Ash

Xavier looks up. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He just looks at you, the way people look at things they were certain they would never see again, and the quiet of the apartment becomes the loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

A long beat passes.

“You’re back,” he says. That’s all. Two words. His voice doesn’t crack, doesn’t do anything to betray the weeks of silence and unanswered messages and a front door that had stayed locked. And yet something about the way he says it—careful, almost cautious—makes your chest ache.

You open your mouth. Whatever you were prepared to say dissolves on contact.

He pushes back his chair and stands, crossing the distance between you in a few steps, like he isn’t sure you’re quite real yet and moving too quickly might disturb something. He stops in front of you. His eyes move across your face, taking inventory of every small thing that has changed or stayed the same.

His hand comes up slowly. Just the barest pressure of his fingertips against your face, like he’s confirming something.

“I kept your mail,” he says.

A laugh startles out of you before you can stop it—wet, a little wrecked. He doesn’t smile, not exactly, but something shifts behind his eyes, the faint release of something wound very tight for a very long time.

He pulls you in without another word. His arms close around you with a quiet, firm certainty, and he presses his face into your hair, and for a long time, neither of you moves.

There will be questions, later. There will be things that need to be said.

But for now, his heartbeat is steady against yours. And he doesn’t let go.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

It’s raining when he finds you.

Zayne is still in his coat, standing in the entryway of his house with the door only half-closed behind him, as if he’s been there for a while and simply forgot to finish coming in. His bag is on the floor. His glasses are in his hand. There’s a tension in the line of his shoulders that has nothing to do with a long shift.

He’s looking at his phone.

At your name on the screen. At the call that just connected.

When you step into the light, his head comes up. The silence that follows is different from his usual silences. This one is the kind that happens when the thing a person has been quietly bracing for finally arrives, and all the prepared words go missing at once.

He doesn’t move.

“You should have called,” he says at last, his voice even. Measured. Precisely the tone he uses when he is trying very hard to be the version of himself that holds things together.

“I know.”

“Before now. You should have called before now.” He sets his glasses on the shelf without looking away from you. “Do you have any idea—” He stops himself.

A breath. Slow.

He closes the remaining distance between you and stops close enough that you have to tilt your head up. His eyes move over you the same way his hands would over a patient—thorough, taking account of damage, checking for everything that might have been missed.

Then one hand comes up. Settles against the side of your neck. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, and his exhale is long, and quiet, and carries the weight of months.

“You’re cold,” he says.

“Zayne—”

“You’re cold.” He says it again, like the rest of it can wait, like this is what matters right now, and he turns you gently toward the warmth of home and closes the door behind.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The studio is a mess.

That isn’t unusual—Rafayel’s studio is always a mess—but this is a specific kind of mess, the kind made by someone who has been working through something rather than working on something. Canvases stacked against every wall. Dried brushes abandoned mid-use. A half-eaten plate of food pushed to the edge of the table and forgotten.

He’s at the window when you arrive, back to the door, looking out at the water.

He hears you come in. His shoulders go rigid.

A long pause. Long enough that you start to wonder if he’s going to say anything at all.

“How was it,” he says finally, not turning around, his voice light, conversational, the exact register he uses when he’s determined not to let you know something is wrong. “Wherever you went. Was it nice?”

“Rafayel—”

“I’m asking.” He turns around. His eyes find yours immediately, and whatever carefully assembled indifference he’d been preparing doesn’t quite survive the moment of actually looking at you. Something cracks through it. A small fracture. But visible.

“Do you know,” he says, and he crosses the room, and his voice has dropped into something quieter, “how many times I checked my phone? Every day. Every morning, every night, every time something happened that I wanted to tell you. Every time I saw something that reminded me of you.” He stops in front of you. “Which is constantly, by the way. Absolutely everything reminds me of you. It’s extremely inconvenient. And everything’s dull without you.”

He takes your face in both hands.

“I told myself I wasn’t worried.” His thumbs brush beneath your eyes. “I was very convincing. I almost believed it.”

Something unsteady moves across his face—not quite anger, not quite relief, something that exists in the narrow space between the two.

“Cutie,” he says softly. “Don’t do that again.”

He pulls you against him, his clingy arms wrapping around you with the grip of someone who has been doing the opposite of letting go for a very long time.

“I was in the middle of daydreaming,” he mutters into your hair. “Completely ruined it.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You hear the record before you see him.

Something low and slow, an old vinyl, the kind he keeps in the locked cabinet by the window. It stops mid-song when the door opens.

Sylus is standing at the far end of the room with a glass of wine in his hand, and he looks at you with the particular quality of stillness that belongs to someone who has been waiting for something without admitting—even to themselves—that they were waiting at all.

Mephisto clicks quietly from somewhere above you.

“Well,” Sylus says. His voice is smooth, unhurried, the same as always. “Look at that. The kitten has found her way home.”

He doesn’t move toward you. He turns back to the window, sets his glass down on the ledge, and studies the city below with the measured consideration of a man reviewing a plan that has finally resolved itself.

“I had a bet with the twins,” he muses. “They thought it would be longer.”

You step further into the room. “And what did you think?”

A pause.

“I thought they were wrong.”

He turns then, and walks toward you, and up close the light catches something in his expression that his voice hasn’t betrayed—a quality of attention that is too careful, too precise, too entirely fixed on you to be as effortless as he’s making it look.

He reaches out. His knuckle grazes your cheek, light as a question.

“You’re in one piece,” he observes.

“I am.”

“Good.” The word lands quietly. He studies you for another moment, and then his mouth curves. Slow. The kind of smile that almost reaches the sharp red of his eyes.

“You owe me a conversation,” he says. “A long one.”

He doesn’t say he was concerned. He doesn’t say what the months of silence cost him. He doesn’t have to. He just takes your hand, and leads you to the couch, and doesn’t let go once he does.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

He opens the door before you can knock.

Like he heard your footsteps on the stairs. Like he knew. Like some part of him had been listening to exactly that sound for a very long time and his body simply reacted before the rest of him could catch up.

For a moment, he just stands there.

Caleb, who could deliver a valedictorian speech in front of hundreds of people without a tremor in his voice, who flew through Deepspace without flinching, who holds a rank that makes other officers stand up straighter when he walks into a room—he stands in his own doorway and doesn’t say a single word.

His jaw is tight. His eyes are doing something complicated.

“Hey,” you say.

Something in him breaks open at the sound of your voice. Not visibly, but you watch it happen, the same way you can see a change in pressure before the weather turns.

“Hey, Pips,” he says back. Low. A little rough at the edges.

He reaches out and takes your hand. That’s all. Just your hand, wrapped in his, and he squeezes once like he’s checking whether you’re real, and then he pulls you inside, and the door falls shut behind you.

“I made dinner,” he says after a moment, already moving toward the kitchen, your hand still in his, refusing to put any more distance between you than is functionally necessary. “Well. I started dinner. An hour ago. It’s probably—”

“Caleb.”

He stops.

His grip on your hand tightens.

“I know,” he says, not turning around, his shoulders carrying every weeks of it. “I know.” His thumb traces a slow arc across your knuckles. “Just… don’t disappear on me like that again. Okay?” His voice dips at the end. “I can handle a lot of things, but not that.”

He finally turns to look at you.

“Not that,” he says again, quietly.

The ‘When U Come Back’ pendant on his necklace catches the light. He doesn’t let go of your hand through dinner, or after. Not once.

As you can see... me back. 😼

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

the chicken was crispy and juicy, the sauce was creamy, the entire kitchen smelled like heaven…

caleb was lured in by the scent, his hands wrapping around your waist from behind.

“hmmm, what a sight…” he whispered against your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “is that for me, baby?”

before his hand could reach for a piece of chicken, you slapped it with a wooden spoon.

“easy there, soldier,” you shook your head. “it's burning hot, and it's our dinner.”

he grunted softly, rubbing his cheek against your head.

“come oooon, won't you give me a tiny taste? it's a crime not to devour that thing right here, right now…”

you turned around and arched an eyebrow when his hands traveled lower.

“are you still talking about the chicken?”

he grinned and shrugged, looking at you up and down.

“i'll take whatever you give me, angel. both things look delicious right now.”

you took a deep breath and sighed heavily, deciding to give him a small spoonful of the sauce and a tiny piece of chicken.

you gently blew on the food to cool it off, guiding it to his lips.

“here comes the airplane…” you grinned, making him narrow his eyes. he still opened his mouth obediently, though.

the moment the sauce reached the tip of his tongue, his eyes almost rolled back.

well, fuck.

he took the spoon from your hand and practically swallowed the small portion, grunting in delight.

“is it good?” you smiled, crossing your arms over your chest.

he didn't answer.

he stepped back, raising a hand to interrupt you as he kept savoring the ambrosia in his mouth.

he put the spoon away and turned to look at you with a wild look in his eyes.

recipes like these got lots of grannies married and… busy back in the day.

“well? any thoughts? do you need me to add more garlic, salt…?”

“what i need,” he whispered, standing closer. he fell to his knees as if he had been shot from behind. “is for you to marry me.”

your gaze traveled down to his kneeling form, eyes blinking in confusion.

“lebbie…?”

he reached for your hand and kissed it, completely serious and determined.

“marry me.”

you had to muffle a laugh behind your hand.

obviously, he was trying his best not to laugh too, playing his part surprisingly well.

“because of the chicken…?”

“among other reasons, yes.”

oh gosh.

“you don't even have a ring—”

out of nowhere, he retrieved a pretty pouch from his pocket.

no way.

was it…?

he took out a pretty bracelet, which wasn't exactly a ring, but was just as surprising.

“...you always carry that around with you?”

“angel, is this a proposal or an interrogation?” he smiled sheepishly, offering the bracelet.

“right, okay. from the top.”

you composed yourself and stood up straight, offering your hand.

he too put on a straight face, inhaling softly.

“will you marry me?” he whispered again, slipping the bracelet around your wrist with tenderness.

your expression broke into a smile, and you nodded softly.

“how could i say no, silly?” you whispered back, giggling as he stood up and spun you around in his arms.

once he put you down, you gently booped his nose with your finger.

“so… can we eat dinner or are you thinking about the honeymoon already?”

he grunted and closed his eyes, tilting his head back.

“can't we have one after the other? that chicken is callin' my name…” he pleaded, his hands holding yours.

“you're insatiable…” you rolled your eyes, smiling as you turned to grab a plate. “but i guess i can let you have both.”

he grinned victoriously, trailing behind you with quick steps, only to hold you from behind once again.

if he proposed after tasting this delicious chicken, you could only wonder what would happen the next time you made it.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

you were preparing a chicken stew, leaving behind a large collection of spices and herbs on the counter, because god forbid the chicken ended up being bland.

however, as you took the pan off the stove and tried some of the sauce, you realized it was missing something; just a dash of garlic powder, which raffy didn't have anymore.

you groaned under your breath and took your apron off, deciding to go to the nearest store to get some.

a couple minutes later, rafayel walked by the kitchen, captivated by the alluring aroma.

he peeked in, and when he saw no one around, he stepped closer to the pan, taking a deep breath.

he hummed in delight, his sneaky fingers grabbing a spoon to give the stew a try.

as soon as he swallowed, his legs wobbled; the taste was exquisite, so much so that he took a little bit more, and then some more, and then—

“rafayel!” you gasped, clutching the garlic powder close to your chest. “you thief!”

he spun around to face you, pointing at you with his index finger.

“you…” he mumbled, stepping closer with a theatrical, slow pace. “you must become my spouse...”

you cocked your head to the side, narrowing your eyes.

“huh? ...i mean, sure, eventually, but why now?”

he pointed at the stew, then back at you again, covering his lips briefly as he finished swallowing.

“that… that's no mere stew,” he shook his head. “it was a spiritual awakening, a godsent offer i don't find myself worthy of.”

you blinked twice, still gripping the garlic powder as some sort of shield against whatever was going on.

“it's… chicken.”

“yet i tasted your essence in it, your love, your…” he looked back at the counter and tilted his head at the scattered spices, before turning back to you. “your addictive seasoning choices...”

before you could even part your lips to keep questioning him, he closed the distance between the two of you, one hand finding your waist.

the other gently took the garlic powder away from your grasp, setting it with the rest of the spices so that nothing would be in the way between your chests.

“you’ve ruined me, my pearl,” he gently spoke, tracing your cheek with the tip of his cold nose. “no other hands will ever create something as perfect, hence why i must devote myself to the divine creator; you.”

with a steady grip, he pulled you closer and dipped you low, your back arching almost immediately.

you naturally gasped, eyes wide.

“rafayel, you're scaring me—

“wait, here comes the best part,” he whispered, clearing his throat afterwards. his gaze traveled from your eyes to your lips, making your heart flutter despite your better judgment. “i will now belong to you, heart, body, soul… and gut. will you do me the honor of marrying this foolish, devoted follower of yours?”

your back was starting to hurt, but you couldn't really interrupt whatever this was.

with a soft sigh and an amused little grin, you gave in, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a show-stopping, dramatic kiss.

“if i must…” you giggled, making him grin in response. with careful precision, he pulled you back up, and kissed your forehead, heading back to the pot.

but, oh boy.

he panicked before you could approach to add the garlic powder, reaching for the lid to cover up the crime scene.

he had eaten more than you expected before you caught him.

in his defense, he didn't think he'd stolen that much!

“rafayel? what's with that face?”

“uh, you know how marriages must have their ups and downs to become stronger?”

you waited no longer and lifted the lid.

silence.

“you ate half of it.”

“unintentionally…”

with narrowed eyes, you grabbed a wooden spoon and pressed it against his chest before heading to the door.

“start cooking, husband. don't make this… “divine creator” punish your insolence.”

and with pouty lips, he looked back at the messy counter.

he would have to guess how much of the spices and herbs you used, but… oh well.

you must have ups and downs, he said.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

you decided it was a good idea to spoil sylus for a change, since he's always doing his best to keep you satisfied and happy.

you wondered if a homemade meal would suffice, but given he entertains absolutely everything you do, it was more than obvious he would be delighted upon coming home and finding a warm, homey dinner.

you took the chicken out of the oven, inhaling the delicious aroma of herbs and veggies you put on the tray so that the meat would become juicier and more tender.

as it cooled off, you worked on the mashed potatoes, seasoning them and adding a bit of garlic butter to make them even more special.

the moment sylus walked into the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks.

you, your cute apron, your sweet humming, the delicious chicken and the heavenly aroma of garlic…

you didn't notice his presence until his chin rested on top of your head from behind, strong hands helping you mash the stubborn potatoes.

you leaned against his chest, happily sighing.

“thank you, that was going to take forever…”

once the food was finished and ready to eat, he followed your finger with his gaze as you tried some of the gravy, and then the mashed potatoes.

you moaned in delight, but all of a sudden, sylus caught your wrist to guide your finger toward his lips instead.

he licked the remains of the food straight from your warm skin, making your heart flutter.

“stop it and help me set the table…” you mumbled, gently smacking his chest and heading to the dining room, which only made him smirk.

he stayed behind, obviously, grabbing the knife to cut the chicken into small slices so it would be easier to serve.

however, the lingering taste of the gravy from your finger left him hungry for more, so he stole a slice and took a small bite.

his eyes shut closed, his movements froze.

he didn't even realize he was chewing until he swallowed… and then he ate the rest of it.

his brows furrowed ever so slightly, and he glanced at the chicken, then at your back, then at the chicken again.

he knew you were good, but this?

this was beyond his already high expectations.

he quietly stole another bite, then another, and another, until you turned around, ready to ask him if he needed any help.

his gaze immediately caught yours.

he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

he tasted your love, your dedication, your happiness while cooking it… it all made his heart flutter like never before.

you approached, your eyebrow arched.

“impatient much, mister? you've been stealing instead of helping me?” you shook your head in disappointment, totally missing that unfamiliar glint in his eye until his hand found yours.

he pulled you against his chest, his breath tickling your ear.

“marry me.”

you froze, blinking rapidly.

his hands squeezed yours.

“marry me,” he repeated, firmer, with no hesitation in his voice whatsoever.

but you were still processing that sentence; one that carried such a heavy, powerful meaning.

sylus smirked, his hand holding your chin to make you look at him again, since your eyes darted away without you even noticing.

“i'm serious, sweetie,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but somehow still grounding and firm. “if that is what your love tastes like, i don't want anything else for the rest of my life.”

your breath hitched, but you still pouted your lips a little bit.

“i've cooked for you countless times… didn't you taste my love before?”

“yes,” he kissed your pout tenderly. “but today, i realized i'd be doomed if i were to live without it.”

you grinned and squished his cheeks.

“so all i had to do to get proposed to was making some chicken?” you sighed dramatically. “well, since i already decided to spoil you rotten today, then i'll marry you.”

before he could lean in for a kiss, you placed your hand over his lips.

“nuh-uh. go set up the table first, don't think i've forgiven you, thief.”

and he followed in a heartbeat.

you already said yes, he already ate lots of the delicious chicken… nothing else mattered.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

you already knew xavier loved your cooking. he would even pick up any sauce left on the plate and lick it until it looked clean, or eat every grain of rice without exception.

today, though, it seemed like he was in a really gloomy mood, so the new recipe you were trying out had a bigger impact than you anticipated.

he woke up when the aroma of spicy chicken wings invaded his nostrils. almost as if in a trance, he practically floated to the kitchen, still drowsy and with rosy cheeks from his recent nap.

he placed his chin over your shoulder, his sad eyes widening slightly.

“for you?” he bluntly asked, his tummy already growling.

you giggled and turned to him, kissing his warm cheek with a tender expression. he was so cute when he got all pouty.

“no, silly. for both of us. i saw this recipe online and thought it would cheer you up.”

oh… his heart.

he nuzzled your neck lazily, a soft smile gracing his face.

“thank you… it looks amazing,” he whispered, arms coiling around you like a sloth clinging to a tree.

you finished with the chicken wings and moved on to the fries, taking approximately fifteen more minutes, during which xavi waited patiently.

he then set up the table and waited for you to serve yourself first before digging in.

it must've been the sadness, the hunger, or the drowsiness, but as soon as the spicy chicken touched his tongue, he felt revitalized.

his eyes went wide, his fingers froze, and he turned to look at you as if you were an angel sent from heaven to save him and his tired soul.

the spices, the slight sweetness of the sauce, the crispy coating, the tender chicken…

when you least expected it, xavier was on the floor next to your chair, eyes hopeful, hand reaching for yours.

you gasped softly, thinking he had collapsed or fallen, until he knelt for you.

“xavi!”

“marry me,” he simply asked, fingers a bit sticky from the sauce, lips swollen from the spices. “please.”

you blinked twice.

was this real?

his expression was serious but innocent enough to know he wasn't messing around.

however, you couldn't help but laugh and pinch his soft cheeks, shaking them gently.

“you want to marry me just because of my cooking, hmmm?”

he shook his head softly, still kneeling and allowing you to do whatever you wanted with his face.

“no… becaushe of everything elshe too,” he murmured with a bit of difficulty given his squeezed cheeks. “but espeshially the cooking...”

“so you wouldn't have proposed if i weren't a good cook?” you arched an eyebrow.

his silence was answer enough.

you gasped dramatically and slapped his shoulder lightly, feigning offense.

“xavier! that's so mean and… so rich coming from you!”

he grinned sheepishly, rubbing his shoulder where you'd hit him.

“i'm joking… mostly.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, turning away from him.

“no more cooking for you, ever."

his eyes went wide.

he stood up, cleaned his fingers with a napkin, and wrapped his arms around you, nose nuzzling your neck.

“no, wait, i'm sorry…” he mumbled against your skin, lips brushing softly. “i want to marry you for everything you are.”

you turned your head slightly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“you mean it?”

he nodded, kissing your jawline.

“i do.”

after some hesitation, you caressed his soft blond locks and turned around to face him.

“fine… then yes. i'll marry you.”

his lips curled into the softest of smiles before he kissed you tenderly, pulling you closer.

“thank god,” he whispered against your lips. “i was starting to think i'd have to starve for the rest of my life...”

you gasped yet again and lifted his plate up, keeping it away from his reach.

“one more word and i'll eat them all—”

he used his best puppy eyes and that confused, dazed expression, following the plate like a puppy looking at a snack.

and, of course, (and unluckily for you) there was no way you could resist your future husband now.~

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

as always, your beloved boyfriend was exhausted.

you wanted to help somehow, and since you had the day off, you got to experiment and try some new recipes you thought he'd like.

you cut the chicken into small cubes, added some tomato sauce, herbs and spices, pasta… until it all became a glorious, moan-inducing, delicious-smelling dish.

you clapped excitedly, anticipating zayne's reaction, and also hoping it could give him some kind of relief after a stressful month.

when you heard his car parking outside, you rushed to set everything up, going as far as lighting his favorite scented candle to create a more relaxing ambiance.

you waited with your hands behind your back in front of the door, smiling from ear to ear.

zayne took off his shoes and his coat after coming in, his entire demeanor relaxing when he spotted your bright smile and playful swaying from side to side.

“my love,” he quietly greeted, stepping closer to you. he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before cupping your cheek. “are you that happy to see me?”

“always!” you giggled, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen before he could even process what was going on. “okay, you gotta trust me on this one. close your eyes!”

he hesitated.

it's not like you weren't a decent cook, but… knowing you, you'd probably feed him carrots and make fun of him later.

“come on, zaynie! don't you trust me?”

he sighed and finally closed his eyes, making you squeak.

you took a bit of the chicken pasta, blowing on the spoon before carefully bringing it to his parted lips.

he took his sweet time tasting it, but once the flavor settled in, his frown deepened.

he opened his eyes and looked at you, then at the pot.

his hazel eyes looked almost lost, but you could almost hear his brain malfunctioning.

“this…” he muttered, blinking a few times before grabbing your wrist, gently pulling the spoon away. “this is…”

your smile disappeared.

oh, man…

“bad? bland? too salty…? i swear i did exactly what the website told me to! or, well, i added some extra dashes of salt here and there, but…”

he didn't answer.

instead, he kissed you like a starved man, like he'd never tasted your lips before, like this was his dessert after a godly meal.

“marry me,” he whispered, out of breath. “please.”

you gasped, pulling away to stare at him with wide eyes.

the website didn't say anything about charming boyfriends to this degree.

“uhm, zayne—”

he took yet another spoonful, his hand bringing it to his lips with a rare urgency for such a patient man.

and, the truth was, he felt this sudden, cozy warmth enveloping him. the sauce, the chicken, the herbs, your smile, the scented candle; it all drugged him to the point of making him breathless.

he felt alive and nurtured; exactly what his body and soul needed.

“marry me, flower. i will be good, i will do whatever you want, but please…”

was it the relief talking?

or was zayne really enamored by the feeling and the fact that your pretty hands managed to take away several months' worth of stress with a simple dish?

it didn't matter anyway, because you kissed him back, hands gently cupping his cheeks to pull him closer.

you didn't know if this proposal was official or just a symbolic way for zayne to express how grateful he was, but even if it was the latter, you'd gladly accept him.

“so… it only takes some chicken pasta to make you submit to me?” you whispered, your finger tracing the corners of his lips.

he nervously swallowed the remaining taste of the pasta in his mouth, making him surrender again.

“then i'll marry you, zaynie.~ and let's see how you get after finishing the entire plate!”

you giggled mischievously, grabbing a big bowl for him.

he smiled, already doomed, but he'd gladly take every bite —and every taunt— of yours.~

He just shrugs. You press your finger to the door scanner. It unlocks, and Xavier steps in before you. 

The scent of warm food hits you both instantly.

"...The wanderer left us hot pot." Xavier mumbles. 

"Maybe you're onto something, actually."

The two of you are still cautious as you enter further into the apartment and--

Xavier freezes first. Holds a hand out to keep you flat against the wall as he peers around the corner.

"...Xavier? What is it?"

He's silent.

"Xavier--" 

"Shush."

You fall silent. He moves his arm from over your chest to your waist, carefully steering you so you can peer around the corner. 

You freeze too.

Because... you're there. Sat around the kitchen table. Except you're older, body on the cusp of starting to grow softer and wrinkled. Next to you, is an equally older Xavier, but he still looks rather youthful, all things considered. He just has more noticeable eyebags. Hot pot is spread out on the surface, and on Xavier's lap? 

A little kid. No older than 2, maybe 3. With your hair color and his blue eyes.

You're watching Xavier as he picks things out of the broth, and sets them on a plate in front of him for the kid to try. 

"...Here. Have a piece of bok choy." He murmurs. 

Yet they shake their head. "Wan' beef."

"Alright. Here you go." He reaches his arm out. Grabs a piece. Hovers it just outside of the toddlers reach. "Hm... how about this? you eat the piece of bok choy first, Nova. It's good for you."

Nova frowns. "...wanna sleep with mama t'night." 

You snort beside them, taking a bite of your meal. "Wow, Xavier. You hear that? Nova's really starting to speak up against the eating of bok choy." 

Xavier let's out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "If Dada gives you a piece of beef to eat with the bok choy, will you cuddle with me tonight?"

Nova nods. 

Xavier sets the piece of beef down. Breaks it up so Nova can chew safely. Shares a smile with you when the plate gets cleaned before he grabs a quick bite himself.

It's then that blue eyes notice something over your shoulder. 

And, it's then that your current Xavier pushes you both flat against the wall.

"...I looked my way." He whispers.

"He didn't see us, right?" You whisper. "Time traveling 101 is that you can't let the other version of you see you or else it'll go all wonky." You murmur. The two of you have seen enough strange sci-fi movies to both know that.

"...Mh, I dunno. I am rather alert..."

You nod. "You are. And we're..."

Trailing off, you share a glance. 

Parents. You're parents in the future. Just one little kid, but you've never seen Xavier as a big family type.

It's... quiet. Domestic. 

Neither of you can help the small smiles on your lips. 

"We're really lifelong partners, huh?" You murmur.

He nods. If only you knew just how long 'lifelong' was.

Hearing a chair get pushed back, Xavier takes a quick glance around the corner. "Oh, you're moving. C’mon, we should go. See if there's another way back to your apartment." He says, before adding, "...Your current apartment."

You nod. His grip on your hand is firm as he quietly leads you out of the apartment.

Yet, you can't help it. Taking a final glance behind you, you see the older version of you carrying Nova across the room towards the bedrooms. And---

Your heart jumps when blue eyes stare straight at you, before blinking. 

"Mama..."

"Hm? What is it, Nova?"

"You..." 

"Me huh? You still wanna sleep with me?" Older you coos, rubbing their cheek and kissing their head before disappearing out of sight, and before you and Xavier slip out of the apartment and shut the door.

"Xavier, uhm--" You start.

Yet his lips are on yours. Tugging you close as his mouth moves gently on yours. Pulling away with your head cupped in his hands. 

"...Sorry." He murmurs. "I just... really wanted to kiss you. I... I didn't realize I'd have such a future with you."

"...Why not?"

He shrugs. Eyes flickering over you. Xavier doesn't have the courage to say how he's slowly dying. How he just wonders how much life he has left in this future with you.

"Just... never expected the kid." He mumbles. Because that's true too. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But... if we had that future for real, I'd... I'd be happy. So happy." He whispers, hugging you close to his chest. Head on your shoulder. "...I'd be happy if we didn't, though. As long as you're by my side."

The moment the protofield disturbance settled around you, Zayne's hand was reaching for you.

"Are you alright..?"

Nodding, you glance around you. "...we're in a bedroom."

His eyes scan over you for peace of mind, before looking around. "...we are."

"Do you recognize it?"

"...no. but its sizable."

"Yeah... why would a wanderer send us to a bedroom?" You murmur.

The two of you pace around it. It's... a plain bedroom. Pushing open the closet, you can't help but smile despite the odd situation. "Heh. It looks like your closet at home with all the black button downs."

"Yeah? Well that dress there looks a lot like yours."

"Oh, it does." you continue to ruffle though clothes, before pausing. "...? Who lives here? This dress is... way bigger than my size. You cheating on me?" 

He scoffs. "...don't be ridiculous."

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

It's then you're interrupted.

"Mom-!" A soft voice yells

"Mama you're back!" Another voice yells. Equally as soft but more higher pitched.

Green eyes share a confused glance with yours.

"...There are kids here?" You whisper to Zayne.

"...Apparently." 

The two of you carefully push the bedroom door open, before you sneak along the hallway walls.

"Oh my God."

Taking a step back, you bump into Zayne's chest. He steadies you, before looking to see what startled you and--

"Oh."

Your gazes are locked on a much older Zayne. Yet, despite looking older, glasses perched on his nose, he seems more calm. Less stressed, but a few grey hairs nonetheless. And by the front door, you're crouched down, a few wrinkles on your face to match Zaynes. Arms wrapped around an older boy and a younger girl who both share Zaynes dark hair.

"Yes, yes, mama's back home." You hum, kissing both their heads.

"Did you save a lot of people today?" The girl asks. 

"Yep." You hum. "Did you two have fun with dad?"

Both kids nod. "We helped make dinner." The older boy says.

"And dessert." The youngest adds.

"Oh? What's on the menu, Jasmine? Jingque?"

"Vanilla cupcakes." Jasmin answers.

“Stirfry’s for dinner.” Jingue murmurs.

"Sounds good. Go wash up, you two." Murmuring, your gaze turns to Zayne as they run down the hall. Lips twitching up as you lean into his embrace. "Cupcakes, huh?" 

"...They didn't want cookies."

"Mh, unlikely. Considering they're your kids."

He shakes his head. "It's... good to spice it up."

"Mh.. I suppose so." One hand pushes his glasses up, before you're moving in to kiss his lips. And pulling back to glance towards the bathroom, before kissing him again.

"I'm so lucky." You hum.

"Are you now? You say that all the time, you know."

"It's true. Not everyone has the ex best surgeon in Linkon at their fingertips."

"Well... then I must also be lucky. Not everyone has the best hunter in Linkon city, either." 

"What a way with words." Your hands pat his chest, leaning in for one last peck before the bathroom sink gets turned off and footsteps start to approach. "You can show me just how "lucky" you are tonight." 

And it isn't until future you starts to walk away, and two kids come from the opposite hallway, that you realize you and Zayne are... fucked. More or less. Right in the middle of the hall. Very visible.

Zayne seems to have the same realization, as he quickly opens the storage closet behind you and pulls you in, your back against his chest, before you carefully turn around.

It's dark. And you're both silent. If you had to guess... his expression matched yours.

"...you know," he starts. "I... I think that dress that was too big was a maternity dress."

"I... that's what you're thinking about? Zayne we-- we have two kids."

"...We do."

"The oldest one looks a lot like you." 

"...Jingque does, yes. But... Jasmine was unmistakably you." 

You bite your lip as you grin. Face pressing against his chest as he holds you. At least, until you look up again, as if that makes a difference in the dark closet. "Wait you-- I called you an "ex surgeon". You stayed home with the kids. Did-- holy shit are you planning to retire??"

"...Not at the moment, no." He murmurs. "But... if we had two kids, I'd definitely consider it." 

"So... in order to see Zaynie more... I need to have a kid?" 

"Two." 

"Mh... okay." 

Yet he shakes his head. "But... don't let this sway your judgement. We should still... talk about the possibilities, and my work schedule still shows very little chances of lightening up and..."

Lips press against his. Pull away. Voice a whisper. "...we'll be fine. Clearly."

"There's no guarantee that's our future.” 

"...I'd like to think it is." 

The two of you have spent a better part of an hour trapped in Rafayel's studio-- or what he claimed was his studio.

You weren't sure if it was. Mainly, because the floor was cleaner and had less mess worth tripping over. Albeit, the walls were covered in more art than he usually had.

You two have checked every door for a way out. Tried to find where the protocore was that was keeping you here. 

He's plopped down on his couch and sighing. "Cutie... have you found it yet?"

You sigh. "No. Are you seriously done helping?" 

"We've already looked everywhere. So I might as well get comfortable. Maybe it's like that one time on the beach and my prayers have been answered to be alone with you again." 

Holding one hand out, he beckons you closer. Shaking your head, you approach. Intertwine your fingers with his. He tugs you down and places a kiss on your nose. 

"You think I'm right?" Rafayel asks.

"Well it's the best theory we have right now..."

He grins. Leans in to kiss you, when you hear it.

Giggling. And footsteps coming your way. Quickly, you tug on Rafayel's hand and drag him up the stairs. He whines about his arm hurting before you cover his mouth.

"Someones here."

"But Cutie, if it's a person is it really necessary to hide?"

"I dunno. What if the wanderers trying to bait us?" 

Smushed together against the wall, the two of you peer through the glass railing at the top of the stairs. 

The patio door slides open. Four people walk in.

You and Rafayel stop breathing. In fact, your face heats up and his ears start to burn so red you'd think he'd use his evol.

There was no other justification for the sight in front of you.

Because it was you and him. Side by side. Your body looked a little different, face a little older. Rafayel still looked a bit youthful, but even he was starting to show a few signs of age. 

And... in both their arms? He was holding a little girl. Towel wrapped around her bright pink bathing suit, and her long, wavy hair damp and the same faded purple color as Rafayels. 

Your arms were around a similar looking kid, albeit this one had shorter hair instead. 

A boy and a girl. Twins. 

You and Rafayel had...

"Mommmm can we swim more after dinner??" The boy whined. Voice high pitched, but almost startlingly similar to Rafayel's cadence. 

"No, Caspian. We're going to Rafayel's exhibit tonight."

"But mommmm, it's so boring!!" The girl whines.

"Yeah, mommm it's boring." The older Rafayel joins in.

You sigh. "Raf, don't encourage them."

"I'm just saying, I could make Thomas resched--"

"No." One hand secures Caspian, while the other points at him. "Thomas has already had enough of the headache with you painting this exhibit. You’re not skipping out on this one just so they can swim."

"But mommm!! We won't be able to swim once we get back. It'll be too dark."

"Mh, well... There aren't any plans tomorrow, Cordilla. We can swim all day if you want. Enjoy the good weather when we still have it." Smiling at the girl, she and her brother nod eagerly.

"Okay!"

"Sure."

...From up on the railing, Rafayel watches with wide eyes and parted lips. Taking in every little detail.

Caspian and Cordillia, huh...

He starts to laugh.

"I... Rafayel!" You whisper, moving your hand back over his mouth. "Keep it down!" Yet your palms shaky on his lips. 

You knew you wanted to stay with him. But the two of you never talked about having kids. 

"Sorry, sorry.' He whispers, moving to grasp your hand on his mouth and turn it around for a kiss. "I just..." words trail off. He thinks of a hundred different things he wants to say. How seeing this future makes him the happiest man alive. How knowing she stays long enough to even have a future with him, or the fact that they were able to have twins without nature being cruel. 

He settles on something else entirely. "I didn't expect you to still nag me so much in the future."

Your eyes narrow. "..well, I didn't realize you were going to still be so sleazy either. Poor Thomas is like in his 50s now and you're still stressing him out."

He shakes his head. The smile on his face is wide. "...yeah, well... I'd do anything for you guys." 

Your smile matches his. Tug him a little closer. 

"I can tell. You've kept the floors clean. That's a miracle on its own." You whisper. He huffs another laugh.

Back downstairs, the older couple works on dinner together. The twins are set down to go get changed, as their parents laugh and tease each other behind them.

Navigating across the living room, Caspian looks up, before Cordilla follows his gaze. 

The glass railing... shows a reflection of their parents. Younger. Closer. Their mom in front of their dad, but their guards down as they quietly laugh about who knows what.

"...is this a weird anomaly thing mom always talks about?" Caspian asks. Cordilla shrugs.

"It's probably nothing. Mom's watch would've beeped if it was. C'mon." 

By the time they get to the top of the stairs, the reflections are gone and they've forgotten all about it. 

"...Mh, I told you wanderers were stronger in the N.109 zone, sweetheart." Sylus murmurs.

You can't help but roll your eyes, scanning over the area. "...Well, now we're in what looks like Linkon." 

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh... I mean look out the window. At least the wanderer didn't send us that far..."

"It's just an illusion, kitten. None of this is real, you know."

"Yeah, but still. Its--"

You go to plop down on the couch. To ramble on about how the respite is nice.

Yet you freeze when the lock clicks. 

"Shit--" You start. Try to find somewhere to go. "I-- if the house is owned then we're--"

Red mist envelops you, before you stand safely out of sight, tucked in an odd nook under the stairs.

"I... you really couldn't get us out of here?" You huff.

"I could. But consider it... morbid curiosity. The door could just be an illusion, you know?" 

Shaking your head, you fall silent.

"Mom, we beat you home." A girl brags, before running into the living room.

"Of course you two did– Hey-- shoes off." A voice huffs. One that sounds oddly like... yours.

"But dad always keeps his--"

"Listen to your mother, princess."

You feel Sylus' heartbeat pickup behind you at the sound of his voice.

The girl huffs. Stomps back towards them, kicks her shoes off, before plopping onto the couch. Thats when current you sees her. 

The girl looks to be about eight. Medium length hair with choppy bangs as white as Sylus'. She's in a dress with a black hoodie. 

"Thank you. That wasn't so hard now, was it, princess?"

"No, but still. Why doesn't dad need to take his shoes off??"

"He does." You huff, "But... How was school, Saphira?"

"Good! When Dad was driving me home on his super cool bike we saw--!" 

Saphira rambles about the sights she saw on Sylus’ bike ride there. That's when future you and Sylus walk over into the living room to listen to her. And, despite you looking older, soft wrinkles on your face, Sylus looks... the same. Maybe a bit softer. Like a domesticated wild animal.

He looked really happy.

“--And we went the long way on the way back home and saw an amusement park!! It was really cool, right dad?”

“Yes, it was. You should’ve seen the place, sweetheart.” Sylus murmurs to you. “We should go tomorrow night. They’re having a night market there. I know you like your trinkets…”

“Yes!! Yes we– Can we go, mom?”

“Of course.” You nod, leaning against Sylus. His hands rubbing your shoulder. “But only if you tidy up your room.”

“Okay!” She grins, before sprinting up the stairs, footsteps thumping above you before disappearing.

 Sylus can’t help but grin. Lean over to future you, whisper something in your ear and kiss your cheek.

“Mh… You go ask her what she wants for dinner. I’ll make it.” You murmur.

“...We’ll make it.”

“Well well… someone’s free tonight.” Grinning, you trail a finger down his jaw.

“I hope to make the most of it. I’m busy tomorrow morning, so you have to drop Saphira off. Or, I could send the twins to come take her to school.”

“No no, I got it, Sy.”

“Of course you do, sweetheart. The twin’s will get her after school, though. And then once you’re off work, I’ll be done with my… deal. Then we can go to the market.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile. “But… What about tonight?”

“I’m sure you have a few things in mind, sweetheart.”  He muses, nose nudging against yours. 

And current you can’t help but smile, as older you and Sylus cuddle on the couch. Because, truly, you don't think you've ever seen Sylus so relaxed. So… domestic.

Glancing behind you, your eyes look at Sylus. Who’s staring ahead silently.

“...Sylus?” you whisper.

"...Stunning." He mumbles.

"Huh?"

"You look stunning." He clarifies. "Time did you well."

You can't help how your heart does that happy little flutter as Sylus slips an arm around you, holding you closer. Mist envelops your gaze instantly. Before you and your Sylus are safely out of view, and somewhere else entirely. 

"Hey– I was curious what they were going to do next.” You huff.

“I think it was quite obvious.” 

“...Still.” 

Sylus chuckles. “Come now, Kitten. Let them have their moment in private.”

“But it's us! Thats– that's my Sylus who’s being all domestic and lovey dovey.”

“Your ‘Sylus’ is right in front of you.” He murmurs. “We’ll get to that moment one day, kitten. No need to rush.”

“...Well, yeah, but what if seeing that at all like... jeopardizes our future? Y’know?"

"No chance."

"You don't know that, though." 

"...I don't, no. But, I know that I'm not letting you go anytime soon. Worst that happens, we have a son, or something. Maybe live in the N.109 zone instead of Linkon."

"No chance-- but hey, why do you live there? I thought you'd never give Onychinus up?"

"I wouldn't." 

And, when you both end up back in your current time, neither of you can drop the debate of what your living situation could possibly be like in the future if you're both too stubborn to give either place up. Yet, his words lack any real fight, when he’s more focused on the fact that you really chose to stay by his side. That he actually has a chance of a domestic life with you. To have a kid. 

And he can’t help that the smirk won’t leave his face for days. To the point that the twins are off put by how much the boss man keeps smiling. 

Caleb was back from Skyhaven again. Like he was every weekend now. The routine came easy. Sure, only seeing him 3 out of 7 days of the week sucked, but you'd take it over his DAA days where you barely saw him at all. Or... when you didn't hear from him at all.

The two of you were walking to your apartment, when the wanderer was encountered. Luckily, both of you were unarmed, but...

"...Gran's place." You swallow. "Why did it... send us here?"

"Pipsqueak, this isn't just her place. It's... the rebuilt version." He swallows. "Maybe it's a sign... it still needs the finishing touches and some more furniture."

"It... looks pretty done to me. The lights are on."

Both of you look confused. He moves around the back of the home. The back patio is unlocked and he cracks it open enough that you can slip in. 

First thing you notice? The furniture is different. House is a mess. Air warm and cozy, and full of chatter. The two of you sneak through the living room, towards the noise.

It’s then your gaze catches on the old mantle. The one Gran used to keep photos of her friends and a few pictures of you two on. And now? There was a photo of you. And him. On your wedding day. On your wedding day, from the looks of it. Caleb dressed in a suit and tie, with you in a wedding dress in his arms. Next to it are three different baby photos, dated a couple years apart. And then a family photo. Of you with two girls and a baby boy on a grassy field during summer. 

“...Woah. Pips, c’mere.” He whispers, snapping you out of your daze. Steps hasty, you run over to his side, peer around the corner into the kitchen, before your eyes widen in shock.

And there you two were. Older. Your figure softer, his muscled body about twice as soft. A toddler on your hip, eyes focused on Caleb cooking with two girls next to him on their tip toes. 

All three kids were brunette. Caleb’s hair color. The oldest girl had pigtails and shorts on, the middle girl with a ponytail and a flowy top. 

“So next we add the… Spices, right?” the middle one asks. 

“Thats right, Honey. Want to add them?” 

“Yes!!” Honey nods, before she squeals as Caleb picks her up and holds her over the pot. She dumps in some spices, him stopping her before she adds too much.

“And what do we do next?” Caleb glances at the eldest.

“...Mix it?” She murmurs.

“Yep. C'mere, Cosmic.” 

The girl giggles as Caleb’s other arm scoops her up so she can see inside the pot, her fingers gripping the spoon as she stirs the meat in the pot up.

Meanwhile, you lean against the kitchen counter, watching Caleb cook with a small smile on your lips. The boy in your arms whines. “Dada.” He babbles.

“Hm? Yeah, bud?”

“Can I mix?”

“Can you mix what?”

“Please?” He pouts.

“There we go. Bring Cameo closer, pips.” Caleb smiles, stepping to the side. Cosmic gives her brother the spoon. 

And, back next to your current Caleb, shock settles in your gut from the… Very domestic scene that unfolds. You, Caleb, and three kids happily gathered around the stove as they cooked. Yet, it settles into something akin to joy. You knew Caleb was always the one for you, after all. But you just didn't realize what that future entailed.

Curious, your eyes glance at your Caleb. 

The grin on his face is wide. He looks like he won the lottery. 

"Whats that smile for?"

"Nothin' pipsqueak." 

"Uh huh..." You nod, trying to act unimpressed, but you're sure you look almost as happy as he does.

"It's just, uh... you let me knock you up three times." He murmurs. 

"I... Caleb you dummy! Don't phrase it like that." You huff, hitting his chest. His smile doesn't falter as he tugs you closer and into a kiss.

"Mh mh..." He murmurs as he pulls away. "But I'm your dummy."

"Yeah, but I just won't have kids with you. Because you said it so rudely." 

"Uh huh..." He nods. "Sure ya won't."

Caleb just holds you for a few moments longer, before his arms drop. “...We should go. Honestly, I’m surprised that future-me hasn’t noticed us, yet. I thought I was more alert.” He whispers.

“Well… You always do get kinda stupid when you’re around those you love.” Biting your tongue, you leave the house with him. Heart warm from knowing what the future holds. “Now… How do we get back?” 

“...I dunno.” He rubs the back of his neck, as you two start walking down the street. “I’m sure we’ll find the source of the anomaly soon, pips.”

“Hopefully. I mean, if not, I wouldn't complain about ogling you for a few more minutes. I never expected to see you put weight on.”

“...Did you not like it?” He murmurs, scanning your face.

“I mean, you did look… pretty hot. But I don’t think there could be a version of you that I don’t love, Caleb.”

viola whispers . “ would you love me if i was a fly ahh xavier “ “ drabble for @hirayalia i know its bad stop "

You gently pry his fingers away that keep reaching around looking for you, a small frown on his face when he realizes that you have been moving away from him and the warmth of your shared bed, leaving him behind.

A small chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him for a little while longer. His gentle expression, how cozy he looks beneath all the blankets you two share together at night.

With a yawn, you finally sit up, stretching your arms up in the air, enjoying the silence of an early morning before urgency would force you to hurry up and get ready, no matter how tired you are currently feeling.

There is a small sting just around your lower back that makes you hiss; memories of last night rushing through your head which draw a familiar warmth to your face. You recall how Sylus got back earlier than usual, welcoming you back with dinner and some wine that you two enjoyed in shared company.

It didn't take long — just about two glasses of your favorite red wine — before his eyes settled on your lips, fingers wrapping around your waist as he leaned down and suggested you stay the night. He wanted to spend some more time with you since you two have been busy with work recently.

And who were you to say no?

Every touch of his made your skin tingle, every nip of his teeth across your skin drawing a whimper past your lips and before you knew it, he had you pinned underneath him, pleading for him to hurry up already.

Your face grows hot no matter how hard you try not to think about it too much, hands fanning the warmth away that is running down your neck, especially since all you can think about is the way he had looked throughout it all, eyes half-lidded in a way that always makes you feel weak, voice calling out your name as you melt in his arms. Every touch of his, you think still lingers on your skin; the way his eyebrows furrow as he grunts and reaches down to capture your lips making you shiver and blush furiously.

So when you feel two arms wrap around your waist and pull you back into bed, you can't help the loud shriek that makes its way past your lips, your back hitting his bare chest as you fall into a comforting heat again.

"..Where are you going?"

Raspy and quiet are the words coming out of his mouth as he presses his face into your back, nuzzling closer as his grip around you tightens. You can't help but chuckle, turning your head to look at him. Has he always been this clingy? It must be a sleepy Sylus thing.

"Bathroom. I need to get ready, Sy" you run your hand through his messy locks, feel the warmth of his face in your palm, "I'm at the office today. There's a meeting at eight, remember?"

You recall telling him about it in the middle of last nights fervor; how you had tried to reason with him not to be too rough when you had to get to work early the following day and couldn't afford more lower back pain if you were going to be sitting on a cheap office chair the whole morning. Sylus had let out a huff in frustration and now that it's a couple of hours later, you can safely confirm that he had been awfully stubborn about your warning — let's leave it at that.

"Stay here with me", he mumbles, hands around your body hard to pry off. "I can't sleep if you aren't there"

"Since when are you this cute?", you giggle, letting out a small gasp when he starts biting your neck, running his tongue across that spot to make up for it, "hey, stop that-"

"Stay.", he repeats and this time it seems more like a plea than a suggestion. You feel your heart tighten, watching him half-asleep trying to get you back into bed with him, draping the blanket across your legs, as he lets out a small hum.

"You are awfully clingy today" you mention and he makes a small noise in response, pulling you even closer if that's even possible, "I'd love to stay with you, but I really need to start getting ready now. I have an important meeting to attend, my love"

You press a kiss to his forehead, another between his furrowed eyebrows and gently caress his arms as his grip slowly loosens. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Sleep some more and text me when you are awake, hmm?"

By the time you make your way back into the bedroom to grab your phone, Sylus is still awake, silently watching as you sneak back into the room. You have been trying to stay quiet for his sake, but the moment your eyes meet his you halt and smile.

He has his arm propped underneath his face when you walk closer, reaching for your phone and simultaneously leaning down to capture his lips with yours. "I'll get going now", you whisper, "Make sure to sleep a little bit more, I'll see you later, alright?"