- helps you with coping mechanisms and a routine to help you go about your day. Reminds you that even if you don’t get everything you wanted done, you were still productive and there’s no shame in it.

- Will suggest a cuddle sesh and a nap to recharge all the energy you seem to have lost

- can enable you just slightly, so you might have to be the one to pull the breaks. “It’s not like cuddling for a few more hours can hurt,” He says, and you remind him you’ve been needing to switch the laundry for about five hours now. “You’ll need to rewash them anyway…. Come back. It’s so cold. I can feel myself withering away.”

- “Xavier, you’re under at least two blankets.” You inform him, much to his chagrin, “I don’t think freezing is within the realm of possibility right now.”

- “Stranger things have happened to me.”

- we actually don’t talk about how Xavier could actually rival Rafayel’s melodrama

- threatens to start cooking and cleaning for you. You value your kitchen far too much to let that happen

- when a task seems too overwhelming, he’s there to gently steady you and remind you to take it one thing at a time. The list starts looking smaller when you realize most of the tasks you’re stressing over can be accomplished at the same time.

- very often reminds you that not meeting a deadline a few times does not affect your value as a person or how good you are

Rafayel

- another executive dysfunction diva

- you will both have days where you lay on the couch and commiserate about how little either of you want to do about literally anything

- “why should we have to work. Look at you, you could be getting paid to sit and look pretty. It’s not our fault the world is so demanding.” He sighs forlornly, gazing at the ceiling.

- you nod in agreement. “…. We should at least do the dishes, though.”

- he sighs. “Fine. I’ll wash, you dry.” You sigh with defeated acceptance and trudge your way to the kitchen.

- you complete your grueling tasks together and then lay down for a nap together after.

- sticky notes on mirrors, with written deadlines. You also have a chore chart you split so neither of you get too overwhelmed with the amount of things to do.

- if you’ve ever yearned to be mutually miserable with someone who Gets It, Rafayel is your guy. He gets it and he Will complain about how hard the world is with you.

- “I just think,” He says, as he lays next to you on your bed and idly fiddles with your hands. “That if the world were perfect, you and I would never need to do anything so degrading as wiping down a counter ever again.”

- “I concur. We should draft up a bill. Rafie’s Law, we’ll call it.”

- “You’re so smart. Do you want to watch desperate housewives?”

- “I LOVE desperate housewives-“

Zayne

- “Darling, you’ve been staring at the ceiling for about thirty minutes. Is something on your mind?” Comes a voice from behind a desk in his home office, belonging to none other than Zayne.

- “I have to pee.”

- “Oh. That’s not something you should really hold in.”

- “I know.” You murmur. “I just can’t seem to make myself move.”

- There’s a silence for a moment, until you hear footsteps. Zayne enters your space, sitting next to you on the cushion and tapping your nose before holding your hands. “Come, then.”

- You are hoisted up and he walks with you toward the bathroom. Oh. Wait. Abort, abort. “I didn’t mean-“

- “I’m not mocking you.” He clarifies. “You… I didn’t want to say anything. I’m not a psychologist. I just know that you sometimes falter in making immediate decisions. This can impact your health in a very physical way.”

- “Yeah, it’s- it’s kind of embarrassing. I’m sorry-“

- “Don’t apologize. It’s not as if it’s uncommon, least of all burdensome.” He leans on the wall.

- he implements a sort of ‘treatment’ plan after. Does his research on the best way to mitigate these behaviors, checks in with you often. Keeps it too clinical to feel embarrassing, never makes a fuss about it. He does his best to maneuver in a way that draws as little attention to his efforts as possible, in fact.

- He often warns you when he notices signs of you falling into another spiral. Very proactive about helping you.

- he’s quick to reassure you that he finds none of this embarrassing or annoying. It’s just you, and he cares about you, and that’s all that matters.

Sylus

- isn’t exactly sure what’s causing your lethargy, but he’s determined to fix the issue.

- perhaps you need a change of scenery? An impromptu vacation is in order. You’ll be so blown away by the sights of a whole new country to be bothered with something as fickle as cleaning.

- makes Luke and Kieran do tasks for you when you’re not home. Justifies this by claiming someone like you should not have to do something as trivial as cleaning, that’s what grunts are for.

- “You’re my equal,” He murmurs, polishing one of many pistols in his collection. “I have no small amount of respect for those in the cleaning industry, but I think you’re a bit above all of that, hm?”

- he is very good company if you just need someone there while you do your thing. He’ll offer help often, but is content to abide by your routine if that’s what you need

- Will help you if you need the support. The last thing he’d ever do is bar you from doing the things you want, and if you’re so upset by something so small as laundry, well, he supposes he’ll simply have to get comfortable folding clothes.

- “What, you thought I’d make you do it alone?” It’s a sight, watching the revered lord of the N109 Zone sitting on your bed and folding t-shirts and sweatpants.

- “If my beloved deems this a task worthy of attention, well, who am I to disagree?” He will not be defeated by the very confusing construction of your tank top with crisscrossed straps.

- he is. He gets confused. It’s okay, you help him.

- “someone told me once, that I didn’t have to be good at everything.” You nod sagely, watching his eye twitch as you fold the top without struggle. “That he’d pick up my slack, as it were. I suppose even the bosses of crime syndicates are not infallible,” You ponder to yourself

- “he sounds very handsome,”

- “He’s actually really obnoxious in a charming sort of way. He’s also about as good at folding clothes as he is at singing.”

- “I’ll have you know my singing is exquisite,”

- “it’s an acquired taste,”

- “I’ll give you a taste you can acquire-“

Sylus

You laid in his embrace, fiddling with the collar of his jacket, your whole weight on him as he had his nose buried in your hair. He was letting himself be calmed by the scent of your shampoo. Your hand moved to trace a line down his left pec. "I could stab your heart right now.." you began, quietly, your fingers coming to a stop in the middle of the muscle.

"Go ahead, I won't stop you," he said as he did that kind of annoyingly cocky smirk, hand tangling in your hair, like he knew you couldn't hurt him.

"..Seriously?"

"Have i ever lied to you, kitten?"

"..."

"I have a knife in my back pocket," He confessed, right eye glowing a dangerous red. Yet it didn't seem at all threatening.

"W-wait, Sylus, stop-"

------------

Xavier

Sitting quietly beside him in an empty train carriage, on your way home together after completing a handful of bounties. It was the perfect time to mess with him.

"You know.."

"I could stab you right now," you said, innocently, as the Xavier who was almost nodding off, lifted his heavy eyes again to gaze at you in sleepy confusion.

"H-huh..? Did you say something?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I said," You cleared your throat, kind of irked he didn't hear you the first time. "I could stab you right now."

"...Oh. Yeah.. You could."

That's it? 'You could'?

"..is that all you have to say?"

"..Is there something else I should say?"

"I... nevermind." You sighed, defeated, crossing your arms and gazing to the side.

A small smile appeared on his face, and he reached a hand out to turn your head back towards him, finding your slight pout adorable. You didn't even notice you'd been pouting.

"You could.." he added on to his previous words. "...if it helps, i'll sit still for you."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Next part:

╰┈➤ Their reaction to you saying.... "I could stab you right now" (2/2) -- Rafayel, Zayne & Caleb

A/N : i thought of this at midnight and had to write this scenario hhhh

Zayne couldn't place his finger on the feeling, but something had him full of restless energy despite the late hour. He'd decided the only course of action was to burn it off, so he put on his sweats and headed out into his quiet leafy suburb for a late night jog. He used it as an opportunity to clear his thoughts and mentally debrief himself about the surgery he had completed earlier, about his to-do lists and then his thoughts drifted as they always do, to you.

He hadn't heard from you for a few hours, which wasn't unusual for you two, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing that he hadn't seen a goodnight text or voice note from you, hoping that it meant maybe you had conked out on the couch and were getting some rest. As he walked the last block back towards his house, relaxing on his cooldown he takes a photo of the full moon in the sky and sends it over to you along with a "the moon looks beautiful tonight" note.

DING.

Zayne approaches his driveway and your notification sound rings out, echoing in the silent night. He shakes his head, a smile touching the corner of his lips as he realizes you're nearby but his brow knits in confusion when he doesn't see your ride parked nearby. She probably got dropped off by Tara or that partner Xavier, he thinks to himself with a shrug. The cool night air was trapping the sweat in against his compression shirt, making him shiver as he walked up the steps to his front door. Something was off, he realized suddenly; one of his ambient security lights that normally cast a soft glow up his front steps was dimmed and bent at an odd angle, like something had fallen on it.

He leans over, attempting to make out in the dark what landed on top of it to break it when he hears it again and sees the flash.

DING.

Blood turns to ice in his veins as your notification tone sounds from beside the broken garden lighting, the flash of your phone camera strobing in the darkness for a split second in tandem with the sound. Delicately picking up your phone in his left hand, his heart catches in his chest as he sees bloody fingerprints on the screen. Zayne's mind surges with all sorts of worst-case fears as his eyes desperately scan the yard for any sign of you, but you're nowhere to be found.

Wary now and knowing you're hurt, he carefully calls forth shards of ice to his fingertips of his right hand, holding them tensely, ready to jump to action if he needs to defend himself too. Punching in the code for his electronic front door lock, he lets the door swing open as he steps inside cautiously, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary inside. Zayne moves room to room silently looking for anything out of place, any sign of you, without success.

He's just about to shut the front door and start making calls to your boss Jenna and emergency services when your hand slams against the closing door, jolting him as he stares at you. "Zayne..." you squeak out, using all your strength to prop yourself up on his doorframe.

"I'm so gla-" you don't even get a chance to finish before your body is in freefall towards him and his eyes widen in panic, the phone and the ice shards both clattering loudly on the entryway tiles as he scrambles to catch you before you hit the floor. "My hero..." you joke weakly, face pallid as you slip out of consciousness in his arms.

Cradling you gently, kneeling on the cold tiles beside you his combat medic instinct overtakes his fears and he begins to perform some cursory checks, noting how pale your lips are, how shallow your breathing is, and that's when he sees it; your right arm is dangling limply, seemingly dislocated from the socket and the sleeve has been ripped to shreds, your bicep showing a deep, angry wound. You've lost a lot of blood and you're in shock, so Zayne knows he needs to act swiftly.

"I'm so sorry, this is not going to be enjoyable for either of us." he murmurs to your unconscious body gently as he takes hold of your dislocated shoulder, feeling for the socket before firmly and skillfully setting it back into place. You cry out a whimper of pain as it temporarily wakes you and he brushes your hair away from your forehead with a bloody hand, stroking the backs of his fingers tenderly across your brow with a trembling touch. "Shhhh my love, I'm sorry, I know it hurt but I had no choice, it couldn't stay that way, you're okay, I've got you. You're okay."

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused, but you look up at him like he's an angel, the ceiling down light cascading around his dark hair above you like a halo; that handsome face stroking your brow lovingly with gentle sweeps, trying so hard to hide from you how scared he is as he smiles down at you trying to reassure you both with his soft whispers. As your eyes begin to flutter shut again and unconsciousness swallows you, you see him pulling his compression shirt off up over his head, his bare chest sucking in deep shuddering breaths that betray his smile and measured tone.

Zayne ties a sleeve of the compression shirt around your bicep wound like a tourniquet and loops the other sleeve around your neck, creating a very crude home made sling for your badly damaged arm. If he thought he had more time, he'd run to the bathroom for medical supplies but you were too pale and he was terrified to let you out of his sight so he made do as best he could. Swallowing down all sorts of insidious memories and fears from his time on the front lines, he works to stabilize you so that you'll be safe to move.

Grabbing the throw blanket off the couch and draping it over you, he scoops you up into his arms, pressing you tightly into his body as he carries you to his car, delicately lowering you into the passenger side and locking the seatbelt over you. You flit in and out of consciousness under the bright streetlights as he drives you to Akso Hospital, the steady weight of his large hand cradled behind your head, pressing and stroking tenderly on the nape of your neck the only constant feeling other than pain.

"Dr. Zayne, didn't you finish a couple of hours ago? Did you forget something in your office?" The tired but friendly voice of Dr. Greyson rings out over the car's Bluetooth speakers as Zayne's call to the nurses station connects. "Go cuddle with your Lady paperwork can wait!" Yvonne laughs in the background and Zayne realizes he's on speakerphone.

"I'm just about to hit the exit ramp. I'm 2 minutes away, prep a bay in Emergency Greyson...it's y/n." Zayne says with a harsher, colder tone than he intended, fear for your wellbeing getting the better of him.

Silence hangs on the line for a moment before someone sniffs awkwardly and a cacophony of chairs scraping and shuffling flares to life as the nurses scramble.

"How bad?" Comes the soft reply and Zayne can hear the concern in his colleague and friend's tone.

Zayne squeezes the nape of your neck reassuringly, but whether it's to reassure you or himself, he can't tell; "she's lost a lot of blood, it's hard to say. I have her stable but we don't have much time," he responds, his voice breaking slightly.

"We'll be waiting for you at the front doors." Greyson says confidently as he disconnects the call. Zayne's golden-green gaze flits across to your lips, checking on your shallow breathing as he pulls his car into the ambulance bay. Just as promised, Greyson, Yvonne and the other nurses pull up a stretcher to the passenger side of the car and open the door, looking across from you to Zayne and giving him a solemn nod.

Zayne gives your neck one last squeeze and lets them take you from the car, watching critically as they lift you gently onto the stretcher and rush you into the waiting Emergency bay. He shivers as the shock starts to wear off and the cold silence of the middle of the night settles in. Looking down at himself, realizing that he's half-naked and covered in smears of your blood, he grabs his coat out of the back of his car and jogs in after them.

He's about to follow them into the Emergency bay when Greyson puts a firm hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. "Are you trying to come in as her Doctor, because you don't trust us to work on her, or her lover because you need to know she's okay?" He asks pointedly.

Zayne snarls out a frustrated sigh, but Greyson continues.

"The code of conduct is there for her interests as the patient, you know that. I'll call you in as soon as we're done. You look like hell, go clean yourself up."

Zayne nods his resignation with a scowl, knowing Greyson was right. He wasn't happy to be called out on it, but Zayne couldn't maintain his objectiveness and professionalism, not when you were involved. The Akso Hospital board might turn a blind eye to him being your General Practitioner while dating you, but they would not stand for him being part of a surgical team.

He showered in the Doctor's suites and grabbed a spare shirt from his office before settling into the visitor's seating in the hallway outside Emergency. Zayne was lying back in the armchair, his head tilted back as he rubbed slow circles on his temples when Greyson finally come out to get him a couple of hours later.

"She's got a fractured humerus and she needed almost a litre of blood, but she's out of the woods now. Pulse is strong again, color has returned and we've stitched up the wound in her bicep. She's asking for you." Greyson said with a smile, giving Zayne a pat on the shoulder as he walked off towards the Doctor's suites.

"She's awake?"

He calls back over his shoulder with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Go to your woman, Zayne!"

Zayne slips in through the door to see the nurses packing up the crash cart and various other Emergency supplies and they give him a knowing smile as they make way for him. Yvonne hands him the pillow she was about to put behind your head and says with a smile "we should leave you two lovebirds alone, you've been through a lot tonight."

"You look..." Zayne begins, pushing the pillow in behind your head.

"Terrible?"

"A sight for sore eyes. For a minute there I was scared I was going to lose you."

You chuckled weakly, color rising in your cheeks. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, Handsome." You reached for his hand, wincing as your stitches pulled and Zayne slipped his hand over yours, gently snuggling himself onto the bed beside you. "I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there..." you began, emotions spilling over and you choke back a sob. He presses you into his chest, hushing you and peppering kisses into your hair.

"Don't think about it Darling, don't upset yourself with what ifs and scenarios." He murmured. "I was there, you're safe now. I've got you and that's all that matters."

As he let you cry softly against his warm chest, he rubbed slow circles on your back, squeezing you tightly, pecking little soothing kisses onto your head. Zayne gently brushed your tears from your cheeks, gazing down at you lovingly, the pad of his thumb feeling so comforting as you stared up at him.

Zayne released you and reached over to read your chart, his brows knitting and his eyes narrowing as he scans through your status and treatment observations. Giving you a gentle peck on the cheek, he tells you he'll be right back and slips from the room.

He's gone for a few minutes and when the door to your room opens, he's carrying the powder blue baby blanket you bought him when he was struggling with nightmares and sitting on top of the bundle were a couple of his always on hand mint candies. Climbing back onto the bed beside you, pulling you onto his chest so he can support your wounded arm he spreads the blanket out over the two of you.

Zayne unwraps a mint candy and holds it out for you.

"Open." He commands gently and you part your lips to let him pop it into your mouth, before he takes the other one himself, tossing the wrappers into the little trashcan beside your bed. "They're keeping you in for observation overnight, so lets do our best to get a good night of sleep, my love." Zayne explains to you in a soft, whispered tone, pulling your head down to rest underneath his chin. As you both chew your candies and cuddle into each other's warmth, he strokes your hair until after a few minutes he feels your breathing settle and you relax, falling asleep against him.

The world hates you and you hate it right back. So fuck the world, fuck watching what you consume and avoiding eating out, you want coffee. You want coffee because you could barely stand up straight and you have had the worst month in the history of ever and god dammit couldn’t you just get an overpriced iced peppermint mocha if you wanted it? It was the holidays for crying out loud

You walked into your favorite hole in the wall coffee shop to find it overrun with college students and had to wait 20 minutes in line before you could finally order that large cup of oversweetened holiday bliss.

Another 20 minutes later, you were knee deep in homework when the barista walked to the counter with a cup in hand and called your name, like a shining beacon of light. You got up, grabbed it, checked to make sure it was your name, and took a sip.

The hot, bitter, black coffee scorched your throat.

Normally you would have tried to fix this. You would’ve spoken out and said I’m sorry, I ordered an iced peppermint mocha. Could you remake this please? Most likely, the barista would’ve happily agreed and made it for you without issue.

Normally you would have. But you’re tired.

So you packed up your stuff and walked out of the coffee shop; broken backpack, sticky shoelaces, and the hot bitter taste sticking to your tongue and all.

It kind of hits you all of a sudden, how much you had been taking on. 19 credit hours, a part time job, a more active social life.

You wonder for a moment how other people hold up with this.

And suddenly, you’re hit with the overwhelming urge to cry, to ugly sob and hyperventilate until you can’t breathe, to vomit up the remnants of crackers you had for dinner yesterday and the stupid fucking black coffee still in your esophagus, to scream at the top of your lungs until you start coughing up phlegm and your throat gives out.

You don’t though. You gather those feelings back into a lump and swallow it down. You look at the sunny sky for a moment, wishing it would be less cheerful (because why the fuck should it be so sunny when you’re mentally losing it?) before heading to your next class.

Time passes weirdly for the next few hours. You simultaneously feel like you’re moving in slow motion and fast-fowarding through classes. One minute your professor is lecturing one slide for 15 minutes straight, the next minute you're staring into the deep fryer and watching each individual bubble pop. You look up at the clock and realize you’re halfway through your shift now and you want to crawl into a ball and melt.

Finally, the clock hits 2 AM and you clock out before trudging over to the bus stop. You plug in your earbuds as you wait, the soft melodies of The Paper Kites ring in your ears as you take a seat and feel your shoulders slump. The stress doesn’t go away, it just absorbs into your body, making you feel even worse.

Your phone buzzes and your music is interrupted by an incoming call. You don’t bother looking at the name before hanging up. Talking requires more energy than you have at the moment.

Your phone buzzes again. Then again. Irritated, you finally look at the caller ID. A picture of Caleb and you in a photo booth shines back at you, his name right above his head. You sigh and hesitate a moment more before answering.

“Hi Caleb,” you breathe out.

“So her phone does work. I was about to buy you another one if you hadn’t answered,” his voice crackles through the speaker, clearly amused.

“Sorry, I thought you were a spam caller.”

“And now I’ve been reduced to ‘spam caller’. I suppose I should just hang up the phone now and call again.”

You give a small giggle as the bus appears, rolling to a stop as you get up and grab your bag.

“Well, I’m here now. What did you need?” You wince slightly as you board the bus, right shoulder twinging from the weight of your backpack.

“Can’t I call my favorite person in the world without an ulterior motive? I’m allowed to do that still, right?”

You sigh again. “Yes Caleb, you’re allowed to call me. You just normally don’t call me these days unless you need something or need to tell me something. Is something up with Grandma?”

Silence fills the call for a moment.

“...No, she’s fine. I’m calling to talk about you tho-”

“And Aerospace Academy? Did something happen in class?”

“No Pips, everything is find-”

“Is it good news then? Did you get a girlfriend or something?”

“What?! No, why would you think I-”

“Is Gideon alright? Did something happen during basketball? I told you to be careful with that you know, so if you get hurt it’s all on you-”

“Pipsqueak!”

Your teeth click shut at his outburst.

“I’m fine, everything is fine. I promise.”

You exhale slightly. 

“Okay, sorry. Just covering the bases I guess.”

“...”

Silence fills the call again. Your shoulder is starting to bother you so start massaging it with one hand as you wait for Caleb to talk again.

Your pseudo-adopted-brother and you used to be thick as thieves and tell each other everything. You remember the days when you two were young enough to allow your imagination to run wild and you’d play every day. You remember the nights you would giggle to each other under pillow forts and blankets would tangle between your legs. You remember growing up side by side and playing video games after school, brushing knees and shoulders. You remember when he used to be just an inch or two taller than you and he seemingly grew five inches overnight. You remember crying when he went to Aerospace Academy the first time. You remember him comforting you after your first break up and him cheering and screaming when you got accepted into the Hunter’s Program. You remember him crying when you walked across the stage and got your diploma. You remember those nights when you crawled into his bed whenever he visited and the lines in your relationship blurred with the darkness.

Once you went off to different universities, however, you slowly drifted apart. Your nightly calls became every other day, then weekly, then biweekly until they finally tapered off into “whenever you could.” Neither of you were at fault for this, life just happened to get in the way and Josephine happened to raise two overachieving, ambitious nerds that excelled in everything they could. Sometimes, however, you wish you could go back to how it was the beginning of this semester, when your relationship was at its liveliest and most stable.

The bus reaches your stop and you get off, slowly walking to your apartment. Your shoulder aches some more as you hear Caleb finally speak.

“...Are you alright, pips?”

Your spine stiffens with the question. Do you brush it off like you always do? Could you answer him honestly? Would he have time for that? Would he even want to hear about your troubles anymore now that you were an adult?

“I can hear your mind racing from here Captain Anxiety. Talk to me,” his voice was laced with concern.

“I…” you hesitate. “I don’t…”

He doesn’t say a word, letting you formulate your thoughts. Maybe it’s the fact you’re so close to home. Maybe it’s because this is the straw that broke the camel’s back. Maybe it’s the reminder that this is Caleb. Your Caleb. And he’ll always be there for you. Whatever it is, your voice is shaky as you confess.

“I’m…not great…actually. I’m really stressed and I…I uh…don’t know how to deal with it,” your voice turns watery. “I’ve had a really shitty month and I…I just…I wish you were here…”

You fiddle with your keys as you reach your apartment. “I don’t know if I can…if I can keep holding this…this mess inside me…and I…”

You finally open your door and flick on the lights.

And there he is. Sitting on the couch with a fluffy blanket folded next to him, a bag with your favorite Chinese takeout sitting on the coffee table, he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt and black socks. He’s holding his phone up to his ear and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“...Do you wanna talk about it?” his voice echoes in your earbuds and real life.

He’s here. He came for you.

You burst into tears on the spot, backpack and knees hitting the floor. Caleb rushes over and gathers you into his arms, quietly cooing at you and rubbing your arms. All the stress and pain and exhaustion from the past month and a half washes over you and releases as you sob, fisting your hands into his shirt as he tugs you closer and squeezes you.

“It’s alright Pips, I’m here. I’m so sorry I couldn’t come earlier. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. It’ll be okay,” he whispers softly into your ear, which just makes you cry harder.

You cry and you cry and you cry until your eyes are wrung dry out of all the tears they possess. A few minutes pass before you finally stop hiccuping into his collarbone and have enough energy to look up at him.

He takes a look at your face before brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. “There’s those pretty eyes.”

You rest your head on his shoulder as he scoops you up and carries you to the couch, setting you down next to him before taking off your shoes and covering you with the blanket. He leans forward and fiddles with the bag for a bit before leaning back and turning to you.

“Open up,” he holds a fork of chow mein up to your mouth, coaxing you to eat. You do so, very slowly, still emotionally drained and about to fall asleep. You get about halfway through the container before he’s satisfied and puts the food back on the table. Then, he leans back and wraps an arm around your shoulders and under your knees before carrying you to your bedroom. He sits you up on your bed before kneeling in front of you.

“You can shower in the morning, but you have to get out of these clothes. Do you want help, or can you do it yourself?” his amethyst eyes meet yours and never look away.

“I…I want help,” your voice is raspy and quiet.

He gives you a small smile. “Alright. I’ll be right back.” He rummages through your dresser as you take out your ear buds. He returns with two different top and bottom choices, one long sleeved and one short. You pick which one you want and he sets it to the side before slowly helping you out of your clothes and into your pjs. He then helps you into bed and tucks you in. Before he can turn to leave, you slip your arm out of the covers and grab his hand. 

“Wait could…can you…” the words stumble out of your mouth. Caleb gets the gist though, and smiles back at you.

“Of course pipsqueak.” He climbs into bed with you and pulls you into his arms. Your head rests on his bicep, his arm curling around your upper body while his other arm wraps around your waist. You thread your arms around him, legs tangling under the sheets. Sleep pulls at your eyes and you drift off.

“Goodnight Caleb.”

“Goodnight Pips.”

You’re slow to wake the next morning. The sun shines through your curtains and leaves you bleary eyed. You roll over to find Caleb gone and his side of the bed cold and empty. You wonder for a moment if you hallucinated him before the door creaks open and he walks in, nose buried in his phone while a glass of water sat in his other hand. He glances up and meets your eyes, stopping him in his tracks.

“Hey, sorry if I woke you. Was just gonna leave this on your nightstand.” He puts his phone in his pocket and walks to your side of the bed, sitting on the edge before setting the cup down.

You rub your eyes. “What time is it?”

“About 9:30. I just sent an email to your professors letting them know you’ll be out the rest of the week. Doctor’s orders of course, so you can make up those exams and essays later.” He gives you a wink.

“You’re also off for work for the rest of the week. There’s been a…management change and she’s much more agreeable.” You don’t want to know what Caleb did, and you frankly don’t care. Good riddance to that asshole.

“I could kiss you right now.”

His eye twitches with his smile. “Just looking out for you. I’ve got breakfast cooking now. Come out in a bit, alright?” 

He leaves, giving you a chance to comb your fingers through your hair and put on your slippers. 

You trot out to meet him and notice the food was put away and your couch was tidied. Your backpack was no longer on the floor; a brand new one hung on a hook next to the front door. Your sneakers lay on the floor underneath them with what looked like brand new laces. You found Caleb in the kitchen, flipping something in a pan. Grocery bags litter the island, with a loaf of bread, milk, and eggs sitting next to them

He turns and smiles at you. “I’m making french toast. Take a seat and I’ll make you a plate.”

You turn to the dining table to find your laptop plugged in and open to a word document. Your notes from yesterday sit next to it and you can see half of them copied onto the document, cursor blinking on the screen.

You stand there, staring at all the things Caleb made right, all the little things grating on your nerves. You look at the back of Caleb’s head as he stacks french toast onto a plate with berries and syrup before walking up behind him. As he dusts the food with powdered sugar, you tap him. He turns his head and you kiss his cheek. His widened eyes and flushed face stare at you.

“Thank you,” you smile at him, tears pooling in your eyes again.

He softens before smiling back. “Of course. Now, as we eat, I want you to tell me everything about the past month; the ups and downs. I want to know why Tara and you fought. I want to know how your classes have been going. I want to know what cross stitching projects you’ve made so far. Then, we’ll go to the autoshop and have a look at that pesky car battery and you can tell me more. Then after that, we’ll do whatever you want. I’m yours for the rest of the week.”

You take a seat across from him, take the fork he hands you along with your plate…

Xavier!! Could you and Miss Hunter do me a favor? I need to be out of town for the weekend and there are a few new saplings that need daily watering. If you can pop into Philo, that’d be great! : ))

Xavier reads through the message again with a frown as you two walk down the alley towards Philo. Not only was most of the night spent at the annual charity ball organized by the Hunters’ Association, the rest of it would now waste away helping his so-called friend to water some dumb plants. Time Xavier could have spent with you in the barbeque restaurant that just opened in your neighborhood, for example.

He couldn’t help the impatience quickening his steps, not with how radiant you look under the street lights, hanging onto his arm as you chat with Tara over the phone. Your attention had been stolen at the ball by so many of your out-of-town colleagues you hadn’t seen in a while, so you decided to make up for it by exchanging gossip with her on the phone on your walk over to Philo. Very considerate of you towards your friend. However, it meant even less attention given to your boyfriend, who had extended his social battery to its limits ages ago.

When you finally say goodbyes on the phone and hang up, he can barely keep the sigh of relief inside himself.

“Sorry about that, Xav,” you smile and pat his arm, “it’s been a long night huh?”

“It’s alright,” he replies, “though the way here would have been faster if we had teleported.”

“But then I couldn’t have talked to Tara about the new Lumiere merch that’s launching soon!” you frown playfully, and Xavier’s eyebrow ticks in annoyance.

*

Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing. Before tonight you both had been exceptionally busy with your missions, too tired to do more than fall asleep on either one of your couches after having a quick dinner. Xavier might have a better poker face than most, but having dated him for a while now, you knew his limits well. And you especially knew what tended to happen when you pushed him to those limits.

It is no coincidence that your new dress is sinfully short, your heels high and your perfume his favorite kind. He had barely been able to tear his eyes off you ever since you exited your apartment in this get-up, doubly so at the charity ball with so many onlookers vying for your attention. You had kept up a façade of obliviousness the whole night, as if you hadn’t even noticed all the eyes on you, his especially. You knew what it did to his patience, as did the mention of his alter ego.

You feel his arm wind tighter around yours as you turn toward Philo that’s only a short distance away.

“Come on Xav, we can’t keep the saplings waiting!”

You try to hasten your steps, but instead of heels clacking on the pavement you hear a soft whoosh as Xavier’s Evol grabs the both of you. One blink later you are in the greenhouse of the flower shop, facing the snowy inner courtyard of the apartment block.

“Was that really necessary?” you say as you shrug off your winter jacket. Xavier says nothing as he removes his own coat as well and picks up the watering can, heading straight to the flower beds you assume Jeremiah had meant. You roll your eyes and sit on a cushioned garden bench near him, crossing one leg over the other as he goes over the flowers one row after the other.

“If something is bothering you, tell me. Don’t take it out on the poor plants.”

When he still doesn’t answer you tap his shin with your heel. That finally makes him turn towards you. As he does, you feel heat creeping up your neck: when did he manage to unbutton his dress shirt? You can’t help but ogle at his bare chest, barely registering him putting the watering can down and taking a few measured strides towards you.

You are brought back to your senses by him grabbing your shin. Your skin shivers under his touch, goosebumps rising against the sheer fabric of your pantyhose: expensive ones that make your legs look amazing and that accentuate your butt nicely. Xavier’s fingers warm up your skin as they travel upwards and under the hem of your dress.

“You honestly have the gall to pretend you don’t know what’s bothering me?” he asks quietly. Now you know you are pushing it. You don’t trust your voice, so you merely widen your eyes in feigned innocence and let your lips fall apart slightly.

His hand grasps your thigh tighter, and a small sigh escapes you as you feel the first sparks run up your core. He leans down towards you, and your heartbeat quickens as you feel the sapphire blue in his eyes intensify every passing second.

“We could have gone home together after making our appearances. Instead, I have to watch you talk to unimportant people for hours on end, then listen to you fawn over the phone with Tara about Lumiere of all things, and then be dragged here to tend to Jeremiah’s stupid plants. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned the whole thing.”

He supports himself against the bench’s backrest with his other hand as he brings his face near yours, your breaths mingling together in the chilly greenhouse air.

“I would do no such thing. How dare you accuse me of such mischief,” you puff out, your eyes boring into his in a challenge. His lips curl into a mean smirk as his fingers slip between your thighs, ghosting over your center.

“I sincerely hope you are telling me the truth. Otherwise…” his voice drops as his lips graze your earlobe, “I would be very mad indeed.”

He slides his fingers over your covered pussy, and you shiver at the contact. He circles the area around your clit lazily as he places featherlike kisses on your ear and neck. As an attempt to carry on the charade a little while longer, you gently push him further by his shoulder.

“Xavier… we can’t… do it here,” you say to him, squeezing your legs together and hoping to appear as bashful as you can in your current position. Xavier straightens himself, and you are about to freak out that he is actually going to stop, but then he grabs your knee again and pulls you further down on the bench so that your ass is hanging in the air.

“Don’t move,” he commands and pulls your legs apart. You gasp and try to balance yourself on your tippy toes as Xavier pushes your dress up to your waist. He kneels in front of you between your spread legs, placing one thigh on his shoulder and grasping the other in a firm grip.

“You had your own fun tonight, now it’s my turn,” he tells you, and before you have chance to retort, he reaches for your crotch and rips your pantyhose clean apart. Your panties are next, the equally expensive lace thong ripped at its seams and just as quickly replaced by his mouth. The moan that you let out is nothing short of lewd as Xavier licks long stripes up your pussy, collecting the slick that’s already gathered there before proceeding to tease your clit.

Xavier has many skills honed to perfection, and eating you out has to be in his top three. In an embarrassingly short time he has your thighs quivering in need, your slick dribbling down his chin and his hands bruising your thighs as he drinks his fill. When he concentrates his efforts once more on your pulsing clit, you hope that it means he is impatient enough to make quick work of you and fuck you stupid sooner rather than later. He lets you rock your core against his face, bury your hands into his hair as you chant his name into the empty greenhouse, chasing your high shamelessly. It’s when you catch his eyes in the darkness, his pupils almost completely blown and staring straight into your soul that makes you unravel: your body tenses like a primed bowstring, back arching off the bench as you spill into his mouth.

He leads you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, which lulls you into a false sense of hope. It is when he releases your other thigh only to push two fingers into your heat that you realize there is no easy release in sight.

“Xavier—” you try to interrupt but a light suck on your oversensitive bud is enough to cut you off. Xavier pumps his fingers steadily, curling against your sweet spot with practiced precision. Heat pools inside you quickly, but the oversensitivity from your first orgasm keeps you on an uneasy edge: never too much, never enough. You try to eye the bulge straining against his pants, but another measured lick at your core is enough to distract you.

“I told you I would have my fun,” he finally responds, lifting his head up just enough to lock eyes with you. Your thigh that’s not on his shoulder has started to shake, so he takes off your shoes and guides both your thighs around his face and neck, effectively burying his face in your crotch as his fingers continue to tease you towards another release. “You are done only when I say you are.”

And just like that he continues to wreck you as you struggle to retain some semblance of dignity, still vaguely aware of the fact that you are debasing Jeremiah’s place of work. After teetering on the edge for god knows how long the second orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning, and you feel yourself leaking an embarrassing amount. By the time Xavier finally pulls away he looks positively pussy-drunk, his face red with arousal and a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

“You are divine,” he drawls as he pulls his fingers out and massages your quivering thighs. “By the stars, you make me weak.”

“Xav… please, take me,” you plead, already close to tears and hoping your begging would be enough to make him forget his ire. Xavier stands up and pulls you with him, kissing you ferociously. You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips and use the opportunity to slide your hands across his bare chest, scratching the pale skin with your nails. Xavier growls into your mouth at the contact and lifts you up by your hips, carrying you to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

He puts you down and twirls you around so you are facing the snowy courtyard. The lights in the greenhouse are out, and there aren’t many people walking outside at this hour anyway, but the possibility of someone passing by and looking in is still non-zero. The thought of it makes your heart race, but Xavier gives you no time to ruminate on it.

“Lift up your dress.”

You swallow heavily as you lean your cheek against the cold window and follow his order. His thumb circles the hole he ripped in your pantyhose, spreading your slick around your shivering skin.

“Such a pretty girl when she’s obedient,” he sighs and kneads the flesh of your ass. You make a keening sound and your hole clenches around nothing. You perk your ass upwards in a silent plea and you hear Xavier curse softly. He unzips his pants, and after a small eternity you feel his thick cock slide against your folds.

“Just so you know… I won’t be easily satisfied tonight,” he says as he pushes inside you, your sopping pussy making the intrusion effortless. “So you better give me a good show if you want to make up for your earlier behavior.”

He slips two fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue as he begins a brutal pace, the filthy sounds echoing in the greenhouse. Soon enough his cock renders you dumb, makes you babble nonsensically as you try widen your stance to take his cock in deeper, deeper—

“Xav, s-so good, just like that, can feel you in my fucking stomach,” you groan as he pistons into you. You see his dim reflection on the glass, a steady presence behind you. He uncovers your breasts by yanking down your dress and grabs them to ground you to him better. He seems and feels completely unbothered by the possibility of anyone seeing you.

The glass fogs up and you draw nonsensical patterns onto it as you desperately try to hold yourself up. Your core buzzes, bordering on uncomfortable, your senses assaulted from all directions. The moment you feel your hold on the window slipping Xavier pushes you further into it, winding an arm around your waist and lifting your other thigh with his other arm. You are now completely pushed up against the window, and if anyone was to pass through the courtyard, they would have no trouble seeing Xavier pound into your sopping cunt. The thought of it makes you shake and whine in his grasp.

“You like this, don’t you?” Xavier groans into your ear. His thick length pushes now even more firmly into your g-spot in this angle, and you swear you see stars appear in your vision. “So needy for my cock that you don’t care who might see?”

You make an affirmative whine and let your head fall back on Xavier’s shoulder. He uses the opportunity to suck a hickey on your neck, biting down so hard it makes you cry out in pain.

“Promise me you won’t ever tease me like this again, not after such a long break. Otherwise…” he trails off as he pulls you against his chest impossibly tight, his thrusts becoming fast and shallow, “I can’t guarantee I won’t do this in the bathroom of the next ball, or whichever event you decide to act out at.”

You feel your eyes roll back into your head at the image of it and you feel yourself clench down on his cock. You both moan in unison and Xavier’s grip on you tightens into a bruising one.

“My filthy girl, fuck—” he moans and ruts into you like an animal in heat. The hand around your waist dips down to rub your clit, and the already burning nerves explode, rushing you to the most intense orgasm you have felt in a while. Your pulsing core brings him to completion as well, and Xavier buries himself inside you to the hilt, vocalizing his pleasure through open-mouthed kisses he leaves on your upper back.

Later he has to teleport you back to your apartment, as along with the evidence of your nightly activities running down your thighs, your dress is a crumpled mess, and your neck and shoulders are littered in hickeys. Xavier has the decency to look at least a bit guilty, but you both know it won’t be the last time the two of you decide to act out.

-----