on your phone and noticed that one of your electives was starting in 20 minutes—if you wanted to be there on time, you’d have to leave in a second.

“Besides, you know him? Since when?”

“Remember that one poetry elective I had to take last semester? We had a group project as the final assignment, and he was part of my group.” You watched with amusement as her mouth opened in shock, her brows furrowing. “And he’s actually really sweet. And smart, too, just not that much of a talker.” You shrugged, your eyes dropping as you remembered how the other group members had acted toward him back then.

How they talked behind his back, assuming he wouldn’t do his part of the project. How they doubted his abilities and overall academic competence as a conversation starter when he was sometimes late to meetings—and how quiet and reserved they became when he finally joined you.

You quickly got angry on his behalf, knowing that he had never been rude or disrespectful to any of you, and every single task he was assigned was sent to the group chat just a couple hours later. The fact that they treated him that way because of some rumor about him being a troublemaker, and his eye-catching, rough appearance, was what made you finally speak up.

“—He’s kind of a lost cause. He wouldn’t finish it anyway. What a guy like him can know about poetry? I’m surprised he can read at all.” One of the guys from the group commented again, taking advantage of Xavier’s absence. The meeting had just started, and you were sure he would come—just a tad bit later. You always assumed he had a class beforehand, but he never said anything when he realized that this particular hour suited the rest of you best.

He was always like this, you’d noticed it some time ago. He never wanted to cause any issues, always silently accepting and diligently working on whatever task was assigned to him. And yet, at nearly every meeting, he was dragged under the bus before he even had a chance to show up.

Their reactions surprised you a lot. You didn’t know Xavier personally before, but you knew of him, it was hard not to. He had a reputation as a reserved troublemaker and was extremely popular among girls, who seemed to try asking him out— or at least getting a good make-out session—probably every day, always without success. Ironically, that only made him a more intriguing target. He had the face of an angel, a body decorated like a fallen one, and the physique of an athlete, all on top of being seemingly unobtainable. Girls were totally head over heels for him, which actually made you pity him, knowing how much unwanted attention it probably brought.

And although he was pretty introverted and a little rough around the edges, people generally seemed to like him. He was intimidating, and he spoke his mind surely, but he didn’t seem like someone who went around looking for a fight. Within your project group, he was usually quiet and cooperative, which is why you couldn’t understand why they were suddenly being so harsh toward him.

That’s why on that day, you finally snapped.

“Oh, shut up, Matt. What do you know about poetry anyway? Most of us are here just because it fit our schedules.” You stood up from the table in the park, your designated meeting place, your hands pressing firmly against the polished wood. You couldn’t listen to Xavier being dragged anymore, judged solely on his appearance, when you knew he was actually quite engaged in the project. “And yes, maybe he’s a little late sometimes but he always shows up, and does the work perfectly. Besides, he’s never been rude to any of you, so I don’t understand why you’re always so awful to him.” Your face, and the slightly harsher edge to your voice, betrayed your annoyance, but you had finally lost the patience to care about their opinion of you.

Some of the girls who had been too afraid to speak up smiled at you encouragingly, while the main bully just shrugged, looking up at you nonchalantly with one arm draped over the back of the chair beside him.

“He looks like bad news. And gets on my nerves.” He answered simply, and if you weren’t red from anger before, you sure were now. “And he probably sells drugs or some—”

“And you look like a complete asshole right now.” You snapped, already frantically stuffing your notes into your bag. You refused to hear any more of this, not about a boy who had literally done nothing wrong to deserve such harsh words every time you met. “And you shouldn’t fucking care what he looks like. From what we know, he’s hard-working and smart, and he definitely has feelings, too. He deserves basic human respect, don’t you think?” You slung your bag over your shoulder and shot the guy another glare, completely ignoring their stares—which were definitely no longer aimed at you—and the quiet shadow that had appeared behind you some time ago. “I’ll send you the file by the end of the week. I won’t sit around, wasting time with someone who’d rather talk shit than do actual work. Now, if you’ll excuse m—”

Bump.

Your body bounced off a hard chest clad in a leather jacked, and by the time strong, tattooed hands gently grabbed your shoulders to steady you, you were already blushing.

Because Xavier was right there behind you. For God knows how long.

You snapped your head up, your panicked eyes meeting his deep blues—calm, gentle and understanding— as he continued to hold your shoulders, even though he must’ve know you had already gained your balance. You studied him for a moment: his longish hair, a mullet peeking out from the leather collar of his jacket, and ears adorned with various piercings. Your gaze drifted to his lips, drawn absentmindedly to the small silver ring on the side of his bottom lip, which he was now biting slightly.

Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God—

“S—Sorry, I was just—leaving—” You said quickly, your eyes suddenly finding the grass fascinating. You could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering on your shoulders, along with the fresh, calming scent of a fabric softener mixed with something so uniquely comforting—

“I’ll walk you home, then.” His hands traveled slowly down your arms before he let go, your cheeks burning as you avoided his gaze at all costs. It was probably the first time he had spoken to you directly, spoken to any of you directly, really. His soft voice was usually directed at no one in particular, offering sparse but meaningful comments during your brainstorming sessions.

How much had he heard? Was he angry? He didn’t look angry. Why did he want to walk you home? He never walked any of you home.

“No! I mean, no—no, thank you, that’s so nice of you, Xavier, really, but I live pretty close by. You shouldn’t bother.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and you noticed him turning his head toward the others.

“I could never be bothered by—Did you just fucking roll your eyes at her?” His calm voice suddenly turned cold, the tone not raised, but much sharper. Your head turned to the person he was now staring at, and you saw Matt’s eyes widen. “I asked you a fucking question. Did you roll your eyes at her?”

“And if I did then what are you going to do? Beat me up?”

“Wow, really Matt? You’re such a child.” You turned to him fully, but an arm blocked your way, an intricate tattoo depicting the moon cycle peeking from one rolled up sleeve.

“Apologize to her and you won’t have to find out.” You looked up at Xavier and almost smiled, noticing how the role of protector had flipped. But the intense stare he used to size up the annoying colleague made the hairs on the back of your nape stand on end. He sure looked intimidating when he wanted to. “I said, apologize.”

And when the silence began to stretch, and Xavier took a deliberate step forward, you grabbed his bicep, surprisingly firm and muscular, oh wow, and started to lead him away, afraid the conversation would turn sour in a matter of seconds.

Letting him walk you home wasn’t such a bad idea after all, you decided, feeling the sweat nearly drip from your temple.

“Wait, he didn’t apologize to you yet, and I won’t let him get away until he does.” You heard Xavier’s voice a step behind you but decided to continue your path, until you reached a safer distance.

“It’s okay. I’m not accepting apologies from ignorant jerks, anyway.” You heard a soft huff of laughter from him, and your lips curved into a small smile. Your steps slowed a moment later, and you took a deep breath, watching the clouds drift slowly across the sky while the gentle wind eased the burn of your cheeks. “Were you really planning to fight him?”

He was walking beside you now, your hand no longer holding his arm, and when you finally looked his way, you were startled to find him already watching you.

You could understand why people were wary of him—when he was right there beside you, his overall size was pretty intimidating. He towered over you an impressive amount of inches, and his body type, which you used to think was rather lanky, turned out to be more on the athletic side. With his lip and ear piercings, and now, clearly, an eyebrow piercing too, two small dots on either side of his eyebrow, paired with several tattoos on his hands and his rather muted wardrobe choice, he could raise some concerns.

Could, but didn’t have to. Not when his eyes were so gentle and kind, looking at you as if you had hung all the stars in the sky. To you, he looked like a prince: gentle features, silky-soft hair and a graceful stance that made him, ironically, the least intimidating person you’d met. It actually struck you how handsome he was, too. Much more handsome up close than from the distance, your heart fluttered nervously.

“Hmm. He disrespected you so, yes. Probably. It’s better to let him think I would. I usually don’t start fights.” Was his answer, his steps matching your pace, heavy, black combat boots stepping silently beside your white sneakers. You felt a tug at your arm, and before you could protest, he started carrying your handbag along his. All your protests died in your throat the moment he looked at you and shook his head. Message received. “I only end them.” Xavier added like an afterthought, and it didn’t sound like bragging but more like stating a fact. You laughed quietly and nodded, unsure what to say as your mind drifted back to the events from moments ago.

“I’m sorry for—”

“Thank you—”

You both started to speak at the same time and quickly stopped, a nervous laugh escaping from you. You looked at him again and noticed that his eyes were crinkled at the corners too. He adjusted his handbag on his shoulder and cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, but I’ll start. Because you have nothing to apologize for.” A sigh left your lips, and you started playing with your fingers, his answer easing your worries. He looked straight ahead when he spoke again. “I heard what you said to them. How you protected me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, I did. It wasn’t the first time they said such things and I should’ve spoken my mind much, much sooner.” You started speaking, annoyed again, the nearly forgotten rage rising inside you once more. “You were nothing short of helpful and kind to us and it was a pleasure to work with you! I just couldn’t listen to him spouting nonsense anymore.”

And when you tried to meet his eyes again, you noticed the tips of his ears were red.

“It was a pleasure to work with you, too.” His voice like a balm to your irritation, every single second spent in his presence confirming your beliefs about him being a secret sweetheart. “But I’m used to people taking shit about me, actually. And I really don’t care what they think.”

“Well, it’s good. You shouldn’t.” His lip piercing caught your eye again, and you decided it suit him very well. You also noticed that you had slowed down, but this time you were matching the pace he set. “But it doesn’t make it fine. So next time, stand up for yourself too, okay? You were quick to do that for me, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem to treat yourself with the same kindness, right?”

Xavier’s eyes suddenly met yours, his mouth opening and closing slightly as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. The tips of his ears were red, and he put a hand behind his back, stroking at the skin lightly, nervously.

“Mhm. Right.” His eyes drifted to your face, studying it intently. You found his gaze extremely intense, peeking from behind his silver strands, but you didn’t mind. His presence was actually very calming, both his voice and body language relaxed and almost dreamy-like.

Xavier stopped suddenly, making you wonder if he had forgotten something, or if your conversation was over, and he was about to return your bag and head his own way. Instead, he leaned toward you, took your hand in his—his touch feather-light, your fingers cradled gently in his—and he brought it up to his lips.

A kiss. Gentle one, but lingering, pressed just below your knuckles. You felt the warmth of his lips and the cool touch of the metal ring against your skin, and you swallowed hard the moment he opened his eyes and looked straight at you.

And it was a look you would reminisce about for weeks to come, because of how seen you felt right in that very moment. The clouds continued their never-ending journey across the sky, and the birds chirped a melody to which you were usually unaware. A look resembling a full conversation. A look holding meaning, one that you weren’t sure you were able to grasp yet.

“Thank you, my sweet little knight.” He whispered against your skin, and you gulped, your heart racing, mind blanking for a short while. “It seems I gained my own guardian angel today.” And when you saw how genuine he was, your body melted into his touch completely, your chest swelling with the quiet pride of knowing you did something good today.

“Anytime, princess.”

And when your ears caught his sudden, bubbly laugh, short canines on full display, that seemed to surprise even him, you didn’t let it become forgotten for the months to come, keeping the sound close to your heart.

You remembered the first day you actually talked to each other other and smiled softly; the walk home filled with interesting stories and shared laughter, the intimidating bubble he’d once seemed trapped in popped the moment you spent real time with him, leaving only the image of a sweet gentleman behind.

It wasn’t the only time you talked either, although after the elective course had ended your ways parted completely: your interactions scarce and happening usually when you were in a rush, or already late, to your classes.

A smile on your lips, followed by a happy wave of your hand met with the surprised, gentle spark in his eyes, and you were already gone.

There were only a handful of times you’d managed to exchange a word or two—usually while waiting in line at the coffee machine, with him asking about your major and interests, or when you were passing by him in the library, where you’d quickly complimented his new tattoo: a constellation on his forearm, still covered by a piece of second skin.

Quick, fleeting interactions; nothing more.

However, you found yourself thinking about him sometimes. About his melodic voice, a gentleness serving a sharp contrast to how rough he could’ve seemed to others. His soft hair, how you wondered what it would feel like to bury your fingers in it and stroke the strands gently. His lean but muscular build, his strong arms adorned with ink—art so majestic you found it hard to look away sometimes, your mind wandering, wondering if he had more tattoos on other parts of his body, and if so, where would they be hidden? And what would they depict?

His lips, soft pink hue, decorated with a silver ring, the coolness of which you already felt when he kissed your hand that day. And on the most desperate of nights, you let your mind imagine how it would feel pressed against your lips.

You shook your head, the thoughts unwanted and totally unnecessary, knowing that it was just a fleeting acquaintance. You couldn’t like him that way, because you knew that you surely weren’t his type at all. You weren’t even sure why your mind started thinking about him in such a way, your type being usually the complete opposite. But you guessed that it was just because of how charming he was, how clever and funny, how awkward at times. How kind to you. And how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were—always looking at you with patience and an interesting kind of wonder.

It didn’t matter. You were only colleagues, and he was too popular and too different from you to actually be interested. So, you stopped thinking about it some time ago.

“‘Not that much of a talker,’ she says. I never—never!—heard him talk. And I had few electives with him, mind you.” The voice of your friend brought you back from wonderland. You decided not to answer anything to that, thinking that if you told her that he was the one who usually initiated conversations with you, she would probably have a stroke. “You are one lucky girl. You have your own guard dog now.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You answered absentmindedly, not liking that label. “Or the other way around. I can be feisty.” You imitated shooting from your finger guns, and she laughed, raising her almost empty cup.

“Cheers to that!” You raised your empty cup too while throwing your laptop into your bag. “He’s still staring by the way. Hasn’t really stopped since I noticed. It would be really creepy if he wasn’t that handsome.” You snorted, zipping up your bag and looking down at your phone.

“I told you, he probably just wants to say—Oh, shit! Gotta go! The classes start in 10 and I mixed up the buildings again!”

“Oh, shoot, is that the one at the end of—?” You nodded frantically and she waved her hand dismissively. “Go! I’ll take care of your cup, see you later!” You quickly went to her and hugged her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before practically flying out of the café, completely forgetting to send Xavier a small wave on your way out, if he really was sitting somewhere behind you.

That’s why you also missed how abruptly he stood the moment you bolted for the door—wanting to chase after you, but stoping himself when he realized you didn’t even have time for a small talk. He should’ve approached you sooner, should’ve spoken to you the moment he saw you, instead of just sitting there, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of your angelic smile.

He wondered when did he loose his balls, when even the simple idea of talking to you made his heart flutter nervously, his hands automatically reaching to scratch at the ink submerged in his skin. He was pathetic, and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

And at that moment his eyes locked with those of your friend, her lips slowly curling into a knowing smile as she caught him almost running after you. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and in that instant he finally decided to stop being a coward.

He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you everyday anymore.

He grabbed his bag and started walking purposely to the place which you occupied only moments before. He needed information and he would get it, even if he would have to beg for it.

“Oho. I knew it.” Your friend said, seconds before he even managed to introduce himself.

And he realized that he’d known it too. Almost from the moment he first saw you.

You were exhausted to say the least.

Your classes dragged on, making your head hurt from staring at the constantly changing slides. Your whole body felt sore, and you stretched the moment you reached the lockers—arms raised, back arched, a moan almost escaping your lips.

Your poor legs practically begged for the short trip back to your apartment, if the slight numbness in them wasn’t already enough of a sign of stagnation.

You opened your eyes lazily and turned the key in your locker, wanting to gather your things as quickly as possible and finally see the light of day.

“Hey.” A low greeting from right behind you made you spin around too quickly, your back bumping against the locker. It startled you when you noticed how close he was standing, towering over you.

Xavier.

In all his tattooed glory, hair unruly as always, and his pretty eyes boring straight into yours. He hissed when you made contact with the locker, his large hand immediately coming to rest on the back of your head, gently caressing it, afraid you had taken the hit. You blushed, the contact sudden and unexpected, his body possibly closer to yours than ever before.

“Are you okay?” The hand on the back of your head slid down slightly, now resting on the nape of your neck. The hold was gentle, intimate. You wondered if he realized it. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” His thumb stroked the skin on your neck, and your cheeks caught fire.

You gulped and shook your head, sighing as the tension in your shoulders eased when you saw his familiar face.

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt, and I didn’t hit my head, so don’t worry.” His expression visibly shifted, relief written all over his face. But his hand didn’t leave your neck. “Sorry, hi. Hi. I just didn’t expect you here.” You didn’t expect anyone really, it was already late for classes and if any were to take place, everyone would already be inside classrooms.

His presence was especially puzzling, it wasn’t even his faculty, did he had another elective here?

“I wanted to see you.” Straightforward answer, as usual. You send him a small smile, thinking back to earlier when you almost met at the café; if it hadn’t been for you being in such a hurry. He must’ve felt bad for not coming up to you, especially since he probably waited for you to finish your classes. But why did he care so much? “And I was actually thinking… Hoping that…” His hand slid away from the back of your neck and began playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair, while you struggled to keep the blush from darkening your cheeks even further.

He was so close. Too close. You could almost feel his breath warming up your face and see your reflection staring back from the little silver dots in his eyebrow. An inch or two more, and you were sure his hair would brush your forehead, given how much he was leaning into your space.

But he was always like this whenever you two crossed paths—his body leaning in too close to be just friendly, paying no mind to your personal space. His hands were also always reaching out for you as if he couldn’t help it: fixing the hair that fell into your face, stroking your arm, or even occasionally brushing your nose with his knuckle when you said something that made him chuckle.

You thought this was his way of being friendly and you enjoyed it, ignoring the fact that it only seemed to fuel your silly little crush. Besides, you found it very endearing that he was so distant and cold with others, yet so touchy-feely with the ones he liked. It made you feel special, if not a little hopeful.

And that’s when the sharp smell hit you, a cigarette smoke mixed with his pleasant, soft cologne. You scrunched up your nose and pressed a hand against his chest to create some more distance between you.

“Oof, you smoked again.” You couldn’t help but comment, seeing his brows furrowing in confusion upon your slight push of his chest.

“You can still smell it? I even got some gum.” To prove his point, he blew a small bubble from his lips, a minty scent reaching your nose when he popped it a second later, the corners of his lips lifting in a small, proud smirk.

“It’s all over your clothes, Xavier. The smoke seeped right into them. You need a bath, not a gum.” Quiet, unserious little “ouch” left his lips, and you tugged at his black sweatshirt, only now noticing a small cat plushie hanging from one of his sleeves.

So cute. You loved that accent, your finger going to poke at the accessory with an exaggerated sigh. “How could you do it to this adorable little thing?”

“It’ll live. Always does.” His eyes followed your finger still gently touching the plushie, “He’s a tough guy, can handle a bit of smoke. He’d take a drag too if he could, probably.” You sent him a half-serious glare and pulled your hand away from his arm, signaling defeat. You noticed he was still standing right where you had pushed him back to, more mindful of your space.

You turned your back to him to open your locker again, and pulled out your bag, along with your light jacket. However, before you could even sling the bag over your shoulder, he already grabbed hold of it, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

“Does it bother you?” Xavier asked, his voice unsure, your bag already on his arm. The pastel-colored plushies hanging from it were a sharp contrast to his appearance. You looked at him again after making sure you had closed the locker. “The smell of smoke, I mean.” His beautiful blues bore into your eyes, his teeth biting at the lip ring nervously.

“Well, I can’t say I like it. I don’t think anyone really does.” He looked at you like a scolded puppy, his hair falling into his eyes when he turned his head to the side. “But it’s your choice, really, I can’t tell you how you should live. It’s just… really sad to know that you’re destroying your lungs daily.”

“Hmm, yeah. It is pretty sad.” Although a pout marked Xavier’s face now, you noticed a slight playfulness in his voice. Then, a sudden spark appeared in his eyes, as if an idea had just formed in his mind. “I could die. You wouldn’t want that to happen, am I right?” He leaned toward you again, one hand placed beside your head, his body almost trapping you against the lockers, your back pressed to the cool metal again. His fingers stroked your wrist, then trailed up to your forearm, his stormy blue eyes following the movement attentively.

“Y—You’re acting weird.” You commented weakly, your heart increasing its beating against your chest. He was so close, too close, his body towering over yours, making you see only him. You nervously looked around, hoping no one saw you, but you already knew you were alone. “Of course I wouldn’t, but—” You wanted to comment on his unusual boldness, ask a question to why was he suddenly acting like this, but he cut you off before you could say another word.

“I’ll quit, then.” His face so close you could smell the mint of the gum and feel the coldness of his breath on your cheek. You trembled unconsciously. “I don’t want you to be worried. But, I think I would like to ask for something in exchange.”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s all about, you’re cozying up to me because you want someth—”

“A date.” Your mouth closed instantly, eyes meeting his in shock. “There’s this gig that I would love to take you to, this weekend. Open-air, starts at midnight. We could—we could grab a bite too right before it starts? If you’d want to, of course.” You watched as his confidence slowly melted as he was speaking, voice trembling nervously at times, the tips of his ears turning red.

It was probably the longest reply he ever gave you, his sentences usually short and precise. And as you stared at him in disbelief, at his red ears and lip that he was now nervously biting despite acting so tough moments before, your chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling of your affections being reciprocated.

He was asking you out on a date.

Xavier, that Xavier: hot, intimidating, unbothered, extremely popular and seemingly unapproachable in the eyes of others.

Xavier, an intelligent, soft, socially awkward and extremely sweet little crush of yours was asking you out on a date.

You had to force yourself not to squeal, the idea that he found you attractive too making you nearly melt right into his chest, that seemed to be getting closer and closer with every second. You were both so different from each other, how could you predict that you actually had a chance with him? You thought that your quick, daily encounters was only him being nice, maybe excited to have a new friend.

Your lips curled into a smile, eyes sparkling with excitement you couldn’t contain.

“Is it that band you were talking about last week?” The memory of catching him staring excitedly at his phone right before you approached him during one of your short class breaks was still fresh in your mind. His fingers had been fidgeting with the cap he wore that day, turning it around as he leaned in to show you the newly added dates—one of which was very close to Linkon.

“Yeah. My favorite one.” He was getting more and more nervous, his hand was touching the nape of his neck now. “And I know these things can be loud and stuffy but I would protect you. You’d be safe with me, I swear, I wouldn’t let anyone else—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His head lowered even closer, the tips of your noses nearly touching. His eyes half-lidded, gazing down at you, his heart skipping a beat.

“Mhm. I would love to go with you.” Afraid to stumble over your words, your answer a gentle whisper. “Even without you quitting smoking. Buuut, it’s a really nice bonus.” Xavier chuckled, his head dropping to bring his lips closer to your ear.

“That so?” You had no idea, but he hid his head from your gaze for the widest of smiles to appear on his face. He closed his eyes and let himself bask in your closeness and sweet scent, mentally thankful for his burst of confidence earlier. “Then maybe the whole quitting thing isn’t really necessary?”

“Ah-ah. No takesies backsies—”

“No wha—”

“A promise is a promise.” You stated surely, your finger pressing on his chest as a warning. If he said he’ll quit, he better have to quit. Especially since now the possibility of him being closer to you daily has increased immensely. “If you want to reach for a cigarette now, you better pop in some gum. Or some candy, or ask for a—”

“Kiss?”

Your head turned his way just as his forehead rested on your shoulder. One eye opened, staring at you, a smirk lingering on his lips, the piercing there once again catching your attention.

Would you feel it when his mouth finally pressed to yours? Would it be forceful and bruising, or would he take his time, easing you into it with soft patience? He was a walking enigma, shy and gentle one moment, confident and quick the next. What side of him would you uncover if you let yourself get closer?

“Don’t overthink it or I might actually take your silence as a yes.” You breath hitched the moment he turned his head and you felt his lips touching the skin below your ear. Not a kiss, just a fleeting warmth of his mouth, the coolness of the ring causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He took a step back, taking all the warmth away and you nearly chased after him to bring it back.

What was he doing to you?

His knuckles brushed your flushed cheek, and your eyelashes fluttered, the touch once again unexpected.

“First, you have to keep your end of the deal. Then we’ll see.” You learned that you were a literal, freaking master at feigning confidence, given how weak your legs felt and how much you wanted to pass out while meeting his affectionate gaze.

His face was slightly flushed too. Clearly affected, despite his confident demeanor. Maybe you weren’t that different from each other, after all.

“We will.” Xavier wet his lips, the tip of his pink tongue barely peeking out before his teeth sank into the plush skin— like he was already imagining how it would feel like. Maybe holding himself back from satisfying his curiosity right then and there. “I’ll make sure we will. Wouldn’t dare to miss the chance, angel.”

And when he walked you home that day, your bag swinging from his broad shoulder and your fingers brushing from time to time, sending pleasant sparks between you—you realized that, despite your differences, you’d never felt such a connection with anyone before. Talking with him was so easy, the way the walk home felt too short not to miss the comforting presence of his for hours after. And you were sure he felt the same, from the way he joked about not giving your bag back, to the goodbye hug you initiated, but he prolonged, his strong arms wrapping gently around your waist, reluctant to let go. And then there was the longing glance he gave you, just seconds before you closed the door.

A sharp ping of a new message cut through the air not long after, a string of new numbers followed by a simple sentences, ones that made your heart beat faster again.

keep thinking that I shouldve made up some lame excuse just to spend more time with U. The cat plushie said he misses U. I didn’t know he could read my mind — Xavier

And with a chuckle and a blush, you already knew that you were slowly falling in love—and you just hoped that when it fully bloomed, he would be there to help you care for it.

As for the kiss—the weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

🤍 if you liked it, you can support me here! https://ko-fi.com/kitimeq <3

every single one counts, it helps me grow and makes me feel that writing is not a waste of time!! <3

please like, reblog and COMMENT if u liked it!! i would love to know if i should continue it—i wrote it as a quick, cute bad boy xavier story. i would love to make it mdni ofc skdhshdg <33

#ch: xavier #m: lads #THE WAY THIS IS WRITTEN #good lord #the banter is so freaking sweet and playful #ugh i'm obsessed #i'd definitely read more of this #mel's fic recs

521 notes · View notes

princessaffliction · 6 days ago

Text

sweet nothings.

♡ info -> rafayel x you • 3.4k words • fluffy smut • ao3 link ♡ summary -> when rafayel returns home exhausted from a last-minute meeting which interrupted your date night plans, you decide your tired beloved deserves a little extra spoiling ♡ warnings -> MDNI, bratty as hell rafayel, crying (slight dacryphilia), overstim, handjobs, slightly too much plot for what was supposed to be smut

In your defense, the first time you make Rafayel cry during sex, it is unequivocally his fault.

Nothing about the evening is going right. First, you snap the strap on your heels and have to return to your apartment for a change of shoes. When you finally arrive to Rafayel's close to forty minutes late, you nearly collide head-first with him as he shoulders through the door. He doesn't have time to stop or explain why he's leaving beyond the words “last minute meeting, sorry,” a kiss pressed to each of your cheeks, and the suggestion that you wait for him to return. Judging by the scowl on his face, he's no more happy about the interruption to your date night plans than you are.

So much for a relaxing dinner to end the week for you both. Not that anything between the two of you ever goes to plan. In some ways its fitting that more often than not, your dates are foiled by unforeseen chaos. Maybe you'd been foolish to think this night would be different.

At least you don't have to feel guilty about being late.

You wander back and forth the span of his bedroom, alternating between basking in the warm summer breeze rising through the window and looking over a book he’d left open on his bed. It’s more of a magazine, filled with elegantly shot nature photography.

After just under an hour, the door opens and Rafayel strides through. Without a word of greeting, he collapses onto his settee in a flourish. You wait, expecting him to launch into an explanation of where he’s been, no doubt filled with his usual grumbling and colorful derision.

It doesn’t come.

"Is everything alright?" you ask, coming to stand at his side.

Rafayel sighs and drops an arm over his face.

"I’m alive if that's what your asking," he says, evidentially still capable of dramatics. "It's like the universe has a sixth sense for when I want an evening off."

He loosens his tie and tosses it haphazardly over the back of the sofa. You can't help but cringe as you watch the no doubt exorbitantly expensive silk material flutter to the floor.

His fingers close around your wrist, dragging your hand to his hair. "If you're going to stare, Miss Bodyguard, you might as well be of use."

Rolling your eyes, you oblige him and card your fingers through his hair. The violet waves glide smoothly below your touch.

"Your hair's really soft today."

For the dozenth time, you remind yourself to ask just what he uses to make it so unnaturally silky. Tara had been looking for a new hair product. Perhaps he'd have a suggestion you could pass along.

"So that means it's not always this soft, huh? And here I thought you liked my hair." Rafayel's brows pinch together. "I don't pay you to insult me, you know."

You don't bother pointing out that Rafayel doesn't pay you at all. Still, some of the tension has seeped out of his posture and his eyes flutter shut as you drag your nails lightly across his scalp. For all that he dislikes cats, in moments like this you can't help but compare him to one. Especially when your ministrations cease momentarily and he bumps his forehead into your palm, a demand that you resume petting him.

"That bad of a meeting, huh?"

Instantly, you regret your question as he tenses up once more. "Meetings at night should be illegal. What if I fell gravely ill from the cold?"

You don't bother pointing out that it's the best weather you've had in weeks. It doesn’t matter. You're certain there's something else on his mind, with the way his eyes flicker to yours before looking away.

"You feel fine to me." You press a hand to his forehead. "Clammy as usual."

His frown deepens. "Ha-ha."

"What's bothering you? You have meetings all the time. What made this one different?"

For a long moment he doesn't reply, dropping his head back against the arm of the sofa.

"Cat got your tongue?"

His eyes snap open. "You're quite the comedian tonight."

"Not a very good one apparently." You poke his cheek. "C'mon, what's got you so moody?"

He grumbles something under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I've been invited to teach a summer course for promising youth at a prestigious art school," he repeats, as though doing so is a herculean effort.

"Wow, really? Rafayel, that's amazing."

He sits up, nearly hitting your foreheads together as he does. "Do you hear yourself? This is the worst thing that they could possibly ask of me."

"What? How so?" You neglect to point out that you’re almost certain he said the same thing about the last work request that was made of him.

He grimaces and shakes his head. "Kids are so loud."

"So you'll get along with them fine," you say, dryly.

"It's the whole summer. I'd be gone. For the entire summer."

"Yes, you mentioned that." You shrug. "If it’s a prestigious school and you’re the guest of honor, I'm certain that the accommodations will be up to your standards."

That's a white lie. It would be impossible for anyone to make a temporary living arrangement anywhere close to Rafayel's preferences without decimating their entire budget for the bathtub alone. Champagne tastes to say the least.

Even as you try to think of something else positive to say, you can't shake the twinge of disappointment in your chest. After all, you'd spent a good chunk of winter discussing all the things you wanted to do together this summer: the festivals and getaways. Trips to seaside cafes and museums. The exact hopes for the future you take comfort in on long nights of hunting wanderers or tackling the piles of paperwork you never seem to get to the bottom of.

"I still think it's something you should do," you say. "But I can admit that it's...a bit of a bummer too. We had a lot of plans that I was looking forward to."

"Finally you're making some sense," he huffs. "If you insist, then I'll cancel."

"That's not what I said!"

"Well, I'm still canceling." He folds his arms.

Were you to look up stubbornness in the dictionary, you're certain it would be this exact sight of Rafayel, his mouth pinched with determination.

"Canceling is not the answer."

"Maybe not to you."

"We'll just have to squeeze in a little extra fun, to make up for things."

He continues pouting, but you can see him straighten up ever so slightly. "And what is your idea of some 'extra' fun?"

"I've got time off that I need to use. Before, I'd planned on using my days this summer, but if you won't be around for part of it let's just move up the dates."

He purses his lips, clearly turning over his options in his mind. When you'd first met, no doubt he would have attempted to continue arguing, but now, he knows better. After all, if there's anyone who can rival his own stubbornness, it's you.

"Fine," he says. "But you better write to me."

You manage to keep from rolling your eyes. "I'm going to text you every day. You'll probably be sick of hearing from me."

"You say a lot of dumb things," he sighs.

"I guess you're rubbing off on me."

Rafayel opens his mouth before shutting it again. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the edge of the couch where it slips to the floor alongside his tie.

"I know we had planned to go out tonight," he says. "But I think stepping foot outside again might kill me. So if you really insist on me doing this summer program, it's probably for the best that we don't go to dinner."

That doesn't come as a surprise. By now, you were well aware of Rafayel's occasional need for solitude to decompress. You take a step back and glance around for your purse. If you head out now, you should still be able to pick up take out on your way back home and save yourself the trouble of cooking.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

"Er, you want to be alone, right? To think?"

"Did I say that?" He looks away. "But if you want to leave then go ahead. I'm tired anyway."

Something in the resigned yet displeased look he casts your way makes it click together in your head:

"Are you upset because you're going to miss me?"

He starts to respond before grimacing, "You're still not funny."

Evidentially, leaving isn’t the right answer tonight, but talking doesn’t seem to be working either. You walk back to the settee and step within reach, looking down at him.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” you say. “Let's drop it for now.”

Rafayel doesn’t answer but stands and unceremoniously strides to his bed, dropping down onto the plush duvet. A handful of his many throw pillows bounce off of the mattress to scatter on the floor. How he manages not to trip on a daily basis is still a mystery to you. Careful not to step on any of the intricately embroidered cushions, you make your way over and lie down beside him.

His eyes remain closed so you take the moment to examine your beloved. He really is a sight to behold. Pretty, like a statue crafted with a delicacy that would take a thousand years...and yet, as changeable as the sea itself, with movement beneath the surface. Despite the time you’ve spent together, there are moments when he still feels far away. Like a story written in a language you don’t know. Or worse, that you’ve forgotten.

He cracks an eye to peer at you, still frowning. Even among the ridiculously soft bedspread, you can read the tension in him. You reach up and cup his cheek. There’s no words that are going to fix things for now.

However, perhaps words are the not the form of communication most suited to a night like this.

Rafayel stares at you, waiting. You run your thumb along his cheekbone, down his jaw, and over his bottom lip that is stuck out in a near-pout once more. It feel as inevitable as the tide when your mouths meet, a territory so familiar you’re unsure who leaned in to kiss who.

“You can’t win me over with kisses,” he says, pulling back after a few minutes.

The dark, blown-wide look of his pupils would argue otherwise, but you refrain from pointing out as much.

“Alright.”

Rafayel leans closer and takes one of your hands, manipulating your fingers gently to pop the top button on his shirt.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try it though,” he says.

You kiss him again, rolling your eyes as you do so.

One more kiss turns into another dozen, accompanied by your fingers undoing his shirt and belt buckle. It ends with you sitting against the headboard and Rafayel laid bare. He's sprawled along the mattress, his back to your chest. Not a typical arrangement for you but tonight you can't shake the desire to smooth away some of his stress. To spoil him, despite knowing there's perhaps no better word to describe your love than ‘spoiled’ already. Not that you mind. You wouldn't change him, not for the world.

He's all long limbs like this, reflective scales surfacing as he comes back down from his orgasm. You press a kiss to the side of his head, his temple slightly sweaty. As fond as he is of messy sex while it's happening, Rafayel is less keen on the ensuing tackiness afterward. Usually one of you will think to grab a washcloth to clean up, but thinking didn't seem to be in the cards for either of you tonight.

You shift to climb off the bed and go in search of tissues but his hand on your arm stops you.

“Everything, okay?”

He swallows, throat bobbing. "Again, please?"

Despite the mess on his stomach and chest, a glance reveals that he's still achingly hard. His cock lays rosy and eager against his hip. Gently, you wrap your fingers around him once more. As soon as you do he's squirming from the overstimulation. You can't tell if he's trying to rut into your touch or rid himself of it.

"Are you sure?" you ask, pausing in spite of his demand. "You just came."

"It’s not enough tonight," he pants. "More, please."

You can’t help but enjoy his desperation a little. As though he’s forgotten how utterly incapable you are of not indulging him when he looks at you like that. Like you are the sole being responsible for the push and pull of the tides. The person keeping the very world on its axis.

“So you do now how to ask for things nicely,” you say, relishing in your ability to work him up to the point he recalls manners.

“So mean.”

“Am I mean or are you just bossy?” you shoot back.

Rafayel doesn’t answer aside from a needy sound as you squeeze around the base of his cock. His head drops back onto your shoulder. Painful or not, he seems to be enjoying himself, his hips twitching to chase your hand whenever you draw it up his length once more.

“I’m honestly just surprised that you’re so worked up.”

He twists in a half-hearted attempt to bury his face in your throat. You don’t let him, using your free hand to catch his chin and force him to meet your gaze.

Rafayel looks as lovely as you’ve ever seen him. His cheeks are flushed, bottom lip bitten ruby. His eyes, though bright, are red-rimmed. Tears that haven’t yet spilled pooling in the corners and clinging to his dark lashes.

“Raf—”

He interrupts you before you can ask if he’s alright. “Please don’t stop.”

His hand covers yours as though to ensure you don’t let go, even though you have no intention too. He guides you to stroke along his cock more firmly than before. As you do, his lips part, desperate whimpers spilling free.

“Of course not, I won’t,” you assure him. “You’re really pretty like this.” The words that have been vying to slip free all night popping out before you can overthink them.

His cock throbs in your grasp. You don't bother to hide the grin which spreads across your face. Rafayel’s blush only deepens and he squirms in your arms.

You should have put two and two together prior to now. How could your beloved not like praise? After all, you’d seen the way his eyes would light up when you complimented him, even if he would deny it, or play it off as expected, no, entitled.

You were learning a lot of things tonight it would seem.

Craning your neck slightly, you lean closer so that you can speak into his ear.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting? For me to say sweet things to you?”

“No,” he says, bucking into your hand.

“No?” You let go of his cock and he whines at the loss of contact. “But look at the mess you’re making already.”

It’s true, your hand is slick with precum, more leaking down the flushed shaft. He was telling the truth before: none of it seems to be enough for him tonight. Rafayel does his best to muster a glare, though the effect is diminished by the sheer need written across his face.

“Come on, ask me,” you murmur and return your hand to where he wants you most. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

The renewed attention earns you a choked out moan and fresh tears cutting their way down his cheeks.

“Please, please keep talking, I can’t—”

“Shh, of course, I will.”

So you do. You let all of the sweet things you’ve thought but not said to him run over in a babble of praise. You tell him how much you adore him. How gorgeous he looks. How good he is. How lucky you feel to be able to have him in your arms, in your life. Every single thing you would normally think twice about saying, lest they bring down a tidal wave of mischief upon you.

It’s too much for him and soon Rafayel’s shaking. He clutches at your arm, words slurred, “It’s too much, I’m going to come, fuck, I—”

“It’s alright, my love.” You lean down and fit your mouths together.

Rafayel kisses you back clumsily before letting out a bitten-off moan. He throbs in your hand, spilling his second release of the night onto his stomach with a sob.

You rest your chin on his shoulder, holding him close as he shivers through the aftershocks. For a long moment there’s nothing but the quiet sounds of the distant city and his shaky exhales as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

“Was that—”

He cuts you off. “You know how much I’m going to miss you, right?”

Even though it’s said with little inflection, you catch the undercurrent of nerves.

“I know.”

He swallows. “And you know I love you?”

“I do.”

Despite the fact that you’re impossibly close, he manages to press closer to you somehow. “So you won’t forget me while I’m away for the summer?”

“Do you really think I could forget you?”

He doesn’t answer, so you press another kiss against the shell of his ear.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right here when you get back,” you say.

Rafayel lets out a long breath, the last bit of tension slipping away from him. The pair of you lay there for another long moment, before he shifts, pushing himself up with shaky arms.

“Sticky.” He grimaces as he uses his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess on his chest.

“And whose fault is that?”

Somehow, despite the fact that he’s still pink-cheeked with pleasure, he manages to look offended.

“Yours,” he pronounces, lurching up to stand on wobbly legs. “Now, since it’s your job, Miss Bodyguard, I assume you’ll come and make sure I don’t get attacked by Wanderers while I take a bath?”

"We should probably bathe together, just to be safe." You stretch and climb to your feet as well. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught unaware. You’d be like a fish out of water.”

“Still not funny,” he says, turning away, but not before you can get a glimpse of him smiling.

You slip an arm around his waist, tugging him towards your side.

“I can walk you know.” It’s a halfhearted protest as he allows himself to be led toward the bathroom.

“Tell that to your knees,” you reply. “Besides, we don’t need you to get taken out by another paintbrush on the floor like last time.”

Before he can reply you press your lips to his, drowning his witty comeback with a kiss.

Summer might not go the way either of you had planned, but if tonight is any indication, you’ll be able to make up for it.

#mel's scribbles #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lnds smut #l&ds smut #l&ds rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #rafayel smut #lnds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #lnds rafayel

209 notes · View notes