slimearchon

[slimearchon]

ੈ✩‧₊˚we can’t be friends 🤍 xavier 星回 ੈ✩‧₊˚

RE-UPLOAD! The original post didn’t show up in the tags, sorry for the confusion :c

pairing ੈ✩: xavier x reader

summary ੈ✩: you and xavier had been best friends for years, nearly inseparable since the moment you met. But after one slightly drunken night, everything shifted: you became friends with benefits. You told yourself you could handle it, but as time went on, your heart began to ache. You had to end it, for your own sake. You were in love with him, but you couldn't shake the painful truth: you believed he’d never feel the same. Still, what if, all this time, while you were trying to push him away, he was quietly hoping to show you how perfect you two were together?

word count ੈ✩: 12k. omg. it’s LONG, long. grab some snacks and let me entertain you for a while!!

tropes ੈ✩: 18+, smut, best friends with benefits, miscommunication, unrequited love, not really tho, angst, angst with happy ending, plot with porn, love confessions, needy xavier, obsessed xavier, domestic xavier, i suck at giving tropes i swear i will get better someday, desperate xavier, everything is consensual, the consumption of alcohol mentioned, pet names, xavier was once in love with mc but the myths are not canon in this one!!

author’s note ੈ✩: GUYS this one’s IT. This idea was blooming slowly in my mind for quite some time. I really hope you’ll like it 🥹 also, please be gentle with me, i’m not a native speaker of english and I’m definitely not a writer. I like to think that everything i create is just fueled by my passionate delulu. please let me know if you liked it and if maybe you’d like to read part 2!! ♡ enjoy your reading!!

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 

It all started with the simplest of touches.

Your hands grazed, as if by accident. Then your eyes met. He grabbed you by your forearm, or maybe you grabbed him, everything was so blurry in your mind. A touch on a waist, a hand on a chest, and a sudden clash of your lips. You saw fireworks exploding in your mind, sending pleasant thrumming throughout your whole body.

Desperate touches. Rapid breaths. A whisper, maybe two. He said something. What did he say? The sound of your heart was the only thing you could hear.

Your dress came off. You felt lips. Lips marking every part of your body, leaving behind wet paths that made the exposed skin shiver due to the coolness of the air. He went down. Down. Down, and looked at you expectantly. Your head never nodded that quickly and it probably never will again. You saw stars. Millions and millions of them, shimmering under your closed eyelids. He grabbed your hand and put it into his hair. You caressed it gently, savoring the softness of it.

Then, you saw his eyes. Beautiful, deep blues that looked far too innocent for what he did and what he was about to do with you next. He kissed you again and again, and again, and he held you close throughout the whole night, making you shiver, moan, cry, beg — until you fell asleep from exhaustion right in the safety of his arms. He turned your world upside down.

And then came the next morning, when you began to question the entire ordeal. You panicked, thinking about your friendship that you valued the most and Xavier, whom you just couldn’t bear to lose. However, when you wanted to put it past you, to blame the alcohol consumed that night, act as if it was just a slip of your judgment, a mistake, a reaction caused by the need of intimacy after being single for a long time, he wasn’t having it. He said that he couldn’t forget about it, that it changed things, and you blurted out the first thing that came into your mind. You proposed the whole arrangement.

And that’s how, after several months, your relationship with Xavier stayed clear and technically uncomplicated. Friends with benefits. You thought that even if that night did change things, then in this way you could act as if it wasn’t a big deal to you. In this way, you wouldn’t have to lose him, wouldn’t make things awkward. You still acted normally in front of each other, you continued to spend time in almost the same way you were before that faithful night, but with one drastic change.

Almost every encounter since that night ended with you in his bed or the other way around. Hours and hours spent in each other’s embrace, touching and feeling too much, all at once.

And said feelings were what made you finally decide that you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t continue sharing with him this intimacy, pretending that everything between you remained unchanged. You couldn’t do this anymore, knowing that it was all that you’ll ever get from him, despite being in love with him for so long.

You knew that he would never reciprocate your feelings. You knew that from the beginning, from the very first touch of your fingertips that night, but you foolishly thought that having him close for as long as he wanted you, would be enough for you. Even if he wanted you only for your body, because you were the easiest choice.

However, your heart was breaking every time you were reminded of one significant fact, a harsh reality that felt like a bucket of cold water in your face.

He will never love you. Because you were not her.

And you will never be.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

You already had a strategy to end the arrangement. You wanted to take it slow, step by step, with just a bit of pain on your side. You knew it wasn't your best plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. You wanted to end the friends-with-benefits arrangement in a way that would make you both slowly, almost naturally, drift apart—so subtly that he wouldn't even notice the change. As for you, you were ready to bear the painful consequences of your actions, if it saved you from the excruciating pain of a broken heart later.

You started with avoiding his kisses.

And it turned out to be a tough job to do, because you didn’t realize before how much of a kisser Xavier became during your friends-with-benefits situation. It never really bothered you before, you always accepted every single kiss with content. However, during your last meeting, you were trying so hard to avoid his lips, and noticed that he made it into an almost impossible task.

When you went out one night, he wanted to kiss you three times during hot pot, even though you were sitting across from each other. You thought that the sitting situation was enough of an obstacle, but you quickly learned that he always somehow managed to find a chance to try to steal a kiss. That not only bewildered you, but also made you blush so hard that you had to blame the spicy food for it to not look suspicious. Yet, you managed to stay your ground and ignored his needy attempts at capturing your lips.

You also avoided his lips while you were later watching a movie in his apartment, by pretending that you didn’t see or feel his constant gaze on you. You thought that maybe if he saw that the movie engaged you so much, he would finally drop the attempts. Unfortunately, your plan failed the moment his patience thinned, when he started kissing your neck while cradling your body to his. He was grabbing at you almost desperately and you really couldn’t escape from every single kiss he was giving you, no matter how much you tried to. And you really tried to.

“Why—why are you turning your face away? A-Ah… Let me look at y-you—mmm.” He said between his moans, and he never once stopped thrusting inside you. It was the day when he took you on a sofa between his soft, plushy pillows with the movie still playing in the background. Your legs were laying on his shoulder, his both hands holding onto them tightly while his hips thrust deep inside you, making you gasp in pleasure. When you didn’t respond and kept your head away, hoping that he would finally stop with his relentless kisses, his hand gently grabbed your face and turned it towards his so that your eyes met. He smiled softly, his cheeks pink and face damp. “Yes, there you are. You feel good? You wanna break?” He almost slurred and you adored how quickly he was loosing himself with you, how much he was losing his composure. When you squeezed your eyes, moaning at a harder thrust and shook your head no, he whimpered. Next thing you knew, he lowered your legs onto the sofa and lay between them, bringing his body closer to yours. Your chests touched and you could feel his rapid heartbeat, mirroring the rhythm of your own. He nudged your head, which was still turned to the side, with his nose.

“Give me a kiss, c’mon, starlight.” He kissed your cheek, slowing down his thrusts to a lazy, delicate ones. “I couldn’t get a kiss all day, I need it. Let me.” And when you saw his eyes, full of desperation and something that reminded you of adoration, you couldn’t keep denying him. Your lips touched his and he didn’t let go of them until you came, and later when he began growling straight into your mouth, chasing his own undoing.

It was the last time you met up, and after that you decided that you had to cut it off completely. You couldn’t continue being with him like this, not when you knew that he already loved someone else. Being with him this close messed with your head. You didn’t want to feel like a convenient second choice and you couldn’t help but feel that your meetings were slowly becoming more and more intimate. You had to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t together. You made sure to label the change in your relationship properly at the start of the arrangement — still on friendly terms, with occasional mutual pleasure. But the close proximity and constant intimacy started to make the lines blurry in your mind.

And your heart couldn’t take it anymore, it hurt every time you reminded yourself that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, and that he never will.

After that movie night you decided that the next step to your goal would be to stop engaging in small talk with him, especially the one that occurred at work.

You worked together at the Hunter’s Association, he was one of the best Hunters out there, and you specialized in weapon modification from the safety of your own desk. You wanted to be a hunter once, but with your Evol involving micromodification you guessed that you could be needed in a position that involved working with weaponry. After working there for years, you were passionate about your work and elated to have a job you loved and where you thrived while helping others to the best of your abilities.

Thus, because of the shared place of employment, you saw Xavier almost every day. He was often near your desk, passing by it, putting snacks before you or teasing you with that soft smile of his. So, cutting the contact out there was one of the toughest jobs for you, but it had to be done.

When you knew that he would be free, you found a task that needed completion in other departments, so that you will not cross paths. Often, instead of others coming to you to fix their weapons, you proposed to make the trip instead. In this way you were always quick on your feet, going from department to department, back to the workshop and again to the others’ desks. You didn’t mind the extra activity, it made you think less about your breaking heart.

And when Xavier managed to catch you from time to time, because he always somehow would, you were trying to appear too busy even for a small conversation.

“Where are you rushing off to again? I didn’t manage to talk to you these past few days.” He said one day when he caught you by your elbow while you were going out of the bathroom. He must’ve seen you go in there and wait for you to come out. He brought you a little closer to himself and looked at your face so intently, that you got scared he could see right through you.

“Sorry Xai, I’m just really busy lately.” You answered, maybe too quickly, and were trying to calm your beating heart upon seeing him so close again. Too close. It didn’t help that he was in his hunter’s uniform, that made him look twice as dreamy. You were so close that you could also smell his comforting scent and see the small scar on his cheek that he got last year after you two tried ice skating for the first time.

The first and the last, for it appeared that you were much better at it than he would ever be, and you wanted to avoid him getting hurt again. It was also before your friends-with-benefits situation, when your friendship was pure and healthy. Your heart squeezed remembering how he grabbed your hand then, and how tightly he used to hold it throughout the whole activity.

“Xavier, are you sure you don’t want to go back home already? I’m afraid that your cut will scar if we leave it like that.” You said, looking at the band aid on his cheek, the only remedy for his small injury that you could provide at that time.

He squeezed your hand and still appeared sheepish after his fall. You secretly found him adorable, you never saw him doing something in which he didn’t excel in. It was as if he let you see a part of himself that no one had ever seen before. That thought made your chest warmer.

“No. I won’t let the ice defeat me.” He said surely and you knew that he won’t give up, even if his legs already visibly trembled from exhaustion. You let out a sigh. “Besides, you’re holding my hand now, so I feel much safer.” He looked at you, his voice soft and cheeks red, most likely from the cold air. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state made you completely overcome by the feeling of tenderness, and you send him a huge smile, thinking that it was the first time he relied on your protection, and not the other way around.

Little did you know that this smile would catch him by surprise so much that he slipped backwards, this time pulling you down with him. However, your reflexes slightly worked, because you managed to put your hand behind his head, shielding it from the impact with ice. You landed on him with a groan as his hands moved to pull your body closer.

“Oh god, Xai, are you okay? How did that happen?” You asked him, trying to lift yourself off of him. You felt him relax his head further into your hand, and when you raised yourself enough to face him directly, he sent you a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. This sight made your heart melt.

“See, I knew you would protect me.” He replied, clearly referring to your hand behind his head. “My little savior.” He called you, and when you puffed the air out, annoyed that he could have hurt himself for real this time, his smile turned into a full laugh, his body shaking under yours. He looked so angelic, covered in snow, laughing in a way that was so scarce that you couldn’t help but join him in his moment of happiness.

And thanks to your mittens, your hand was left with only a purple bruise from the impact. Still, Xavier couldn’t let you forget about it up to the day it disappeared completely, expressing guilt for the minor injury, his sight chasing your hand every time it appeared in his line of vision. He often caressed it softly with his fingers, looking at it with a mysteriously thoughtful expression, whispering “My little savior.” under his breath. It made you wish that the bruise would never disappear.

You took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed by the memories and the closeness between you. He always invaded your personal space, stood so close that you could almost feel his breath on your face. This time, you had had to cut it out for your own good.

“S’okay. You’re always busy but I guess I just got used to meeting you near your desk. Just text me after work? Maybe we could meet up for our book club today.” He said and you swallowed the awful feeling of longing in your chest. Book club was the term you came up with when you both just wanted to sit and read together for hours. Unfortunately, you knew how book club sessions looked like since the beginning of your friends-with-benefits arrangement.

You were sitting together in silence, reading for hours, then talked about your books until you both lost your breaths. A wonderful experience, you adored your little reading sessions, but you knew that recently they always ended with his lips on yours, and with your clothes scattered around his bedroom.

You couldn’t let this go on forever. You couldn’t go back to being just friends now, and you couldn’t keep him so close, knowing that he will never fully be yours. You pitied your poor heart.

“Sure, will do. See you around!” You were aware how awkward you sounded, but before he could stop you, you were already off to another task of the day.

You didn’t text him after work, and neither did you reply to his message in time. The next day you send him an excuse that you were tired and fell asleep quickly, and you hoped that he believed it or didn’t care enough to question you further.

If the distance hurt you this bad now, you couldn’t even imagine how would it feel when he eventually would’ve left you for her.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

The next stage of your plan involved not answering his texts at all. You allowed yourself small replies from time to time, most often very brief, if the situation called for it. Replying excuses from left to right. Then, you incorporated not picking up his calls, especially on weekends, when he appeared to want to see you the most, because you were absent from the Association building and he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of you.

The distance you yourself put between you broke your heart, and you were getting more and more depressed by the day. Ignoring the person you loved wasn’t easy, when he was the one with whom you wanted to spend your time the most.

To distract yourself from the situation, you were trying to pass your time differently. You were meeting up with your family and friends, or you started doing things that you were putting off for ages. Everything and anything to fill the void in your heart caused by the absence of the one you loved. The absence forced by you.

It had to be done, you reminded yourself daily. You had to end this somehow, no matter how it hurt you. You had to move on. You couldn’t still be in love with him the day he would end up with MC. You knew it would ruin you.

Three weeks passed since your last meeting at the Association and you could feel that Xavier was getting impatient. His calls were more frequent. His messages longer. Sometimes while running away from him at work, you could catch how he was scanning the room in search of you. How frustrated he seemed to be. How upset.

You understood it. You were best friends after all, and he also probably needed someone near him to help him get his head clear of MC. You knew that it must’ve been hard for him. But you were sure you were doing the right thing, that’s why you kept avoiding him during the past month, and not only it was the longest period you’ve been away from each other since the start of your complicated arrangement, but also the longest time since the start of your friendship. Even when the times were rough, you managed to see each other at least once or twice a week.

You felt the pain of the distance too. Missing him almost every second of the day. But you had your reasons. You didn’t want to try to satiate the hunger he felt for another woman anymore.

So every time his name appeared on your phone screen, along with the picture of him shoving two muffins into his mouth at the same time, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and waited out the signal, simultaneously praying for and dreading the silence.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

On a quiet rainy day, after a month of ignoring almost every attempt to make contact from Xavier, you heard your phone ping thrice. You sighed and put the book you were reading down, deciding that it was a good moment to reply something short to him in order to slightly ease his worries, and make him feel less alarmed. You wanted distance, but you still sticked to responding from time to time, to appear casual. To let the connection break off less abruptly.

xavier: why cant I see U at all recently.

xavier: why are U not picking up my calls and not replying to my texts.

xavier: are U hiding from me?

you: Of course not, just busy.

xavier: busy for me but not busy for others I know U are going out all the time.

xavier: are U mad at me? did I do something wrong.

you: No, you didn’t, don’t worry. It’s just me. I have a lot of things on my mind recently.

xavier: could U please have me on Ur mind too? I miss U.

xavier: so bad it hurts

You let out a rugged breath, and decided to stop responding, but then another text came. This time, making your blood run cold.

xavier: going back from a rough mission right now i think i need help.

you: Oh my god, are you okay? Are you injured?

xavier: cant tell U why dont you come and see me for Urself.

you: Fine, I need to see if you’re okay. Do you need anything? Food? Medicine? I will pick something up on my way there.

xavier: i just need U

You closed your eyes and hid your face in your palms, then swore it would be the last time. You will go in, treat his wounds and go out. It had to be the last time you allowed yourself to be this close to him, and then you had to cut him off completely. A month wasn’t enough to heal your broken heart, and these small sightings won’t make your heart feel any less burdened.

It had to end today.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

When the door opened, he managed to take your breath away once more.

First, only figuratively. His beauty always managed to amaze you. He looked so handsome no matter the circumstances, his hair so fluffy and shiny, his face like that of an angel, with sharp jawline and soft, pink lips almost screaming at you to be kissed. When you met his eyes, you almost gasped at the intensity of his deep blue gaze. There wasn’t a thing about him you didn’t miss terribly after so much time apart.

Then, literally, when the first thing he did was grabbing your hand and hugging you tightly to his chest, that was still clothed in his hunter uniform. He pressed his face into the crown of your hair and touched the nape of your neck, holding it gently with his cold hand.

“Was the mission that difficult?” You asked, thinking that his reaction to you was mostly due to his need for someone else’s closeness. The need for security. “Were you in danger?” You asked quietly, fear bubbling in your mind.

“No. I lied.” He murmured and you felt him squeezing you even harder, inhaling your scent with content. His hand started stroking your back, slowly making its way under your thin coat. “Didn’t know what else to say to make you come see me.” He said and you hoped that he couldn’t hear, nor feel the sound of your erratic heartbeat.

He shouldn’t say things like these, it made you feel too hopeful. You tried to push that feeling down, knowing that’s how he normally acted with you, his best friend. You knew that he didn’t have a lot of people beside him, thus he treasured the ones that stayed. And that thought made you so incredibly apologetic that you had to swallow the tension in your throat. You hated that you fell for him so hard. You hated that you had to leave him because of it. You hated that you knew, that he would blame himself when you’ll leave.

And you started to hate yourself the most because of all of it.

“Did you miss me that much?” You teased, trying to calm yourself with a friendly banter.

“Yes.” The answer was immediate. The kiss he placed on your temple as natural as breathing. “Everything and everyone seems to be taking you away from me these days.” He said and you could hear him sulking. Your heart squeezed again, but you knew that you were doing the right thing. The distance was necessary.

Necessary for you to avoid breaking. You had to protect yourself first, you decided. You couldn’t remain in love with him forever. You had to move on and in order to do that you had to keep the distance. Which was impossible with him around, when he craved physical touch so badly.

You started to be so mad at yourself for breaking your streak today. You didn’t realize how touchy he will be after some time apart and it was getting to your head. You were so conflicted. You felt too much, and that was always the case when you were around him.

He was in love with someone else. Your head was screaming loudly, trying to calm the wave of unwanted emotions.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. I love you, you thought. “But now I’m here, so maybe I can inspect you for any injuries? You always seem to neglect them as long as they don’t make you bleed out.” You managed to free yourself from his hold and missed how his hands went after you for a second. He didn’t want you to put distance between you two. Not yet, not ever.

He looked into your beautiful, shiny eyes and nodded without a thought. He couldn’t say no to you, not when he saw the still remaining hint of worry in them. Besides, checking for injuries always came with physical contact, and he was so starved. He needed to feel your body close to his. Your hands on him, somewhere, anywhere, everywhere. He felt addicted and craved some kind of relief. He looked after you like a lost puppy, following your footsteps closely, touching the familiar material of your coat that you left on a counter. The distance this past month made him feral, every part of his body screamed to hold you and don’t let go.

You sat down on his couch, and patted the place next to you, hinting at him to sit beside you. He was trying not to appear too eager while doing so, and also when he started taking off the upper part of his uniform. He was almost shaking with excitement knowing that you really came to see him. That you were worried about him. The distance was making him sick. Furious. Desperate. Hurt.

He suppressed a shudder when you touched his shoulder and peeled away the material off his back completely. Your hands were pleasantly warm, as always. He bit his lip trying not to gasp from the contact.

He needed more.

“Xavier.” He hummed, giddy inside upon finally hearing his name from your lips. He was bracing for your outburst. Couldn’t wait for it. “You said you lied about the mission being hard, while having a fucking gash on your back? I-I can’t believe you...” He heard your angry, shaky voice and smirked unintentionally. You were worried about him and he liked that. He liked the attention, when it was coming from you.

Yet, you didn’t know that.

You cursed under your breath and went to grab the first aid kit from one of his drawers, and proceeded to patch the man back up, having no idea that he allowed the Wanderer to injure him, to have an excuse to see you. To keep you with him for a minute longer, even if it was only under the pretense of tending to his injuries. He was ready to do anything at this point to keep you from slipping away from his grasp.

If you knew that, you wouldn’t be so adamant on distancing yourself.

But because you didn’t know, you also didn’t predict that after patching him up, he would propose you to eat dinner with him, making up an excuse that he didn’t want to be alone with his pain. Later, when you wanted to come back to your place, he mentioned he wanted to play kitty cards, the game you adored. You couldn’t refuse him.

During the next hours you spent at his place you both talked in the same way you always used to - about everything and anything, exchanging opinions, stories and everyday thoughts. You laughed together for the first time in weeks, and your cheeks hurt from how much he was able to make you smile. You always had so much fun with him; he was your favorite person in the whole world. You missed him so bad, despite knowing that you couldn’t back out from your plan fully. Yet, you allowed yourself a little break, telling yourself that it was in order for your distancing to not look suspicious. In addition, he was injured, and you felt the need to comfort him in any way you could. The gash on his back wasn’t that deep, but it worried you regardless.

The atmosphere changed drastically only when he managed to win the next round of kitty cards. You jokingly frowned at him, forging displeasure, and he looked directly at your pouting lips. The time seemed to stop when you noticed that look. He raised his hand to touch your collarbone, caressing it with his fingers, up to your neck and over your cheek. He looked deeply into your eyes, and you noticed how dark his became. You found it fascinating that his soft gaze could change so drastically in a matter of seconds.

His hand reached out to grab your chin and brought your face closer to his. And when he whispered: “Could I ask for a reward?” with that dangerous, needy voice of his, you knew that you couldn’t deny him anything.

When your lips touched, you decided that it will be the last time you let it happen. It would be your goodbye, before losing the feel of his touch. You thought that you could at least make the best of it, get lost in the artificial feeling of being treasured for the last time, before you started the last phase of your plan.

After that, you had to cut off the ties with him completely. No matter the measures. No matter the pain.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Xavier, m-maybe not today?” You asked when you realized how low he was going with his kisses. You knew what he was about to do, and you hated how much you couldn’t contain the sounds that were coming out of your mouth when he was doing it. Besides, it didn’t feel like a mutual pleasure anymore, it felt like an act of service and you were not sure you wanted him to pleasure only you.

He looked at you, having already dropped to his knees. He looked ruined, his hair already a mess from the touch of your fingers, lips wet and swollen, shirt off displaying his toned chest, bandaged in the center with caution. He was practically heaving. The sight made you blush.

“Why not?” His voice sounded whiny, his lips already kissing the inside of your thigh as if he couldn’t restrain himself. Every kiss sent electricity to your already wet core and you found it hard to think clearly. His hands were grabbing your tights possessively, relishing in their softness. “Please, let me eat you out. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” The pleading in his eyes was so apparent. So unfiltered.

“Don’t you want to get to the point already?” You offered shyly and he huffed out a laugh.

“Where are you trying to run off to this time?” It sounded like a joke, but he appeared annoyed. “Relax, starlight and let me take care of you. Please.” You still hesitated. It made him pout. “I need it, please, star. I want to taste you so bad. I didn’t manage to last time.” He kissed your knee and put his head on it, looking for the answer in your unsure eyes. “Will you let me?” His pleading tone, along with his desperate gaze was what made you break. You whispered a soft confirmation and it was all it took before he quickly put his mouth on your core, licking vigorously, devouring you like the most delicious thing on the planet.

“Mmmm.” You heard him humming, before your own cries, along with the constant tremble of your legs, drowned out any other sound.

He was elated.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Mmmh— Yes. Yes. H—holy—” He whimpered at the same time with his thrusts and squeezed your waist harder, moving his hands up and down your back, caressing it affectionately. “You are s-so warm, so beautiful, fuck—” He moaned when you tightened on him. You stiffed a whimper and tried to commit to memory the touch of his strong hands.

He was taking you slowly from behind and the pace was almost unbearable for you. You needed more, and you couldn’t stand how romantic it felt when he was this gentle with you. However, at the same time you didn’t want him to strain himself, you were aware that the slow pace was reasonable due to the injury on his back. The slow pace did surprise you either way, you thought that after so much time apart he would be quick and rough, chasing his pleasure faster than he normally would. Instead, he acted even more passionately than usual.

The slow pace brought you so much pleasure that you couldn’t contain the sounds escaping from your lips. He kept pressing your most sensitive spots, his thrusts slow, deep and precise. His forehead rest on the back of your shoulder, and you could feel his hot, labored breath pressing against your damp skin.

He made you feel so appreciated, and so cared for, and that made you uneasy. More so, with the accompaniment of the things he was constantly saying to you, from the moment you allowed him to touch you today.

“Can you turn around now? Please, my star, I want to see you.” He half-whispered and started kissing your neck, then moving his mouth to every patch of your skin he could reach: your shoulders, back, arms. No place was left unkissed under his relentless lips. You shook your head no; you didn’t want to let this become even more passionate than it already was. You positioned yourself facing the headboard of the bed from the very beginning, and you were adamant to keep your stance up until the end. You feared that your eyes would betray you, displaying your feelings for him and that was what made you not lose your composure.

Upon hearing your refusal for the third time this night, he proceeded to voice his frustrations by grunting, and thrust into you a little harder. You moaned loudly, surprised at the sudden change of tempo.

“Please, starlight.” He begged; his voice achingly earnest. He picked up the pace and you almost choked with how deep he reached inside of you now. You thought that you could never get used to how big he was, his girth filling you up to the brim. “Turn around. T-turn around for me.”

“X-xavier slow down, I don’t want you to get hurt—” You managed to choke out, grasping sheets with your hands for some kind of stability. You closed your eyes when they were turning upwards, biting your lip in the process. He felt otherworldly, but you couldn’t help but think about the gash on his back. He shouldn’t strain himself.

“Then turn around and look at me.” He repeated and you shook your head again.

“I-I can’t, I—Ah—”

“W-why do you keep—Mmh—denying me?” His voice came out like a growl and he kept up the fast tempo. Then, he grabbed your shoulder and put his other hand on your lower back, making you bend over more. His thrusts got even faster, making you moan louder. “Like that. Yes.” You breathed quietly. So good. He was so, so good. “I just want to see your face. I need to kiss y—A—Ah—Kiss you so bad, so, so, so bad.” He thrust more deeply, making you involuntarily back out from the stimulation, your body almost collapsing, but he quickly grabbed you with his strong arms, and brought you even closer to him. You saw stars and touched one of the arms that held your whole body — from your waist, between your breasts, to your neck. His arm was so hard, so strong. He was huge compared to you. “No, n-no, don’t run away, star. You feel so good—G-God how I missed this—” He held you closer by the second, pressing more kisses to your shoulders, his thrusts becoming quicker, less deep. You were holding back your tears from how good he felt inside you. “I missed you. I missed you. I miss you.” He started babbling and that’s how you knew he was close.

To your surprise, he suddenly pulled out of you completely and grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you around to finally face him. Before you could show any signs of protest, he lowered himself onto his forearms, caging your head between his biceps so that he could have a perfect view of your face. He took his cock in one of his hands and he slipped himself into you again with ease. You shuddered and cried out softly with astonishment.

“Xavier—!”

“Yes. Yes, that’s my name.” He started thrusting into you again, this time much slower and more attentive, and looked deep into your eyes. You had nowhere to run, the only thing you could do was to close your eyes, but the sight of him so close made you want to never look away. “Say it one more time. Just once.” He looked ethereal, his silver hair wet from the perspiration that gathered on his forehead, and his cheeks painted a pretty shade of red. You could see how blissful he felt. “So p-pretty.” He finally kissed your lips softly. “So sweet.” He licked into your mouth, deepening the kiss. It made your toes curl, you loved when he kissed you this sloppily. When he released your already swollen lips, there was a string of saliva connecting you. It was all so intense.

“Why were you denying my kisses?” He kissed you again deeply, sucking on your tongue. His slow thrusts made you go insane. “You don’t like kissing me like this?” He sucked on your lips until they were red and swollen. There was so much saliva. He licked them and kissed them again. “I could come from this feeling alone. So soft.” You were shocked at how much he talked. Was he always this talkative? Or were you realizing it only now, when you knew that the closeness with him would soon come to an end?

“Am I making you feel good? Yeah?” You decided to nod at him truthfully, your moans short, resembling small hiccups. You were lost in the pleasure; you could feel the end approaching. He put his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “W—wow, you—you sound so adorable, I won’t last long—” He moaned and grabbed your face in his hands, kissing your nose first, then softly your lips.

“Yes, yeah, let go. Let go my little star. My starlight, my treasure.” He whispered into your ear, feeling you clench down on him as you came with his name on your lips. You felt him reaching the end quickly after you, he shuddered, his mouth opened, and he released into the condom with a low moan. Still cumming, he took your face into his hands and kissed your forehead gently. When you both were still coming down from the high, breathing heavily, he began stroking your hair, pushing it out of your face, and kissing your cheeks.

What in the world was all that?

God, you couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t let this keep up, it felt too real, too romantic, and your heart really couldn’t take it. Not when every time you were together like this you keep thinking that he would like you to be someone else instead. Did he imagine her under him this time? You trembled, scared because of that thought, but the things he was saying made you feel that it really could be the case.

Your breath came out shakily and you took his muscular forearms in your palms and grazed them gently with your thumbs. You let yourself feel for the last time how warm his body was, how pleasurable his weight on top of you. You kept your eyes closed to not let him see your tears, but you couldn’t stop one from going down your cheek.

And of course, he saw it as soon as it appeared. He seemed to always look at you when you wanted him to ignore you the most.

He kissed it off, swiped the wetness with his thumb and proceeded to kiss your temple.

“Why are you crying?” He asked softly, his eyebrows furrowed. “Did I hurt you?” He appeared so concerned, and you felt the shivers going down your spine.

Yes, you wanted to scream.

“No, of course not.” You said instead. Because it was your fault for feeling too much. “I’m okay, just tired.” You lied straight to his face. He sent you a small smile and kissed your closed eyelids gently.

And when he shifted and pulled out from you slowly with a little hiss, you let out a sigh and knew that your time with him had to end now.

But before you could lift yourself up, he hugged you from the side and put his head on your chest. He was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, and you already knew that it had a soothing effect on him. His hand started caressing one side of your waist, his hair touching your chin, his scent overlapping you. You could feel his heartbeat on you, fast but steady. Another tear escaped from your eyes. You had to run away. You couldn’t take the closeness anymore. It was too painful.

“Xavier, I—” You swallowed the sob forming in your throat. Your voice came out rusty. “I really need to go.”

“Already? Stay with me for a little while longer.” He squeezed you harder to himself, showing no intention of releasing you from his hold. You hated that you needed to cut short such a vulnerable moment with him. “The night is still young. I thought we could maybe watch something together? Or bake these cinnamon cookies you like? I practiced, they taste and look almost perfect now.” You closed your eyes hard, moved by his thoughtfulness, and you almost sobbed audibly if it wasn’t for your hand quickly covering your mouth.

But he felt it, and it made all the muscles in his body tighten, as if he was struck.

“Star?” He loosened his hold on you and quickly studied your face. “What’s wrong?” His eyes became huge, filled with worry. And that concern on his features was what finally made you run.

You raised gently and pushed yourself from him, starting to pick up your scattered pieces of clothing. Your hands shakily put the panties and your sweater on your trembling body, not once looking Xavier’s way. He was waiting patiently for your answer.

“I can’t do this anymore, Xavier.” You replied, feeling more comfortable now that you had some clothes on. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you heard him standing up from the bed.

“Do what?” He sounded puzzled. You heard him grabbing and putting on some pants hastily, clicking his belt in place. As if he was preparing to run after you. “Did I do something wrong? You didn’t like it today? Was I too intense?” You had never heard him speak so quickly, and the panic in his tone was a rare occurrence too.

“No, it’s— I am at fault here.” You answered truthfully, and you took a couple steps away from him. You wanted to run as fast as you could but for the love of God, you couldn’t locate any other pieces of your clothing. Your eyesight was clouded by unleashed tears. No, not now, you couldn’t let them fall until you were in the safety of your home.

“But you were perfect.” His voice carried more panic by the second. “We could change some things. You could tell me what to do differently, everything works with me as long as I do it with you.”

You suddenly remembered the beginning of your night, and rushed to his living room, were you finally found your pants.

“No. No, and please stop trying to persuade me. This—this friends with benefits thing, it ends now.” You uttered surely, now fully clothed. You turned around and finally laid your eyes on him, and saw him wearing only black jeans and a miserable expression on his face. God, he still looked perfect. He almost shined, the workout clearly visible on his face, his hair, his lips. Your resolution almost wavered.

“Okay. Okay, of course, I—I understand.” He answered quickly, and you felt a slight pang in your chest at how easily he took the news. This whole time you were so easily disposable. “But please stay. I want to spend some time with you, I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” He took a careful step towards you, and you wanted to bolt then and there. “Please, stay.”

“No, Xai, I—” You paused to take a breath, trying not to crumble in front of him. His worried expression felt like a knife to your chest. You were his best friend, yet here you were, clearly wanting to run away from him—how could you expect him to feel anything but hurt upon such a sight? You felt incredibly cruel. “I really can’t. I think I need a break from all—all of this.”

“You mean from me?” He didn’t wait for your answer, the thoughts in his head seemed to go quicker than lightning. “No, please, I swear that if you don’t like it then I won’t touch you anymore. I swear.” You hated how upset he sounded. You closed your eyes for a second and fresh tears slipped away. You couldn’t keep them from falling anymore. “You know how much you mean to me. Don’t make me stay away.” He looked as if you were tearing his heart out, his posture slumped, hands shaking. How you wished you could take them into your own and warm them up.

“I have to.” Your voice came out whiny. He stepped closer to you, keeping his arms in front of himself.

“But why?” His question was quiet, nearly a whisper. He couldn’t help but wonder, if you really wanted a break from him, then why were you crying as if you didn’t want to go?

“I—” You stopped yourself before going as far as to utter a confession. He couldn’t know. Not now. Not ever. “This— This situation, and how our friendship looks like right now it’s—it’s so wrong.” You opted for a response that was the closest to the truth.

“It’s not.” He replied immediately. “Not for me.”

“Well it is for me. Friends don’t sleep with each other, Xavier! We messed up so bad this time and I’m afraid we can’t let this past us.”

“Do you regret it that much?” His voice was losing its’ strength, and he seemed so utterly hurt. Meanwhile, you were just trying to protect yourself from feeling even more pain. How could you make him understand without confessing to him? You didn’t really know because you were always honest with him before. He was your safe place.

And to think that everything could be avoided, your friendship left unscratched if only you could control your feelings better. But you had no idea how to stop loving him so deeply, when he was everything that you’ve ever dreamed of.

“I should. I know that I should, it was never going to end well, I—”

“Stay. Please, starlight, stay. At least for one more night, let me hold you just for one more—” His arms went out to grab you and you flinched, taking a few steps back. His jaw tightened.

He was always afraid that he will see you run away from his touch. He felt as if his nightmare became reality - the thought of losing you too much for him to bear.

“Xavier, I can’t!” You trembled all over. Why did he make this so hard for you? “I can’t do this with you anymore, can’t you understand how much it hurts me?” The truth was at the tip of your tongue, craving to be spoken out loud.

“Why? Why does it hurt you? The only one who has a good reason to be hurt is me, you avoided me, ignored me, and for what? If you just talked to me honestly one time—”

“You are in love with someone else!”

The silence that followed was unbearable and seemed to last ages. Slow ticking of the clock was the only thing cutting through the tension, reminding you that the time didn’t stop, even if your heart seemed to do so.

You turned to him, the tears falling from your eyes in cascades now and your chest was coming up and down rapidly with how fast you were breathing.

The tears run down your cheeks quickly, making your vision less blurry. How you wished that they stayed in place, if that meant that you wouldn’t have to see Xavier’s pained expression, that quickly changed into one of utter confusion. You were shaking with how much you were feeling, your frustration pooling out of you in a form of shaking hands and bitten lips.

“I can’t continue being like this with you when I know that you’re in love with her! And I get it! I really do. She’s so wonderful, and so, so lovable. And I could never be her, no matter how much you would want me to be. I just don’t want to be a replacement anymore.” You continued, the desperation in your voice almost making you wince. You sounded pathetic and felt so embarrassed for it. You felt as if you were losing the ground beneath your feet.

“What?” He said completely stunned. He wasn’t moving a single muscle. “What on earth are you talking about?” He hissed, and took a step towards you, and when you shook your head and wanted to bolt through the door, he quickly grabbed you by your wrist and pressed your body close to his. You gasped at the contact, so sudden and forced. “No, stop running away from me!” He raised his voice, still holding your wrist tightly. You’ve never heard him sound so irritated. “Speak.” You kept your head low, when he was desperately trying to catch eye contact, but you couldn’t look at him right now. Not when your true feelings were basically flowing to the surface.

“About what? You really thought I didn’t know about your feelings for her?” You struggled to keep your voice from shaking. “Xavier, I know, and I knew from the very beginning, and you really don’t have to explain yourself to me. I really understand.” You tried to free your wrist from his grasp, but he held it too tightly. You needed to run, this conversation wasn’t supposed to happen, you didn’t even have a reason to be mad at him. You couldn’t blame him for not loving you romantically, nor for feeling this way towards someone else. You were only friends, and friends should be happy for each other when they find someone dear to them, not sick of the idea of losing the other to someone else.

“I’m afraid you actually don’t understand anything.” He sounded almost defeated. His voice back to its soft tone, but his hold on you unrelenting.

“It’s really okay, I—”

“No.” He scoffed. You finally gained enough courage to let your eyes meet his and you were instantly appalled at how furious he appeared to be. “It’s truly NOT.” He released your wrist and put his hands up to stroke his hair back. He breathed out loudly. “Who the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, confusion and irritation taking over his features completely. You never saw him wear that expression while talking with you.

“Oh, don’t make me—” You cut off, seeing his furious glare. You took a deep breath, stepped back from him and touched your cheek, trying to swipe the wetness caused by your tears. You failed, they were still coming down, one by one, making your efforts futile. “MC. You know that I mean MC.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” He groaned and let his head fall back. He covered his face with his hands for a second, and when he looked at you again, you couldn’t read his expression correctly. “Who told you about it? Where did you get it from?”

“Jeremiah.” That’s all he needed to know. And apparently it was enough for him to grasp the situation. He laughed humorlessly and shook his head, his hands squeezed tightly into fists by his sides.

“I will strangle him this time. I swear, I will—”

“Oh, please, Xavier, stop! What’s so wrong about me knowing? I was glad that someone finally enlightened me!” You couldn’t believe that he was so angry at you for knowing such an important thing. Not when from the moment Jeremiah said that he had a thing for MC for a long time, you wondered why he kept that a secret from you. “You never even said a word about it even though I thought we were best friends. I had to learn from someone else and that already hurt.” You wanted this conversation to be over. You wanted him to admit to it already and let you go away, with a broken, but at least free heart.

But he had different plans.

“Have you maybe thought that I never said a word about it simply because it wasn’t true?” He asked carefully, his voice still angry. “I just can’t believe you thought that I loved someone else—”

“What?” Your mind went blank. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “What do you mean it’s not true?” You sniffed quietly, confusion taking over your face.“B-But Jeremiah said that you had a past with her and—”

“I did. I had feelings for her once, but that was literal lifetimes ago!” His irritation didn’t ease in the slightest. “I had feelings for someone who looked similar to her. But she’s not the same person anymore, and even if she was, I couldn’t possibly fall in love with her. Not now, not ever.” You stopped in your tracks, trying to analyze everything he was saying to you and failing miserably at it. You looked at his face, your expression puzzled, searching for an answer there, hidden between his beautiful, soft features. It shocked you to see that now he started to calm himself down, gaze genuine, an image of complete transparency.

You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea that you were mistaken. All this time, when you thought you never stood a chance, when you thought that he loved another, when you wanted to let him go—

“You’re not in love with MC.” It wasn’t a question anymore, your voice quiet while you were trying to process that thought. He must’ve seen how you fought with the thoughts inside your head, because he released a groan and took a step towards you. You unintentionally took one step back. He frowned.

“Of course I’m not.” Voice sweet like honey, stance sure, his eyes searched desperately for yours. He looked at your face, covered in tears and his eyebrows furrowed deeper, hating how upset you seemed and didn’t know how to reverse it. “How could I ever be, when your face is all I can see, every time I close my eyes?” He uttered looking at you with such devotion that it almost made your knees buckle.

Complete silence took over your thoughts after his confession. You didn’t know what was happening.

But fortunately, his mind finally started to piece everything together in a picture, that although was beyond frustrating to think about, was giving him so much hope for something he thought he already lost.

He allowed himself to relax, took a deep breath and finally decided to drop his inner shackles, letting his emotions flow out of him without restraint.

“You are the one that I love.” He said clearly, not moving a muscle. He wondered if you could see the quick movement of his chest, with how hard his heart was trying to escape through it to reach you. Whereas, you felt as if yours stopped moving completely, along with the time around you, not ready to believe that this was truly happening. “It was you from the very beginning. I adored you since the day I first saw you.” He continued, his gaze piercing into your face, slight confusion visible on his features. “And I thought that was obvious? I wasn’t exactly the best at hiding my feelings, especially after I told you about them the first night we spend together.”

You blinked slowly. Once, then twice.

Your head hurt. You couldn’t wrap it around everything he was saying. Xavier was in love with you? And he already told you about it? You were so confused that the only way you knew how to react was with denial.

“You—You didn’t. I didn’t know, you are not being serious.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“I did. You really don’t remember?” His tone softened, and he waited a short second for your answer, but couldn’t contain his nerves. “It was the night I kissed you for the first time, thinking that would be the last. But you reciprocated.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and you found yourself holding your breath, afraid even the slightest sound might interrupt the flow of his confession.

“You—You kissed me back, and let me do things to you I only ever dared to dream about before.” He took another step your way, a small smile grazing his handsome face. “And the confession slipped out of me so naturally before we even reached the bed.” He briefly recalled that fateful night, describing the conversations you forgot, but longed to remember since that very moment.

“You didn’t reply, but you responded nicely to my touch, so I thought that meant that you wanted me too, that maybe you’d accept me. As your beloved. Your soulmate.” You brought your hand to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. “But then in the morning when you woke up, you were panicking. I tried to reassure you, but you weren’t listening to me.”

That part of the story you knew by heart, him telling you that he couldn’t forget, didn’t want to forget. Back then you didn’t connect it with anything close to confession, but more with the change in your relationship. You really didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, you didn’t even dream about him loving you, when you thought that he loved MC. Insecurities and false assumptions completely clouded your vision.

“And when you proposed staying friends, with the bonus of intimacy, of course I took the chance. I thought you remembered my confession and didn’t reciprocate my feelings, but I was so desperate that I would take anything you were willing to give me, even if it didn’t involve your love. I—” he cut off, blush flushed over his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. He took a shaky breath. “I was clinging to the hope that maybe through the new shared intimacy I could show you how much you meant to me. And maybe, maybe someday you would start feeling the same, when you realized how good we are together and how good I can be for you.”

“Xavier—Oh my god.” You breathed, your hand still covering your mouth, your eyes never leaving his face. His beautiful, starstruck face, now so full of confusion and unspoken hurt. “Bunny, I’m so, so, so sorry. I had no idea, I—” Your voice practically a whisper, you were still coming to terms with the fact that your feelings were reciprocated. And that you were the one who complicated things between you. “I don’t remember anything you said to me that night. I couldn’t even hear you through the sound of my own blood thrumming in my ears, that’s how drunk I felt. How overwhelmed after our first kiss.”

The alcohol consumed that night also wasn’t of big help. You were a lightweight and you drunk only occasionally, so the few drinks you had already made you feel dizzy. Mixed with the intensity of your emotions, it overwhelmed you so intensely that his touch was all you could remember from that night. But now you could make it all alright.

“I only remember your touch, the things we did, and our conversation the next morning. I remember touching your hand and initiating the kiss, and my tipsy brain just thought that you went with it to forget about MC.” You said truthfully, letting it all pour out of you. Your cheeks burned with the embarrassment of admitting how desperate you were for him, that the thought he loved another didn’t stop you from having sex with him.

Then the blush deepened from the realization that from the very beginning the only one he was thinking about was you.

This thought made your head spin, the happiness slowly bubbling in your chest. Your whole body trembled.

“That’s— Fuck. You really don’t remember.” He shook his head again, realizing how deep the misunderstanding reached. “You didn’t initiate anything. I was the one who kissed you first.”

“No, I—”

“Yes. You touched my hand, smiled at me contentedly and said some things and I—I just couldn’t restrain myself any longer.” This time you were the one who started approaching him slowly. You needed him close. Always. And you realized that now you didn’t have any reasons to deny yourself that lack of distance. “You looked so soft, so open and kissable, and I just went for it. And then you reciprocated.” The light in his eyes started sparkling when he noticed that you were finally coming closer to him. He reached out his hand for you and you took it gently, still shaking from the unspoken emotions.

“I can’t believe it. All this time I thought that you were in love with someone else.” His hand was warm, the touch electrifying. You squeezed his hand and intertwined your fingers together. You saw how between your clasped hands, his Evol started shining brightly, shading soft light upon your features. It was a sign that he was excited. “I tried to put a distance between us, end this intimacy because I thought that I was just a second best for you. An easy distraction.”

“How could you think that? Almost from the moment I met you, I have loved you passionately—” He brought you even closer together, pulling you by your intertwined hands, and put his other hand on your cheek. He swiped the reminder of your tears with his fingers, looking into your eyes with a devotion so apparent that it took your ability to form coherent thoughts. How did you manage to miss the way he was always looking your way?

“X-Xavier.”

“I couldn’t even think about anyone else even if I tried to. You occupy my every thought. How could I ever find a place for somebody else in my heart when you fill the space out completely?” Everything that came out of his mouth was laced with impatience. He was trying so hard to make you understand him, and the intensity of his emotions. He couldn’t psychically hold it inside anymore, he restrained himself for so long that he felt as if all of his walls finally crumbled. He needed you to know everything.

“I love you, starlight. I’m so in love with you that I couldn’t contain that feeling inside anymore. I couldn’t even spend five minutes in your presence without trying to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you. My whole body longs for you constantly.” He said, thinking about the months after you started being friends with benefits. How at first, he wasn’t sure how much he could take from you, and then, when he noticed that you didn’t mind the affection outside the bedroom, he couldn’t contain himself. He kissed you every time he had a chance, he touched you everywhere he could, he was trying to stay away from you as little as possible. Despite thinking that you did not reciprocate his feelings fully, his love for you flowed out of him naturally, every look and every touch laced with unconditional devotion.

During the period of your silence and avoiding him, he thought that it was because he finally crossed a line. He let his feelings out too much, he finally made you uncomfortable. He was starting to act as you lover, not as your friend and it wasn’t what you agreed to. He thought you still didn’t love him and maybe that was a sign that you never will. And even if that could be the case, he still couldn’t let you go.

And it appeared that he didn’t have to.

That you were not uncomfortable, but unsure.

That it was all a huge misunderstanding.

And the words that came out of your pretty, little mouth next, almost brought him to his knees.

“Xavier. Xavier me too, I—” You stuttered, completely overwhelmed by how much you were feeling. You squeezed his wrists, and looked deep into his beautiful, hopeful eyes. “I love you too. And I fell in love with you long before our first night together. I just thought that it was wishful thinking, because your heart was already taken by someone else. And that I could just stay beside you as your friend and that would be enough. And then share your bed from time to time, if that meant that I could hold you close, be on the receiving end of your affection.” You said and raised on your feet to place a quick kiss on his lips. He chased after you instantly, despite appearing stunned. You noticed his hands were shaking.

“You really mean it?” He asked, leaning towards you, kissing your lips again, this time for longer. He had trouble keeping his mouth away from yours, especially now, that he knew that every one of your kisses was filled with love. “Am I not dreaming this time?” You smiled and stroked his hair affectionately, petting his head, wanting to convey your feelings in every way possible.

“Xavier, I love you.” You repeated, grabbing his head in your palms and looking deep into his eyes. Your voice was strong, leaving no room for uncertainty. “I love you so mu—” He didn’t let you finish that sentence, because he quickly picked you up and spun you around, holding you in his arms. You giggled and put your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, his face buried in your neck. When he stopped, he quickly found your lips again and that kiss felt groundbreaking.

He held you close to him, one hand squeezing you by your waist, and the other holding your jaw gently. His brows furrowed in desperation and his kisses were slow, sensual, sending pleasant shocks throughout your whole body. His tongue made an appearance, and he tasted you in a way that made your legs feel like jelly. He licked into your mouth, grunting lowly, his fingers placing a strand of your hair behind your ear, then tracing patterns on your warm cheek. When you opened your eyes for a second, you could see that the tips of his ears were red. The blush spread through his cheeks too, making him look so adorable.

“It does feel like a dream.” He breathed between kisses. “And sounds too good to be true.” He captured your lips again and you smiled into his mouth. Your heart was about to burst.

“I love you.” You repeated, basking in the feeling of finally being able to say it out loud, be open with your emotions. He released your lips and kissed your forehead. You looked up, and he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, a wide smile adorning his face.

“Don’t stop saying that. You make me so happy.” He said quietly, and you whispered the confession once again, making him sigh shakily.

“I was so stupid. I should’ve asked you right from the start if what Jeremiah said was true.” You said and hugged him more tightly. “I should’ve told you sooner.” You placed your head on his strong chest, your ear touching his bare body, listening to his fast heartbeat. Your hands were hugging his waist, mindful not to touch his bandaged back.

“No, I foolishly thought that telling you once would suffice. I forgot that you drank that night and that could’ve clouded your memory.” He squeezed you harder to himself and started back away with you in his arms, until the back of his legs touched his couch. He fell into it, holding you close, making you sit on his lap. “To think that I could have you sooner—” He looked into your eyes, as if searching for something.

“You had me before, and you have me now. My heart, my body, my soul.” You positioned yourself more comfortably, placing your legs on both sides of his waist, and took his face into your hands. He closed his eyes at the contact, and started to caress your body, from your waist, down to your legs. He squeezed the plush of your tights and let his head fall against the couch pillows.

He couldn’t believe that this was happening. He prayed that this wasn’t a dream, that all of the things you were telling him were true. His chest vibrated pleasurably, incredible warmth spreading through it. His heart beat so quickly, and so loudly that he thought it was the first time he felt its’ beat so intensely himself. Your words made him feel drunk with emotion.

He opened his eyes to look at your face.

He almost choked with how beautiful you were. How divine, sitting on him, caressing his shoulders, smiling at him with the stars in your eyes. He looked at your lips, full and swollen, bearing the signs of his kisses. He looked at your neck, delicate and unmarked, and he stroked it with the back of his hand, wanting to change that fact immediately, knowing that now he was allowed to do that. He switched his gaze to your eyes again and drank them in, basking in their light, wishing that this moment could never end. Or maybe it should, so it could become your new beginning.

You were his treasure. His star, his light, guiding him through life, making his existence worth pursuing. You showed him that the world can be beautiful, despite its overbearing cruelty. You were his salvation, his safe place, his one and only, showing him every single day that he mattered, that he was not a lost cause, or a villain in disguise. You taught him that he was capable of loving so intensely and now, that he was loved as passionately in return.

He doubted his worth, but the only way he knew to prove his love for you was by protecting you with his very life. You had no idea, but his sword, now a symbol of your bond, was yours to command—and you were the only reason he continued to wield it.

“What are you thinking about?” Your voice was not more than a whisper, your eyes still looking into his starry ones, losing yourself in the deep blue. You loved them, how magnificent and expressive they were, and you swore to yourself to tell him about it every day.

He seemed to get out of the trace he was in, and his eyes softened, still taking you in. He smiled and took your hands into his, and kissed your knuckles, his kisses gentle and long-lasting.

“You.” He replied shortly, his voice gentle and reassuring. He put your hands on his shoulders, making you hug his neck with them. You complied and put your whole arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer. One of his hands touched your waist, caressing it delicately, and the other one stroked your hair, admiring its’ softness. His eyes never left yours. “Always you, my starlight. Then, now, and till the end of my days. I will always carry you in my mind, and in my heart, to be able to reach you, no matter the distance.” You could feel his breath on your face with how close you were to each other, and he gazed at your open lips, which were already waiting to be kissed senselessly. “I love you, as I never loved anyone else in my life, and I never will again.” His lips captured yours in a kiss so soft, yet so desperate, and full of adoration, that you felt a single, happy tear escape from your eye. He deepened the kiss and held you throughout the night, kissing you and touching you, never wanting the moment to end, the warmth of your skin to become a memory.

It all started with the simplest of touches, and it never truly ended. The spark you ignited that first night has never faded. Since the moment you met, it has burned brightly between you both, a light so powerful that it could be seen across the vastness of deep space. Everlasting and exquisite, just like the different lifetimes you both had ahead of you, always finding each other, as if guided by its warmth.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank you for your time and please let me know if you liked it!! i was thinking of writing more for this au, maybe from xavier’s perspective? how they met and how he fell in love + how their first night really played out ♡

if u liked it, u can buy me a coffee here!: https://ko-fi.com/kitimeq

[slimearchon]

The Lads react to you lying on top of them and making biscuits on their titties

content warning: very demure titty fondling

a/n: i had a vision and wrote this down in like 5 mins

Xavier 💫

Not sure what you're doing but tries doing it back to you

You slap his hands away

Ok, so only you can do it, got it

Accepts his fate

Who is he to question his lover

Zayne ❄️

This is his life now huh

He opens his mouth to ask what are you doing and what's your thought process behind your actions, but then decides against it and closes his mouth again

This actually has a similar effect to an actual cat sitting on him, cause you look so content he feels too bad to tell you to get off so he can go do other stuff getting Zayne to rest lifehack

Rafayel 🪸

"Don't do this cat shit on me! Are you trying to gaslight me?"

"Gaslight you into what?"

"I don't know! Liking cats?! This seems like a manipulation tactic!"

"You're a manipulation tactic!"

You switch with him so he can make biscuits on your tits instead.

"Excellent argument. Carry on."

He flips you back over and lets you do as you please

Sylus 🥀

"Aww, is my Kitten making biscuits?"

"Silence, Tits McGee, I'm locked in."

He just laughs and lets you have your fun

Actually finds this to be pretty relaxing and ends up dozing off a little

Caleb 🍎

Oh this shit again

"Enjoying yourself?" He asks smugly.

"Your pecs have gotten smaller." You shoot back immediately.

He shuts up after that.

Carefully inspects his pectorals in the mirror that evening.

Isn't sure if they've actually gotten smaller but adjusts his training regimen just in case

[slimearchon]

That is so hot of him 👀

Also this 😂😂

[slimearchon]

if they wont give us a transparent kittyleb then I'LL DO IT MYSELF

[slimearchon]

Hello! What about one for mama’s prince or princess where somehow reader hurts herself? maybe needs to go to hospital or be put on bed rest.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s Prince P.5

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, angst? i really had to brain storm ideas for reader to be hurt lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Mama’s hurt

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It happened fast. You were just in the middle of arranging the massive seashell chandelier in the sunroom, something you and Raf had picked out in one of his whimsically romantic moods, when your darling baby boy toddled in, calling for you in his tiny lisped voice.

“Mamaaa…”

He looked so much like Rafayel it was unfair, those soft purple curls, sleepy blue-pink eyes, and even that lazy little smirk. And like his papa, he had a knack for pulling your attention in the most inconvenient ways.

So when he clung to your leg just as you stepped off the small stool…

Crash.

You don’t remember much after that except the sound of glass, your little one’s startled cry, and pain blooming sharply in your ankle.

Now, you’re on bed rest with a splinted foot, propped up on silken pillows in the center of your marital bed, surrounded by plushies and baby boy curled tightly against your side, clinging to your arm like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the earth. He hasn’t let go since Raf brought you home from the hospital.

And speaking of Raf,

He’s furious at himself. Pacing the room in a loose robe, wet hair still dripping from the bath he’d barely taken before racing to your side again. His jaw is clenched, the sharp angles of his cheekbones stark in the dim lighting, but his voice is soft as sea foam when he finally settles beside you.

“You’re not supposed to get hurt, pearlie. That’s not in your job description,” he murmurs, carefully adjusting your pillows and smoothing your hair back with trembling fingers. “Your job is to be pretty and pampered. That’s it. That’s it.”

Your baby boy sniffles, his small head nudging into your side. “I sorry Mama… I didn’t mean…”

You coo and pull him into your lap with effort, kissing his curls despite the ache. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Mama just got distracted by her two cutest boys.”

Rafayel scoffs softly but leans down to press a kiss to your bandaged foot, then one to your forehead, and finally one to baby boy’s.

“You’re both grounded,” he mutters. “Indefinitely. And I’m wrapping you both in bubble wrap.”

You giggle despite the pain. “You’re the one who bought the chandelier, Raffy.”

“…Shh.” He gently tucks the blanket around you both. “We don’t talk about my bad decisions. Only yours. Like standing up when you could’ve just called me.”

And just like that, you’re back in your estate, tucked in, spoiled, and loved to the moon and back. Even with your foot wrapped up, Raf makes sure you don’t feel anything but adored.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

It wasn’t anything dramatic. No wild incident, no fall from heights. Just you, in the kitchen, preparing Zayne’s favorite lemon tea, because he’d been working late again, and your sweet baby boy crawling around your feet, giggling every time you turned. You were smiling too, distracted by how adorable he looked in his tiny doctor onesie, a mini Zayne clone with that serious little pout and messy black hair.

But then your foot slid. Water from the kettle you’d just filled had splashed. You didn’t even realize until the sharp pain shot through your wrist as you instinctively caught yourself on the counter.

Your baby boy blinked up at you from the floor with wide hazel-green eyes, and your heart broke, not from the pain, but from the way his lip wobbled.

Zayne had you in the hospital within minutes. He left mid-surgery prep, coat still half-buttoned, his voice calm but terrifyingly cold as he gave orders over the phone to prep imaging for your arm.

Now, you’re home, wrist in a soft cast, on strict bed rest per Doctor Husband’s orders.

And Zayne? Zayne hasn’t left your side. He’s in full overprotective mode, cool, composed, but with a gaze that keeps flickering to your arm like he’s blaming himself for everything.

Your baby boy lays quietly on your chest, fidgeting with the blanket, sniffling every now and then.

“Mama… hurt ‘cause me…” he mumbles.

“Absolutely not,” Zayne says instantly from his seat beside the bed, voice low but firm. “Mama got hurt because I wasn’t there. That’s on me.”

You reach out with your good hand and thread your fingers through his.

“Zaynie, don’t say that…”

He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple with a tired sigh. “You’re not supposed to be doing anything. Not chores. Not making tea. Not carrying the world while I’m gone. You’re supposed to be spoiled rotten, remember?”

You smile faintly. “I was trying to be sweet.”

“You are,” he murmurs, kissing your wrist just above the cast. “But next time you want to be sweet, you’ll call me and I’ll come running. Understand?”

Your baby boy lets out a big sigh and hugs your tummy, mumbling, “Mama stay in bed forever now…”

Zayne gives a rare, soft chuckle, and shifts onto the bed to cuddle you both, cool palm resting over yours protectively.

“Not forever,” he says quietly. “Just until she’s healed. Then she’s back to being my overly pampered, dangerously distracting wife.”

He kisses your cheek again.

“And I wouldn’t have her any other way.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You weren’t even doing anything particularly wild, just reorganizing the top shelf of your shared closet, humming softly to yourself while your little boy toddled around nearby, dragging one of Xavier’s oversized sweaters like a blankie. He looked exactly like his papa. silver hair, calm blue eyes, and that distant, curious look like he was always thinking about the stars.

“Mama,” he called softly, holding the sweater up toward you. “This one smells like Daddy.”

You turned to answer, smiling, so sweet, so warm, and then your foot slipped.

A sharp thump. The world tilted. A heavy ache bloomed in your side.

The next thing you remember is your son crying, trying to pat your face with his tiny hands while you gasped from the pain, whispering, “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…”

Xavier was home within ten minutes, the entire top tier of the building in lockdown, a storm of calm silence and lethal precision. He lifted you into his arms so gently it made your eyes well up, not from pain, but from how tenderly he held you, like you were something rare, irreplaceable.

Now you’re in bed, ribs bruised and movement limited. Baby boy is curled into your side, unusually quiet, cheek pressed to your shoulder like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

Xavier sits nearby, pale hair slightly tousled, fingers steepled in front of his lips. His eyes are fixed on you both like he’s trying to memorize every breath you take.

“You should never have been standing on anything, my love,” he finally says, voice low and steady, but there’s that unmistakable tightness, his quiet, haunted guilt. “You should’ve called me. You know I would’ve come.”

“I know,” you whisper, brushing your son’s hair gently. “But I didn’t think, he just wanted to show me your sweater…”

Xavier rises slowly, moves to your side, and kneels so his face is level with yours and baby boy’s.

He presses a kiss to your temple, then gently kisses your son’s forehead too.

“It’s not your fault, little one,” he says softly to him. “It’s mine. I wasn’t here. That won’t happen again.”

“Xav…”

He cups your cheek, thumb stroking beneath your eye.

“You’re everything to me. You and him. There’s no universe where I let either of you get hurt again.”

Then, in a rare act of vulnerability, he climbs into bed with both of you, curling around your side like a protective shield, one hand lightly covering your stomach, the other stroking his son’s back.

The three of you lie there in silence, safe in your quiet cocoon, Xavier’s breath warm against your neck, baby boy’s hand curled around your shirt, and you in the middle, where you’ve always belonged.

“I’ll stay like this until you’re better,” he murmurs. “Longer, if you want.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were trying to be good. Really, you were. Sylus had warned you, sternly, not to touch the upstairs gallery until his private curator arrived. Something about new sculptures being too heavy to move. But your inner perfectionist itched, especially with your little boy toddling around proudly in a mini black turtleneck and slacks like his papa, holding a clipboard made of cardboard and pretending to inspect the art.

“Mama,” he said, puffing his cheeks like a tiny executive, “that’s not where the flower statue goes.”

You laughed and followed his lead, adjusting one of the smaller pedestals.

Then you tried to lift the marble vase.

Crack.

Your knee gave out under the weight, sending you down hard. A sharp yelp escaped you, echoing off the vaulted ceiling, and your baby boy’s clipboard clattered as he scrambled over to you in panic.

By the time Sylus arrived, you were on the floor clutching your leg, your son sobbing into your side, and your voice strained as you tried to calm him. The expression on Sylus’s face was the kind that made grown men beg for mercy, but when he reached you, it was all wiped away, replaced by something far more dangerous:

Pure fear.

Now you’re in bed, leg elevated and wrapped, his most trusted personal doctor on standby downstairs. Your little boy lies beside you, curled up against your good leg like a baby cat, sniffling every few seconds.

Sylus stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, red eyes dark with a smoldering intensity.

“You,” he finally says, voice low and dry, “are banned from every room above the ground floor until further notice. And he, ” he points to your son, who flinches, “—is no longer allowed to give artistic direction without adult supervision.”

“S-sorry, Daddy…” the little boy mumbles tearfully.

Your hand reaches out to rub his back. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong, Mama just didn’t listen to Papa.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Finally, some honesty.”

You pout at him. He moves closer.

The teasing tone fades as he kneels beside the bed and rests his forehead against your blanketed leg, brushing a kiss to your shin.

“I should’ve locked the damn gallery. You never listen when you get into decorating mode,” he mutters, voice almost too soft to catch.

Then his eyes flick up to you, and he reaches out to caress your cheek with a gloved hand.

“Next time you want to move something, you wait for me. Understand, kitty?”

You nod slowly. He leans in, kisses your nose, then kisses your son’s forehead.

“Daddy will fix it,” he whispers to both of you, curling onto the bed with that feline grace of his, gathering you into his arms.

“You just focus on being pretty and fragile and impossibly mine. I’ll take care of everything else.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

It was just a moment, barely a blink.

You were in the solarium, watering the wall of rare blooming vines Caleb had gifted you from his Farspace expeditions. Your little boy was nearby, dressed in his miniature Skyhaven cadet jacket, toddling after a stray butterfly that had wandered inside through the open glass doors.

“Mama! Look!”

You turned instinctively, smiling, he looked so much like Caleb it was unfair. That dark brown hair, those star-bright purple eyes, and even the same stubborn set to his jaw. But in that split-second glance, your foot twisted awkwardly on the garden step. You tried to catch yourself, but your shoulder took the full impact against the stone tile

Your baby boy was at your side in seconds, big eyes filling with tears. “Mama, Mama, owie?! Mama—!”

And then Caleb’s voice, sharp through the comm link, demanding to know why the med sensors in the solarium had activated.

He was home within ten minutes.

Now you’re tucked in bed, arm in a sling, with your little boy curled tightly into your uninjured side. He hasn’t stopped clinging to you since, little hands fisting in your robe like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

Caleb sits beside the bed, still in his uniform, gloves off, medals forgotten. He’s cleaning a tiny scrape on your knee with the same precision he’d use to defuse a bomb, jaw tight, expression unreadable, eyes darting between your face and every bandaged spot like it physically pains him to see you hurt.

“This was preventable,” he finally mutters, voice low and sharp with guilt. “I told them to install railings. Why weren’t they installed yet?”

“Caleb, baby… it’s not anyone’s fault,” you murmur. “He just got excited. I got distracted. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” he snaps, then pauses, breathes, his tone softening instantly as your son sniffles into your chest.

Caleb rises, leans over the bed, and cups your cheek with a rare gentleness.

“You’re everything to me. Both of you. You’re not supposed to fall, or bleed, or even flinch. I’ll have the solarium redone. Safer. Padded if I have to.”

“Ca—”

He hushes you with a kiss to your forehead, then one to your son’s head. “No more guilt. You protect our boy. I protect you.”

Then he pulls a blanket over all three of you and slides into bed, his body curling behind yours protectively, arm wrapped around your waist.

“From now on,” he whispers, breath warm against your ear, “you don’t lift a single finger without me watching.”

And true to his word, you don’t.

He becomes your shadow, protective, possessive, and maddeningly tender, because in Caleb’s world, his wife and baby are sacred.

[slimearchon]

Love a good jelly fic

Hiiii!! It's me again 🎀✨️...I suddenly got an idea. Like let's say Mc is watching a drama or reading a novel and the male lead is sooo good that she goes "omg..please become my husband" y'know fangirly mode. And how will the guys react to that! All that possessive jealousy and fluff..if you don't mind writing this. I feel like only you'd do this a justice 😭😭🎀

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Second husband

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, this is for allll the fangirling requests i got

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You fangirl over your fav male lead

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You’re sprawled out on your velvet chaise in one of the sun-drenched sitting rooms of Rafayel’s estate, a sheer lace robe over your lacy lingerie, sipping something sparkly while flipping through a romance novel. It’s so dramatic, an aloof villain-turned-devoted-husband who’s rich, cruel to everyone else, but worships his wife like a queen. You’re giggling and kicking your feet like a true fangirl.

“Oh my god… Please become my husband,” you sigh, absolutely swept away, clutching your chest dramatically. “That’s it. I’m getting a second husband.”

And Raf, who’s been lounging on the opposite couch sketching a seashell-inspired frame for your new vanity mirror, freezes.

His pencil snaps in half.

“…Second what?”

His voice is so sweet and singsong, but that slight twitch in his smile is dangerous.

You blink innocently, teasing, “Well he’s just soooo charming, cold and powerful but secretly soft for her? That’s sooo my type. If he proposed I’d say yes right away—!”

You don’t even finish before he’s already on you. Drops his sketchpad to the floor with a thud, climbs over you like a wave crashing the shore. One long leg on either side of you, his arms trapping you as he leans down, eyes glittering like an angry sea under moonlight.

“Oh?” he whispers, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. “So now I’m not enough for my precious housewife?”

You giggle and squirm but he’s already attacking, playful nips to your neck, fingers tickling down your sides, his cold rings trailing fire over your thigh. You’re squealing now.

“A second husband, huh? Should I call the movers again and have your whole wardrobe burned? Maybe he can buy you another. Or should I drown him instead?”

He’s so dramatic, so possessive, so pouty. You’re laughing but he’s growling like a feral cat, burying his face in your tummy like it personally betrayed him.

“You’re mine, pretty thing. Say it.”

You pout and whimper dramatically back, “I was joking Raffyyyy…he doesn’t even exist—!”

He just kisses your pout, deep and slow, like he’s trying to overwrite any memory of that fictional man.

“Then don’t say such cruel things again,” he mumbles against your lips, “or I’ll have to become even more fictional. Watch me rewrite your whole novel into just me.”

And from that moment forward, Every time you even glance at your novels, Raf’s there peeking over your shoulder like:

“Is he stronger than me? No. Prettier? No. A better husband? Hah. Let me know when he buys you a castle with hand-carved pearl bathtubs.”

And god forbid you giggle again. He’s instantly pulling you into his lap like:

“What did he say? Hm? Repeat it. Actually, don’t. I’m jealous enough already.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You’re curled up under a plush throw in Zayne’s private library, your tablet in hand and a steaming cup of tea beside you, courtesy of your ever-doting husband. He’s sitting across from you, going through patient charts, pristine in his dress shirt and slacks, glasses perched on his nose.

But you? You’re emotionally spiraling.

Because your favorite manhwa just updated.

And the male lead? A cold, overworked surgeon with a tragic past who’s secretly obsessed with the female lead. He just shielded her with his body during a building collapse, confessed with bloody lips, and called her his “only cure.” You let out a gasp so dramatic it actually makes Zayne look up.

“Are you alright?” he asks, clinically calm.

You clasp your chest with both hands. “Oh my god… please become my husband,” you whisper at the screen, eyes shimmering. Then louder, just to tease him:

“That’s it. I’m getting a second husband.”

Zayne blinks once. Then slowly sets his tablet down.

“…Excuse me?”

You peer up with a tiny smirk. “You wouldn’t understand, Dr Zayne. He’s just… so selfless and cold and obsessed and hot—”

He’s already standing.

Zayne walks over calmly and plucks the tablet right out of your hands. Doesn’t even look at the manhwa. Just sets it down and gently pushes you onto your back on the sofa, bracing himself above you with the quiet, unreadable expression he always has during surgeries.

“You want a second husband,” he repeats, tone flat. “Interesting.”

You can see the tiniest twitch in his jaw. Oh no. He’s jealous.

“You do realize,” he murmurs while running a slow hand up your thigh beneath the blanket, “if this fictional man really knew you, he’d see how easily you cry when you run out of syrup for pancakes. How you hum when you brush your hair. How you sneak cookies after dinner. You think he would handle you well?”

You’re already blushing and squirming but he’s so composed. So focused. His hazel-green eyes narrow, calculating.

“He wouldn’t know how to keep your iron levels up or how to ease your migraines. He wouldn’t know your skin’s exact sensitivity or the cadence of your breathing when you’re overwhelmed.”

Zayne’s voice drops lower, surgical smooth.

“But I do. I know everything about you. And if you ever ‘joke’ like that again…”

He kisses your cheek once, so gently. Then leans to whisper in your ear:

“I’ll prescribe you a month of tech detox. No manhwa. No tablet. Only me.”

You squeak and immediately start apologizing, hugging his neck and whining that you were kidding, and he hums with a smug little smile.

“That’s what I thought. You don’t need a second husband, sweetheart. You need to hydrate, and keep your hands off delusional fantasies.”

But the next day? He’s mysteriously started wearing black gloves and an open white coat at home. Like the manhwa ML.

And when you ask if he’s copying the character you liked so much?

He adjusts his glasses coolly and says:

“No. He’s clearly imitating me.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You’re wrapped in a mountain of silken blankets on the oversized bed in your penthouse, the air dim and cozy with the faint smell of candles and tea. Xavier is curled up beside you, half-asleep with his face buried against your shoulder, his breathing soft and even.

But you?

You’re kicking your feet and squealing because you’re rewatching your favorite historical drama, the one with the stoic general who sacrifices everything for the princess he loves. He’s got blood on his armor and tears in his eyes and he just said:

“Even if I must burn the heavens and betray the throne, I will protect you.”

You clutch your chest, eyes wide and glossy. “Oh my god… please become my husband.”

You gasp and press your face into your pillow dramatically. “I’ll marry you in every timeline. That’s it—I’m getting a second husband.”

You hear the soft rustle of sheets behind you.

And then—

“You’re already married in every timeline.”

Xavier’s voice is quiet, almost sleepy, but his arms are already tightening around your waist, dragging you back into his embrace like you belong there. His silver hair tickles your neck as he nuzzles close, no trace of emotion on his face, but you can feel the pout in his grip.

“Why would you want another husband?” he mumbles, as if you’ve just wounded him deeply. “Do you want a sword next time? Or a war horse? I can bring one.”

You giggle and try to turn back to the screen, but he rolls with you, pinning you beneath him with lazy, catlike precision.

“No,” he says simply. “No more watching.”

You gasp, “Xavi! It’s the final battle—!”

But he rests his head on your chest and closes his eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. He dies. I read the synopsis.”

You blink. “You what?”

He doesn’t answer. Just holds you tighter.

“He’s fictional. I’m not. And I don’t need a palace or a title or a horse to ruin the world for you. Say you’ll only have me.”

You pout, playing along. “Even if a general prince confesses with blood on his lips?”

He opens one blue eye.

“Even if a god kneels in gold, you are mine.”

You squeal and kiss his forehead, and he hums happily like you’ve given him all the reassurance he’ll ever need.

But after that, Xavier becomes very aware of every historical drama you start.

“Is he stoic again?” he murmurs one night, kissing down your collarbone. “Cold and devoted? I can do that too. I’ll rewrite history if I have to.”

Possessive Xavier doesn’t yell. Doesn’t scold. He just clings. Sleeps wrapped around you tighter. Kisses your hands like you’re his queen in exile.

And casually says things like:

“If I were born then, I’d be the one hiding a blade in your hairpin. I’d bury empires for you.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’re lounging in your marble soaking tub, bubbles up to your shoulders, wearing that expensive silk headband Sylus bought just to keep your hair out of your eyes. Your tablet is propped up on a gilded stand, and you’re deep in your reread of your absolute favorite manhwa, the one with the cold, terrifying Duke who rules the north, never smiles, murders nobles with his bare hands… and then turns into a love-crazed fool for his sweet wife.

And this chapter?

He just broke off an engagement, kicked in a ballroom door, and declared in front of the entire empire:

“She belongs to me. Touch her, and I’ll erase your bloodline.”

You slap the water. “OH MY GOD. PLEASE become my husband—”

And then you giggle, teasing under your breath like a brat, “Honestly… I should just get a second husband. A Duke, like him.”

You hear it. That sound.

A slow, deliberate click of a door opening.

You peek up over the rim of the tub.

Sylus is standing in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly damp from the rain outside. His eyes glow that eerie crimson and he tilts his head as he speaks, voice low and silken:

“What was that, princess?”

You blink. “Oh. Um. Nothing.”

He’s already stepping closer, loosening his cufflinks as he watches you with that quietly unhinged little smirk.

“You were comparing me to a fictional man again, weren’t you?”

You shrink a little. “Well, he’s cold and terrifying and secretly romantic—”

He drops to a crouch beside the tub, hand dipping into the water as he cups your jaw and makes you look at him.

“And what exactly do you think I am, sweetheart?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Gulp.

Sylus chuckles darkly and kisses your cheek gently, mockingly.

“I have twelve armories. A fleet of assassins. I bought a continent last week. And you’re fantasizing about a duke in a cape? What did he do, raise his voice once?”

“You want me to play your little story? Fine. You’re now the duchess of my empire, and I’m the cruel tyrant who locks you in his estate to keep you safe from the nobles who ‘want a taste.’”

You blink rapidly. “…That actually sounds kinda hot—”

He grins wide. “Thought so.”

He snaps his fingers and calls one of his aides into the room just to say:

“Prepare a red ballgown. She’s attending the council meeting with me tomorrow as my ‘obsessive’ wife. I want her sitting on my lap while I execute a traitor.”

You: “SYLUS—!”

But he’s already pressing a kiss to your wrist, eyes glinting with dark glee.

“You don’t need a second husband, pretty girl. Just tell me the fantasy and I’ll make it real. Even if I have to burn a country down.”

The next time you open that manhwa?

Sylus scoffs. “He’s not even holding her neck right. Amateur.”

And you’re squealing and blushing as he flips the tablet off and declares:

“You want to be ruined by a cold duke? Get over here and let me show you how it’s actually done.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

It’s a lazy Skyhaven afternoon, and you’re cuddled up on the oversized cloud couch in Caleb’s penthouse, dressed in one of his big Farspace Academy shirts. Your hair’s in a messy bun, snacks within reach, tablet on your lap, and your favorite K-drama blaring: “Doctor of the Moonlight.”

The male lead?

A gorgeous, cold trauma surgeon with a tragic childhood and silky hair that always falls into his eyes. He saves lives with one hand, shatters hearts with the other. But the moment he gently tucks the heroine’s hair behind her ear after she sprains her ankle on a rainy rooftop?

You clutch a pillow to your chest, starry-eyed.

“Please become my husband,” you sigh dreamily. “That’s it. I’m getting a second husband. One with a PhD and arm veins.”

And somewhere behind you… there’s a pause. Then:

“Excuse me?”

You turn and see Caleb, still in his black officer uniform, leaning against the kitchen counter, a glass of water forgotten in his hand. His purple eyes are narrowed. His jaw ticks.

“A second husband?” he echoes, voice low and dangerously calm. “You want some pretty-boy drama doctor who cries over surgeries to take you away?”

You blink. “It’s just a show, he’s so gentle and calm and—”

He’s already stalking toward you.

Drops onto the couch like a panther and pulls you onto his lap without another word. His arms wrap tightly around your waist as he leans in, nose brushing your cheek.

“I flew into an asteroid field for you,” he growls softly. “I’ve bled, killed, and retired an entire fleet just to make sure you never lift a finger again.”

You pout playfully. “But does he look good in scrubs?”

Caleb grins, slow and dangerous. “pips, I look good in my colonel uniform”

Then he flips the tablet shut and tosses it onto the table with military precision.

“You want a doctor? Fine. I’ll be your doctor.”

He adjusts his grip, one hand slipping under your thighs to carry you like you weigh nothing.

“Mandatory health check. Right now. Can’t have my wife fantasizing about other men while she’s clearly suffering from a short-term memory issue.”

You squeal and cling to him, whining that you were joking, but he’s already carrying you off, kissing your cheek and murmuring:

“Don’t need a second husband, sweetheart. You need to be reminded who your first—and only—one is.”

Later, when you’re curled up on his chest, pouting and saying the drama doctor was still cute, Caleb just hums and strokes your hair lazily.

“Tell you what,” he whispers. “Next time I’m deployed, I’ll film myself dragging a soldier out of an exploding ship with one arm. You can have your little K-drama moment then.”

You whine, “That’s not romantic!”

And he just kisses your nose, utterly smug.

“You married a colonel, not a drama actor. But if I ever catch you giggling at him again…”

He pulls you closer, voice dropping.

“I’ll ground you.”

[slimearchon]

You didn’t mean to hit him. You really didn’t.

You were just trying to push him back playfully, hands on his chest as he teased you relentlessly, grinning like a devil. But he leaned forward at the exact wrong moment, and your palm connected—not with his shoulder, but squarely with his face.

There was a sickening little “thump.”

Then silence.

“Oh my god—Xavier!” you gasped, rushing to him as he stumbled back, hand instinctively flying to his nose. “I didn’t mean—Are you okay? I’m so sorry—Xavier, shit, you’re bleeding—”

Panic flared in your chest as you reached for him, trying to tip his head back, your hands fluttering uselessly. “I didn’t think—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

But then he looked up at you.

And smiled.

That lopsided, heat-slicked grin that melted your words right off your tongue. His nose was bleeding, face flushed, but his eyes—half-lidded, dazed, hungry—locked on yours like you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh...wow..” he murmured, almost in awe. “that was…”

He licked a drop of blood from his upper lip, and his smile deepened, that dazed, turned-on look spreading across his face. “That was really hot...”

Your jaw dropped, he can not be for real right now...right??Maybe you accidently gave him concussion too, he is probably deluded from pain an—

He tilted his head slightly, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, and that pleased, breathless grin widened. “You get so worked up when you’re worried,” he murmured, leaning forward, and you couldn’t tell if the tremble in your hands was from guilt or the way he was suddenly looking at you like that.

“…You gonna kiss it better?”

Saw this piece of a masterpiece by juyo (in tumblr @stardustdusting) and had to get out of bed at 5 am to write about this. (JUST LOOK AT HIM GAWWD)

@uzmacchiato dividers!

[slimearchon]

just reread your crybaby MC hcs and it made me feel sooo fluffy i need more plz plz plz i’m begging even just a part two 🥺💕

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ His crybaby P.2

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluffff, dramatic ness as always

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ He will always comfort you

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The moment it shattered, it was like the air was knocked from your lungs.

You stood there in the center of your gilded sea-view kitchen, frozen, staring down at the beautiful ivory-and-gold bowl now cracked tragically on the floor. Your favorite one from your Mariposa Rosé collection, the one Rafayel had custom-ordered from an eccentric island designer just because you said it looked “like a seashell that belonged to a princess.”

Your bottom lip quivered.

You didn’t even mean to drop it, you just got distracted scrolling through accessories for your new silk robe set, and then it slipped. One second, it was in your hands, and the next,

Snap. Crack. Shatter.

A sob bubbled up in your chest like a wounded little kitten.

You crouched beside the porcelain ruins with wide, glossy eyes, fingers trembling as you whispered,

“No… my bowl… it’s ruined… it’s all ruined… the whole set is ruined—”

And just like that, the tears welled up. Huge, glittering, spoiled tears spilling down your pretty cheeks.

By the time Rafayel appeared—drawn by your quiet, pathetic wail, he found you crouched on the floor in your frilly pink house robe, sobbing softly and pawing helplessly at the pieces like a princess mourning a fallen kingdom.

“Baby?” he blinked, dropping the novel he was reading. “What happened? Did something—did someone—hurt you—?”

You pointed dramatically at the broken bowl.

He followed your gaze. Then blinked again.

“…That’s it?” he said, baffled. “That’s what has my little pearlie crying like the world ended?”

“It’s not just a bowl,” you sniffled, crawling toward him on your hands and knees like a sulky little cat. “It was my favorite, Raffy. It’s from the seaside rose line, now the whole set is off. You can’t just have five bowls! It’s—it’s cursed now!”

He barely managed to suppress a grin, crouching to meet you and pulling you into his lap with a sigh.

“My dramatic little darling,” he cooed, rubbing your back with slow, soothing strokes. “You break a single dish and suddenly the whole home is haunted.”

You swatted his chest half-heartedly with your little fists. “Don’t tease me! I’m upset!”

“I know, I know,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your eye gently. “I can see you’re devastated. Absolutely tragic.”

You sniffled harder and collapsed into him. “Raffy… I really liked that one… It was so pretty. I was gonna make fruit salad in it for you tonight…”

“Oh, that I care about,” he teased, though his voice was already soft with guilt and fondness. “No fruit salad? That is a crime.”

You whimpered and buried your face into his neck, clinging to him with both arms like the big strong comfort plushie he always became when you were sad.

“Shhh,” he murmured into your hair, rocking you just slightly. “Don’t pout, little crybaby. I’ll call the designer in the morning, hmm? We’ll get another full set. Or two. One to use and one just to look pretty on the shelf.”

“Y-You promise?” you hiccupped.

Rafayel smiled, cradling your cheeks between his hands and kissing the tip of your nose.

“I’ll do one better,” he said smugly. “I’ll have him name the next set after you.”

Your eyes lit up through your tears. “Like… the wifey Collection?”

“Exactly,” he purred. “Inspired by the prettiest little housewife in the world. Comes in pink. Exclusive. Only one exists. No touching allowed unless you’re married to her.”

You blinked. Then flung your arms around his neck again with a squeaky, dramatic wail:

“You’re the only one who understands meee!”

He chuckled warmly, carrying you off the kitchen floor like you were fine china yourself.

“No more touching dishes, angel,” he murmured against your ear. “From now on, you’re banned from the kitchen. I’ll do all the cooking. Or we’ll just hire another chef. You can sit on the counter and look pretty while I feed you grapes.”

You sniffled. “…Okay.”

He grinned. “That’s my good little baby.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. Zayne had just gotten home from the hospital, white coat off, sleeves rolled up, shirt half-unbuttoned as he moved around the estate’s sleek kitchen preparing tea for the two of you while you fussed with plating pastries on your beloved designer tea set.

The Porcelaine Blanche d’Étoile collection. Limited edition. You made him fly you to the private showroom in Italy to pick it out.

And then you dropped the plate.

It slipped right through your freshly moisturized fingers.

The crash echoed through the marble like a thunderclap.

Zayne’s head snapped around immediately, but you were already frozen, arms outstretched, eyes wide, looking down at the shattered porcelain with horror like you’d just witnessed a crime scene.

“Z-Zaynie,” you whispered in despair. “I broke it…”

He was already walking over, concern in his eyes, until he saw it was just a plate. Then he stopped short, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a small exhale.

“Angel. It’s just one dish—”

“No it’s not!” your voice cracked.

And then your lip trembled. Your cheeks flushed. And just like that, you were crying.

“Now the whole set’s ruined—” you hiccupped as fat tears began to trail down your cheeks. “It’s not complete anymore and I can’t look at it without seeing this stupid, ugly gap and, and the pattern won’t line up now and—I liked that one the most! It had the starburst mark right in the middle…”

Zayne blinked. Slowly.

Then sighed.

“Of course it did.”

You whimpered louder, kneeling dramatically beside the shattered remains in your silken robe like a weepy widow. “It’s not fair! That set was perfect… now it’s cursed, tainted, ruined—”

“Okay, come here.” He reached for you, scooping you up into his lap right there on the kitchen floor. “You’ll give yourself a nosebleed if you cry any harder over porcelain.”

“But Zaaaayne,” you sobbed, burying your face into his shirt. “I can’t just replace it, it’s limited edition!”

Zayne rubbed slow circles into your back, letting you sob into his chest as he cradled your tiny frame with the same steady gentleness he used in the OR. His voice was low, calm, but tinged with the smallest amused sigh, because this? This was classic you.

“Okay,” he murmured into your hair, “I’ll call the curator at the Milan showroom. You’re still on their private list, right?”

“I don’t know!” you wailed. “What if they’re sold out? What if they’re gone forever?!”

“Then I’ll find the original artist and commission a new one,” he said flatly, already mentally pulling strings. “A better one. With a reinforced edge. And your initials engraved.”

You peeked up at him through wet lashes. “Really?”

Zayne brushed your hair gently behind your ear and leaned in to kiss the tears from your cheeks.

“Of course,” he said softly. “I don’t care if you break every dish in this house. You’re still my spoiled little wife. I’ll replace them all ten times over if it keeps that pretty pout off your face.”

You sniffled. “…Ten times?”

He gave a low hum. “At least. Though if you break another one in the next 48 hours, I’m bubble-wrapping the entire kitchen.”

You let out a soft whine and pressed into his chest like a needy kitten, arms looping tightly around his waist.

“Cuddle me until I forget it happened.”

“You’re not moving until morning,” he muttered, already standing with you in his arms. “I’ll bring the pastries to bed. You can eat off my chest if you’re scared of plates now.”

You mumbled, sleepy and teary and spoiled:

“…You’re the best.”

He kissed your temple with a low exhale and whispered against your skin:

“I know, baby. I know.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The cup slipped from your fingers while you were showing it off.

You had just spent the whole morning twirling around the penthouse in your soft, lace-trimmed robe, gently rearranging the display cabinet Xavier had custom-built just for your Mythic Dream tea set. It was whimsical and elegant and sparkly and rare, hand-painted in shimmering moonlight hues with little dream creatures on every piece.

You were holding your favorite one, the lavender-and-blue cup with the little winged rabbit on it, and twirling as you told Xavier exactly what dessert you were planning to match it with.

And then it was gone.

One slip.

Clink. Crack. Shatter.

You froze. The smile dropped off your face.

Your heart sank with it.

“…Bunnycup,” you whispered, staring in disbelief at the porcelain wreckage on the polished marble. “I—I dropped my Bunnycup…”

From his place lounging on the couch with his datapad, Xavier looked up slowly, head tilted.

“…You dropped what?”

“My favorite one,” you said breathlessly, your voice wobbling. “It’s gone. It’s dead. She’s gone.”

“…Oh,” he said, blinking slowly.

You turned away from him abruptly, crouched in front of the shattered piece like a mourning widow. Your eyes brimmed with tears. You looked at it like you were at a funeral.

“I dropped her. She was the prettiest one. And now she’s dead and the whole cabinet is cursed and—” you sniffled, “I was gonna make violet cake for her…”

You let out the softest broken sob.

Xavier stared.

Then carefully set his datapad down.

“…Wait, are you crying?”

You didn’t answer. Your sniffles got louder.

“Starlight?”

You wailed louder and flopped down fully onto the rug beside the wreckage, tearfully hiding your face in your sleeves.

He was beside you in seconds, sliding down to his knees with furrowed brows and frantic hands.

“Did it cut you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you hiccupped. “I’m emotional! That was my favorite cup and now she’s gone! Her little bunny face is in shards—I named her!”

Xavier stared at the broken porcelain. Then at you.

“…You named it?”

“Her name was Cloudia!” you cried.

He blinked again. Then let out a helpless little breath and pulled you fully into his lap, tucking your head under his chin.

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was a funeral.”

“It is!”

“I’ll make arrangements.”

You sniffled.

He gently rocked you back and forth, eyes closing as he pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head.

“I’ll buy another,” he murmured. “A whole new set. No. Ten sets. All the bunnies. And wings. I’ll have someone make a sculpture of her. I’ll frame the shards. I’ll turn it into a shrine in the hallway.”

“R-Really?” you whimpered.

Xavier looked deadly serious. “I’ll build a moonlit garden in her honor.”

You hiccupped, peeking up at him through damp lashes.

“…I love you so much,” you whispered.

He cradled your cheeks in his hands, brushing away a tear with his thumb and kissing it.

“You are the most beautiful, sensitive, dramatic little thing I’ve ever loved,” he whispered back. “And I will mourn Bunnycup with you forever.”

You flopped into his chest again.

“Carry me to bed and feed me chocolate.”

He exhaled softly, lifting you with ease. “Consider it done, starlight.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

It happened during your ‘princess-core living room redecoration’ phase.

You’d decided one of the shelves needed to be “balanced” with something tall and whimsical, so Sylus (without question) had acquired an absolutely obnoxious but stunning vase: a slender rose-gold and opal heirloom piece from a royal estate, one of a kind, rumored to be enchanted. It had vines carved into the neck, subtle gold leafing, and shimmered like it had moonlight trapped in the glass.

You loved that vase.

And you shattered it trying to scoot the couch two inches to the left.

You didn’t even realize it was tipping over until it was already mid-air. Time slowed. You gasped, reaching for it like a damsel in a slow-motion tragedy,

CRASH.

You stood there frozen, socked feet on velvet rugs, clutching a throw pillow and staring at the sparkling ruin.

The shock hit first.

Then the guilt.

Then came the tears.

“Noooo…” you whispered, trembling as you dropped to your knees. “No, no, no… Sylus is gonna kill me, that was one of a kind!!”

Cue your dramatics. Full sobs. Teary gasps. Hiccupping into your hands as you wailed over the broken vase like it had been your childhood pet.

“I ruined it! It was so beautiful! It’s all my fault, now it’s goooone—!”

By the time Sylus entered the room, he found you on your knees, surrounded by glittering glass, hair slightly messy, cheeks wet, looking like a tragic little heiress from some tear-soaked opera scene.

He blinked.

Paused.

Then said, flatly:

“…You’re crying over the vase?”

You wailed harder.

Sylus sighed, unamused. “Darling. It’s a vase.”

“It was the prettiest one in the whole world!” you sobbed. “You said it was enchanted! I was gonna name it after us, put roses in it, now it’s gone forever and the whole room is unbalanced!!”

“Unbalanced,” he repeated, deadpan.

“I’m emotionally devastated,” you hiccupped.

A beat of silence.

And then his composure cracked.

He walked over in slow, deliberate steps, crouched in front of you, and tilted your chin up with his gloved fingers.

“Poor little thing,” he murmured, eyes glinting. “Is this how the world ends? Because your vase broke?”

You pouted at him with wet lashes and cried louder.

He chuckled darkly under his breath, kissed your pouty lips, then scooped you right off the floor like you were a little doll.

“You are the most dramatic creature I’ve ever loved,” he whispered, nuzzling your tear-streaked cheek. “You realize I could buy the entire estate that vase came from, yes?”

“But that vase is goooone—!”

“Then I’ll steal it back from the past,” he said, amused. “Or bribe the artist’s descendant to make you ten better ones. We’ll fill every corner of this house with glittering, gaudy glass. You’ll drown in roses and sparkle, my little crier.”

You sniffled against his chest.

He settled onto the settee with you curled in his lap, stroking your hair with idle fingers.

“Next time, call someone to move furniture,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in it. “You’re not allowed to cry unless you’re breaking someone else’s things. Understood?”

You looked up at him miserably. “…You’re not mad?”

He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“No,” he said. “But only because watching you weep like some grief-stricken little princess might be the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week.”

You whined, burying your face deeper into his expensive silk shirt.

“I want five vases. All pink.”

“Ten. And I’ll commission a painting of the broken one to hang above the fireplace. ‘The Fall of Opal,’ starring my very fragile little wife.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You were just trying to make him breakfast.

It was early. The Skyhaven penthouse was quiet, sunlight spilling across polished floors, and you, still in one of Caleb’s old black shirts with your bare legs peeking out, had just finished plating his favorite fruit on your favorite designer ceramic bowl. You were so proud. You were humming.

And then you bumped your elbow on the corner.

Crash.

The sound of shattering ceramic echoed like a gunshot.

You froze.

The bowl, the gorgeous, shimmering ceramic one from the exclusive Skyhaven artisan boutique, the one with tiny amethyst marbling, lay in pieces on the floor.

“No… no no no,” you gasped, hand flying to your mouth. “Not that one—please not that one…”

You sank slowly to your knees, devastated. The entire set had been your pride, your favorite for special mornings. And now the one with the prettiest veining was gone.

Your lip wobbled.

The tears were instant.

Caleb appeared in the doorway a few moments later, still in black sleep pants, chest bare, hair slightly tousled from bed, rubbing his eyes. “I heard something break.”

You whipped around with watery eyes, clutching your knees like a little girl.

“I broke it…”

He blinked.

“…You’re crying?”

You sniffled. “It was the prettiest bowl in the set. I was just trying to make you breakfast and now, now it’s ruined, and the rest will never look the same and I loved that bowl!”

Caleb’s entire expression changed in an instant.

The sleepy, casual look was gone.

He crossed the room fast, crouching in front of you and cupping your face.

“Did you cut yourself?”

“N-No…”

“Are you sure?” He grabbed your hands, inspecting them closely. “You’re trembling. You’re in shock. Breathe.”

You hiccupped. “I’m not in shock, I’m just, really really sad!! It was my favorite one, and now it’s shattered and ugly and the set is ruined!”

Caleb pulled you straight into his chest.

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, pressing a hand to the back of your head. “None of that matters. You’re okay. You’re okay. Don’t cry over something like that.”

“But I liked it,” you mumbled into his skin.

“Then I’ll buy you ten more.”

“It was limited edition.”

“I’ll commission a new set,” he said firmly. “Exactly the same. Better. Reinforced. I’ll put a standing order in with the artisan. You’ll never have to lift a hand again. You hear me, pips?”

You nodded weakly, sniffling.

He scooped you off the floor effortlessly, carried you to the couch, and wrapped you in one of the soft fleece blankets he always kept near in case you got cold. Then he sat beside you and gently tucked you into his lap like you were made of glass.

“I don’t ever want to see you cry over something like this again,” he murmured. “Things can be replaced. You can’t.”

You whimpered.

He wiped your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re not allowed to break down unless it’s me who breaks something,” he added, softer this time. “Understand?”

You nodded again, clinging to him like he was your whole planet.

“You’re not mad?”

He looked down at you, at your teary lashes, your pouty little lips, and shook his head once.

“No,” he whispered. “But I am upset.”

“Why…?”

“Because you thought I’d care more about a bowl than my wife’s tears.”

You sniffled, leaning up to kiss the side of his throat in apology

He stroked your hair slowly.

“I’ll clean it up. You stay here and cry it out in my lap. Let me take care of everything.”

[slimearchon]

Key:

🌟 Xavier ❄️ Zayne 🖌️ Rafayel 🐦‍⬛ Sylus 🍎Caleb 🦄 Multicharacter

Headcanons:

Best Friend! Zayne ❄️

Bodyguard HC 🦄

Caleb and Praise 🍎

Claw Machine Conundrum 🍎

Dancers of the Air 🦄

Dating an Older Woman

Flowers For You 🦄

Hades & Persephone 🐦‍⬛

Hot Hunter 🦄

How They Position Their Fingers 🦄

Noise Levels 🦄

Number of Kids 🦄

Pain Tolerance 🦄

Plus Size Reader 🦄

Poly 🦄

Reactions to reader saying she hasn't shaved down there🦄

Riding Caleb's Face 🍎

Someone You Loved 🦄

Spicy Secrets 🦄

Sylus is a switch 🐦‍⬛

Telling them to ditch the condom  🦄

Their nicknames for you  🦄

Unconventional Romp Spots 🦄

Underweight Reader 🦄

Voyeur!Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Oneshots:

A Tight Spot 🐦‍⬛ An unexpected kink.

Bunny Breeding 🌟 Come here little bunny it's time to be bred.

Caleb As A Virgin 🍎 What a sweet boi.

Check Please! 🐦‍⬛ While trying to avoid the disappointment of the current dating pool you almost end up offending your blind date.

Colonel Caleb... 🍎 Remember whose mercy you're at.

Dairy Queen ❄️🍎 You love being their cow.

Fresh Cream 🐦‍⬛ Another unexpected kink.

Halloween Makeup 🌟 Putting makeup while on his lap leads to other things.

Hold Me Tenderly 🍎 You are woken from a nightmare and forced to face some uncomfortable truths.

How To Court A Dragon 🐦‍⬛ You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions.

It's The Thought That Counts 🌟 A kinky Christmas present leads to more hot sexiness.

Just The Tip ❄️ Why do you make it so hard for him to praise you?

Let Me Take Care Of It 🍎 Gege will always help you.

My Beloved Boys ❄️🍎 Nostalgia hits hard as you remember a beautiful summer of the past.

Of Swords And Shovels 🐦‍⬛ Luke and Kieran inadvertently overhear you and Sylus having a heart-to-heart.

Paintbrush Lesson 🖌️ Rafayel teaches art in an interesting way.

Playing House 🍎 Won't you be with me forever?

Poison Flower ❄️ Dawnbreaker knows you're not really his.

Prescription for Pleasure ❄️ The doctor will see you now.

Promised Sands 🖌️ Faced with an unwanted arranged marriage, you pray for freedom.

Razor's Caress ❄️ Hair removal can be tough, good thing he's there.

Spring Break 🍎 The real reason you ask him to come home.

Study Session 🍎 Were you really going to make him wait while you read?

The Spaces In Between ❄️ Having two of him is such a blessing.

Touch Me, Touch You 🍎 What's the point in having fun if you're not as well?

Uncoded ❄️ Life as a background NPC kinda sucks.

Vanilla Twilight 🍎 Who else would you go to prom with?

When The Snow Melts ❄️ Back in his arms, a lifetime later.

Landscape Screenshots:

Absolute Zeal❄️

Night of Secrecy 🐦‍⬛

Misty Silhouette 🌟

Homecoming Wings I 🍎

Exclusive Aftertaste 🍎

Rain's Embrace 🍎

Intertidal Zone 🖌️

Where Hearts Live🐦‍⬛

Floating Floraletter 🍎

Fragrant Possession ❄️

Moodboards:

Sylus Rafayel Zayne Xavier Caleb

Random:

Eternal Attachment Birthday ❄️ Gojo and Sylus Absolute Zeal Rant ❄️ Homecoming Wings Rant 🍎 Gege Rant 🍎

Upcoming/Requests:

Headcanons

Jealous/angry/rough sex (combining 2 inbox requests, jealous Sylus and rough sex, multicharacter

Oneshots

[slimearchon]

"Need saving?"

SPIDERMAN!CALEB: Skyhaven's Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

[slimearchon]

Hiiii cutieeeee i am back with another idea 😈

So what if mama reader and baby go shopping and lads card declines (it can be a prank done by both mum and baby to see their reaction or maybe it happened due to an error and she pays via her own money) and the lads full on panicking for not being able to provide even for a second

🪼

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s Princess P.15

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ this is such a funny idea, im trying headcanons again, i missed you pookie wookie

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You and your babygirl decide to prank daddy

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- You and your baby girl are in a pastel boutique buying matching sea princess dresses, and the card declines with a cheery “Please try again!”

- You frown. Your baby frowns. You both go, “…Rafayel.”

- You call him and go, “Baby, your card was declined…”

- He gasps like you told him someone died.

“WHAT? No. That card is a symbol of my devotion. How could she do this to you???”

- You hear him running. He’s literally sprinting barefoot across the estate.

- “Don’t move. Don’t spend your money. Not one cent. That’s not what pretty hands are for!”

- He bursts in dramatically, hair windblown, and drops to his knees.

“Have I… failed my beloved?”

- Meanwhile your baby is clapping, enjoying the chaos, and you’re giggling cause you paid already.

- You reveal it was a prank and he immediately scoops both of you up.

“That was a CRUEL performance but you played your roles so well… now we go home and you get pampered until your dignity is restored.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- You’re out shopping for matching mother-daughter spa robes and silk pajamas when the cashier politely informs you, “I’m sorry, this card has been declined.”

- You raise an eyebrow, then lean down to your chubby babygirl with her two pigtails and whisper, “Let’s see how Daddy reacts when we tell him.”

- You FaceTime him from the store, all sweet and innocent. “Zaynie… your card declined. I didn’t want to use mine but—”

- His eyes flash with horror. “Declined? Are you safe? Where are you? Did you try another register? That’s impossible. I just, wait, don’t touch your wallet, I’m coming right now.”

- Leaves mid-surgery consultation, throws off his coat, barking at a nurse to call the bank.

- You try to calm him down like “Baby, it’s okay, we didn’t die,” but he’s already speed walking through the hospital, muttering, “Unacceptable. She shouldn’t have to lift a finger, ever.”

- when he bursts into the store 15 minutes later, out of breath and in scrubs, and sees you already paid, he looks at your card like it personally betrayed him.

- You finally crack and tell him it was a prank and he stares you down, then looks at his daughter and says:

“You’re in on this too, aren’t you? You’re just like your mother… dangerous.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- You and babygirl are buying another absurdly expensive stroller (because why not?) when the platinum card is declined.

- You’re like, “Hmm, that’s weird…” and your baby (who’s sitting in her sparkly shoes chewing on your Chanel brooch) goes, “Uh oh.”

- You casually text Xavier: “Hey, baby. Did you forget to pay the bank?”

- He replies:

“Impossible. The card pulls from an intergalactic fund account with 37 digits.”

“I’m on my way.”

- He walks in 10 minutes later looking like a sleepy mafia prince, hands in his coat pockets, hair tousled from a nap.

- “Who told my wife no?” he murmurs with dead eyes.

- The poor cashier is shaking. You’re trying not to laugh because you and your babygirl plotted this whole thing, and she’s now pretending to pout, clinging to you like she’s destitute.

- You break the act and say it was a prank. He just stares. Long silence. Then:

“Fine. But you’re both banned from plotting against me until I finish this nap.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- You’re in a private luxury showroom trying on a custom “Mama & Mini” power suit set, when they swipe his black card and the system says “declined.”

- You raise your brow and go, “Oh no. Is Daddy… poor?”

- Your baby girl looks up from her pile of tiaras and repeats, “Dada poor?”

- You call him on speaker. “Hey babe. We had a little… issue.”

- Instant silence. Then Sylus goes cold.

“What kind of issue? Where are you? Send me location. Did someone touch you?”

- You explain the card declined and you’re gonna just use your personal card, he snaps:

“Absolutely not. You don’t pay for anything. Ever.”

- Logs into 12 bank accounts, calls his finance officer, freezes the card just to be petty, then sends a guard and a suitcase of cash.

- Shows up later with baby’s favorite macarons, glaring at your bag.

- You confess it was a prank and he just breathes out slowly.

“You think you’re funny? Cute. Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I buy out the store and rename it after you.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- You’re shopping in Skyhaven’s exclusive aviation-themed baby boutique (of course), and your husband’s military card declines mid-purchase of a custom ride-on baby plane.

- The baby is sitting on it going “VRRRMMMM” and you’re like “Oh no… we’ve been cut off.”

- You text Caleb and he replies with a 👍 and then calls you 3 seconds later like:

“What do you mean declined. Is someone threatening my family’s access to comfort?”

- He calls Skyhaven Command. Has the tech team reviewing all card activity, like you’ve just been hacked by a deep space terrorist.

- “Do not spend your money. Stay there. I’m sending my aide with an override chip.”

- Meanwhile, your baby girl is dramatically sighing and saying “Daddy fix it,” and you’re like holding back giggles.

- He bursts in 20 minutes later in full uniform, serious as ever, asks you quietly:

“…Did I fail to provide?”

And you just MELT cause this man really thinks he failed you for 15 minutes.

- When you tell him it was a prank, he chuckles a little but is like:

“Don’t joke like that… my heart’s still racing. I thought I lost my privileges as your provider.”

[slimearchon]

Hmmm the lads men visiting reader who they find building a cabinet, mowing the lawn, plunging the toilet, etc etc and them going "pretty girl??? why are you doing physical labor???"

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ You’re not a maid, baby

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, crack, this is so funny, rafayel would totally have a wardrobe of different costumes for him and you for sexy time lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They find you cleaning

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He comes home humming, fingers still stained with pastel from whatever eccentric chaos he was up to (was it painting the koi pond pink? Who knows), and steps inside with a lazy smile, until he sees you.

You’re on your knees. In one of your softest, frilliest nightgowns. Elbow-deep in a soapy bucket, hand-wiping the skirting boards like some tragic princess cursed to clean her own castle.

Rafayel drops the canvas he was holding. Just lets it fall.

“…Baby.”

He sounds so gentle. Too gentle. His eyes are wide. “Are you… doing chores?”

You blink up at him. “The cleaning staff is off today, so I just thought—”

“You thought?” His voice cracks. “You thought my precious baby cupcake sugar-dumpling should be on the floor? Like some tragic unpaid intern in a drama?”

He’s on the floor beside you in seconds, gathering you in his arms like he’s rescuing a drowned kitten.

“I wasn’t even gone long, and look what happened,” he whimpers dramatically, nuzzling into your neck. “I left you unsupervised for five hours and you’ve become a Victorian servant girl.”

“But it’s not a big deal,”

“It is. Look at your little fingers!” He holds them up. “These are for holding diamonds and stirring tea, not scrubbing baseboards! What next? Shall I let you do taxes? Shall I allow you to fold laundry?” He gasps. “Oh my god, I’ve failed you.”

He picks you up, bridal style of course, and carries you straight into his art studio where he plops you on a heart-shaped chaise and wraps you in a sparkly throw blanket like a burrito.

“You’re grounded,” he says. “From labor. Forever.”

“…Can I at least clean the fish tank?”

“No. They can live in filth. But you? You live in luxury.”

Then he calls thomas and yells: “Send someone. My wife touched the floor. We’re in crisis.”

From that day forward, any time he catches you trying to lift a single feather duster, he gives you a scandalized gasp and clutches his chest like he’s been mortally wounded.

Also buys you ridiculous princessy cleaning outfits just for bedroom play purposes. But if you ever actually touch a mop again?

He’s “filing for an annulment in protest” (he won’t, he’s just dramatic and in love).

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

He comes home from a 12-hour hospital shift, already loosening his tie, only to freeze in the entryway.

“…what are you doing?”

His voice is low. Dangerously low. You glance up from scrubbing the floorboards on your knees, smiling, your nightgown soft and slightly slipping from one shoulder.

“The staff’s on leave for the week, so I just—”

“No.”

Zayne’s kneeling beside you in a heartbeat, pulling you up and inspecting your delicate fingers like you’ve just survived a minefield.

“You’re not scrubbing floors like a maid,” he mutters, furious but quiet. “You’re a wife, not a housekeeper. You make tea. You sit and look pretty. You kiss me when I get home.”

You pout. “But the baseboards were dusty.”

He lifts you into his arms bridal style. “So is my tolerance for this,” he mutters. You don’t touch another rag for the rest of the week. He even wipes down surfaces with medical-grade wipes himself, grumbling the entire time.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The door hisses open. He walks in silently… and stares. You’re dusting. In a sheer white nightgown with ribbons. On a stepstool.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares.

“…Xavi?” you say sweetly, dusting the top shelf. “You’re home early.”

You step down. He still doesn’t say anything. Just slowly walks over, takes the feather duster from your hands, and throws it out the window of the penthouse without a word.

“Why were you doing that?”

“The staff took leave.”

“So you decided to risk death and dust inhalation?”

“Not death, I was just—”

He’s already picking you up and setting you on the bed like you’re made of crystal. “You dusted. With your soft hands. In that. That.” He gestures vaguely at the nightgown like it personally betrayed him.

“You’re too pretty to clean. You were made to be spoiled.” He climbs into bed with you, pulls the covers up, and calls the replacement staff himself. While spooning you. While still in his coat.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’re on your knees wiping the marble floors of the safehouse, a pink ribbon in your hair, humming softly. You don’t hear the door open. But you do hear his voice:

“…Are you cleaning?”

You look up. He’s in a fitted suit. He’s just walked in and taken off his sunglasses. And he looks betrayed.

“The housekeepers are out,” you explain.

“So you thought you’d take their place?” He raises a brow. “You’re my wife, not the help.”

“But it was dusty—”

“You’re the one who deserves dusting in diamonds, not whatever this is.”

He snaps his fingers. One of his guards silently walks in with a custom velour chaise longue.

“Sit,” Sylus commands. “Now.”

“But—”

He picks you up effortlessly, places you on it, drapes you in a fur throw, and tosses a card your way. “Buy something outrageous while I fix this mess.”

“What mess?”

“The one where my princess thought she was average enough to mop floors. It’s humiliating. For me.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

He walks into the Skyhaven penthouse, jacket slung over his shoulder, already calling your name.

And then he sees you.

On your knees. With a mop. In one of his favorite frilly nightgowns, the one that rides up when you lean forward.

He drops his jacket.

“WHAT are you doing,” he says, panicked, running over. “Pipsqueak. Hello?? No—stop—give me that mop.”

“I’m just cleaning,” you giggle. “The housekeepers are on break.”

“Then the house can be dirty. I don’t care. What if you slipped? What if you got a splinter? You’re in a nightgown. You’re supposed to be lounging. Doing skincare. Being kissed!”

You blink up at him as he wrenches the mop away. He’s full dad-mode now, grumbling as he tosses it into a closet. Then he’s scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the couch.

“You’re not allowed to do things like this. You’re my wife. Not a house elf. God, I’ve failed you.”

He sits you in his lap and force-feeds you strawberries from the fridge to soothe himself.

[slimearchon]

Hmmm the lads men visiting reader who they find building a cabinet, mowing the lawn, plunging the toilet, etc etc and them going "pretty girl??? why are you doing physical labor???"

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ You’re not a maid, baby

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, crack, this is so funny, rafayel would totally have a wardrobe of different costumes for him and you for sexy time lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They find you cleaning

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He comes home humming, fingers still stained with pastel from whatever eccentric chaos he was up to (was it painting the koi pond pink? Who knows), and steps inside with a lazy smile, until he sees you.

You’re on your knees. In one of your softest, frilliest nightgowns. Elbow-deep in a soapy bucket, hand-wiping the skirting boards like some tragic princess cursed to clean her own castle.

Rafayel drops the canvas he was holding. Just lets it fall.

“…Baby.”

He sounds so gentle. Too gentle. His eyes are wide. “Are you… doing chores?”

You blink up at him. “The cleaning staff is off today, so I just thought—”

“You thought?” His voice cracks. “You thought my precious baby cupcake sugar-dumpling should be on the floor? Like some tragic unpaid intern in a drama?”

He’s on the floor beside you in seconds, gathering you in his arms like he’s rescuing a drowned kitten.

“I wasn’t even gone long, and look what happened,” he whimpers dramatically, nuzzling into your neck. “I left you unsupervised for five hours and you’ve become a Victorian servant girl.”

“But it’s not a big deal,”

“It is. Look at your little fingers!” He holds them up. “These are for holding diamonds and stirring tea, not scrubbing baseboards! What next? Shall I let you do taxes? Shall I allow you to fold laundry?” He gasps. “Oh my god, I’ve failed you.”

He picks you up, bridal style of course, and carries you straight into his art studio where he plops you on a heart-shaped chaise and wraps you in a sparkly throw blanket like a burrito.

“You’re grounded,” he says. “From labor. Forever.”

“…Can I at least clean the fish tank?”

“No. They can live in filth. But you? You live in luxury.”

Then he calls thomas and yells: “Send someone. My wife touched the floor. We’re in crisis.”

From that day forward, any time he catches you trying to lift a single feather duster, he gives you a scandalized gasp and clutches his chest like he’s been mortally wounded.

Also buys you ridiculous princessy cleaning outfits just for bedroom play purposes. But if you ever actually touch a mop again?

He’s “filing for an annulment in protest” (he won’t, he’s just dramatic and in love).

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

He comes home from a 12-hour hospital shift, already loosening his tie, only to freeze in the entryway.

“…what are you doing?”

His voice is low. Dangerously low. You glance up from scrubbing the floorboards on your knees, smiling, your nightgown soft and slightly slipping from one shoulder.

“The staff’s on leave for the week, so I just—”

“No.”

Zayne’s kneeling beside you in a heartbeat, pulling you up and inspecting your delicate fingers like you’ve just survived a minefield.

“You’re not scrubbing floors like a maid,” he mutters, furious but quiet. “You’re a wife, not a housekeeper. You make tea. You sit and look pretty. You kiss me when I get home.”

You pout. “But the baseboards were dusty.”

He lifts you into his arms bridal style. “So is my tolerance for this,” he mutters. You don’t touch another rag for the rest of the week. He even wipes down surfaces with medical-grade wipes himself, grumbling the entire time.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The door hisses open. He walks in silently… and stares. You’re dusting. In a sheer white nightgown with ribbons. On a stepstool.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares.

“…Xavi?” you say sweetly, dusting the top shelf. “You’re home early.”

You step down. He still doesn’t say anything. Just slowly walks over, takes the feather duster from your hands, and throws it out the window of the penthouse without a word.

“Why were you doing that?”

“The staff took leave.”

“So you decided to risk death and dust inhalation?”

“Not death, I was just—”

He’s already picking you up and setting you on the bed like you’re made of crystal. “You dusted. With your soft hands. In that. That.” He gestures vaguely at the nightgown like it personally betrayed him.

“You’re too pretty to clean. You were made to be spoiled.” He climbs into bed with you, pulls the covers up, and calls the replacement staff himself. While spooning you. While still in his coat.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’re on your knees wiping the marble floors of the safehouse, a pink ribbon in your hair, humming softly. You don’t hear the door open. But you do hear his voice:

“…Are you cleaning?”

You look up. He’s in a fitted suit. He’s just walked in and taken off his sunglasses. And he looks betrayed.

“The housekeepers are out,” you explain.

“So you thought you’d take their place?” He raises a brow. “You’re my wife, not the help.”

“But it was dusty—”

“You’re the one who deserves dusting in diamonds, not whatever this is.”

He snaps his fingers. One of his guards silently walks in with a custom velour chaise longue.

“Sit,” Sylus commands. “Now.”

“But—”

He picks you up effortlessly, places you on it, drapes you in a fur throw, and tosses a card your way. “Buy something outrageous while I fix this mess.”

“What mess?”

“The one where my princess thought she was average enough to mop floors. It’s humiliating. For me.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

He walks into the Skyhaven penthouse, jacket slung over his shoulder, already calling your name.

And then he sees you.

On your knees. With a mop. In one of his favorite frilly nightgowns, the one that rides up when you lean forward.

He drops his jacket.

“WHAT are you doing,” he says, panicked, running over. “Pipsqueak. Hello?? No—stop—give me that mop.”

“I’m just cleaning,” you giggle. “The housekeepers are on break.”

“Then the house can be dirty. I don’t care. What if you slipped? What if you got a splinter? You’re in a nightgown. You’re supposed to be lounging. Doing skincare. Being kissed!”

You blink up at him as he wrenches the mop away. He’s full dad-mode now, grumbling as he tosses it into a closet. Then he’s scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the couch.

“You’re not allowed to do things like this. You’re my wife. Not a house elf. God, I’ve failed you.”

He sits you in his lap and force-feeds you strawberries from the fridge to soothe himself.

[slimearchon]

I love your page, aesthetic, and writings! May the wishing well grant all the LADS men when reader argues with them. Reader is feeling petty she gives them the silent treatment and sleeps in the living room. How would they react and coax her softly back to bed with them? Thank you.✨🫶🏻

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Wanna argue?

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, crack, i can’t imagine them seriously arguing with reader lol. they’re just men in love

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Your feeling bored, petty even.

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel doesn’t even remember what the argument was about. Something dumb. Something petty. Something you started because you were bored and looking for a little drama to spice up your afternoon.

He’d narrowed his eyes in that usual amused way, tilted his head like, Oh? So we’re doing this now? And you’d flounced away with a dramatic sigh, declared you were “SO done,” and relocated yourself to the guest bedroom.

Which would be funny, if it didn’t kill him.

At first, he thinks you’re joking. A little pout, a little fake mad face. So he humors it. He waits. Hangs around the hallway, fingers tapping against the doorframe.

“…You’re not really mad, right?” he finally calls. “You just wanna see how cute I get when I beg?”

No answer.

Now he’s nervous. This isn’t part of the usual script. There’s no teasing voice behind the door, no exaggerated sighs for attention. Just silence.

Rafayel presses his ear to the door. “You’re not allowed to give me the silent treatment,” he mumbles softly. “That’s cheating. You know I hate it…”

Still nothing.

So.

This is war.

—

Later that night, you’re curled up under the guest sheets with your back to the door, determined to “teach him a lesson.” You’re not even that mad anymore, just sleepy. A little smug. You’re waiting for him to cave.

And he does.

Soft footsteps. A tentative knock. Then… the creak of the door opening.

He doesn’t speak. He just stands there in the dim light of the hall, wearing his loose white shirt, hair a little messy, blue-and-pink eyes glassy with defeat.

Then, gently, he steps over, crouches by your bedside, and lays his cheek on the mattress beside your hip.

“…I can’t sleep without you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and baby-soft. “I keep reaching over and you’re not there. I keep thinking you’ll crawl back in. But you’re being so mean, pretty girl…”

Your lashes flutter. You pretend to ignore him.

He lets out a breath. “Okay. Okay. You win, fine. I’ll say it.” He lifts his head just enough to kiss your arm through the blankets. “I’m sorry for whatever dumb thing I said that made you mad. Even if I’m right. Especially if I’m right.”

You stifle a smile.

“I’ll build you a bigger vanity. I’ll buy you new gowns. I’ll let you pick what I wear tomorrow and sit in my lap when i paint. Just… come back to bed?”

Still, you don’t move.

So he does the unthinkable.

He whines. Soft. Needy. Heartbroken.

“…You’re my pillow princess. My real-life fairytale. I need my bedtime cuddles. I need you to drool on my shirt and trap my legs and complain about my cold feet.”

You turn slowly to face him, raising a brow. “…Cold feet?”

His eyes sparkle, hooked. “Mm. So cold. Miserable, really. I think I’m dying.”

You roll your eyes. “…Maybe you should’ve thought of that before being a brat.”

He beams. There she is.

“Then come punish me, baby,” he whispers, swooping in and nuzzling against your tummy like a kicked puppy. “You can call me names. Make me beg. Just don’t exile yourself like this. My bed feels like a coffin without you.”

Finally, you sigh, dramatic and tired. “Fine.”

He scoops you up bridal-style before you can change your mind. You squeal, swat at him half-heartedly.

“Didn’t say you could carry me—!”

“Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he purrs, already padding barefoot down the hallway with you wrapped in his arms.

When he drops you onto your shared bed and curls tightly around you, he sighs like he’s finally at peace.

“I missed you,” he mumbles into your hair. “Don’t leave me again. Or I’ll cry.”

You smirk sleepily. “No you won’t.”

“…Try me.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You hadn’t even meant to make it a thing. You were just feeling bored. Playful. Maybe even a little bratty. So when Zayne made that dry little comment about your “third outfit change before dinner,” you gasped, scandalized, and declared that you were spending the night elsewhere.

“A true queen,” you announced, silk robe billowing as you stormed off, “does not sleep beside critics.”

He blinked. “…You’re being dramatic.”

“Yes, I am,” you snapped. “And you’ll miss me.”

Now it’s nearly midnight. And you were right.

Because Zayne is pacing down his hallway like a storm in dress pants, no tie, robe hanging open, hair slightly mussed. He’s searched three of the guest bedrooms already.

All of them pristine. All of them empty.

The man is fuming. Not at you, never truly at you, but at the absurdity of this game. The mansion is too damn big. The house too quiet. The silk sheets too cold without your warm body burrowed into them like you always do.

He checks another room. Empty. Again. His jaw tightens.

“…Princess?” he calls softly, more gentle than he means to be. “You done sulking yet?”

No answer. Just silence.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I love you,” he mutters under his breath. “This is ridiculous.”

Finally, finally, he opens the fifth guest room. And there you are.

Asleep. Curled up like a smug little kitten beneath the expensive throw blankets. Looking all innocent. Angelic. Your robe half-fallen off your shoulder and your cheek smushed against the pillow.

Zayne exhales like he’s just found a missing patient. Runs a hand through his hair.

Then he steps inside. Quietly. Like you’re a wild animal he’s trying not to scare off.

He kneels beside the bed. Brushes his fingers against your temple.

“You win,” he murmurs. “You made your point. Loud and clear.”

You stir slightly. But keep your eyes closed. Just enough to make him keep talking.

He lets out a tired chuckle. “What, do I need to beg now? Give a heartfelt apology at your bedside like I’m auditioning for some palace drama?”

You sniff quietly, still feigning sleep. He sees right through it.

He exhales again and leans down, brushing a kiss to your forehead.

“…Come back to bed, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and warm now. “You don’t belong out here like some pouting exile. I missed you. I always do, even when you’re in the next room.”

You blink your eyes open. Look up at him, half-lidded and smug. “Took you long enough.”

Zayne narrows his eyes. “You were testing me.”

“And you passed,” you hum sweetly. “Barely.”

He sighs through a crooked smile. “You’re impossible.”

And without another word, he lifts you up, bedding and all, into his arms like a surgeon retrieving something very precious. You let out a sleepy giggle as he carries you back to the master bedroom.

“Zaynie—”

“Quiet.” His voice is dry. But there’s a hand on your back, another cradling your thighs. “You’re not allowed to hide from me in my own house again. I’ll install GPS trackers in every blanket if I have to.”

You just hum and curl up against his chest. “Mm. You do love me.”

He presses a kiss into your hair. “God help me, I do.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You didn’t go far. You didn’t even mean to actually upset him. You were just being pouty, petty, maybe feeling a little under-pampered after he dozed off mid-conversation again.

So you decided: Fine. He can nap by himself tonight.

You tiptoed into the guest room next door. Crawled under the covers with your favorite blanket and a dramatic sigh.

You assumed he’d be too asleep to notice.

You were wrong.

—

The softest knock. A pause. Then a barely-there voice:

“…Are you mad at me?”

It’s him.

You don’t answer. Not yet. You want to see what he’ll do.

There’s a beat. Silence. Then:

“…I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Still, you stay quiet, pretending to be asleep.

You hear him step inside anyway. Quietly. He walks like a shadow, barefoot, half-dressed, silver hair slightly rumpled, his loose robe slipping off one shoulder. He stops just beside the bed.

“…I checked every room,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “But I already knew you were here. The pillows still smelled like you. And your side of the bed was cold.”

You crack an eye open, just slightly.

He looks tired. Genuinely tired. Like he’s been drifting between rooms for hours, even though it’s only been twenty minutes.

He lowers himself slowly to his knees beside the bed.

“Don’t go far like that again,” he whispers. “I know it’s just the next room. I know I’m being unreasonable. But…”

His voice catches. His fingers brush the edge of the blanket.

“…When I can’t feel you next to me, it feels like I’ve lost something important. Like I forgot how to sleep.”

You blink fully awake now, staring down at him. “Xavi—”

“I don’t know how to be mad back,” he adds, barely audible. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say when you leave. So I just wait. And hope you come back.”

The silence stretches. Then you lift the blanket wordlessly.

He moves instantly, like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind, and climbs in beside you, wrapping himself tightly around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“…You smell like my side of the bed,” he mumbles. “I missed that.”

You hum softly. “You didn’t even give me time to miss you.”

He kisses your collarbone like an apology. “I know.”

A pause. Then quieter:

“Just… if you need space again, take me with you.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were just bored. Petty. Spoiled.

He made some offhanded quip while reviewing blueprints over dinner, and you, feeling particularly princessy, decided that would not stand.

So you stood up. Tossed your napkin onto the table like a socialite.

“I’m sleeping elsewhere tonight.”

Sylus just quirked a brow. “Am I meant to be punished?”

You didn’t answer. You simply turned and sauntered off, hips swaying. A strategic retreat to the east wing guest suite. Lavish, unused, and chilly without him.

You expected him to follow.

He didn’t.

Not immediately.

—

Now it’s nearly midnight. You’re under three blankets, curled up like a tiny sulking princess. And you’re waiting.

Then, finally, the lock clicks.

You don’t move. But your heart flutters.

Sylus steps inside slowly, as if entering enemy territory. His black silk shirt is still half-unbuttoned from earlier. His sleeves are rolled up. His voice is dangerously calm:

“…So this is where my little wife has exiled herself.”

You don’t reply. You just give him your back.

He pauses. Stares. Smiles, very faintly.

“I see,” he murmurs. “A full siege.”

Another moment. Then, his shoes hit the floor with two soft thuds. The bed dips as he sits beside you. His hand brushes your shoulder.

“Princess.”

No response.

“You’re angry.”

Still nothing.

“…Or you’re playing.” His tone turns low. Knowing. “You want me to crack.”

You hear him chuckle under his breath. A sound so warm and dangerous it sends a chill up your spine.

Then, he kneels.

He kneels beside the bed, one hand gripping your blanket, the other sliding gently beneath it to find your waist. His lips press to your bare shoulder.

“…You win, baby,” he murmurs. “I surrender.”

You finally roll over, just enough to look down at him. Eyes half-lidded. “Say it.”

He tilts his head, amused. “Say what?”

“Beg.”

A pause. He licks his teeth. Breathes in slow. And then, so softly, he obeys.

“Please come back to bed,” he says, voice like velvet soaked in wine. “I can’t sleep when you’re gone. I don’t want to sleep without you. I hate it.”

Another kiss to your arm.

“I miss the way you droop over me like a spoiled kitten. I miss your whining. I miss your heat. I miss the way you steal the pillows.”

You bite your lip, pretending to consider. “Mmm… not enough.”

He looks up at you, eyes blood-red and glinting like low flame. And then, so quietly it makes your throat tighten:

“Please, my love. Come back to me.”

The air goes still.

You lift the blanket in silence.

He doesn’t smirk this time. Doesn’t tease. He just slides into bed beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms like you’re something sacred.

He exhales shakily against your neck. “You’re cruel when you’re bored.”

You smile. “And you love it.”

He kisses your throat. “I do.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

It starts like usual.

A little playful argument after dinner. Some mock whining. You teasing him about being bossy, him calling you his “loud little gremlin.”

But tonight you don’t stay for the usual kiss-and-cuddle ending.

Nope. You roll your eyes, toss your hair over your shoulder, and waltz off with a lazy, “I’m sleeping alone tonight.”

At first? Caleb grins.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, real dramatic,” he calls after you. “Don’t forget your stuffed bunny, Your Majesty.”

But you don’t respond.

You don’t come back.

Ten minutes pass.

Then twenty.

He’s not grinning anymore.

He’s pacing. Hands on his hips, brows furrowed, glancing at the hallway like it insulted him personally.

“…You really left?” he mutters to himself. “Wait. That wasn’t a bit?”

You’re curled up in one of the guest bedrooms, sipping juice like a smug little gremlin, flipping through your tablet and waiting for the inevitable: Caleb’s dramatic reappearance.

It takes exactly 38 minutes.

The door bursts open. He stands in the frame like a man on a mission. Disheveled. Betrayed.

One sock on. One sock off. Shirt untucked. Face full of outrage.

“You abandoned the bit,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow, perfectly innocent. “What bit?”

“Our thing!” he exclaims, gesturing wildly. “You brat, I tease, you yell, I chase, you pout, I smother you in kisses, we roll into bed, boom! domestic bliss! And you—” he points an accusing finger, “just walked away! Like you don’t know the rules!”

You sip your juice. “Maybe I’m rewriting them.”

He gasps. Like you slapped him. “You’re rebelling.”

“Maybe.” You roll over, half-buried in the blanket now. “Maybe I’m just bored of you.”

He blinks. Takes a full step back. Looks dramatically wounded. Then:

“Oh, it’s on.”

He strides forward and, without warning, picks you up like a bratty little sack of defiance.

You yelp. “Caleb—!”

“No. You don’t get to declare war and then nap your way through it,” he growls, tossing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. “You wanna be difficult? Great. I’ll tuck you in my way.”

He storms back down the hallway, muttering the whole time. “Bored of me. Rewriting the rules. What next, you join a rebellion? Start a pillow coup? Marry my second-in-command? Huh?!”

You’re cackling now, absolutely delighted. “You’re so dramatic.”

He kicks the bedroom door open. “You started it.”

Then he drops you gently on the bed, climbs in after you, and traps you in a tight, warm hold like you’re something precious.

You try to wiggle. “You’re clingy.”

He growls against your neck. “You’re mine.”

“…Fine,” you whisper, sinking into him. “But I’m still mad.”

“Good,” he mumbles, kissing your jaw. “I like you mad. Gives me an excuse to hold you hostage.”

You pout. “I’m serious.”

He just hums and starts tracing your waist lazily. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll bribe you in the morning. Right now? You’re staying right here. Try leaving again and I’ll sleep in every doorway until you give in.”

And you believe him.

Because you know he would.

[slimearchon]

run away.

caleb wants to smash but keeps getting interrupted.

mdni. 18+ only. fluff and suggestive but no actual smut.

sylus version / zayne version

Lifting you up on the kitchen's counter table, Caleb slides his hands up to your thighs as he stands between your legs, kissing you with intensity that had you feeling lightheaded, yet you can't find it in you to pull away.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You jumped at the alarm blaring off the phone in the pocket of your pants. Caleb pulls it out for you and shows you the screen, where the current time is flashing at you mockingly.

"Waaahh — I'm late for work!"

You jumped off the counter table and playfully smacked Caleb's arm that tried to snake around your waist, refusing to let you go.

They're stealing you from him again.

If this keeps happening...

He might just have to take you away and hide you where no one can find you.

Somewhere just the two of you, with no one to get in his way.

"Caleb, this is all your fault!"

He chuckles and rubs the spot you hit. "You're the one who was all handsy while I was making breakfast. Don't blame me for trying to finish what you started."

"Hmph, excuses excuses. I gotta go, bye!"

Caleb laughs again as he waves a hand, watching you almost trip as you rush out of your apartment, slamming the door along the way.

He then sighs as he looks down at the tent in his pants that wasted no time coming alive.

"Guess I'll have to take care of this myself.... again..."

He tries again later on, same day.

After your work, Caleb is determined to make you feel so good, you won't be able to leave him and your bed the next day.

What better way to seduce you than preparing a nice dinner, then a massage right after?

It was perfect timing too because you came home exhausted after an action-packed day of dealing with Wanderers.

You had small scratches and bruises on certain parts of your body, so Caleb made sure those are taken care of first and foremost.

After dinner and shower, he joined you on your bed to help you apply healing ointments.

He hates seeing you hurt, no matter how tiny and inconsequential the injury is, but he has to keep in mind that this is your job and you're strong and more than capable of dealing with Wanderers, so he doesn't make a big deal out of it. The best thing he can do is support you, so he does his best to look after you.

"What about your head? Are you feeling any headaches? Dizziness? Confusion?"

"Nope! I'm all good, I told you!" you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled his face against your chest to cuddle him. "Let's watch a movie!"

As ecstatic as he was to have his face buried against your chest, Caleb abandoned his initial plan of having sex with you.

You're clearly exhausted. He wants you to rest properly so your body can recover for the next time you have an action-heavy work day. Your well-being is more important.

"Alright, but it's my turn to choose the movie since you chose last time."

"Fine by me~"

Caleb joined you in your bed and happily cuddled with you underneath your blanket while the two of you enjoy an action-comedy film.

At the end of the day, he still got to rest his face on your chest, so Caleb was more than satisfied with his reward.

You try to keep a straight face as you lock eyes with Caleb.

Or rather, the Colonel.

Two days later after he returned from Linkon, you ended up reuniting with him sooner than expected, in Skyhaven when you got a sudden mission to go to Deepspace Aviation Administration.

A hunter has been requested to test out a new weapon that researchers and the military have been working on, and you volunteered to go when Jenna asked who wanted to take a trip to the floating island.

You were planning to surprise Caleb by going to his house after you're done with the tests, but he's the one that showed up out of the blue, right in front of you.

You were impressed at how unfazed he was when he saw you. The only thing that implied he recognized you is the way his pupils dilated before nonchalantly looking away from you.

With a straight face, Caleb faced the researcher next to you. "I see the Hunters Association have been invited to see the new weapon."

"Yes, sir." The researcher clearly looked nervous under the colonel's intense gaze. "They are the ones that are best suited for it, so we wanted to see how a hunter would perform using it under simulation."

That's where you are right now: in a typical combat training room that can create simulated Wanderers for anyone to practice on. The weapon you're holding is a type of high-tech gun similar to ones that you've seen Caleb used before, such as his Skybreaker.

"And she has been performing extremely well and giving us positive results, so the weapon seems to be a sucess!"

Caleb's left brow twitches. "Enjoyed watching Miss Hunter, did you?"

The researcher shrinks and looks away as his face becomes flustered. "I — uh — "

You grinned and patted the man's shoulder. "I'm glad to be of service! Thanks for inviting me!"

Caleb clears his throat. "Louis, was it?" The researcher nods quickly, as if he's going to be killed if he responds just a second slower. "I'd like to have a word with our guest, privately."

"Y— yes sir!"

You waved at the researcher as he runs out of the training room, almost tripping on his own feet along the way.

Then, you turned to Caleb and gasped with surprise as you found him right in front of you with very little space between your bodies.

"Having fun, Pip-squeak?"

You could feel heat radiating off from his body with the way he's leaning towards you.

And you don't dare to move back.

You're not afraid of the Colonel.

"I am, actually." you grinned. "This weapon is so fun to use!"

At last, his mask melts and you see Caleb's bright eyes and warm smile.

"Of course it's good. I was the one who commissioned it, after all."

"Really?!"

"It's originally meant for the Fleet to use for the pesky Wanderers we encounter on our missions. We've been testing out different energy sources and mechanism for weapons, so that's the one we came up with recently. I guess the Administration wants to let the Hunters Association use it too."

You scoffed and crossed your arms. "And you didn't tell me anything about this new cool weapon you've been building?"

Caleb chuckles at your pout and squishes your cheeks with one hand. "I was going to show you when it's fully done, but some researcher beat me to it. Tell me.... did you enjoy his company?"

The way his voice had gone deeper as he spoke the last few words caused a stir inside you.

"And if I did?"

Caleb's lips lost their amusement as they curled into a tight frown. He adjustes his hand to grip your chin, not enough to hurt but tight enough to prevent you from looking away as he leaned even closer to you.

Your noses touched as your foreheads rested against each other.

"If you did.... I might have to remind you..." his lips brushed against yours. "...whose company you should be enjoying only..." he then devours your mouth with his own.

His other hand found your hips and pulled your lower body against his, sliding a knee between your thighs.

Caleb moans as you tugged on the strands of his hair behind his neck, your hand dragging him down to you to deepen the kiss, which had grew more intense and desperate at every second.

He pressed his hips harder against you, and your core clenches at how hard he'd already gotten.

"Colonel — "

You jumped away from Caleb and picked up the gun that you didn't even know ended up on the floor without making a single noise.

The door was opened and in came a familiar Fleet member: Liam.

Caleb pretends to straighten his tie while you fidget with the weapon, trying to ignore how hot your face is burning.

Liam does a great job at dismissing the tension in the air. He clearly recognized you and he has some sort of idea of your close relationship with Caleb, but he doesn't say a word about it.

"Colonel Caleb, it's time to head out for the meeting."

Caleb nods, his cold mask reappearing. "Let's get going then."

You felt a little disappointed that your time with him has been cut off short yet again.

"Thanks for showing me how to use the weapon, Caleb. Bye."

Caleb's feet became thrice as heavy as he started to leave the training room.

He can't even give you a goodbye kiss or hug. Even if it's Liam, who he trusts more than anyone else in the Fleet, Caleb still can't risk anything.

At least, not yet.

There will come a time when you and him will not have to hold back on expressing your feelings for each other.

That's what keeps him going: to make sure that your shared tomorrows are ensured.

Even if it's not easy.

Still, the smile that you threw his way just as the door closed was enough to get him going for the rest of the day.

But for the rest of the week? Who knows.

Caleb is slowly losing his patience.

He can't take anymore interruptions.

Due to your hectic schedule, you didn't see Caleb until a week and a half later. The good news is that you'll finally have some time to yourselves as both of you are free for the weekend.

Caleb spontaneously wants to go camping, claiming that it's been a while since you two had done it, so you agreed and began preparations right away.

You started with shopping for tools and clothes, since he already has most of the essential equipment.

Because the location that Caleb has in mind is near a lake, you figured you'd want to go for a swim. Most of the swimsuit you own either shrunk or got lost somewhere, and so decided to buy one after getting the camping necessities.

"This is a little too bright — whaa — Caleb?!"

You screeched as Caleb enters the fitting room.

"What are you doing?!"

"The worker is half-asleep at the counter all the way at the front. She won't mind. You've been in here for so long, I'm worried that you're starting to feel lonely. So here I am, giving you company. You're welcome~"

"Caleb, you dummy." You lightly strike his head with the side of your hand. "At least be useful and tell me what you think of this swimsuit."

"You look great." he answers while sitting onto the bench, right next to your clothes.

"You didn't even look at it properly for three seconds."

"Don't need to."

You pinched his arm. "Be serious!"

"I am being serious." Caleb grins and tugs on your hand to pull you towards him. "You look stunning. Although... you might not wear it for long... " His fingers slowly moves towards the strings of your top. "Because I might get tempted..." his other hand traveled to your left thigh, caressing it softly before planting a kiss on your hipbone.

You bent down to capture his lips with yours, one hand sneaking under his shirt to feel his chest and abs. Caleb sighs against your mouth while his hands moved to your ass, squeezing them before leading you onto his lap.

At that moment, the saleslady's voice blasted from the store's speakers and made you jump.

"Attention to all customers: store closing in 20 minutes."

Because the trip was pretty much unplanned, you didn't expect the weather to be cool and cloudy. It's not the best, but it's certainly not the worst time to be outdoors, so you two headed out to nature anyways.

"You cheater!"

Caleb laughs at your accusation. "Just because all the fishes want to be caught by me instead of you, doesn't mean I'm pulling any funny tricks."

"Ugh! Yoy just got lucky with that spot! I just chose a bad one, that's all!"

"Even though we're basically right next to each other?"

"There's still a big difference."

Caleb caught a handful of fishes.

You caught one small one, but it's better than nothing.

"I don't need to eat your fishes. The one I caught will be more than enough to keep me full for a whole week!"

When it was time to sit by the campfire and eat dinner, you stubbornly refuse to eat the fishes caught by Caleb.

"No way I'm eating those traitor fishes!"

"Don't say that. You might hurt their feelings."

"They're dead."

"Their ghosts might be floating around us right now and they might be crying because you won't eat the souls they sacrificed just so you won't starve."

"Pfft — alright fine, I'll take some."

Along with the fishes you caught, you also ate the food that you've packed, all cooked by Caleb, so there was no shortage of meals.

Especially not for dessert. You didn't forget about the s'mores.

"I remember the first time we made s'mores. You'd always cry and get mad because you kept burning your marshmallows completely. Then, you'd steal my s'mores."

"Well, I'm a grown woman now." you grinned before stealing the s'mores that was on his stick. "I can make my own s'mores and steal yours."

Caleb dramatically sighs and shakes his head with disappointment. "I don't know why I never learn my lesson. Next time we go camping, I have to keep away from the s'mores monster."

"Heh. You won't be able to run from me." you scooted close so you could rest your head on his arm. "I'll put a leash on you so you can't leave. You're my s'mores maker forever."

Caleb smiles and rests his chin on the top of your head. "You don't need a leash. I'll gladly stay by your side and give you anything you ask for."

Your eyes widened for a moment, sensing the seriousness in his tone; however, you say nothing and shifted even closer to him so that you're embracing his arm.

He held your hand and rubbed his thumb against your knuckles. The two of you stared at the campfire and enjoyed the peaceful sounds of the crackling fire and the nature all around you.

Camping was a great idea.

After such chaotic days in the city, the comforting whispers of nature and Caleb's warmth has already cured your exhausted mind and body.

Caleb closed his eyes, fully appreciating the moment.

At last, there was only you and him. This is how it should be.

He wished time would stop just so that moment could last forever.

No one coming after you and him. No one to separate you. Nothing getting in the way of your happiness.

Just you and him and nothing else.

"Huh...?"

Caleb opens his eyes and looks around with confusion.

He wipes the droplet of water that landed on his nose.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Caleb soon got his answer when more droplets of water drizzles down on the two of you.

"Heh???!! It's raining?! Are you serious?!" you cried as the campfire slowly dies down due to the cold water that came to ruin your camping trip. "The weather app didn't say anything about rain!"

Caleb sighs. "Can't be helped. We can't stay here. Come on."

You had to take down the tent that you proudly put up upon your arrival. Caleb caught your frown and smiles, ruffling your hair.

"Don't look so sad. We'll just come back when it's not raining. We can stay much longer and you can have a second-chance at catching fishes."

"Are we going home?" you asked, already feeling disheartened.

You were really looking forward to spending more time with Caleb, away from all the distractions.

You were just starting to feel relaxed, but it looks like luck isn't on your side today.

"We could, if you want." Caleb grins. "Or....."

"Or....?"

Caleb's last minute solution for the interrupted camping trip is...

A hotel.

His plan is to temporarily stay at a hotel at another, smaller city where it isn't raining. Its area still has a peaceful atmosphere and more importantly....

"There's a hot tub?!"

Caleb was just as amazed. "So that's why it was so expensive. Here I was thinking they were scamming us for a simple room just for one night."

"Weeeell, too late to back out now~"

You wasted no time putting on the dried-up swimsuit that you'd used earlier at the lake and enjoyed the outdoor hot bath.

You can't help but sigh happily at the way yoyur body relaxes at the warm water that embraced your figure.

You rested your back against the rim of the medium-sized, circular tub and closed your eyes, taking a moment to appreciate the peaceful atmosphere.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't abandon me so fast just to get to the hot tub."

Caleb joins you a few moments later, in nothing but his swimming shorts.

"Poor Caleb. I hope you didn't get lost on your way here." you gave him a headpat as he stands in front of you.

"Of course not. I'll always find my way back to you." Caleb smiles as he twirls the pendant of his necklace with a finger.

You were not expecting such a sweet comeback to your sarcastic comment, and so you caught off-guard and was unable to come up with a witty reply.

"Y—you..."

Caleb chuckles as you suddenly lowered yourself and hid half of your face underwater.

"So much for camping, right?" he mumbles, looking up at the clear sky with bright stars and the moom beaming down at your figures. "We shouldn't have underestimated the weather."

The truth was, Caleb knew there was a chance of rain but he decided to proceed with the trip anyway because he was feeling desperate to be alone with you.

To run away from everything and everyone.

To be somewhere just the two of you, where no one can take you from him or him from you.

"True, it didn't end the way we planned, but..." you turned aside to face Caleb and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck, before pulling yourself close to him. "But this is really nice too. I like it here too."

Caleb leans closer to rest his forehead against yours.

"As long as I'm with you, I'd be happy anywhere."

His hands slides to your waist before his thumb draws circles on your skin. "I wish every day can be like this." Caleb whispers.

"Me too."

His lips gently brushes against yours. "The days will come when we won't have to worry about being away from each other. I promise."

He drops featherlight kisses on your lips, each one filled with passion that leaves you wanting more. As the seconds go by, his pecks gradually becomes deeper, lingering longer as if he's hesitant to break away.

Your lips parted and your tongues clash just like the little waves of water all around you, dancing along with the movements of your bodies.

Overcoming to his pent up emotions, Caleb captures your body and gently nudges you against the rim of the hot tub, trapping you between his arms by your sides and his body glued to yours.

As your thighs wrapped around his hips, Caleb's mouth moves down to your neck to leave a trail of mark on your skin, moaning with his eyes closed as your right hand traveled from his chest to his hips.

Your face flushes at the way he sighs as your fingers briefly brushed against the waist band of his shorts.

Caleb slightly thrusts against your body, and your eyes widen at the feeling of his hard cock against your throbbing core. You echoed the gasp that he lets out as he's unable to hold back on humping into you even more.

"Caleb...." your lips brushed against his ear. "I want to feel you more..."

Not a second after your whisper, Caleb twitches inside his shorts, and he resists mumbling out a curse, feeling his body heating up even more.

"Me too."

Caleb flashes you a small smile before kissing you once again, while his hands quickly but carefully work on undoing the ribbons of your swimsuit. The pieces of your clothing easily slides off and you gasp with surprise as you watch them quite literally fly off the hot tub.

"Caleb! Don't use your evol for that!"

He pauses his kisses and laughs shamelessly while getting rid of his clothes.

"Forgive me for getting a little carried away. We've only been interrupted about... a hundred times."

"Not a hundred!"

"A hundred and one." he murmurs, readjusting your bodies just a little so he could rest his chin between your breasts. "For every second we got interrupted.... we have to make up for it."

[slimearchon]

caleb when you're a clumsy drunk ! ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

wc: 543

for context: you and your friends thought a little get-together with some drinks would he fun. except they want to do it in a trailer, rather than in the house that's just 30 feet away

pt 1 here - soft smut!

srry this is so weird and specific?

—

You really didn’t think it was that far to the house. Like, okay, maybe the room was spinning a little, and maybe you'd fallen over about ten times already just sitting down, but that bathroom had a real mirror and smelled like vanilla!

Not whatever haunted this trailer one. Still, your friends insisted you use the one in the trailer for your own safety. It was only a few steps away, and if anything happened, they'd be right there.

That's how you ended up with Caleb standing in there with you, his back toward you while you peed.

In any other circumstance where you weren't drunk off your ass, you would've been mortified. Would've screeched at the mere thought of Caleb standing in the same room while you peed.

But now?

You couldn't give two shits.

And clearly, nor did Caleb. Except he wasn't drunk. He laughed, bracing his hands on the flimsy sliding door as you drunkenly leaned forward and rested your forehead against his back.

"Pips! C'mon. Are you done pissing?"

You giggled, lazily sliding your hand up his leg before curling it around his waist and trying to tug him closer, like you weren't currently sitting on the toilet, skirt and panties hanging loosely around your ankles.

"Mmn.. I thinkkk so."

Caleb huffed. "You think so?"

"Mm.."

"Push. See if more comes out."

You laughed, hugging him tighter. "You're soo weird. You got a piss kink, big boy?"

Caleb snorted, nearly turning around to look at you because of the absurdity of the nickname you just used. "Big boy?" he echoed. "You have never called me that." Then adamantly, he added, "And I do not have a piss kink."

A beat.

"Unless you do. Then I guess I could get into it that's what—"

"Stopppp." You started weakly slapping his stomach, your breathy little laughs fanning dangerously close to his butt. "I don't have a piss kink."

"Alright," he relented, shifting in the tight space. It was uncomfortable, sure, but he would do this 100 more times tonight if it's what he had to do to keep you from falling flat on your face.

"Now seriously. You done, pips?"

You ignored his question, instead sliding your other hand up his waist and fisting it in his shirt as you tried to drag him even closer. "You are suchh a sweet boyfriend, you know that?"

Caleb smiled, heat blooming in his chest. "Thank you. I'll carry that with me forever."

"Like, reaallyy," you slurred. "Like, I can't believe you're in the bathroom with me right now, being so sweet, and kind, and patient."

"I'll always come to the bathroom with you," he said. "Even when you're sober."

"Absoluttelly not. I'm too.. shy sober."

"You shouldn't be. Not with me."

You sighed, gently peeling your hands away from him. "You're right." There was a beat of silence. Then you sat upright again, "Okay, now I'm gonna wipe. Don't look, okaayy?"

"Okaayy," Caleb mimicked, trying to take a step forward to give you more room. "I promise I won't look."

When you were done, you clumsily pulled your clothes up and stumbled outside the bathroom, into the crowded hall between the bed and the lounging area.

You fell against Caleb, who happily wrapped his hands around you and kept you close.

"I love you," you murmured.

Caleb smiled, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I love you."

[slimearchon]

at your job, all employees are required to take a general psychology course. you’re indifferent about it at first, only coasting by so you can focus on your work. 

but the next time caleb oversteps and tries to make up for it with pouty lips and glassy eyes—his trademark puppy face—you’re like wait a second. you squint at him and don't give in.

it keeps happening, over and over. he’s unsettled and outmatched. until one day, he finally asks if something is wrong. 

“did you know dogs developed puppy eyes to make humans favor them?” 

he shrugs at the random question. “nope, but that’s interesting, pip-squeak. look at you go, little smarty-pants.”

your eyes narrow. his widen. 

“oh, really? you do the same thing when you want me to forgive you. you’re manipulating me!” you cry, crossing your arms accusingly. 

at your sudden outburst, caleb chokes on his drink. “i’m…silly girl, what are you talkin’ about?” 

“i’m talkin’ about,” you mock, “how you always make that sad face when i’m mad at you. it makes me feel bad, and then i end up forgiving you.” 

he huffs out a confused laugh. “i don’t mean to, pip-squeak. i never do. but if it makes you feel bad…i am sorry.” 

the second he apologizes, caleb’s eyes start to glisten, and his lips form the slightest pout. but he tactfully schools his expression before you notice. 

“fine. but…i’m not that easy anymore. don’t think i’ll let you get your way from now on.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he chuckles, shaking his head fondly.  

but inside, caleb is panicking.

damn it, he thinks. how’d she figure me out?