#xavier fluff

“how do you think xavier would react to being called by his name.” you furrow your brows at tara’s question, not exactly getting it. 

“nothing? it’s his name…” “no, not his name but his name-name.” 

in all honesty, tara lost you. but you urged her to explain that couples usually dislike it when they’re called by their given names rather than a pet name. 

and now that you’ve thought about it, you didn’t think that you’ve ever called xavier by his real name. 

with tara’s devilish grin, you almost felt bad for wanting to test it out, after all, no better time than the present, right?

“i bet twenty that he doesn’t care.” simone wagers, you almost scolded her, if not for tara’s enthusiastic counter with a fifty. 

your gaze flits towards xavier who was already approaching the three of you with two drinks in hand. 

he smiles softly as he hands you the flute of champagne. you gave him a grateful smile, the words slipping out of your lips almost in a foreign way. 

“thank you, Xinghui.”

you could see the way xavier’s smile twitches. he does not respond; instead, he wraps an arm around your waist. 

“are you having fun, star?” you nod before turning back to your friends whose expressions differed from triumph to devastation at the immediate turnout of their bet. 

“mm!” you nod, a smile on your face as you lean over to his warmth. “i was just telling simone and tara how much my Shen Xinghui treats me well.” 

xavier swoons at the my but not so much what came after. 

“ah. i see.” he tightens his grip around your waist before he gestures towards the open balcony, in the guise of fresh air. 

you bid your friends a wave goodbye, tara looking like she was trying her hardest not to laugh and simone already counting the bills in her wallet to slap on tara’s waiting hand.

once you and xavier were on the clear, he pulls you into his arms, his face buried on the crook of your neck. 

“did i do something wrong? i’m sorry.” xavier says softly against your skin, tickling you slightly. 

you giggle, pulling his face away to see a pout on his lips. 

“what do you mean, Xinghui?” his pout deepens. 

“i don’t like that name.” “what do you mean? it’s literally your name.” 

“yeah, to others, but not to you.” xavier says as he holds you tighter against him. 

you conclude that it was the end of your little prank, as you explained the bet that your friends made. xavier huffs as he mumbles at the crown of your head. 

“i’d rather you call me lumiere.” 

“really?!”

“no.”

zayne: 

when zayne told you that his parents were going to visit, it was safe to say that you spent the entire day ensuring that your home was welcoming. you and zayne spent time cleaning and redecorating your shared space. 

the doorbell rings, and for a moment, you thought it was his parents who arrived an hour early, but to your surprise, it was only the deliveryman for the patisserie you ordered from. 

knowing that althea and jace rarely spent time in linkon, you wanted to ensure that they could try new delicacies, so you ordered linkon’s finest macarons, and as a bonus, you bought them their favorite tea as well. 

you placed it on the kitchen countertop and forgot about it, thinking that you could easily plate them once they arrived. you failed to notice the curious doctor who approached the box after you left. 

althea and jace arrived right on time, you greeted them with a smile as althea hugs you, complimenting how beautiful you had grown from the last time she saw you, while you led them to the couch. zayne sat on the opposite sofa, engaging in small talk, blushing slightly as his father coos about how chubbier his cheeks are and how healthier he looks. 

“i’ll prepare some tea.” you excuse yourself as you walk to the kitchen to steep the tea. 

once it was finished, you put the teacups on the tray as you walked back to the living room, where they were. 

“oh! zayne, could you pour out the tea? i’ll go get the dessert,” you say to your husband, who freezes for a split second. 

“no need, darling,” zayne says as he makes a move to stand up. “i can get it; you should sit down. you’ve done enough,” he says, coaxing you to sit down. you shake your head, stopping him from standing up. 

“it’s okay, zaynie, i’m already standing up, just sit down and catch up, i’ll be right back.” you say, giving his cheek a swift peck, hearing his mother coo at how domestic the two of you were. 

you went back in the kitchen, humming slightly under your breath before it stops as you opened the box ofdesserts. 

there were only six macarons left. you ordered eight.

your jaw drops at the only answer as to why two were suddenly missing. without saying anything more, you plated the remaining macarons before carrying it back. 

you can see zayne’s back as you walk, slightly tense as he tries to keep up with a conversation with his father. 

“Li Shen.” zayne jolts as you say his name, you can’t see his exact expression, but judging by the way althea was biting her lip in amusement and jace was already grinning, you know that he knows that he’s in trouble. 

“yes, dearest?” zayne answers, his hand on the teacup as he takes a small sip, trying to act unbothered. 

“why are there only six macarons?” you walked slowly, placing the plate in the middle of the coffee table and facing him, crossing your arms.

zayne blinks slowly, you can see the small gulp he took. 

“perhaps the patisserie made a mistake. we can contact them after,” he says in a calm tone. 

you raise a brow. 

“you have crumbs at the corner of your mouth, Li Shen.” his eyes widened before he put the teacup down, wiping at his mouth, trying to get rid of the evidence, but the four of you know it was too late. 

althea laughs at the display, patting her husband affectionately on the arms. 

“this reminds me of when we caught our little zaynie sneaking for the cookie jar when he was young, right jace?” jace nods, a stifled laugh leaving his lips. 

zayne looks down in embarrassment. you clicked your tongue softly before sitting beside him. 

“i told you the desserts were for your parents!” you whined softly as you took one of the macarons, slicing it and eating it, stabbing another bite for zayne. 

he unashamedly takes it. 

“i apologize, my love.” he was not sorry at all. 

althea and jace only look at the two of you, amused. yet, happy that their zaynie truly found love. 

you reached down absentmindedly towards zayne’s teacup, only for you to flinch. 

his teacup was frozen solid. 

you looked at him who avoided your gaze, before clearing his throat. 

“i’d argue that the frozen teacup is your fault.” zayne says, immediately regretting it as you glared at him. 

“what was that?”

“i said that you are sweeter than any macaron i have ever tried.” 

sounds about right. 

rafayel: 

rafayel has been working on a painting for the last three hours. well, that’s how long it seemed to you because you’ve only been in his mansion for three hours. you knew he was painting for longer, given that it looked like it physically hurt him to adjust his posture. 

“raf, take a break,” you say gently as you place a hand on his back. 

he looks at you with a smile on his face. “in a bit, cutie! i promise. i’m about to invent a new color.” you rolled your eyes at his quip, yet let him do it, you wouldn’t have been able to pry him off anyway. 

the sound of a doorbell ringing takes your attention off your boyfriend, who seems to have the idea of ignoring the sound. 

“don’t worry, cutie. it’s probably thomas.” rafayel waves it off. you sighed and walked towards the door. 

“you know, he wouldn’t be as overbearing if you stopped ignoring him,” you retort. 

“no, cutie. he’d lock me up in his basement to keep painting if he could.” 

you paid his response no mind as you opened his door, awaiting to see thomas’ brunette hair and stressed-out expression. only to be pleasantly surprised when you see the shade of rafayel’s hair greet you. 

“talia! what a surprise.” you say, greeting her as your eyes flit downwards, seeing the luggage at her feet. “oh! let me carry those in, please come inside. i didn’t know you were visiting.” you hurriedly grasp her luggage, then usher her in.   

talia thanks you with a smile on her face, giving you a gentle laugh as you fussed over her. 

at this point, you were flustered. you did not know that rafayel’s aunt was visiting; had you known, you would’ve made a greater effort in getting rafayel to clean his own home. it was in no means ready to cater to a guest. 

“ah, really?” talia asked, genuinely surprised. “i thought rafayel might’ve told you. but then again, rafayel easily forgets things.” 

you smiled, nodding, still giving her your best host-like smile, while inside your head, you were already scolding your boyfriend in your mind. 

“--just like how he forgot to pick me up from the airport.” “what?” 

you couldn’t help but cut talia off as your eyes widened. you looked over to the painter who was still stuck in his own world, as if his only remaining family member wasn’t standing in his house. 

“Qi Yu.” 

rafayel freezes in his action, the paintbrush dropping from his hand for a split second before he sharply turns towards you, who looks back at him, unamused. 

your arms were crossed, a glare on your face as you stared him down. 

“...yes, my cutie?”

you give him an unimpressed look before raising a brow. rafayel seems to have noticed the additional presence in the room as his eyes widened. from under his breath, you could hear him mutter a curse. 

he immediately straightens, ignoring the kinks in his back that screamed at him from the sudden movement, before he walks to where the two of you were, his arm rising to wrap against your waist, only for you to dodge it in an obvious way. 

“cutie–” 

“you didn’t tell me that talia was visiting!” you say, exasperated. “and how could you invite her here when this place is such a mess! she came all the way from varona and this is what you greet her with?”

rafayel rubs a hand behind his neck, sheepish. “i forgot.” 

“really, Qi Yu. you forgot.”

rafayel flinches as you use his full name; that action spurs talia to let out a laugh at the banter. 

“i have seen rafayel be summoned by his father using that name, and he does not even bat an eye, yet…” talia smirks as she interlocks her arm with yours. 

“i see my nephew has a weakness.” 

rafayel would’ve found a way to refute, really, he would, but his face was burning and his lips were formed into a pout as he saw you visibly soften at talia’s assurance. 

“no need to worry about me, dear. i’ll make myself at home in the guest room.” talia pats your arm once before she wheels in her luggage towards the relatively tidy guest room. 

when talia was gone, you looked at rafayel with a blank expression on your face. 

“cutie…”

“so, let me get this straight.” you interrupt him. “you ignore me for three hours even though you invited me to your house. you forget to pick up your aunt from the airport and you forget to tell me so i can prepare to accommodate her, and now all you can say is cutie? really, Qi Yu?”

rafayel wraps his arms around you, pulling your front flush to his chest as he whines. “cutiee—” he buries his face onto your hair. “i’m sorry. please never call me that again.”

your lips twitch, secretly having fun with his reactions. 

“Qi Y—” “cutiee. stooop.” rafayel whines as he nuzzles his face onto your neck. he sighs as he pulls away, a pout still on his face. “i promise i’d take better notice of my schedules.” 

“and?” 

“and?!” rafayel echoes back, offended that you didn’t take the bait before he collects himself. “and i’ll treat you and talia to an expensive dinner tonight.”

“good.” 

rafayel pouts. 

“you can be so mean sometimes, cutie.” 

“really, Qi—” “stop!” 

sylus: 

sometimes, you curse yourself for being competent. at first, you thought that showing guts in the hunter’s association would bring you more respect and dignity. 

in reality, it just thrusts you on more missions that make you question if the salary was justifiable. 

you were so tired, you just got back from a week-long mission. 

you just wanted to rest in sylus’ arms and whine about how the association was wringing you dry and look at him in appallment once he suggests quitting your job. you know, the usual. 

as you ride your motorbike to the N109 zone, you can already imagine the conversation. you smiled softly to yourself as you approached the heavy doors that seemed to readily open to you. 

you walk towards the main hall, brows furrowing as you hear luke and kieran throwing out profanities and the sounds of controllers clicking. 

you push open the door to see luke, kieran and, surprisingly sylus, on the couch with their vr gear on. you see the tv playing a racing game that you vaguely remember playing. judging by the twins’ response, you assumed that sylus was in the lead. 

as much as you would’ve loved to join in and have a little game night, you were tired and wanted nothing more but to be held by your lover.

seeing sylus be so unguarded and oblivious to your arrival, you couldn’t help but time your entrance, once you see sylus seconds away from the finish line, you cleared your throat as you loudly called out. 

“Qin Che.” 

luke and kieran freeze as if they were the ones being called as they ripped out the vr gear from their faces, looking like deer in headlights. sylus also takes his off, albeit slower, as he takes in your figure. a look of surprise and longing in his expression.

you had your arms crossed, a blank expression on your face as you stepped closer. 

almost immediately, you see the twins skedaddle past you, dropping their gear and leaving sylus sitting on the couch. 

“ooooooo, dad’s in trouble!” you hear luke tease, and a sharp smack! right after, as kieran urges him to move faster, the door slams shut. 

an offended caw resounds in the room, you turn around to see mephisto banging itself on the door, wanting to get out as well. you bit back laughter as you see the door open for just a sliver before a gloved hand– you’re assuming luke, reaches out to pull mephisto by the wing, an indignified squawk leaving the metal crow’s beak.

the room was silent, save for the video game’s background music, to which sylus shuts down. 

you walked over to him, who sat there waiting for your next move. 

without another word, you sat on his lap, your face pressing against his chest, hearing the way his heart was beating significantly faster. 

“welcome home.” sylus says as he wraps his arms around you, breathing in your scent. 

“your heart’s beating really fast.” you point out, voice muffled by his chest. you pull away slightly to look up at sylus who immediately presses a kiss on your forehead. 

“well. it seemed like a certain kitten hissed at me unprovoked,” sylus said as he affectionately ran his fingers through your hair. 

“all because i called you by your name?” 

sylus chuckles as he presses another kiss to the crown of your head. 

“sweetie, you underestimate the power you have over me.”

caleb: 

you really shouldn’t have agreed to be caleb’s date at their high school reunion. hell, he shouldn’t have even bothered going. 

the day could’ve been spent with the two of you cuddling in comfortable clothes on your sofa, but no. caleb thought it would be a good idea to show you around the DAA. 

which wasn’t what was happening as his former classmates whisked him away. you stood off to the side, a frown on your face, arms crossed over your chest. 

caleb promised you that he’d be back in five minutes. it’s been thirteen minutes, and there was no sign of him ending the conversation. good thing that gideon was right beside you, keeping you company, as he only arrived a few minutes ago.

“your boyfriend sure is popular, huh?” gideon teases as he nudges you with his elbow. 

“too popular if you ask me,” you mumble under your breath, eye twitching as yet another former classmate approaches him. 

gideon snorts under his breath. “he’s always been popular, not even your scrunchie on his wrist managed to ward off the girls at the time.” you huff at that, eyes zoning in on the girl by the corner of your approaching caleb. 

it was irrational, you’re well aware of that, but enough was enough. 

‘caleb is mine.’ the jealous part of your mind screamed. 

“Xia YiZhou!” 

for a split second, you can feel the tension in the room drop, and everyone in the room freezes. caleb immediately turns to where you were standing, smiling sheepishly.

“coming, honey!” caleb walks briskly to where you were, but you gave him the cold shoulder. 

he tries to pry your arms away from your chest as he attempts to coddle you. 

“you said five minutes, Xia YiZhou.” you say, turning away from him. from the side, you can hear gideon stifle a laugh as caleb’s face drops at your words. 

“pips, you know—” “five minutes. you said.” you glare at the way caleb’s lips twitched, you knew the bastard was fighting a smirk. 

“is my pipsqueak feeling bored–” he reaches up to playfully pinch your cheek, but you dodged his hand before walking away. 

“damn dude, good luck.” you hear gideon say as you exit the venue. 

caleb follows you, letting you walk three steps ahead. you walk by the school’s open garden, feeling the breeze pass your face.

“go away, Xia YiZhou! i don’t wanna see you.” you hear caleb chuckle from behind you, and all of a sudden, he’s right beside you, flinging an arm around your shoulders.

“what’s got my baby apple upset, hm?” you huffed, reaching for your opposite shoulder to pull his hand, only to feel his palm sweating. 

and caleb’s palm only ever does that when he’s nervous. 

you fight the grin that threatens to escape your face. however, caleb already caught sight of it. 

“ah, i see. someone just wanted my attention.” you rolled your eyes, dropping the facade. 

“there were too many girls trying to talk to you.” you huffed. “it’s like they don’t know you have a girlfriend!” you squint your eyes, accusatory. 

“unless you told them you didn’t have one.”

“hey now, pipsqueak.” caleb flicks your forehead softly. “even if they didn’t know, i’d let them know. no need to be jealous,” you huff, turning around. 

caleb couldn’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips as his arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

“i’m all yours, pipsqueak.”

“Xia YiZhou, you dummy!”

caleb only smiles against the back of your head, finding your little tantrum cute.  

“yeah, yeah. your dummy. i know.”

mentally, he was already planning all the ways he could get you to call out to him affectionately once more.

caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?

you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.

xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips

He walks toward you not with the speed of someone chasing, but with the deliberate elegance of someone approaching a canvas that offended him personally.

“Cutie,” he calls, the word slicing through the silence, “you’ve left me with more questions than brushstrokes.”

You’re cornered by the time he reaches you, not trapped, just enveloped in his presence, in the intensity that follows him like spilled ink.

Rafayel leans in, fingers lifting your chin, eyes simmering with something softer than his pride wants to admit.

“You kiss me like that,” he whispers, “and then run?” A breath, warm and trembling. “That’s cruel, cutie.”

He presses his forehead to yours. You can feel his small smile, pained, fond.

“Next time… don’t run from what you started. Stay, and let me do the rest.”

He hooks a finger under your chin and pulls you in with theatrical precision, kissing you with dramatic, intoxicating depth. His arm slips around your waist, holding you close like you’re the center of his world. When he finally breaks the kiss, his lips brush yours as he murmurs, “Kiss me like that again… and don’t you dare run.”

— 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Your kiss lands against his cheek soft, fleeting and then you disappear like a startled spark.

Xavier blinks. Once.

His lips curl into a small, warm smile you almost never see the kind that settles into your bones.

He doesn’t chase you.

He simply stands, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeve, and starts walking toward where you fled. Each step is measured, quiet, and unhurried. He looks like someone following the wind, not a person.

You hide behind a column, your heartbeat loud enough to echo.

He stops a respectful distance away.

“…Are you hiding?” he asks softly.

Not teasing, not mocking, genuinely gentle. His voice is dusk settling over the world.

“You don’t need to.”

You slowly peek from behind the column and meet his eyes steady, reliable, and warm. He doesn’t move. He lets you come to him.

And you do.

He lifts a hand, brushing a knuckle along your cheek with barely-there pressure.

“You startled yourself more than me,” he murmurs.

There’s something in his gaze, a quiet understanding that makes your chest warm.

“If you need me,” he says gently, “I’ll always come at your pace.”

He cups your face with both hands, drawing you in with a soft, trembling breath. His kiss starts gentle, almost shy, then slowly deepens with warmth, he’s too quiet to speak aloud. When he finally pulls back, cheeks flushed, he whispers, “Even if you run… I’ll always find you.”

— 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Your lips touch his for the shortest moment barely a kiss and then you vanish.

Zayne doesn’t tense, doesn’t jump, doesn’t even blink too fast.

He just straightens his posture, exhales, and mutters something that might be a quiet laugh.

Then he starts walking.

Not chasing. Following. His steps are steady, calm, almost silent the way he moves during missions, controlled and grounded.

You turn a corner, thinking you’ve gained distance.

You haven’t.

He’s already waiting there.

One shoulder leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, gaze steady like he predicted your escape route from the moment you sprinted.

“You ran fast,” he admits softly, “but not far.”

He steps toward you calm, composed, unhurried every movement precise and purposeful.

“You don’t have to run from me.” His hand rises, fingers brushing your jaw gently. “Or run to get my attention.”

Zayne tilts your chin just enough to meet his eyes.

“If you want a kiss… ask. I’ll always answer.”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to your jaw with that steady calm only he carries. He leans in without hurry, kissing you slow and deep, the kind of kiss that feels like warmth settling into your bones. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours as he breathes, “If you want me… you never have to run.”

— 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You kiss him quick, bold, mischievous and dart away.

Sylus freezes for half a second. Then a grin unfurls across his face, sharp and beautiful.

“Oh?” he hums, voice curling low. “You’re really going to try that on me?”

He doesn’t run, and doesn't even walk fast.

He simply appears wherever you aren’t expecting him.

You duck around a corner he’s already there, leaning against the wall, smirk shimmering.

You hide behind a door, his shadow slides across the floor a moment later.

You sprint down the hall he keeps pace effortlessly, voice lilting behind you:

“You’re predictable, sweetheart. I can read your steps like code.”

You whirl around, breathless and he’s practically nose-to-nose with you.

“How cute,” he murmurs, brushing a hair strand behind your ear. “You thought running would get rid of me?”

He cages you in with one arm above your head, smirk deepening.

“Next time you kiss me… don’t run. I want to kiss you back properly.”

He catches your waist and tugs you flush against him, lips brushing yours in a teasing whisper before he actually kisses you. The kiss is playful at first, then deepens with heat and a smile he tries to hide. He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Next time, sweetheart… I’ll be the one you chase.”

— 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Your kiss is gentle, affectionate, warm and then you bolt.

Caleb stops existing for a moment.

His hands go slack. His breath catches. His ears flush crimson.

Then something in his eyes sharpens soft possessiveness igniting like a spark catching dry leaves.

“Hey–! You can’t just run away!”

He chases you with his whole heart.

He nearly trips over his own feet catching up to you, breath uneven, eyes wide and shining with emotion he can’t quite hide.

When he grabs your wrist, his hold is gentle but unyielding like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he lets go.

“You surprised me,” he says, voice trembling. Then, quieter, rawer: “I didn’t like when you ran.”

He steps closer, forehead nearly touching yours. His voice drops to a whisper, thick with something vulnerable and fiercely devoted.

“If you kiss me don’t run. Stay. I want you close.”

“Ta da!” He pops his head out of his creation, arms flung wide, grin wickedly proud, “Fort Caleb 2.0. Now with added mood lighting and maximum nostalgia.”

Your chest squeezes so tight you can almost hear it. Crawling inside, you’re instantly swallowed by the cozy glow, and the second he ducks in behind you, he’s pulling you close- his warmth wrapping around you, chin settling atop your head like it always belonged there.

“Used to make all the hurt go away, right?” His voice softens, thumb brushing your cheek, “Figured if it worked for scraped knees, maybe it’ll help with... stubborn female things.”

You giggle, the sound melting into him, “Stubborn female things?”

“That’s what Gran used to call it when you would get all cranky once a month.” His palm glides down your back in an easy rhythm, comforting and sweet. Then he dips close, nuzzling the top of your head, voice dipping all low and playful against your hair, “Though... if you were pregnant,” he murmurs, the words warm with mischief, “this whole monthly rebellion wouldn’t be showing up for a while. Just saying.”

୨୧ — ZAYNE

You hear him walk through the front door at nearly 9PM, followed by the distinct rustling of plastic bags before appearing in the bedroom doorway moments later, still in his pristine work clothes, one hand suspiciously hidden behind his back while his cheeks carry an unusual flush.

“You're late,” you mumble from your cozy pillow fort of heating pads, tea mugs, and tissue carnage, “what happened, doctor? Got abducted by surgeries again?”

“I made a stop.” His response is carefully measured, the tone he uses when he's trying to maintain professional composure. The bag appears suddenly, dumped with uncharacteristic lack of ceremony across your lap- expensive chocolates, imported fruit candies, those ridiculously sweet cookies from the bakery near his office that he always claims are “nutritionally void.”

A single candy wrapper flutters down last, landing like confetti between you two.

“Zayne,…”Your gaze narrows suspiciously as you pick up the telltale evidence, “did you eat some of my period snacks?”

His ears redden immediately, a dead giveaway that makes your lips twitch despite the cramping. “Quality control,” he states with perfect seriousness, adjusting his glasses in that way he does when caught... “Strictly medical protocol. I had to confirm dosage efficacy. Purely clinical…”

“Dosage?” you arch a brow.

He sits beside you, grin softening, fingertips brushing a stray hair from your forehead, “For my favorite patient,” he murmurs, “the most dramatic, high maintenance, but utterly perfect one.”

You swat at him with a tissue box and immediately start laughing, which only makes your cramps worse... worth it.

୨୧ — XAVIER

Xavier settles behind you on the couch, legs bracketing your hips while his palm finds the ache in your lower belly. His touch is gentle, warm- fingers drawing slow, calming circles through the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirt.

“How's this?” he murmurs against your ear.

You melt back into his chest with a small, relieved hum, the sound slipping free before you catch it. He smiles into your hair, reaching for the white bunny plushie perched nearby- the same one he’d battled an arcade machine for last week, triumph sparkling in his eyes as he handed it to you like treasure.

“Mr. Hoppers wants to help too,” he says, completely serious as he presses the bunny’s soft nose to yours with a tiny boop before deepening his voice, “Don’t frown, Little Star. How about soup? A bubble bath? Raid the world for every cookie it’s got for you?”

You can’t help but giggle, the warmth of him and the silliness of it all cutting through the soreness until laughter brightens your face again- light and lovely, pure music to his ears.

“There she is,” Xavier breathes, a grin ghosting over his own lips before he leans down to kiss the exact spot the plushie touched. His lips linger- gentle, soft, patient.

When he pulls back, his gaze is molten sweet, “You know..." he whispers, "I might know another cure,” his hand dipped low, fingertips painting heat just above your hip bone, “I read that orgasms release endorphins- natural painkillers, for times like this…” his fingertips ghost beneath your shirt's hem, “So… will you let me take care of you properly, Little Star? I promise- I’ll make it feel really good.”

୨୧ — RAFAYEL

Steam rises above the bath he’s prepared, the water shimmering with that exact, magical warmth he somehow always manages to get right. Rose petals -soft and blushing pink- float lazily across the surface, while candles flicker like tiny stars along the edges of the tub. The scent of your favorite comfort food wafts in from the kitchen, buttery and rich, cozy enough to make your stomach rumble despite the ache twisting low in your belly.

“Caught you just in time, sweetheart,” Rafayel grins, leaning in the doorway like he’s been rehearsing the moment all evening. He’s balancing a tray of food with almost comical concentration, and you notice there’s a tiny smudge of chocolate right at the corner of his mouth- it looks too deliberate to be an accident.

He walks closer and sits at the edge of the tub, crossing his legs comfortably like he belongs there. “Don’t laugh,” he says, feigning seriousness, “because this took agessss to get the flavor just right. I even bribed our favorite barista with a week of free art prints to get my hands on the spice blend.”

You blink, realizing what dish it is- the one you’d only mentioned once, randomly, that rainy afternoon when you both grabbed lunch at your favorite coffee shop.

“Open up,” he coaxes gently, holding out the fork. His free hand rests tenderly against your cheek, thumb brushing water from your lips as he watches you taste. His eyes practically light up when you hum approvingly, like your smile alone fuels his heartbeat? “Yeah? Not too spicy? Be honest, I’ll re- do it if-“

You snatch his wrist playfully, splashing him with a flick of water, “It’s perfect, Rafayel.”

“Then my mission is complete,” he declares dramatically, leaning down to tap his nose against yours.

And then, before you can ask what he’s up to, he laughs… and suddenly swings one leg, then the other, right into the tub beside you. Water sloshes everywhere, candles flicker wildly, and you shriek through bursts of laughter.

“Rafayel! What are you doing?!” you yell between helpless giggles, trying to push him away but only managing to splash him more.

“What does it look like?” he teases, already kneeling amid the rose petals, scooping a handful of bubbles to crown your head like a queen. His grin is smugish, unguarded, utterly infectious as he says, “Making sure the temperature’s still perfect- for both of us, cutie.”