#xavier oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

circethesinner · 2 years ago

Text

shifted ⟐ xavier thorpe

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

warning(s) : mild language, rivals to lovers, awkward fluff

word count: 7k (oop its a big boi)

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

summary: you and xavier were rivals through and through, but when you find out that he wants to talk to you about 'feelings', you do everything you can to avoid him

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Being able to temporarily transform objects into other objects was fun for the first day or two, but the novelty wore off fast. All in all, it was a pretty pointless power, in your opinion. It was great if you had a bowl of soup and only a fork because for five minutes, you could turn that fork into a spoon, and then you had soup. Sadly, that situation had only happened once. You had no real need to use your powers for anything else, so you usually just didn’t even acknowledge them.

That didn’t stop your parents from classifying you as an outcast and sending you to Nevermore. The moment they realised you weren’t ‘normal’, they wanted you out of their hair. Your very existence challenged their picture-perfect lifestyle.

However, with a power you rarely used, you never felt like you fit in much at Nevermore. Enid really tried to make you feel like you belonged, and as much as she would deny it, so did Wednesday, but everyone else mostly ignored you.

Everyone, that is, but Xavier Thorpe. You weren’t sure what exactly had happened on your first day at Nevermore that had triggered the chain of events. Maybe it was just because you were both having a bad day. Maybe Mercury was in Gatorade or whatever. All you knew was that you locked eyes, and that was it; you were rivals.

It was a particularly active rivalry, not like the rivalry between Wednesday and Bianca when Wednesday first joined Nevermore. It was subtler than that. It consisted of a lot of knocking one another’s things on the floor, eye rolls, purposely bumping into one another as you walked by, and glares from across the room. People wouldn’t notice it if they didn’t care, and most people didn’t care.

When part two of your powers suddenly emerged one day, you weren’t all too thrilled. In all fairness, being able to shapeshift yourself into another person was a lot more useful than shapeshifting objects. Of course, it lost a lot of use if people knew about it, so you told no one.

It was your intention for no one to know so you could do more, but the world clearly had it out for you, and one day, Enid walked into your shared dorm and caught you shifting into someone. Naturally, when Enid knew, Wednesday also knew. You managed to buy their silence with the promise that they could utilise your powers for their own gain.

That was how you had found yourself one afternoon, shapeshifted into Ajax as you rifled through his room and took pictures of all of his hats. It wasn’t exactly the direction that you had imagined your life would take when you were a kid.

Ajax’s birthday was coming up, and Enid was hellbent on making sure her friend got a good gift from her. Scratch that. Not just a good gift, but the best gift. She wanted to crochet him a hat, but she wanted to make sure it wouldn’t look anything like the hats he already had. Hence why you were now rooting through every hat he owned while taking pictures.

You had kept tabs on his movements for a few days to make sure you knew when he or his roommate, Kent, would be off doing other things, leaving their dorm room free. Fortunately, their extracurricular activities mostly lined up, so they would be off at their respective clubs right after class, giving you the perfect time to strike.

After a couple of minutes, you had taken about 28 pictures to make sure Enid had all she would need and would be satisfied. You didn’t feel like having to repeat this process if she wasn’t happy with your work, so you went with what you would consider to be above and beyond.

You closed the drawer and darted towards the door, phone in hand. Internally, you celebrated your achievement. Unfortunately, that celebration ceased as karma evidently had it out for you. When you opened the door, you came face to face with Xavier Thorpe. It was a bit of a shock to be face-level with him, but it reminded you that you were disguised as Ajax, so you needed to be careful with how you behaved around him.

“Good,” Xavier smiled, recognising you to be his friend rather than the rival you actually were. “You’re here!”

“Uh, yeah!” You desperately tried to recall how Ajax spoke. You didn’t spend as much time around Ajax as you had with your other friends, usually because Xavier was usually close by if you did, and as much as you appreciated Ajax as a friend, it wasn’t enough to put up with Xavier. “Sorry… dude… I’m actually on my way out.”

“I just need to talk to you real quick,” He pleaded, blocking the way so you couldn’t leave the room. “It’ll be two seconds, I swear- is that… why do you have Y/N’s phone?”

Shit.

You considered trying to hide it and lying to Xavier’s face in hopes of gaslighting him into forgetting you, as Ajax, were holding your phone. But that wouldn’t go down well. As much as you hated to admit it, Xavier was smart. You’d just be digging yourself into a deeper hole, and you were already almost 6 feet under if you couldn’t get out of the situation soon.

“That’s why I have to go!” You lied, pulling the explanation out of thin air and hoping for the best. “I found it and need to return it to her.”

“Right…” He didn’t sound like he entirely believed it but didn’t push for any further information, such as where you had found the phone. “She’s actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

“What happened this time?” You echoed the words Enid would use whenever she saw you with that sour look on your face that only Xavier could be behind. You figured Ajax and Xavier had similar conversations regarding you since, as far as you could tell, Xavier’s thoughts towards you mirrored yours towards him.

“Nothing this time!” He protested. You scraped your brain to see if you could remember anything yourself but came up empty. Things between the two of you had surprisingly been okay for a few weeks. You weren’t all buddy-buddy, of course, but the glaring was at an all-time minimum. You made a mental note to glare more if it meant you didn’t risk having to talk to him. “I just… I think I’m finally going to tell her.”

“That’s… uh…” You hesitated as you were about to say ‘great’ but realised that you had no idea what he was talking about and that maybe Ajax would consider it to not be great. “What exactly are you going to tell her?”

“Dude, don’t make me say it,” He groaned. You kept quiet, simply shrugging in response. After a few seconds of silent pleading, he gave in. “I’m gonna tell her how I… feel.” His words got quiet until he finally whispered the last word.

You were at an absolute loss. You had no context for what he was saying, but you couldn’t push any further, or he’d get suspicious. For all you knew, he was hinting at telling you that he felt like he was coming down with a cold, although why he would feel the need to tell you that was another issue. You had no idea how Xavier was feeling, and you didn’t really want to find out.

“That’s… cool!” You nodded, trying to seem as chill as you could while you panicked internally, looking for an excuse to get out of the situation before your powers wore out and you turned back into yourself. “But maybe you should wait for a bit?”

“Wait?” Xavier looked at you like you were crazy, and you realised you’d messed up. “You’ve been pushing me to do this for months, and now you think I should wait?”

“That was… a test!” You shrugged as nonchalantly as you could. “To see if you were really serious about this or if you would chicken out.”

“I seriously think that I should do this now before I chicken out,” He sighed, almost dejectedly. You couldn’t quite put a pinpoint in on his emotions. Nor could you figure out what the hell the conversation you were participating in was even about.

“I should really go and return this to Y/N before I forget,” You held your phone up and waved it around slightly. “You know how she can get when she’s lost something.”

“I’m still cleaning up my studio after she lost her notepad and accused me of stealing it,” Xavier groaned. You almost slipped up by arguing with him that you had barely moved anything, and you were completely valid in your belief that he would have stolen it. Fortunately, you caught yourself just before you blew your cover, and Xavier continued to talk. “We can just go together.”

“Together?” You echoed, trying desperately to dig yourself out of the hole you’d created. “Won’t that be… intimidating?”

“Y/N? Intimidated?” Xavier scoffed at the idea, and you weren’t sure if you should take pride in it or be offended. “A bear could point a gun at her, and she would laugh in its face.”

“It probably couldn’t even pull the trigger,” You noted, earning a strange look from him. “You know, because of the paws and claws- never mind. Not important.”

“Right…” He nodded hesitantly. “Let's go.”

You had no choice but to follow as he led the way to your room, halfheartedly responding to whatever he was mumbling about without truly listening to anything he was saying. You were worried the powers would wear off at any moment. You considered ducking away, but with the glances back that Xavier was giving you as he spoke, that option was, at best, a risky manoeuvre and, at worst, a terrible fucking idea.

So, you helplessly trailed after him, hoping that the real Ajax wouldn’t appear around each corner you turned. Fortunately, you made it to your dorm without any issues and let Xavier knock. Enid opened the door within seconds, her natural smile dropping and her eyes wide as they darted in between you, trying to assess the situation.

“We’re here to speak to Y/N,” Xavier told her before she could ask any questions.

“I have her phone,” You held it up, trying to communicate to Enid through facial expressions that you were you, not Ajax.

“She’s…” You watched as Enid struggled to lie. “In the bathroom.” Your eyes widened, and you shook your head, thankful that Xavier had taken the lead and stood in front of you so he couldn’t see your face or small gestures. If you were in the bathroom, Xavier might insist on staying around until you were done. You saw that going in two directions, either your disguise would fade, or Xavier would think you’re in the bathroom for an alarming amount of time. Both options sucked. “Uh… No! She’s not! That was… earlier! She’s actually in the library right now.”

“Okay…” Xavier nodded slowly, clearly not quite believing Enid but not enough to call her out on it. “We’ll head there then.”

“Enid! Didn’t you…” You hesitated for a second, trying to pull even more lies out of thin air. “Didn’t you want to talk to me about that super important thing? Like… right now?”

“Yes! I did!” She nodded along, reaching her arm out to pull you into the room. “In private! Bye, Xavier!”

“Sorry, man!” You managed to call out as Enid slammed the door behind you, right in Xavier’s face. You held your breath as you heard him groan loudly before his footsteps echoed away from the door. You felt yourself morph back into your normal form and allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. “What just happened?” Enid asked, her hand on your shoulder as she assessed you.

“I opened the door, and he was just… there!” You sighed, practically falling into Enid to give her a hug of relief and thankfulness for helping you scramble your way out of that mess. You pulled away and carried on talking. “He saw me with my phone, so I had to lie, and then he just started talking to me, and I couldn’t figure out how to get out of it.”

“What was he even talking about?” She asked, allowing some laughter to slip out. “Why did he want to come and talk to you?”

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up. “It was a blur, and I was panicking! I think he said something about telling me about how he feels and-”

“How he feels?” Enid interrupted you, her mouth wide open in shock. “How he feels?” She repeated the words as though she was making sure she was getting them right. “You know what that means, right?”

“It’s not-” You could see where her mind was going. You hadn’t even considered that to be an option, and you still didn’t. “How he feels is probably something like… hatred! Or… loathing! Maybe he just wants to declare all-out war?”

“I think he wants to declare that he’s in l-” You cut Enid off by throwing your hand over her mouth.

“Another word and I’m shapeshifting into you and dancing in the quad in the pyjamas your mom sent you that you made me promise I wouldn’t ever mention again,” You threatened. You watched her eyes widen again. “I know you kept them in the box under your bed even though you said you had thrown them out.” You pulled your hand away as Enid licked it, wincing and wiping her slobber back on her sweater.

“Fine! I won’t say another word!” She held her hands up in surrender, dropping them slowly with a small, knowing smile. “But do you know who will say another word about it?”

“Nope! I’m avoiding him!” You shook your head in protest. “More so than I already do. I’m double avoiding him. Maybe even triple avoiding him?”

“You won’t be able to avoid him forever,” Enid shrugged, a smug smirk on her face.

“Watch me!” You challenged. She didn’t respond. Instead, she slipped your phone out of your hand and unlocked it with ease to scroll through the pictures you had taken of Ajax’s hats. You weren’t sure when she’d added her face to your phone’s face ID, but your mind was too preoccupied to be annoyed.

You had to avoid someone you had been trying to avoid for over a year. It would be easy.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

It turns out that trying to avoid someone when they are actively trying to seek you out was a lot more difficult than avoiding someone who was avoiding you just as much.

Xavier was more persistent than you had anticipated. You had spent the past few days hiding around corners and running out of class with a speed you didn’t know you possessed. Wednesday had opened the door to your shared dorm to find him there a few times, but she knew better and just shut it in his face. The one time Enid had opened the door ended up with you climbing out the window and scaling down the side of the building using the water pipes. By that point, Enid had decided you were taking it too far and had decided to actively try and sabotage you. She’d point him in whatever direction you had run off to.

That was why you had spent an hour and a half hiding under a desk in the library, 28 sudokus in, 7% battery left on your phone, and a dead leg. In an attempt to hide yourself from Xavier as fast as possible when he had reared his annoying head around the corner, you had left your bag on the table. He had spotted it and apparently decided that you would inevitably be back for it and had sat at an adjoining table to the one you were hiding under. Eventually, you admitted defeat and tried to time your escape for when he had his head turned.

In your head, you were in an action movie, army crawling out from the desk, completely undetected. However, the image in your head was a lot more fantastical than the real-life image of you awkwardly shuffling out from under the table, pressing yourself to the floor in an attempt to become invisible.

“I was wondering when you’d give up,” Xavier’s voice alone sounded sickeningly smug. You peered around the leg of the desk to see that he was looking directly at you. “I’m impressed you stayed under there for so long.”

“You knew?” You groaned, peeling yourself off of the floor, wiggling your limbs to breathe life into them again. You winced at the feeling of pins and needles in the leg that had been dead for five minutes. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “At first, I was just going to leave you under there for ten minutes, but I wanted to see how long you would last,” He had stood up from his seat to pick your bag up from the desk. It instantly registered in your mind that he was holding it hostage so you couldn’t run and escape again. Not that your leg would have allowed you to escape, as it had gotten to the overwhelmingly fuzzy part of pins and needles, and you couldn’t put any weight on it because it felt too weird. “Enid and I had a bet. I thought you’d give up after twenty minutes, but I guess she knows you better because she hit the nail on the head with an hour and a half.”

“Unlike you, she’s my friend, so I’d hope she knows me better,” You huffed. “Though at this rate, she won’t be my friend for much longer… Can you please just give me my bag back?”

“Care to explain why you’ve been avoiding me first?” He held the bag up and away from you, though you hadn’t taken any steps towards him, so it hadn’t been within your reach anyway.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” You lied with a shrug.

“You just hid from me under a table for over an hour,” Xavier pointed out, looking at you with a sense of disbelief.

“Bold of you to assume I was hiding from you,” You fired back. “Maybe I just liked it under there? Maybe I make a habit of hiding under desks?”

“Really?” He didn’t believe you for a second but played along. “So why haven’t I seen you doing it before?”

“First off, I don’t appreciate that your wording insinuates you watch me often, you creep,” You pointed accusingly at him. “Secondly, that’s the whole point of hiding. I wouldn’t be doing a good job of it if people saw me.”

“So what changed today?” He challenged. “Are you just not on your A game? Or maybe… maybe you wanted to be seen?”

“Maybe you should shut up?” It was a childish comeback but the best you could muster up. “It’s hard to hide from someone who is apparently hellbent on finding you.”

“This is a library,” The librarian had appeared next to you without you realising. She seemed to have taken Xavier by surprise too. “Please continue this… loud discussion outside so as not to disrupt everyone else any further.” Looking around, you realised that the library was empty. There was no one to disrupt. You were about to challenge her on this, but Xavier had grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the door before you could so much as open your mouth.

It was strange for Xavier you be making any sort of prolonged physical contact with you. But what was stranger was the fact that you weren’t physically repulsed by it. That’s not to say you were happy or even just fine with it, but you were allowing it to happen, and you weren’t sure why.

You expected to continue the conversation outside the library, but before you could register what was happening, Xavier was pulling you through the halls and outside. Not a word was shed between you during this time. You knew exactly where he was heading.

Within minutes, you were at his shed or, as he insisted everyone call it, his studio. He unlocked the door with ease and pulled you in, finally letting go to close the door behind you and lock it from the inside.

“Is this a kidnapping?” You joked, unsure what else to say or do. “I warn you now; my parents aren’t going to pay a ransom for me… Actually, come to think of it, they might pay you to keep me.”

“You’re free to leave whenever you want,” He turned back around to face you. He seemed nervous, which in turn, made you nervous. The issue with that is that whenever you got nervous, you tended to talk… a lot.

“You say that, but you just locked the door, and you’re also standing in between me and the door, so I would have to try and dodge past you to get to the door, and you have very long limbs, and this shed- sorry, studio- this studio isn’t very big, no offence but also I don’t really care if I offend you or not so I’m not sure why I even said no offence in the first place. No offence is such a terrible thing to say because it just means you know whatever you’re about to say or have already said is offensive, yet you still chose to say it, and you have just openly acknowledged that what you said was offensive, so you can’t even try and pass it off as though you didn’t realise that the words you were saying were offensive and-” You rambled on and on until Xavier finally saved you from yourself by interrupting you.

“Speaking of words, you’re saying a lot of them,” He teased. The smile on his face directed towards you was a foreign one. Usually, you were met with a scowl that mirrored your own, yet now your expression mirrored his as you felt the corners of your mouth betray you as a smile graced your face. “I’m pretty sure I was the one who wanted to talk to you, and you wanted to avoid that.”

“Maybe this was all part of my master plan?” You shrugged playfully. It felt strange to joke around with him, but not unpleasant. “If I talk enough, you’ll never get a word in. Eventually, I’ll bore you to sleep and then I can escape.”

“You could never bore me,” The words felt like they got stuck in your chest once you’d heard them. There was a foreign tenderness in them. “You could talk for hours, and I’d listen to every word.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” You turned around in a feeble attempt to hide your face as you had felt your cheeks flush. “I’ve never spent any time in here… It’s nice… quiet.”

“Coming out here helps me clear my head,” You could hear that he’d stepped closer to you, looming over your shoulder as you assessed the variety of paintbrushes on his desk. Some looked significantly more used than others. “Sometimes Nevermore is too loud.”

“I feel that,” You agreed, picking up one of the more used brushes to assess it closer. The logo of the company that had made it had once been printed in gold ink on the side, there was still some residue left, but it was barely legible. “Sometimes the clicking of Wednesday’s typewriter is too loud… And Enid… don’t get me wrong, I adore her, but she’s a lot sometimes. It must be nice to be able to just get away for a while and focus on something you like.”

“What do you like?” Xavier was even closer than he had been before. You could practically feel the body heat coming off of him. “I’ve never actually seen you doing any hobbies.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You asked, placing the paintbrush back down and turning around to face him again. He was even closer than you’d expected him to be, which was a bit of a shock. “Seriously, promise you won’t laugh.”

“I promise,” He held his pinky finger out, barely having the room to do so with how close he was. You hesitated briefly but linked pinkies with him quickly.

“You know that means I can cut your pinky finger off if you break the promise, right?” You smiled as he nodded. “I play dungeons and dragons with people online.”

“Wait, seriously?” He asked. You nodded in confirmation. “Tell me about it.”

“What?” You took a step back to look at him properly, trying to see if he was genuinely interested or if he was just teasing you. You barely managed to stop yourself from falling against the desk behind you, scattering some of the paintbrushes instead. You winced as you saw from the corner of your eye that one had splintered into two parts upon landing on the floor, instantly recognising it as the one you had just picked up. “Shit! I’m so sorry!” Xavier was already picking the others up as you bent down to pick up the broken one, holding the two pieces in either hand. You looked up, expecting to see rage on his face, to get thrown out of the studio there and then. Instead, you were met with a smile and a shrug.

“That one was on its way out anyway. Probably would have broken in my hand the next time I used it,” He took the pieces out of your hands, throwing them in the nearby bin without a second thought. “Now, tell me about your character.”

“They’re uh….” You hesitated, but his smile was oddly calming. “They’re a halfling rogue- uh, a halfling is basically-”

“Halflings are like short humans with pointy ears, right?” You nodded, impressed that he knew anything about them. “And rogues are kinda… sneaky thieves.”

“Exactly! Mine is a pirate, so the whole rogue thing fits in really well with that!” You smiled as you spoke, excited to share this with someone, even if that someone happened to be the person you considered to be your rival. “Their whole thing is that they’re trying to find their missing friend Penelope, but last week I rolled really poorly doing a perception check on an old man. I got a nat one, so it was a critical failure, and our DM said that I am now 100% convinced that this old man is actually my missing best friend, and she’s been cursed, so now I have to guard this man with my life, and I’m dragging him around on our quest, but he has like… 7 hit points because he’s just a little old man who has to be along for the ride.”

“I want to place bets now that the little old man is the big bad,” Xavier grinned as he listened to you.

“I will literally cry if he ends up being the big bad,” You groaned at the realisation that Xavier could be right. It would be so typical of your DM to make the little old man you’ve become emotionally attached to turn on you.

“I’ve never seen you cry,” He noted.

“Oh, I don’t let anyone see me cry,” You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter where I am. I will find the most secluded area to cry. I’ve hidden in a tree once so I could cry by myself.”

“I fully believe that,” He laughed softly. It was strange to hear him laugh but more so to know that you were the cause.

“I feel like I’m gonna regret asking this….” You took a deep breath in. “Why… Why have you been trying to talk to me for the past week?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” He repeated your own words back to you. You smiled at held your own pinky out to once again pinky promise, though it was your pinky finger at stake this time. “I realised that-” He was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing from his pocket.

“You have the sound on your phone?” You snorted. “Gross. Use silent mode like everyone else.” He rolled his eyes playfully as he pulled the phone out.

“Oh god…” He groaned before answering the phone. “What do you-”

“Where is she? What have you done with her?” You recognised the voice as Xavier held the phone away from his ear, wincing at the volume.

“Enid, I’m here. I’m fine,” You sighed, talking louder than usual so she could hear you over her own yelling. You assumed Wednesday wasn’t in the dorm, or else Enid would have been silenced before she even started with a single glare.

“I’ve called you like 70 times!” You weren’t sure if she was exaggerating or not. With Enid, it could go either way. “Why haven’t you picked up?”

“My sweet, you know my phone was on 7% battery because I was doing sudokus to pass the time and texting you updates the entire time,” You shook your head as you remembered the part she played in Xavier tracking you down and waiting until you crawled out of hiding. “It was in my bag. It must have run out of charge.”

“Or maybe you just didn’t hear it because it’s on silent mode?” Xavier teased. You shot him a glare, but unlike every other glare you had sent his way, it was playful and not full of malice.

“You shut your face hole,” You stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to do the same to you.

“Have you two ki-” Enid started talking, but you watched Xavier hit mute on her before she could finish whatever she had been saying.

“Okay! Bye, Enid!” He hung up before you had a chance to say goodbye to her.

“I should probably go before she tracks me down by scent,” You were only half joking at that, having once caught Enid on all fours, fully in her human form, sniffing wildly as she tried to track down Wednesday. It was as funny as it was terrifying.

“Right… yeah…” Xavier seemed a little dejected, a sentiment which you strangely found yourself feeling as well.

“It was… ni…” The words felt wrong coming out of your mouth. “Nice… to… Bye!” You darted past him, not being able to bring yourself to actually complete the sentence, no matter how true it was. You fumbled with the lock for an embarrassingly long time, no doubt adding to the flush that had returned to your cheeks. Eventually, you managed to unlock it and ran through the door, blocking out whatever Xavier was calling out to you from behind.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Despite the admittedly nice time you had spent with Xavier, no matter how short it had been, you returned to avoiding him immediately afterwards.

It had been three days, and you were facing a dilemma. You nervously fiddled with the ribbon that tied the small gift bag together as you weighed the options. You could leave it outside his dorm room, knock, and run. You could break into his studio and leave it there. You could disguise yourself as someone else and give it to him that way.

Eventually, you landed on the plan to break into his studio. It was the best way you could get the gift to him with the minimum risk of having to talk to him.

You had laid in bed awake for hours the night after your talk. Everything ran through your head over and over and over, and you couldn’t figure out why. It was 3am by the time you opened your phone and did some online shopping. It had taken around half an hour to find the exact paintbrush you had broken and a further hour researching the various other brushes the company provided and deciding which other ones would be best for Xavier’s art style. The brushes weren’t exactly cheap, so you couldn’t go wild and get one of each, but you ended up with six in total, including the replacement.

You knew when Xavier would be in archery practice, so you decided that was the best time to strike. It started to rain just as you reached the secluded studio. You tried to cover the gift bag as best as possible, so the rain didn’t ruin it. Once you were by the door, you realised the flaw in your plan. You had no idea how to pick a lock.

Silently, you cursed yourself for not asking Thing to accompany you, knowing he could pick locks with ease. Seconds later, you openly cursed yourself as a familiar voice called out your name from behind you. Slowly, you spun on your heels to face him, hiding the gift bag behind your back.

“Decided to stop avoiding me?” His smile was as calming as it was infuriating, knowing the subtle smugness behind it.

“Archery ended early?” You phrased it as a question, though you clearly knew the answer, or the conversation wouldn’t have been happening.

“It started raining,” He glanced up at the grey sky, blinking as the rain splashed his face. “Let’s get inside.”

“I’m not here to stay,” You admitted as he walked past you to unlock the door, turning around so you could continue to hide the gift behind your back. Despite your words, your legs betrayed you as you followed him into the studio.

“Well then…” Once inside, he turned to face you. “Why are you here?” Realising that it was now or never, you pulled the gift out from behind your back and thrust it into his chest. “Okay, bye!” You turned around to run away as fast as possible, not wanting to see his reaction or give him a chance to ask you why you had bought him the paintbrushes, as you weren’t sure why you had done it yourself.

“Nice try,” A hand landed on your shoulder, gentle but firm. It was just enough to stop you from running off. Slowly, you were manually turned back around to face him, but you kept your gaze on the floor.

You heard the bag rustle as it was being opened, a small gasp of acknowledgement following shortly afterwards. You just wanted the floor to swallow you.

“This is…” His voice sounded happy, but you didn’t dare to check his face to confirm it. Your eyes were locked on the floorboards, tracing the wood grain pattern and the paint splatters that littered it. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I did it,” You shrugged quickly. “Now I leave.” Quickly, you turned back around and managed to take two steps towards the door before two arms snaked around you, and you were pulled back slightly, so your back was flush against his chest. It took a moment to register that he was hugging you.

“Thank you,” His head rested on your shoulder, and you could feel his breath on your back as he spoke. As soon as it had happened, it was over, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. He released you, but you made no move to leave again. “I actually have something for you.”

“Why would you-?” You turned around, confused, as you watched him pull a small velvet bag out from his desk. He held it out, and you gently took it, opening the bag and carefully pouring the contents into your hand. Your breath caught in your throat as a dice set tumbled out. Bringing them up to your face to study them, you observed the sand suspended in a blue resin, specs of glitter and small skulls carefully placed to look like they were resting on the sea, the numbers inked in gold. They were pirate themed. He had listened to you talk about your character and gone out of his way to seek a set of pirate-themed dice within days, and you weren’t sure why.

“I hope they’re okay. I just-” You caught both him and yourself off guard as you clutched the dice in your hand tightly and jumped forward, almost headbutting him in the chin as you pulled him in for another hug. He returned it immediately like it was second nature, and he didn’t have to think about it at all. “I wanted a peace offering. From the start, all I wanted was to get your attention, but I think I always just came off wrong, and before I knew it, you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you….” You mumbled. He pulled away and gave you a sceptical look. “Okay… Maybe just a bit… But surely you had better ways of getting my attention than knocking my bag on the floor?”

“I went over to offer to carry your bag to class, but I was nervous, and I knocked it off, and then I was too embarrassed to talk to you,” He explained. You noticed that the red that had taken over his cheeks had also reached the tips of his ears. “And then I wanted to nudge you to get your attention in the next class, but you moved your arm, so I ended up elbowing you in the stomach, and you looked like you wanted to kill me.”

“You knocked the wind out of me!” You protested through a smile. “I took that as you actually attempting to kill me, so I think my reaction was valid.”

“Your reaction was very valid,” He agreed. His light laughter was infectious; you found yourself echoing it without a second thought. “But it made it so much harder for me to tell you I like you.”

“You what me?” Your eyes widened as the words registered in your brain.

“I like you,” He repeated, looking completely unfazed. You felt your heart flutter as somewhere, a part of you that you had spent a year repressing felt the same way.

“That’s what you meant when you said you were going to tell me how you feel,” Your mouth was agape.

“How did you…?” Xavier seemed taken aback a little, and you realised the error you had made. He thought he had told Ajax that. The lighthearted fluttering you felt turned to anxiety as you weighed your options. If you lied, the truth would come out at some point, and it could cause devastating consequences in the future. However, if you told him now, and he reacted poorly, you wouldn’t have lost as much.

“When you went to talk to Ajax the other night, that wasn’t Ajax; it was me,” You confessed. The words suddenly started tumbling out of your mouth faster than you could control them. “I recently found out that I can shapeshift, and I don’t do it often, but I realised it would be more useful if I told no one about it, but Enid caught me once, and I had to bribe her not to say anything, so I will occasionally shapeshift to help her out, and Ajax’s birthday is coming up, and she wanted to make sure the hat she crocheted him wasn’t like any of the hats he already owns, so I had shapeshifted into him to take pictures of his hats without anyone getting suspicious, and then you appeared at the door, and you caught me with my phone, and I had to lie, and then I couldn’t get away from you, and you said the things about wanting to talk to me and tell me how you feel, and I assumed that you were going to just pick an argument, so I avoided you, and I’m really sorry-”

You weren’t sure if he had just gotten sick of your talking or if he wanted to show he forgave you, or if it was a mixture of the two. Either way, his methods worked, as you couldn’t continue to talk when his lips were pressed up against yours. One of his hands gently cupped your cheek, while the other remained on your waist following the hug. Your eyes closed as you relaxed into the kiss, fully accepting it. You were almost embarrassed at the way your head craned up further, and you lifted yourself onto your tip toes to try and chase the kiss as he pulled away.

He studied your face as you tried to remember how to breathe properly in a last-ditch attempt to come across as calm and collected as possible after what had just happened. His gaze was focused and curious as it scanned each of your features, committing them to memory as though he was worried it would be the last chance to before you realised what was happening and pushed him away.

But you didn’t push him away. Instead, you reached up to pull him back in for another kiss. Somehow, it was even better than the first. The first had been slow and steady, both of you just testing the waters. The second was more like a dive directly into the deep end.

Your hand ran through his hair, it felt so soft between your fingers, and you wondered how you had ever gone without doing it before. His hand squeezed the flesh of your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

When you finally had to break for air, he trailed soft kisses down your jaw before nuzzling his face against your neck. His voice was muffled as he said something, but you couldn’t quite make it out.

“What was that?” You asked, pulling away slightly so you could hear what he said. However, as soon as you had pulled away, he pulled you back in. Fortunately, he had lifted his head just enough for the words to sound like actual words that you could understand.

“Will you go out with me?” Xavier asked, burying his face back into your neck when he was done, pressing another trail of kisses there.

“It would be an honour,” Something between the two of you had shifted, and you couldn’t be happier.

a/n: eeeek I had fun writing this one- I'm a sucker for a good rivals/enemies to lovers

shout if you wanna be added to my taglist! I have another oneshot on its way soonish

taglist: @ageofstarkey @wintrr13 @percyhyneswife @idli-dosa

#xavier x reader #xavier oneshot #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier x y/n #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier fluff #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday oneshot #wednesday fluff #xavier x y

490 notes · View notes

awkward-walking-potato · 5 months ago

Note

Do you write for charles xavier?? If so cloud we get a reader who just keeps bothering him while he is working cause they want his attention and every one else is busy? I hope you have a good day!

I hope you don't mind I wrote this Pre Wheels Charles

The afternoon sun filtered through the large windows of the Xavier Institute, casting warm, golden light across the vast room where Charles Xavier sat, surrounded by papers, books, and a holographic display projecting data from Cerebro. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his mind focused on the delicate task of tracking mutant activity across the globe. The mansion was unusually quiet, with the other X-Men off on various missions or training sessions. It was a rare moment of peace, one that Charles was determined to use to catch up on work.

And then, you appeared.

“Charles?” Your voice broke the silence, drawing his attention away from the screen.

“Yes?” He looked up, his expression patient but slightly distracted.

“What are you doing?” You leaned against the doorframe, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Just some work,” he replied, hoping that would suffice as an explanation.

You nodded, stepping further into the room. “Looks important.”

“It is,” Charles confirmed, his eyes drifting back to the hologram. He tried to refocus, but he could feel your presence, still lingering, still watching.

“Everyone else is busy,” you continued, moving closer to his desk. “Scott, Jean, Logan—they’re all off doing something. I’m bored.”

Charles glanced up again, his lips quirking into a small smile. “And so you’ve come to bother me?”

“Pretty much,” you said with a grin, leaning on his desk now. “What’s that?” You pointed to the hologram.

“Mutant activity tracking. I’m trying to—”

“Sounds complicated,” you interrupted, picking up one of the pens on his desk and twirling it between your fingers.

“It is,” he said, still smiling despite himself. He could sense your playfulness, and though he knew he needed to focus, he couldn’t help but be charmed by your persistence.

You sighed dramatically, putting the pen down and plopping into the chair across from him. “Can I help?”

“I’m not sure this is something you’d find very interesting,” he said diplomatically, though the idea of you sifting through the data with him did amuse him.

You groaned and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Why is everyone always so busy? It’s like this whole saving-the-world thing never ends.”

Charles chuckled softly. “It does tend to keep us occupied.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, Charles thought you might have given up. He returned his attention to the hologram, his fingers hovering over the controls.

But then, you spoke again. “Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever just—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Do you ever just want to take a break from all this? From being the wise professor and the leader of the X-Men? Just…be Charles for a while?”

Charles looked at you, truly looked, and saw the sincerity in your eyes. It wasn’t just boredom driving you to seek him out; it was a desire for connection, for a moment of normalcy in a life that was anything but.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, the work momentarily forgotten. “Yes, I do. More often than you might think.”

You smiled, a warm, understanding smile that made something in his chest loosen. “Then maybe you should take a break. Just for a little while. You deserve it.”

Charles regarded you thoughtfully. “And what would you have me do during this break?”

“Well,” you said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, “I was thinking we could take a walk in the garden. Or, if you’re feeling adventurous, we could raid the kitchen for some of those cookies Hank made yesterday.”

Charles laughed, a genuine, light-hearted sound that echoed in the quiet room. “Cookies and a walk in the garden, you say?”

“Maybe even some tea,” you added with a playful wag of your eyebrows.

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re very persuasive.”

“It’s one of my many talents,” you said, standing up and holding out your hand.

Charles looked at the work spread out before him, then back at you. The world could wait a little while longer. With a nod, he reached out and took your hand, letting you pull him to his feet.

“Alright,” he agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Let’s go see about those cookies.”

As you led him out of the study, chatting animatedly about all the things you wanted to do, Charles couldn’t help but feel grateful for the interruption.

#charles xavier #charles xavier imagine #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier oneshot #professor x imagine #x men imagine #xmen 97

649 notes · View notes

fandomhopped · 4 months ago

Text

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he’ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

482 notes · View notes

typing-catastrophe · 4 months ago

Text

Charles Xavier - only one bed (headcanons)

request: "gmorning! with deadpool 3 bringing around the xmen renaissance ive found myself once again totally obsessed w james mcavoy and was wondering if i could req an only one bed charles xavier x reader piece please ! i feel like theres just so much to be done w that trope, the mutual pining, the fluster, the rushed confessions, and ive somehow never seen anymore pair it w charles yet ?? i trust your vision completely, thank you so much and have a lovely day!"

a/n: thank you so much for your request anon ^^ I am also working on a longer piece (actual oneshot, no bulletpoints), so stay tuned for that and in the mean time have this :P hope you like it

💕 fluff

oohhh the temptation

charles trying so hard not to give in and read your mind

he is just so goddamn curious as to know what you're thinking about your current situation

because he can feel you laying next to him all tensed up and it makes him nervous

you're both idiots in love with the other, have been for a while, and both to scared to make the first move

you're convinced he isn't interested in you at all, and are too scared to ruin the friendship to say anything

and he is convinced he would drive away the only friend he made asides from raven and would end up feeling much lonelier than before

he technically is confident enough but at the same time doesn't want to risk anything going wrong or making it awkward between the two of you

when it gets too much for him, he strikes up a conversation which would end up in you two laughing and finally being comfortable in each others space again

when you tell him that you're having a hard time falling asleep at new places, he would offer to tell you about his research, because it helps raven fall asleep

when you both eventually fall asleep, he unconsciously shifts over and holds you close

you stir awake from the movement next to you, already dozing off again when you feel an arm sneak over your stomach and an explosion of butterflies when charles pulls you close

(that man needs someone to cuddle at night and you can't convince me otherwise. he's a cuddler.)

now wide awake and heartbeat going faster by the second, you franticly try to think of what to do next

when you try to scoot away, you're not only met with resistance but with him pulling you back and nuzzling his nose into your neck and hair

you lay there in defeat for a few minutes, enough time for your heartbeat to settle again. then you decide to turn around in his arms

you use the opportunity to look at him his beautiful facial features, all relaxed and peaceful. you'd never allow yourself to stare at him like this, in fear of getting caught

when he started to wake up and blinking a few times, you know you should look away, but you're so captured by him that you can't bring yourself to do so

so you're laying face to face with him, only inches apart, holding your breath

"hey... can't sleep?" he asks with a soft tone and smile

you shake your head the tiniest bit and a stray lock of hair falls into your face

he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear and lets his hand linger

even without using his powers he is almost sure to know what you think in that moment

so he leans in closer and asks "may I?"

you whisper a breathless "please" and before you know it, he presses the softest kiss to your lips

you almost whine when he leans back again

"you look so beautiful, darling" and "forgive me, we should've done this a lot sooner"

you couldn't agree more

sleepy, soft kisses turn into more intense ones turn into makeout session

so much suppressed feelings resurfacing, you can't get enough of each other

when your shirt hitches up and his hand grazes your bare skin, you let out a small noise of surprise and jump a little at the sudden contact

charles moves his hand away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or do something you're not ready for, when you reach down and put his hand back, reassuring that it is okay for you

he doesn't mind at all if you don't want to go any further, he can't believe his luck of you reciprocating his feelings at all in the first place

if you do want to go further, that man will give you the best and softest, most loving time of your life

given that that would be your first time together, you would keep it simple and stick to getting to know each other and each others likes

first and foremost he would concentrate on making you feel good

#stay tuned for the actual fic / oneshot #xmen #xmen movies #charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #xmen fanfiction #professor x #xmen first class #xmen days of future past #my writing #not proofread #no beta we die like men #requested

679 notes · View notes

schmellows · 8 months ago

Text

HIII!!! *hands you this after my semi-hiatus and disappears again*

Based on this post by @zaynesevol !!

Honestly i wasn't sure if I'll ever finish this-- I've never really done any sort of comic this big before and I went through MULTIPLE revisions on this omg

Anyway, enjoy the lds brainrot and please give the tagged author a follow! She writes some really good stuff <3

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lds #xavier #xavier lads #xavier x reader #schmellows #digital art #short comic #inspired by a tiny oneshot #please dont flop #im begging #please please please #ignore the changing artstyles this was in the works since I saw the og post #anyways

734 notes · View notes

blaire-apricity · 7 months ago

Text

Possessive Desires

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝: 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘉𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊, 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 (𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨), 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 (𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦) & 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

His fingers traced a tantalizing path down to her thighs, then slowly moved along her inner thighs, sending waves of pleasure and anticipation coursing through her. "One more word," he murmured, his tone dark and promising, "and I'll show you exactly who you belong to."

His statement enticed her, an undercurrent of danger making her heart race, yet she couldn't help but be drawn to it. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with desire, a sly smirk tugging at her lips as she decided to pull his last strings. "You're adorable, Lumi."

His jaw clenched at the use of that teasing nickname, his grip on her waist tightening possessively. Without warning, he lifted her effortlessly from the seat, his strong arms enveloping her in a firm embrace.

In one fluid motion, he spun her around and pressed her back against the wall, his body a solid barrier of strength and desire that trapped her in place.

"Oh, you have no idea the game you're playing, sweetheart," he purred, his voice a velvety mix of menace and lust. His eyes blazed with a hungry flame as his fingers tangled in her hair, securing her firmly as his mouth descended upon hers once more.

She squeaked as he pushed her against the wall, his body melding with hers, the pressure both exhilarating and overwhelming. Perhaps her teasing had gone too far, but it was too late to turn back now. His kiss was demanding and fervent, eliciting a soft groan from her lips, "mm.." The intensity of his desire left her breathless and completely at his mercy.

Xavier deepened the kiss, his tongue entwining with hers in a passionate, intoxicating dance. His body pressed even closer, the heat of his skin seeping into hers, creating an electric connection. His hand glided down her side, tracing the curve of her waist, over her hip, and down to her thigh.

He shifted slightly, lifting her leg just enough to press his hips snugly against her, the hard evidence of his desire unmistakable. His kiss was possessive, each stroke of his tongue a clear declaration of ownership.

"H-Hya—!" Her gasp was soft and breathless as he lifted her leg, exposing her to a more vulnerable position, especially since she was only wearing a skirt. The sensation was both thrilling and overwhelming, making her feel acutely aware of every point of contact between them.

As her gasp escaped her lips, he continued to devour her mouth, his body pinning her securely against the wall. The heat between them grew more intense, his kisses becoming harder and more demanding, filled with an insatiable hunger.

The hand gripping her waist trailed down to her legs, his fingers gently caressing her thigh, tracing small, tantalizing circles over her smooth skin. His thumb slipped under the edge of her skirt, brushing against the top of her thigh-high stocking, teasing her with each subtle movement.

"M-Nn.." She closed her eyes, struggling to maintain her composure as she felt his fingers at the edge of her skirt. The combination of his touch and his kisses sent shivers through her body, making it increasingly difficult to think clearly. The intensity of his desire, combined with the vulnerability of her position, left her breathless and yearning for more.

He smiled slightly at her struggle, the soft sounds escaping her lips only fueling his desire. His thumb brushed upward along her inner thigh, slipping under her skirt, his touch growing bolder and more insistent.

He broke the kiss, his mouth finding the delicate flesh of her throat. He trailed a path of hot, possessive kisses down the sensitive skin, his lips leaving a burning trail in their wake. His teeth nipped gently at her collarbone, a sharp contrast to the soothing caress of his tongue as it followed, erasing the sting.

"A-Aah..!" Y/n gasped, the sensation causing her to lift her chin slightly, subconsciously giving Xavier more access to her neck.

Taking full advantage of her responsive arch, his mouth continued its seductive path down her neck. His tongue lapped at her skin, savoring the taste, while his teeth grazed over the tender flesh. He found a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat and sucked on it, intent on marking her as his own.

His hand slid higher, fingers deftly slipping beneath her panties to explore her heat. "You're so soft, sweetheart," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and his voice thick with undeniable desire.

His fingers traced along her intimate folds, each touch sending jolts of pleasure through her body. He found her most sensitive bud and pressed gently against it, earning a sharp gasp from her lips.

He continued his sensual assault, kissing a path down her chest. His teeth caught the neckline of her top, pulling it down to expose her generous cleavage to his hungry gaze. His body pushed further into hers, his growing excitement pressing firmly against her, making his desire abundantly clear. His kisses grew more fervent, each one a testament to his possessive need to claim every inch of her.

"H-Haa... M-Mn.." Y/n’s whimpers grew more frequent and urgent as Xavier continued his relentless actions, each touch and kiss pulling more helpless sounds from her.

He captured her mouth once more in a heated kiss, his lips bruising hers as he tasted every moan she made. His fingers continued their exploration of her heat, teasing and taunting her sensitive bud with gentle, torturous circles. He relished in the small, pleading noises she made, drinking them in like the finest ambrosia.

Shifting his stance slightly, the movement caused his hardness to press even closer, the friction nearly overwhelming him. His need for her was a roaring inferno, an all-consuming desire that demanded satisfaction.

He pushed her harder against the wall, his body melding into hers with an urgency that left no room for doubt. His fingers slipped down, slowly teasing her entrance, the tips brushing over her slick folds with deliberate care. Breaking the kiss, his breath hot and heavy against her lips, he murmured, "You're mine, alright?"

Before Y/n could respond, in one swift motion, he lifted both of her legs, hiking her thighs up to drape over his hips, opening her even more to his touch. His finger slipped inside her heat, and a low, primal groan escaped his throat at the sensation.

"A-Aah..!" Y/n arched her back immediately, the sudden intrusion making her feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable. She panted lightly, her gaze half-lidded, her expression a tantalizing mix of arousal and surrender that sent waves of heat coursing through Xavier.

His finger curled inside her, rubbing against her inner walls with practiced precision. "Y/n, you're soaked," he whispered huskily, his voice thick with ravenous desire and a hint of teasing satisfaction.

His touch grew bolder with every response he elicited, his fingers moving with increasing confidence and intent. He added another finger, carefully stretching her, his movements designed to bring her to the peak of pleasure.

His mouth found her neck again, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin, leaving possessive marks in their wake. His kisses trailed down to her collarbone, each one more fervent than the last, as he claimed every inch of her with insatiable need.

"Mmhhm-! Aa-aah..~!" Y/n's moans grew louder, each sound a testament to the intense pleasure Xavier was eliciting from her. She was losing her composure completely, her body tightening around his fingers as her pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

Encouraged by her moans, Xavier continued his ministrations, moving his fingers deeper and faster within her. His thumb found her sensitive bud again, rubbing it with precise, rhythmic circles. He wanted to see her come undone, wanted to be the one to drive her over the edge.

His words became more heated, his voice thick with desire. "Let go for me, sweetheart."

"A-Aahh! X-Xavier..— Haa-..~!" Y/n moaned out, her voice trembling as she felt herself nearing the edge, her mind going blank with each thrust of his fingers.

Hearing his name spill from her lips like a reverent prayer drove him further. He moved his fingers faster and deeper, relentlessly seeking to draw out her climax, while his thumb maintained its rhythm on her sensitive bud.

He nipped at her earlobe, then whispered against her ear, his breath warm and laden with desire. "That's right. Say my name again." His voice carried a dominating edge that sent shivers down her spine.

Her world narrowed to the sensation of his fingers deep and curling inside her, making her back arch even more. She was drunk with pleasure, feeling herself teetering on the brink. "X-Xavier..—"

A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name on her lips, breathless and full of need. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing the flesh, before whispering against her skin. "I need to hear you scream my name when you come."

His fingers twisted suddenly, increasing in speed and pressure. His sole focus was on her pleasure, her release. He wanted nothing more than to be the one to send her over the edge.

Y/n's breath hitched as she felt the intensity of his movements. Her body tightened, and with a final, desperate cry of "X-Xavier!" she shattered, her climax ripping through her with an intensity that left her trembling. Xavier held her through it, his fingers gentle now, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from her.

He watched her with a fierce, possessive satisfaction, knowing he had claimed her completely at that moment.

Her release hit like a tidal wave, drowning her in an ocean of bliss. Her body shuddered uncontrollably against his, her head tilting back as she rode the relentless waves of pleasure. Her cries grew louder, his name spilling from her lips in an unrestrained moan. Xavier's fingers didn't stop; although his thrusts slowed and grew gentler, they prolonged her climax, dragging it out until she was left trembling and gasping for him.

He finally withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste her essence. His breath was quick and deep, but a satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he took in her spent form.

His eyes fixated on her flushed face, her half-lidded expression making her look even more delectable. Shifting his grip, he supported her limp body against him, before leaning in to capture her panting lips in a gentle, lingering kiss.

She tasted divine, an intoxicating blend of sweetness and desire. Y/n panted heavily, her body sagging into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder as she struggled to regulate her irregular breathing.

He held her tightly, his fingers tenderly caressing her flushed cheek. The heat radiating from her body matched his own, creating a shared warmth that enveloped them both. His lips pressed gently to her temple, and he murmured softly against her skin, "You're incredibly beautiful. Just... breathtakingly so."

His thumb traced the faint mark he'd left on her neck, a small love bite that filled him with possessive satisfaction. The sight of the mark on her skin was a silent declaration of his claim, and it stirred a deep sense of pride within him.

As her breathing gradually evened out, he continued to hold her close, offering her a moment to come back to reality. Then, with a smirk, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you gonna apologize for your little teasing game, sweetheart? Or are you gonna keep testing me?"

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑋𝑎𝑣𝑖 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠! 𝑀𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑖𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑; 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡!

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞: 𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐞

477 notes · View notes

heliads · 8 months ago

Note

Hi!! So excited your requests are open! I was wondering if you write for young!charles xavier? Where him and fem!reader (who has similar telepathic powers as him, and often communicates with him this way, e.g. through some small quips that causes him to accidentally laugh out loud) have just returned from a really tiring mission back to the school, dealt with some of the kids, and just take some time to relax and just be with each other?

Thank you very much and have a lovely day!

'like me' - charles xavier

masterlist

Charles Xavier is stressed again.

You can feel it on your skin like rushing water, pouring around your brain until all you can think about is him, him– the way it always has been, the way it always will be. The divide between you and Charles has rapidly worn away until it is practically nothing at all. It’s you and him, him and you. Almost one person. Certainly one mind.

All your life, you’ve struggled with who you want to be. Discovering your mutation at the young age of ten years old only catapulted you into a life of confusion. At first, your telepathy was nothing more than a burden. The sound of everyone’s thoughts in your head was a crashing din of noise and exhaustion. You dragged yourself through every day, bothered to overstimulation by the never ending tumult of voices in your mind, but you could never sleep enough at night, kept awake by the dreams of those around you.

Only with time were you able to calm your mind down, to set up walls between yourself and others until you could finally experience some peace within the confines of your own head. On days when you’re sick or tired, the whispers find a way to sneak in through the cracks in your mental barriers, but for the most part, you’re okay. You block out the world, and even if it makes you lonelier, and even if shutting off your mutation makes you feel like you’ve cut off a limb, you’re less distracted. It was better.

So you told yourself, at least. You had assumed that shoving everything to the very periphery of your existence was the only way to live. It wasn’t as if there were any other mutants around to tell you otherwise, after all. Then, all of a sudden, there was. Appearing out of the blue, a stranger, dressed well, with a comforting air to him. A quiet smile directed towards you, a cup of tea cooling in his hands. Charles Xavier found you and told you were going to be alright. And you believed him. And he was telling the truth.

He often does. Charles is the rare sort of person that lives life as if it isn’t just a game. He abides by the rules, and whether he wins or loses, he doesn’t cheat. Not often, and never unless it’s absolutely necessary. Charles consistently looks for the good in people, and, amazingly enough, he has a knack for finding it. The idea of a mutant school was unfathomable– too risky, too many dangerous people in one place– but of course if one person could make it happen, it would be Charles. Charles was everything to you. Is everything to you. And always will be.

You were one of the first mutants Charles found. All of the others in the first round, he met with Erik, but Charles met you by himself. He said he wanted it to be personal. Really, Charles wanted to have this moment with you to himself. Apparently, he’d been able to sense that your mutation was just like his, and he was delighted by it, a child again. You could see it in the cherubic grin on his face, the bright spark in those shining blue eyes. After all this time alone, the two of you had finally found each other.

You can still remember every detail of that first meeting even all these years later. It was impossible to forget a single thing about Charles. You were practically starstruck to be in his presence. Here was this man who knew everything about the torment in your mind, who had found a way to live without suppressing himself. His control was incredible. He led the life you wanted for yourself, and best of all, he was willing to teach it to you.

Of course you would have gone with him to this idea of a school. You would have followed him anywhere if it meant being able to embrace your gift, and later, although you didn’t know it or perhaps weren’t willing to acknowledge it, being able to embrace him. When the two of you came back to the school, Erik initially didn’t believe that the two of you had just met. It was impossible, he said. The two of you spoke to each other like you’d known each other your entire lives, not just for the span of a few hours.

And maybe you had known him forever. It certainly felt that way. Charles understood you like no one else. The two of you developed a way of speaking that drove everyone else mad, half in your heads and half aloud. You’d go five minutes just staring intently at each other, then laugh and say a word here and there that revealed absolutely nothing about the conversation taking place. As your control over your mutation grew, your talks with Charles grew more and more nonverbal until they happened entirely in your heads save for odd exclamations here and there.

It tends to interfere with his teaching. Charles will be in the middle of a lesson when you’ll pop into his mind to report on a mission or tell him a funny joke. The students have come to brush it off when Professor Xavier starts laughing in the middle of an otherwise serious debate on ethics, or a long derivation of some physics formula. It’s you, again. Always is.

Charles pretends it drives him mental, but you both know otherwise. You can feel his delight in being able to speak to you in your mind, after all. It resonates through your head just as it does in his, warming your cheeks with his own rosy blush of affection. When the two of you fell in love, you could sense it instantly. His emotions were yours. Your love was his. All of the pieces of the two of you overlapped until there was no separation between yourselves, just one great person, one Charles-and-Y/N, Y/N-and-Charles, together until the end. You adore it.

And so it has been since the very start. The two of you as one, watching over the students as they enter your school. You teach them all you can, and say fond goodbyes as some pupils leave, ready to face the outside world, this time armed with the knowledge that they can take care of themselves and their mutations. Others stay for years, perhaps indefinitely, and you treasure them for as long as you can. Everyone leaves eventually. Everyone but you and Charles.

The school is not merely a school, of course. Your primary objective will always be to care for the young mutants of the world, but there is another facet to it, and that would happen to be your extracurricular activity of saving the planet. You’re a central part of the X-Men, and often find yourself shipping out on missions across the world with the others when you’re needed.

You’ve been on a particularly nasty mission for a few weeks now, but at long last, you’re on a plane headed home. You always miss Charles whenever you’re away; feeling his connection to you grow shakier the farther you’re apart before dropping away entirely once you’re out of range is nothing short of heartbreaking. Whenever you’re unable to communicate directly through your minds, you feel like a child again, utterly alone and with no idea that she could ever find someone to love and understand her the way Charles does.

You come back, though. You always come back. This time, it was a little less certain that you would, but after several harrowing weeks, you’re finally landing at the mansion, and you know everything is going to be okay again. You have a few minor injuries that need clearing in the medical wing, and there are reports that need to be written, but it is over, the fear is over.

Still, there is one person in the mansion who will not stop being afraid until you find him. You saw Charles briefly when you arrived, and eagerly fell into his embrace upon disembarking, but you were split up by the necessity of medical attention and wrapping up some lingering loose ends. Once the end of the day is upon you, though, and your bandages have been wrapped and wounds treated, you want nothing more than to find Charles again.

You can feel his stress pressing in on you from all sides. He gets like this a lot when missions are running, Jean has told you that, but this time it’s worse than usual. You were only able to send him quick, intermittent messages through the radio, and all delivered bad news. The odds that you would come back severely injured were high, and even if you managed to beat them, the possibility was still there.

You make your way out of the medical wing, walking through the halls of the mansion towards the living quarters. On the way, you’re stopped by several children who’ve waited up to see you, and after assuring them that you’re alright and will be back to training with them soon, you’re free to bid them goodnight and head upstairs.

Charles is waiting for you in your shared room. He’s been whispering to you all evening, making sure you’re okay and that you’re coming to find him soon, but once you open the door and come face to face with him once more, the whispers suddenly stop. All is quiet.

“I missed you,” he says aloud.

You smile. “I know. I missed you too.”

Charles’ face, a portrait of anxiety, cracks with relief at last and he holds out his arms to you. You release yourself towards him and let him embrace you. Charles’ breath is warm on your face, and his hand rubs calming circles on the small of your back. The comfort of finally being back with him is indescribable, closest to finally taking a breath after suffocating. The last few weeks have been tumultuous and torturous, but at long last, you know you’re going to be okay again. You’re with Charles. What could ever harm you?

requested by @fly-you-dam-fools, i hope you enjoy!

xmen tag list: @blondsauduun, @callsign-scully, @gods-fools-heroes, @deafsuperhero, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#charles xavier #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier oneshot #charles xavier imagines #young charles xavier #young charles xavier imagines #young charles xavier x reader #young charles xavier oneshot #xmen #xmen imagines #xmen x reader #xmen oneshot #xmen charles #xmen charles imagines #xmen charles x reader #xmen charles oneshot

925 notes · View notes

mieluscious · 11 months ago

Text

jealous boys. xavier and rafayel

ෆ pairings : xavier x female reader x rafayel

ෆ genre : smut, pwp

ෆ word count : 1k8

ෆ warnings : mdni. sub bunny!xavier, dom!rafayel, sub!reader, oral sex (f. receiving), rafayel and xavier hate each other's, they are both jealous, some kisses and bites, soft butt slapping, xavier is a sleepy little bunny . . . ໑ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

you were sleeping peacefully when you felt something tickle you, you opened your eyes gently and mewled prettily when you saw xavier's blond hair between your thighs.

"xavier...what are you doing baby.." you brought your fist to your eye to rub it as you saw him raise his head towards you, his lips pressed against your panties just above your clit. he smiled at you and his tongue licked your covered sensitive bud, making you suddenly reach for the sheets. you tilted your head to the side and your eyes went up to the top of his head. "is that bunny ears ?... ahh-" you gripped the sheets tighter in your hands as you felt his tongue seep into your panties.

one of your hands slipped into his hair, which you stroked gently while his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it noisily. you arched your back, moaning with your mouth wide open as you met his gaze again. he looked so cute between your thighs, with his little bunny ears on his head.

"w-where is...ahhhw.. raf-" xavier shook his head, letting you know he didn't know, but his gesture only pushed him further against your pussy, making you squeal loudly and grab one of his bunny ears.

you threw your head back and spread your thighs to give him more access to your intimacy. he opened his mouth wide and his lips swallowed most of your tight slit, his tongue slipped into your hole and fucked you back and forth. your legs trembled with pleasure and you moved your hips at the same pace as his licks when your phone rang. you grabbed it from the bedside table, it was rafayel, you picked up the call.

"r-raf-...ahhh.." xavier, who was on his knees on the floor, climbed onto the bed without stopping to eat your pussy and put your thighs on his shoulders before sucking hard on your clit. you were panting loudly into your phone's microphone and rafayel could clearly guess what was going on.

"i was wondering where you were, i kept ringing your doorbell, guess i know where you are now." he tsked and you heard him bang his foot against the door of your apartment. "this little bastard didn't waste any time." you felt xavier smile against your pussy lips and suddenly moaned as he sucked harder on your clit.

rafayel hung up and your phone slipped out of your hand as you arched your back to savor the precise tongue strokes of xavier, who grabbed your ass with both hands and eating you like he was starving. you moved your hips against his face as your hands went down to the bottom of your top, which you pulled away from your body, releasing your bouncing breasts under xavier's glittering eyes.

the front door opened abruptly and footsteps echoed heavily on the tiled floor. you already knew that rafayel was angry with both of you, but the anxiety had no time to reach you when you felt xavier's hand slide up the small of your back. you opened your mouth wide to moan silently as your eyes fell on him, greedily licking your slit up to your clit before gently biting your pelvis. you grabbed one of his bunny ears and pulled it, making him moan with his tongue pressed against your cunt without breaking the eye contact. naughty boy.

the bedroom door opened wide on rafayel, who was breathing heavily.

"hi baby-" xavier pinched your lower back as your attention turned to rafayel, causing you to arch your back and mewl under rafayel's dark gaze. his pretty eyes slowly drifted down to your breasts, which bounced gently from your heavy breathing, to then fell on the blond hair between your thighs. xavier lifted his head slightly, his tongue hanging out, dripping with your juice. rafayel gritted his teeth as he noticed him side eyeing him with mocking eyes.

xavier and rafayel were very jealous boys, always fighting over you, so you could tell they didn't like each other very much. how cute they are.

rafayel walked towards the bed, removing his jacket and loosening his tie. he caught your chin in the palm of his hand and lifted your face towards him.

"your face is all red, you were about to cum ?" you nodded and his thumb gently slid over your glossy lips. his beautiful eyes never left yours as his free hand reached behind him to grab one of xavier's bunny ears. he pushed his face back on your pussy, making him moan against your folds. "get back to work dumb bunny." he pressed his thumb inside his bunny ear and you felt xavier dig his nails into the tender skin of your ass, making you whimper prettily. rafayel sat next to you with his back facing xavier.

you reached for rafayel's shirt when you felt xavier eating you as if his life depended on it, his tongue slipping quickly between your folds and slurping your juice loudly making you moan with your mouth wide open under rafayel's watchful gaze. your free hand slipped over xavier's cheek, which you caressed with your thumb, silently telling him that he was doing good for you.

he suddenly sucked hard on your clit and you arched your back, mewling loudly his name as you tugged on rafayel's shirt, making him bend his head towards your face. his lips aligned with yours and you pushed your head forward, trying to kiss him, but he backed away slightly. he let go of xavier's bunny ear to put his forearm next to your head, blocking your sight of xavier eating you out. you ground your hips harder against his face as you felt the orgasm slowly rising inside you. your hand left his cheek to join the other one clinging to rafayel's shirt. he gently tapped your chin with his forefinger and you raised your teary eyes to his.

"what do you want ?" you bit down hard on your lower lip, making it almost bleed as you felt xavier bite your pelvis again. he was jealous. his hand grabbed the back of rafayel's shirt and pulled it towards him.

"she's about to cum let me look at her." feeling him speak against your pussy sent vibrations straight to your clit, making you pull rafayel's shirt even tighter as you mewled loudly against his lips. rafayel paid no attention to xavier as he continued to stare into your eyes, waiting for an answer to his question.

"k-kiss..." he smiled softly and his hand, which was next to your head, caught your face, sliding his fingers against your red ears. he tilted his head to the side, watching you cry out beneath him.

"you think you deserve one ?" you tugged harder on his shirt, unbuttoning a few buttons and revealing his pretty mole on the milky skin of his chest. his thumb slipped between your lips and ran over your teeth "look at you getting wild, am i frustrating you ?" your canines dug into the skin of his thumb and his smile widened at your silent confirmation.

"ahhh... dumb bunny is getting impatient again." rafayel sighed and straightened up to look at xavier behind him with a bored look as he felt him tugging harder on his shirt. rafayel pulled his arm away from next to your face, letting you see xavier between your thighs again, and you opened your mouth, letting rafayel's thumb slip from your lips with a quiet moan as you met xavier's gaze. xavier, who was usually so kind and gentle, had a dark gaze and you never thought you'd see that in his eyes one day.

this new side of him turned you on even more, your hand slipped into his hair, silently urging him to keep making you feel good, and when his lips sucked your clit again you felt you were about to explode, your back arched and rafayel took the opportunity to pinch your nipple, making you moan even more. you tilted your head back as you called out their names, rafayel noticed your pretty tongue sliding over your bottom lip. your feverish eyes fell into his, and you smiled as he caught your tongue between his index and middle finger.

"naughty little doll." his other hand slipped between your thighs behind him and pinched your clit, making you jump against xavier's face as he tongue-fucked your pussy hole. "does it feel good ?" you nodded and drool slipped from your mouth. he leaned towards your face and whispered on your lips so only you could hear him. "tonight you are mine, i'll make you scream." his eyes let you know that it was a promise and you could feel the wetness flowing even more from your pussy making xavier smile against your folds. and it was when he raised his eyes to yours with his mouth wide open that you squirted against his tongue, his gaze was feverish almost sleepy and his tongue kept titillate your clit with the help of rafayel's finger who pushed his thumb into your pussy hole against your gummy wall making you squirt even more and scream against his lips, which crashed against yours, tongue kissing you roughly under xavier's eyes.

rafayel moaned against your lips his tongue licked your teeth while xavier cleaned your pussy from your juices with his mouth. a trickle of drool escaped from between your lips and those of rafayel when xavier suddenly pulled him back to climb on top of you before crushing his lips against yours, tasting yourself on his tongue. you wrapped your arms around his neck and the sound of your lips smacking against each other's and moans bounced off the walls.

"ahh.. so sweet-" his tongue slipped over your lips and he took the opportunity to suck on yours when you opened your mouth. "i n-need... ahh-" your hands slid over his ass, which you slapped as you felt him rub his covered cock against your belly. rafayel grabbed his bunny ear and pulled it, making him squeal softly against your puffy lips.

"don't be too greedy bunny." you smiled against his lips and your eyes went to rafayel who was looking at him bored. xavier pulled back from your lips and stared at them.

"i want them on my cock." xavier blinked softly several times and you smiled lovingly, he was sleepy. you caught his face between your hands and stroked his eyes with your thumbs while rafayel pulled his shirt completely off behind him.

"you are sleepy princess." xavier tried to straighten up, to undo his belt when rafayel caught his chin in the palm of his hand, turning his face to his roughly.

"go to sleep, it's my turn to please her." your hands slid down xavier's muscular torso.

"be nice to him baby." rafayel pouted at your words, he frowned, noticing that xavier had already fallen asleep in his hand.

"at least he listened to me."

1K notes · View notes

wintervalewritersecond · 2 years ago

Text

siren song || - xavier thorpe

requested: yes! requests: open! second part of siren song! the third part is also out, check my masterlist! ^^

A/N: thank you for the love on siren song! to read part one, click here! i hope you enjoy this part <3 i had to rewrite this considering i accidentally deleted it :')

wordcount: 4.736 warnings: xavier being a bad friend, curse words, slight memory loss, incorrect information about siren song probably, use of weed.

After finally convincing Bianca to use her Siren Song, you get some well-deserved peace in your head. How long does it take for Xavier to notice the changes?

"What?"

The question catches Bianca off guard, not something that happens a lot. Tears are staining your face as you sniff, trying to not start sobbing again.

"Hey, it's okay. Come in."

Her arm is placed on your shoulders as she guides you into her room, placing you on her bed before grabbing her desk chair, sitting next to you.

"What has gotten you so upset?"

You look down at your hands, biting your cheeks as you nervously fiddle with your fingers. You feel embarrassed to sit here, crying in the dorm of your friend that used to be Xaviers girlfriend, but you didn't know anyone that would know how you feel. No one except for Bianca.

"I think Xavier hates me."

"What?" Bianca exclaims shocked. "Why do you think that?"

If there is one thing that Bianca was sure of, it was that Xavier is completely infatuated with you. Even during their relationship, he still made sure to spend some time with you, and Bianca never cared. She trusted both of you, as you became her friend when the relationship was going on. When the couple broke up, your friendship watered down a bit, but you were still both friendly.

"We just had a fight," you whisper. "He never yelled at me like that. Never."

She hands you a tissue, breathing in deeply.

"He has been ignoring me for weeks. He became so obsessed with Wednesday that he did not have any time for me. She- she asked him to the Rave'n and then he found out that she just used him," you ramble. "I asked him to come with me, not even as a real date, but just so he wouldn't be alone. And then he totally ditched me there the second Wednesday came in. The worst thing is, she doesn't even like him. She told me."

How stupid can a boy be? Bianca grits her teeth, shaking her head.

"He is dumb. If there is one thing that he should do, it's to get his head straight. I can't believe that he would do this. Especially after all you have done for him!"

"What if I just become more like Wednesday? I- I can braid my hair? I will even learn to play the cello. He- He said that she was better than me... That I just bother him. Am I too obsessed or- or annoying?"

Even Bianca's heart breaks at that point. The tears are rolling down your face again as you still don't dare to look up at her.

"Am I really that bad of a friend?"

"No!" Bianca immediately responds. "No, Y/N, if anything, you are a great friend. Too good for him. You don't need to be Wednesday to be better. I think she is too emotionless for her own good."

"I wish I was that way," you sigh. "Please, Bianca. If I tell you that I really want it, can you really not use your Song?"

Bianca takes a deep breath, her leg bouncing up and down. Her eyes fall down to the amulet around her neck. It is very against the rules to use her Siren Song, it is something that could get her in a lot of trouble. But, at the same time, she knows exactly how you feel. Xavier is just someone who deserves love, yet he doesn't know how to act around it when someone is literally handing it to him on a silver plate.

Her heart tells her to help you, to give you everything you deserve, but she knows that she also needs to think about the possible consequences. Though your grades have been slipping and your mood has been down for a while now as well. So many factors.

"Y/N, I really don't know."

"What if I consent to it? Surely that must be fine. I- I will sign a contract, even. Write it myself. I- Even only thinking about doing this for me would already be enough."

You must genuinely sound so annoying now, but you know that this will help.

"Why won't you try talking to Kinbott first?"

"I just need something... Something that will work immediately. A Siren Song can always be undone, right?"

"I'm not sure about that," Bianca grimaces. "It's hard, Y/N. I promise you that I will think about it. Just... Try and get some rest, okay?"

You had spent the rest of the weekend laying in bed, napping or reading, and sometimes you would head to the Quad to get something to eat. Kent made sure to try and cheer you up, which did work to an extent. You appreciate having a friend like that.

Even from the distance you sit at now, you can still see the figure of Wednesday Addams, sitting alone at her table while writing something down in her notebook. Ajax waves Xavier over to get him to sit at your table but is quickly rejected as the long-haired boy decides to sit with Wednesday. She looks up with the deadliest of looks, though it doesn't seem to phase him at all. Can't he see?

Bianca looks out from the second level of the Quad, spotting both you and Xavier. Not one word is exchanged, though your body language speaks for itself. Your shoulders are slumped and even though Kent tries his hardest to make you laugh, it isn't enough.

Seeing you so upset about someone who doesn't deserve it makes her feel bad. Even in her relationship, she felt like you were more important to Xavier, and that is something she just... Accepted. She never blamed you for it, as Bianca could never really trust Xavier either. But the feelings he has for you are totally real.

After that dinner, you retired back to your room. Yoko would be hanging out with Divina anyway. Just as you let yourself fall on your bed, you hear a knock on the door.

"Coming!"

You kick your bag underneath your bed before walking up to the door, opening it to reveal a Bianca behind it.

"I will only do it after you agree to all the consequences."

She walks in as you close the door behind her, trailing after her.

"You're serious?"

"You deserve to have some peace, Y/N. God knows I wish someone could have done this for me when I was in your situation. I will tell you every consequence," Bianca looks at you sternly. "And I have some conditions."

"Yeah- Yeah totally."

Bianca sits down at your desk, handing you a pen and paper.

"You are to write down that you agree with the Siren Song. I can't just use it whenever I want. Principal Weems will have my head if she finds out."

"Anything, Bianca."

You start writing, still listening to the siren as she explains everything.

"I can genuinely not say if I am able to undo the Song. There is a high likelihood that it will not return to you and Xavier being best friends. I also do not know what to do if this news ever reaches Weems. No one knows that we are planning to do this, no one except for us."

"I promise you, I will take all the blame," you nod, a weak smile on your face. "It is the least I can do."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She looks at you, her eyebrows stuck in a frown. "It's not something small. You deserve much better than how Xavier acts now."

"I- Yeah. I thought about it all day yesterday. I just... I want to. I promise."

You hand her the paper in neatly written handwriting.

I, Y/N Y/L/N, fully consent to the use of the Siren Song by Bianca Barcley. I have willingly agreed to be under the influence of the song for as long as I wish. All punishments that are given for using the Siren Song are punishments I will take over. Bianca Barcley is not to be lectured nor punished for her actions.

Underneath it is your handwriting, together with the date of today. Bianca takes a deep breath, nodding as she reads it over and over again.

"What exactly... Is it that you want me to do? You just... Want to forget him?"

You nod.

"I was thinking that... I don't want to be scared of him, I just want to stay out of his way. If that makes any sense?"

"Xavier Thorpe will be the one you forget, from now on his name will stop sounding in your head," Bianca mutters, trying to practice whatever she will say. "Distance is something that you will keep, he will not be the reason as to why you... Weep?"

You will forget Xavier, make sure to keep your distance, and not cry over him. You do feel guilty for making Bianca use the Siren Song on you, but in your eyes, it feels like the only way out.

"I think you will just return to how it was before you met Xavier," she then nods. "I will try to make sure that you will not get too close to him again, but I can't promise anything. If you have feelings for him now, you might just... Start liking him all over again."

"I just need to forget," you say, handing the handwritten note to Bianca. "Thank you so much, Bianca."

"This might be the first time I feel guilty for using it," she laughs nervously. "But, you deserve it. Truly. Xavier just needs to get his act straight. He loves you, he's just dumb."

You don't fully believe her. You want to, but you can't. You truly thought that he liked you back, that he was also interested in you. But now you were not even sure if he liked you as a friend anymore.

"Ready? You will probably be sleepy after this."

Trembling hands and nervous sighs.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Bianca nods, pulling the necklace off of her neck. She closes her eyes, holding your hands in hers.

"Xavier Thorpe will be the one you forget, from now on his name will stop sounding in your head. Distance is something that you will keep, he will not be the reason as to why you weep."

You had woken up with a slight headache. Your limbs are still sore from the Rave'n dance, but that can't stop you. Not that you remember a lot of it; they must have spiked the drinks. You pick up your bag from under the bed, emptying it out before filling it with everything you need for the day. After finally finding all your books, pens, and notebooks, you exit your room.

"Hi, guys!"

With a big smile, you greet your friends, plopping down in between Kent and Bianca. You had gotten a sandwich from the dining hall, trying to get some breakfast in before your first class.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Kent snickers. "You're up before me most of the time."

You shrug, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"I was so tired," you mumble, wiping your mouth with the napkin. "I'm still sore from all the dancing!"

Ajax and Enid soon also join the table as Enid huffs.

"I feel like the paint is still in my hair," she complains. "I mean, it was a good post for my blog, but that dress was my favorite dress ever! "

You let out a chuckle, closing the sandwich container before placing the leftovers in your bag. Yes, the paint was a pain to get out of your hair and your dress has also been stained, but the rest of the evening went splendidly.

After fifteen minutes, the first bell rings, signaling that classes are to start in only five minutes. You sling your backpack onto your back before standing up from the table.

"You ready for Botany?" Bianca smirks.

"Well," you sigh. "Can I use your notes? I can't find any of mine from the last three weeks. I don't know what I did during class, but I know that there is a test coming up and this is not my best subject."

Bianca's smile falters for a second, realizing that you really don't remember a lot about Xavier anymore.

"Yeah, you can sit with me. Might be the easiest anyway."

You nod, entering the class as you greet miss Thornhill. She had already placed some strange plants in the front of the classroom as other students slowly entered the classroom.

Some students already picked a spot, including Wednesday. She is placed next to another person, hair to his shoulders and a frown on his face.

"Good morning, Wednesday!"

You sit down on the opposite side of Bianca as she and the boy sit between you and Wednesday.

He feels familiar. It is almost like he was in a dream. Like you accidentally bumped into him once or twice, only seeing him in your classroom once in a while. It's like the lingering smell of perfume when someone walks past you, or when you see a half-erased line of pencils on a page. He is mesmerizing, yet extremely intimidating. It is almost like you can't rip your eyes off of him, but you are also too scared to keep looking.

Bianca gives you a look before placing her notebook in front of you, making sure that you can read all of it as Thornhill starts talking. You try to write down all she says, making small sketches of the flowers and plants she shows while also trying to write down all the notes from the last few weeks.

"Alright, so, I will be expecting the essays about the Ghost Orchid and at least two more carnivorous plants. No maximum amount of words, but at least 450 words per plant."

Thank God for Bianca's notes. Without those, you would have actually failed this.

"I think I'm going to be doing my homework in the Nightshade library," you whisper to the girl. "I really need to get started on this."

After writing down the last few sentences, you drop your pen. Your hand is cramping from all the writing and your fingers are covered in ink. Only Biology and one hour of fencing left and after that, you were going to sit with the Choir Club, even though you're not a member. You would often hang out with them, sitting on a bench nearby while waiting for your friends to finish. You yourself were actually in the Art Club, but you tend to hang out with other clubs on days that you didn't have any.

A small break after Botany, just long enough to grab a hot drink from the dining hall before getting dressed in your fencing suit again.

"Bianca? You want to team up?"

She raises an eyebrow, smirking while grabbing a saber, switching it from hand to hand.

"I thought you would never ask."

"I can use some competition. And improvement."

Bianca won. Not once, not twice, but five times. You groan as you end up on the floor again, the tip of the saber pointing to your chest. You hold up your hand before pushing yourself up.

"We get it," you let out a laugh before pulling the mask off of your head. "I'm going to need a break."

She holds out her hand, helping you get up before taking her own mask off. The two of you walk towards one of the small wooden benches that sit against the wall of the room, grabbing a bottle of water before cracking it open, and taking big sips.

Everyone else is still training, the clanking of sabers and the sound of shoes against the mats filling up the classroom. You let out a big sigh, pushing some strands of hair out of your face.

"I don't know if I will ever fight you again," you mumble.

"You're getting better," Bianca laughs, closing the bottle back up. "I have seen worse."

You look at everyone around you, some also taking off their masks to catch their breath as Coach walks around, giving out tips and advice where needed.

The boy with the long hair is here again, yet you still don't know where you know him from. Bianca sneakily looks at you, blinking before looking at Xavier. He acted like you weren't even there as he just fenced against Ajax. She does still think the two of you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, but Xavier first needs to figure himself out. She knows he likes you; it is clear as day. But as long as he acts like this, he doesn't deserve you. Not at all.

Has he always just been in the background? It is like a ghost, you know that you have seen him, yet you don't know where or when.

"One more round?"

"I think I'll be heading to the library now," you tell Bianca. "I genuinely don't know what happened these last few weeks, but I am behind on all my homework."

Half of the Choir Club time has passed as they rehearsed their songs for Outreach Day. They were to perform when the new statue in the town square was going to be revealed. But you had more than enough homework to do.

"I might join you later," she sighs. "Some quiet would be nice."

You tell your friends goodbye before slinging your bag over your shoulder, hurrying down the Quad and into the small hidden hallway leading to the Poe statue. With two snaps you get in, making sure that the entrance is closed off again before going down the stairs.

Nice and quiet.

After around forty-five minutes, you hear some more rumbling. Ah, Bianca must be here. You have gotten a lot of work done, actually. The Ghost Orchid part of your essay is already done, now moving on to the Crimson Pitch plant.

"Hey, Bianca!"

The footsteps descend the stairs, but the figure does not belong to Bianca. The tall guy with long hair walks into the library, the one that felt like he lived somewhere in your memory. Your eyes grow big as you immediately throw everything back in your bag. You didn't know that he was a Nightshade as well.

You close your bag hurriedly. Something about him is so intimidating, but he is absolutely mesmerizing at the same time. Why are you so afraid of him? When walking out you accidentally bump into him.

"Sorry," you quickly mumble, running up the stairs before he can even reply.

Bianca is cleaning up when you get out of the library, so you run up to her. Luckily she is still there.

"Can I do my homework in your room? Yoko was inviting some friends to my dorm and..." You look around, making sure no one is around them. "That guy showed up again. The new one."

Bianca clenches her teeth, grabbing the last few papers before stuffing them in her bag, taking your arm to take you up into her room. She can't have Xavier mess this all up. You haven't been this happy in weeks.

You sit down against her bed, laptop on your lap as you are typing away. But the words are getting stuck, the same sentence being rewritten multiple times before finally getting one that slightly makes sense.

"Is he new?"

Bianca turns around on her chair, looking at you.

"Who?"

"The guy with long hair. He was in the Nightshade library. I- I didn't know if he was supposed to be in there because I wasn't sure if he was in our group."

Why does he have to be there at the exact same time as you? It almost makes the Siren Song useless. You might avoid him as much as you can, but he isn't under the spell.

"He's new."

"He's kinda pretty."

Bianca scoffs.

"Pretty weird. It might be best to stay out of his way, he needs to work on himself before making new... friends."

Xavier groans, dropping his bag on the floor. You had been fully ignoring him, but to be fair, he totally deserved it. He had noticed you sneaking into the library and his plan was to try and talk to you, but you had fled before he could get one word in.

He had called Ajax, asking him to come down to the library as soon as he could. Xavier spent some time sitting in the room, biting on his lips while bouncing his leg up and down. He really, really fucked up.

Rumbling of stones and footsteps.

Ajax shows up, slightly out of breath. He had ran here from his dorm. Xavier said that there was a big problem and if he was needed in the Nightshade library, it would probably be huge.

"What's up, man?"

"I fucked up," Xavier runs his hands over his face. "Like, really bad."

The Gorgon frowns, looking at his friend. Xavier looks stressed out, more than usual. His hair is messy, his eyes are red and he has big eyebags underneath his eyes.

"What did you do?"

The artist breathes in shakily, pacing around the room while fiddling with his hands.

"I have been a total asshole to Y/N," he mumbles. "I left her at the Rave'n, drenched in that paint, and then she went up to visit me. I wasn't only a horrible date, but I was an even worse friend."

"Xavier?" Ajax asks yet again. "What did you do?"

Xavier breathes out roughly, blinking while pursing his lips. He is too ashamed to say it, but he needs to tell someone. He needs someone to set him straight.

"I treated her like shit. I told her Wednesday was better than she is."

His friend gasps, looking at his friend almost disgusted. How could he have said that to her? After all those nights of the artist hanging out in Ajax's dorm, him smoking some weed while listening to his friend blabber on about how much he liked you, and then he does this?

"What the fuck? Xavier, you have liked her for years, why would you say that?!"

Xavier rubs his eyes. If anyone is disappointed, it's him. He was so in his head that he took it all out on you. Wednesday isn't better than you. He has liked you for the longest time now, and this just messed it all up. Xavier his mental health has been declining, especially now that he is also suspected of being some type of monster. But that isn't your fault. None of it is. You have always, always been there for him, and he just swept you to the side.

"I'm going to be honest, dude," Ajax looks at his friend. "I am really disappointed in you."

"As you should be," Xavier whispers.

"I'll help."

Xavier looks up, kind of shocked. For some reason, he expected Ajax to just abandon Xavier in the library, leaving him to fend for himself.

"Only if you promise to never do this again. Go to Kinbott more, try and talk about your feelings. Y/N never cared, you could show up crying at her dorm at three am and she would make sure that you're fine before she even thinks of going to sleep."

"Ajax- Thank you so much."

"Yeah, yeah. Just try to talk to her. I'm serious, Xavier. You might be my best friend, but this is not cool."

For the last two weeks, Xavier had tried to talk to you on multiple occasions. He even sat at your table, though Kent and Bianca were hovering around you, not even letting Xavier get one word in.

During Botany he tried to draw a butterfly, making it float in the air before it quickly gets swatted away by Bianca who just gives Xavier a disgusted stare.

During Fencing he walked up to you, wanting to ask you to train with him like you usually did, but you quickly darted away once you saw him coming for you.

He went down to the Nightshade library to wait for you, yet you never came.

What he did do was 'accidentally' bump into you. He would calculate when he had to stand up to go to class. The first thing you would put in your bag was your notebook, followed by your pencil case. After that you would close the zipper; his sign to stand up. After swinging the bag on your shoulder, you would walk off.

You accidentally bump into someone's back, making the bottle of water that they had in their hand fall.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!"

As you go to pick it up and give it back, you see the boy again. The boy that appeared in your dreams as if they were faint memories. The boy reminded you of ink splatters and the smell of freshly painted walls.

You quickly hand him the bottle, excusing yourself before finding your way to a picnic table again. He makes you nervous, and you don't know in what way. Bianca warned you for him, so all you could do was listen.

In your room, you had a collection of handwritten notes, asking you to meet up in the Nightshade library. You never did. Once you showed them to Bianca, she immediately shook her head.

"I don't know what else to do," Xavier furrows his eyebrows, "She just doesn't want to talk to me. I don't blame her for not wanting to, but sometimes she even completely ignores me. As if she doesn't even know my name. I tried everything."

Ajax takes a hit of his joint, his eyes tinted red before he blows it out of the window. The moon is lighting up Nevermore, its stars shining around it.

"Everything?"

"Yeah," Xavier responds. "I tried to talk to her, give her notes, even accidentally bumped into her. But, Bianca and Kent are just acting like bodyguards to her."

"If you want, I can try to talk to her tomorrow."

"You would do that?"

"Yeah," the Gorgon shrugs. "She still talks to me sometimes. Hanging out in the Quad after classes. I'll let you know how it went."

"Y/N! Hey!"

Ajax runs up to you, a big smile on his face before he pulls his beanie back down.

"Ajax! It is nice to see you again."

"What are your plans for today?"

Hm, what were your plans? You did really want to go to the Weathervane to get a drink, but considering it is a Thursday, you weren't too sure. There are no shuttle buses today, and walking in the chilly weather for twenty-five minutes didn't sound too appealing.

"I have some homework I still need to do. I was thinking of going to the Nightshade library to study. Want to join?"

The boy eagerly shakes his head, following you through the hall and down the stairs. The small table gets filled with books, pens, and notebooks. Ajax didn't really take a lot of homework, but he did provide some snacks.

The two of you talked about all different types of things. How he was planning on asking out Enid, how you expected Outreach Day to go, which homework you were doing, and much more.

"Can I maybe ask you something personal?"

You hum, looking up from your paper.

"Of course."

"I was just wondering," he awkwardly laughs. "What happened at the Rave'n?"

"I have no idea," you shrug. "I think there were some Normies who set off the sprinklers. All I know is that my dress is still stained and that, whatever it was, really burned my eyes."

Ajax frowns, what are you talking about?

"Yeah, no, I was there. One beanie destroyed," he chuckles. "But I meant more like... After the Rave'n. What happened?"

It is your turn to be confused.

"Well... I showered, tried to wash the stains out of my clothes, and then hung out with Bianca."

Do you just really not remember?

"What? No, Y/N, I mean... What happened with you and Xavier?"

Even more confusion spreads on your face as you put your pen down on the paper. What is he talking about? All you did was dance, drink punch, took a break, danced more, and then went to clean yourself from the sticky red paint. And who is he talking about?

"Who is Xavier?"

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

TAGLIST

@pagesfalling @skrlls-devonte @clingytraitscclist @annamarieisbae @babyminghao @rayliz7931 @morningstar09 @flowersownme @sunnytkm23 @sweeterheartxamerica @geekgirleve @lorayma9 @eringaitskill @itscheybaby @sophiathereader @r3fundmyb1rth @sweaterxav @stxrangerdxnger @wrenwastooshort @negativity4you @poppet05 @bambi-munson @diorheaven @mirikusashes @yksthings @kis9na @br66klynbaby @ietss @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @secretdazeobservation @lunacurlclaw @dredres @joselyn001 @sojo154 @parkersmyth @hannahnikohl @peanutbutter-y-jams

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe one shot #wednesday imagine #wednesday oneshot #request

3K notes · View notes

mephisto-reporting · 1 month ago

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus

Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst.

The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.

"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "He’s in Linkon, Boss man’s got other things to handle."

Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"

Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."

Miss Hunter.

The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldn’t have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the association’s movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.

Captain Jenna’s star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You weren’t blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadn’t entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.

Trusted him. Loved him.

You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."

Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.

The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didn’t.

The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadn’t seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.

You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you weren’t: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.

But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.

The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylus’ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasn’t as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldn’t shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature… He was all you could think about. He wasn’t as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watching—a fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldn’t be certain if it was real.

And now, it felt like you were losing him.

Your bike screeched to a halt near Meow’s Café. You hadn’t planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.

The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.

Sylus was there. With her.

They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.

You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.

For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldn’t return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.

But you didn’t.

He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phone—it was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.

And you? You were just a pawn, a tool—forgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadn’t even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldn’t bear to watch any longer, but you couldn’t look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.

Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.

It was for the best, right?

You couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep waiting for him, couldn’t keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didn’t even know why you bothered anymore.

The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The city’s glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.

For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.

You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.

Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from others—work updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldn’t be.

You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations you’d had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "I’m busy" there. You’d convinced yourself for weeks that he wasn’t brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. You’d always known.

You weren’t as important to him as he was to you.

That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesn’t owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. He’s free to choose who he spends his time with.

But it didn’t stop the tears.

The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourself—reading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.

Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That you’d fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?

No. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted—physically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatier’s shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been grueling—hours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that you’d been running on fumes for too long.

Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.

Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it should’ve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions you’d been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.

Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you weren’t sure you deserved.

"If you’re struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crème chocolate is an excellent choice."

Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctor’s coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.

You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh… thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "I’ll… I’ll try that."

The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.

He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet again—this time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldn’t be your first meal of the day."

The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The stranger’s words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.

A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.

The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiar—a renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. You’d imagined someone older, more weathered, not… this.

For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.

"Of course, he wouldn’t answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.

That left one option.

The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You weren’t sure why you felt so on edge—maybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayne’s knowing gaze.

At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, I’m here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He… accidentally dropped this."

The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isn’t in right now. I’ll make sure he gets this when he’s back."

"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.

The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunter’s Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.

Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. You’d responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banter—just the information he needed. He didn’t press, didn’t call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.

That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasn’t the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?

But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.

His voice, his presence—it clung to you, even now.

Why didn’t he ask how I’ve been? Why didn’t I?

The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.

“Look out!”

Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasn’t even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.

For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.

“Hey, you okay?” The cyclist’s voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.

“I’m fine,” you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. “Are you?”

“Yeah, thanks to the gear,” they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. “Guess it did its job.”

Relief washed over you. “Good. Let me just—”

“Wait.” A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.

Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to pain—used to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didn’t need help. You could handle this on your own. You’d always been able to.

But Dr. Zayne wasn’t having any of it.

His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "You’re bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute."

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasn’t asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritative—demanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.

"I’m fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile

“Is this a hunter thing?” he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. “Are all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?”

The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.

You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. “I’m not being stubborn,” you muttered. “I just don’t want to bother anyone over something so small.”

“Small injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,” he said, folding his arms. “And I’m not bothered. As a doctor, I’m asking you to wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.

You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.

He’s wasting his time on you.He probably thinks you’re pathetic and weak.Why couldn’t you have just gotten up and left?

Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was just… calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.

"You’re lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That could’ve been a lot worse."

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didn’t know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.

When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, don’t run so late at night. You never know what could happen."

You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.

Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, “Thank you.”

Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.

“You first,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just going to say thank you for… you know, helping with this.” You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. “You didn’t have to.”

The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.

"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.

His words caught you off guard. “Oh, right! That. It wasn’t a big deal, really.” You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. “I found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “I appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.”

You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasn’t easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didn’t like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?

But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.

"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.

The sheepish look that crossed your face must’ve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.

“You’ve got to take care of yourself,” he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. “It’s not healthy to go without food, especially if you’re going to keep running around like you hunters do.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but Zayne didn’t give you the chance.

"There’s a diner close by. It’s the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."

You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "It’s really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasn’t having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.

"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.”

You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayne’s calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.

"I’ll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your way—like it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.

Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you won’t. It’s my thank you, remember?"

The diner wasn’t far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm food—steak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh bread—immediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.

You wanted to say something—thank you, maybe—but the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didn’t seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.

You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.

Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.

"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.

The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his care—it felt too much. You weren’t used to people worrying about you.

But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadn’t expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.

"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.

You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.

"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "It’s easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' don’t you think?"

You blinked, taken aback. “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve earned the title—”

“And I’ll still have it in the hospital,” he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But here, it’s just Zayne.”

You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.

By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you weren’t obsessing over your failures or doubts.

As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. “Here,” he said simply. “Add your number. In case you ever need anything.”

You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.

“Thanks again for returning my wallet,” he said, his tone lighter now. “And for the company.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It’s not a problem,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.

As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.

“Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The diner’s warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didn’t feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylus’ absence—a hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayne’s calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.

As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.

Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.

You exhaled, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you weren’t about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.

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

The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.

Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were brief—a nod here, a shared glance there—but over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasn’t long before the conversations deepened.

You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. He’d tease you about your stubbornness, and you’d retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though you’d never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.

But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldn’t quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-related—updates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries you’d tried to set.

One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.

‘Come over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine I’d like you to try—procured it during a recent deal.’

The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined it—the rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldn’t go. You couldn’t risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didn’t want to admit.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distance—for your own sake, if nothing else.

‘I’m tired..'

You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.

'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.’

You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.

‘Okay.’

The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didn’t push. He didn’t argue. That empty “okay” hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone else’s world.

You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didn’t care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasn’t worth savoring.

Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldn’t escape the suffocating feeling in your chest—the one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldn’t help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.

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

The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.

His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from you—a genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You weren’t Miss Hunter; you weren’t anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.

As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. “You’re doing better than when we first met.” he remarked softly.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Am I?”

He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.

The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasn’t necessary, but you’d insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you weren’t willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayne’s warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.

As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadn’t vanished, but Zayne’s steady presence had reminded you of something important—moments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.

The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle you’d left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too still—unnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.

You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.

You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.

Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. “What—Sylus? What are you doing here?”

He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.

“How—what are you doing here?” you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.

Sylus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.

“Darling,” he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You look… exhausted.”

You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. “It’s been a long day. What are you doing here?”

Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. “A long day,” he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yet you had time for dinner.”

“I…” you faltered, scrambling for a response. “It was just…”

“Just dinner,” he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. “With… someone else.”

The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.

Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presence—his very existence in your space—make your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?

“I didn’t think…” You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. “You didn’t say you’d be coming by. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. “Show up to see what’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. “Nothing’s wrong…”you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’ve been avoiding me, Darling.”

The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.

“I’ve been busy…” you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.

“Busy,” he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. “Too busy for me, but not too busy for… him.”

Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. “I didn’t think dinner with a friend would..”

“Friend?” he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something else—something raw and painful that you didn’t want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding back—the curt messages, the unspoken finality of his “okay.” You had tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you didn’t need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.

“I don’t understand what you want from me,” you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.

His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didn’t ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.

“Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.

Don’t make me feel like I’m a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.

“That’s rich,” you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. “That’s really rich, coming from you of all people.”

Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasn’t enough. You had to push, you couldn’t hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldn’t let him see you break—not like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you weren’t the one to blame.

“You've been treating me like a stranger for months,” you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. “Barely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, it’s like you can’t be bothered. You don’t even see me.” You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. “I’ve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that you’re in Linkon. But you couldn’t even make time to see me.”

You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didn’t deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldn’t let him have that. Not this time.

You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. “You don’t have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,” you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. “You don’t have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.”

His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes… They weren’t the same as they’d been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasn’t just in the air—no, it was inside him too.

“You know where you stand?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadn’t noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldn’t back down. Not now.

“I’m just an informant, right?” you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You don’t have to pretend you care, Sylus. So don’t stand there with that look on your face like I’m some important thing you need to check on.”

The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylus’s presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.

"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.

But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. “But I couldn’t....couldn’t make sense of it. Of you.”

It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.

His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayal—they didn’t wash away just because you said them out loud.

God, you hated him for this.

But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.

Sylus’s fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presence—it seemed to drown out the rest of the world.

He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldn’t quite define.

You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn't—no, you wouldn’t—let yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.

Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.

“You need to leave… Sylus.” You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.

He didn’t move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. “Why?” His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldn’t explain.

You didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the quiet confusion on his face—the faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldn’t let him see your weakness, couldn’t let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.

“Is it so you can run back to your precious ‘friend’?” The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Not when his voice—that voice, the one that threaded through the air like silk—was digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years you’d spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldn’t let it.

You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didn’t need this.

Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didn’t need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.

His hands...no, his fingers—snaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.

“Why are you running?” His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath them—something urgent, raw.

You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulled—this unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldn’t, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.

His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?

“You’re not just an informant to me,” he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you this much. That you’d want to distance yourself from me...” His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voice—his tenderness—was like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.

Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just say it—say that you couldn’t let him get close again? That you couldn’t survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?

Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within you—anger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

“Let me go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.

But you didn’t pull away. You didn’t push him off.

Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. It’s as if he’s afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, he’ll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.

“No, Darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. “You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”

"You’re going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and you’re going to listen to me. I won’t let you walk away from this."

You can hear the flicker of something beneath his words—regret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. “I know I was a dick. I know I didn’t respond to you, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know how to handle it… handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.” His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though it’s a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but there’s also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. “I know you’re still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... I’ll spend a lifetime making up for it, because that’s what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.”

He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I don’t have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away… It’s harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "I’ve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didn’t know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."

You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though it’s wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.

"And Dr. Zayne... I can’t stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I don’t even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like there’s a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that I’m fighting for."

"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing back—him with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasn’t enough, like I wasn’t... worth it.”

The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small you’d felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.

Sylus’s expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."

You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldn’t let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.

He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didn’t know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasn’t uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, Darling…" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.

You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. “Zayne… Zayne’s just a friend,” you said, your voice fragile but firm, “someone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that I’m not broken.”

Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didn’t disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.

“You’re not broken, Darling.” he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. “You’re everything I’ve ever needed... and more.”

"I... I’m sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t care. I just... I was afraid you’d choose her over me."

Sylus’s fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. “It was my fault and I accept that.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.

"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "I’m in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I can’t anymore. I won’t. I love you, and I need you to know that."

The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadn’t been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.

He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.

"I…" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "I’ve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "I’ve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasn’t enough."

Sylus’s expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."

He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "We’re both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "We’ve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."

Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time you’d laughed all night, the first time you’d allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didn’t last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, don’t look at me like this. I’m—"

"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Don’t hide from me. I want to see all of you… everything you’ve been hiding. I know you think I don’t see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldn’t look away. "I see it when you think I’m not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I can’t handle. But I am looking. I’ve always been looking. And I don’t want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And I’m here and I want all of you."

His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.

The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didn’t stop. You didn’t try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.

Sylus’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "I’ve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."

"You’ll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.

He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.

The kiss was unlike any other. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasn’t angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.

Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everything—every brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldn’t get close enough to you.

Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.

Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylus’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. “Every day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.

The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certainty—certainty that you were enough. That you always had been.

His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.

"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.

For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

4K notes · View notes

beneathashadytree · 8 months ago

Text

JEALOUS MUCH? - TEXTING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : subtle suggestiveness, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff for shits n giggles

Additional notes : Another adorable request I loved making to show just how horrendously down bad they all are for MC🙏🏽 Hope y’all enjoy it!!🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

Taglist: @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @mushriiin @flurrina @reika-desu @randomidk-123 @tikitsune @cofijelli @roll-of-royces @loveyoutoodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @hawtlineblingz @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rosariymchapter @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @vash-yuu

1K notes · View notes

awkward-walking-potato · 5 months ago

Note

Can I ask for charles, or hank and a sick reader?

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the sprawling lawn of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Inside the grand building, Charles Xavier was in the middle of an important meeting with his fellow X-Men. The room was filled with the usual hum of discussions, plans being laid out for the future, strategies to keep the world safe.

You sat beside Charles, quietly listening to the conversation, but you could feel a strange weakness creeping through your body. You had been feeling off for days, a heavy fatigue weighing down on you, but you had brushed it aside, not wanting to worry Charles. He had enough on his plate as it was.

But now, as the voices in the room seemed to blur and your vision began to swim, you realized you had underestimated just how sick you really were. You tried to focus, to push through the dizziness, but it was no use. The room started spinning, and the last thing you remembered was reaching out towards Charles, trying to catch his attention before everything went dark.

The sound of your body hitting the floor sent a shockwave of alarm through the room. Charles’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to see you crumpled on the floor beside him. The meeting was forgotten in an instant as he swiftly wheeled himself over to you, panic tightening his chest.

“Y/N!” His voice was sharp with fear as he reached out, his hands trembling slightly as he gently lifted your head. Your skin was pale, clammy, and your breathing was shallow.

“Get Hank,” Charles ordered, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of urgency. Storm immediately got up, leaving the room to fetch the doctor.

Charles cradled your head in his hands, his mind racing. He should have noticed you were unwell, should have sensed something was wrong. The guilt gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on you.

“Stay with me, love,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His thumb gently stroked your cheek, trying to ground you, to bring you back to him.

Hank arrived within moments, his medical bag in hand. He quickly assessed your condition, taking your pulse, checking your vitals. “She’s running a fever,” Hank said, concern in his voice. “She needs to rest. I’ll take her to the infirmary.”

“No,” Charles said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll take care of her.”

Hank looked at Charles, understanding the depth of his resolve. With a nod, he stepped back. “If you need anything, call me.”

Charles nodded, then focused his attention back on you. With a gentle but steadying hand, he used his telekinesis to lift you effortlessly into his arms. As he cradled you close, he could feel how fragile you seemed, how your body trembled with fever.

He wheeled you to your shared quarters, the familiar comfort of the room bringing a sense of calm to his racing mind. Once there, he gently laid you down on the bed, covering you with blankets to ward off the chills that racked your body.

As you lay unconscious, Charles stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours. He whispered soft reassurances, his voice a soothing balm even though you couldn’t hear him. He kept a cool cloth pressed to your forehead, trying to bring down the fever, his eyes never straying from your face.

Hours passed, the sky outside growing darker. Charles remained vigilant, his heart aching with worry. He could sense your discomfort, the way your mind was clouded by illness, and it tore at him that he couldn’t take the pain away.

Finally, as the night deepened, you began to stir. Your eyelids fluttered, and with a soft groan, you opened your eyes, the world coming into focus slowly.

“Charles?” Your voice was weak, but the sound of it was like music to his ears.

“I’m here, love,” he said softly, leaning closer. “You’re safe. Just rest.”

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts, but the exhaustion was too heavy. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, guilt coloring your voice. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Shh,” he soothed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just glad you’re awake.”

You managed a small, tired smile, your heart warming at the sight of him. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always,” he replied, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, you allowed yourself to relax, sinking back into the comfort of the bed. Charles stayed by your side, his presence a steady, comforting force. As you drifted back into sleep, you knew that, no matter what, he would always be there to watch over you, to keep you safe.

And as the night wore on, Charles continued his silent vigil, determined to stay with you for as long as it took.

#charles xavier imagine #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier oneshot #x men imagine #x men 97

263 notes · View notes

stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 4 months ago

Text

fall asleep, close my eyes, and disappear pt. 2

part 1

fandom: X-Men

pairing: Charles Xavier x Reader

summary: Charles Xavier is familiar with the weight of his students' past traumas, including yours. At least that's what he thinks, until a mission-related injury prompts him to delve into your mind, uncovering a deep-seated trauma you've repressed. Fearing he's caused more harm, Charles works with you to reveal this forgotten memory and heal from your past experiences.

tags/warnings: injury, rape aftermath/recovery (implied), anxiety, panic attacks, emotional hurt/comfort, charles xavier trying his very best not to invade someone else's privacy

word count: 3256

When you wake in the morning, Charles is gone. But that is the least of your worries. You sit up quickly as the feeling hits you all of a sudden – like something is sitting on your chest. You gasp for oxygen, feeling as though the very air is crushing you. You place a hand on your chest to settle your nerves, but you can’t seem to calm down. It feels like you’re dying. Your mind starts to race – Oh god, I’m going to die alone. I’m going to die here, and no one will know; I’m going to die-

While still heaving in desperate breaths, you hear a gentle knock.

“Help,” you manage to gasp as you raise your hand toward the door. It takes all your strength to turn the handle, your powers seeming to diminish without adequate oxygen.

Charles enters slowly at first, then at a rush as he realizes your predicament. “Calm yourself,” he urges. “Calm your mind. Breathe. I’m here.”

“What’s happening to me?” you pant as tears roll down your cheeks.

Charles rests a hand on your knee soothingly. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re going to be alright. Just keep breathing. In and out.”

You grab his hand in your own, holding it in a crushing grip as you try to suck in more air. The edges of your vision begin to darken and blur. You narrow your focus onto Charles who is still whispering reassuring words to you.

Slowly, the darkness recedes, along with the panic, and your breaths become stronger. Charles’s other hand has moved to your head, running over your hair lightly. His touch is gentle and grounding, a welcome distraction from the panic that overtook you.

“That’s it. Good girl,” Charles murmurs, running his fingers across your cheek to wipe away tears. “Keep breathing.”

You tear your eyes away from his. “That’s… that’s never happened before,” you tremble. “Is something wrong with me?”

Charles’s face falls. “No, darling. Sometimes these things happen. It’s alright. I’m sure you’re still recovering from the stress of yesterday.”

You nod and notice how clammy your hands are. You pull away from Charles’s grasp and wipe them on your comforter. “I’m sorry,” the phrase spills out before you can stop yourself. You aren’t quite sure why you’re apologizing.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Charles assures.

The two of you sit silently for a few moments. The world comes into sharper and sharper focus and before long the panic attack is but a blip in your mind.

Charles speaks your name softly. You look at him once more. “Last night I… I saw something. In your mind.”

Your heart stutters for a moment and you focus on steadying your breathing once more. “Did the accident do something?”

Charles shakes his head. You notice the lines on his face – by his eyes, above his brows. He suddenly looks very old and weary. All at once, he ages a hundred years. The weight of all those voices in his mind seem to be taking their toll. “No, this was something different.” He goes quiet again. You can see his thoughts warring as he chooses his words. You remain silent, waiting for him to speak. “I believe you have a… memory hidden in your subconscious. Something you don’t remember.”

You startle a bit, leaning away from him. “What? What does that mean?”

Charles sighs and gestures to the bed. “May I?” You shrug and he maneuvers himself so he’s sitting on the edge next to you. “Sometimes, our minds build barriers around certain memories. It’s a way to protect us, from trauma or harmful experiences. It’s perfectly natural. Unfortunately, it can become a hindrance later on in life. Those barriers may break down over time, revealing the memory. It can be, perhaps, more traumatic to discover the memory than to just have it in the first place.”

“Charles,” you interrupt, growing impatient with his beating around the bush, “what are you saying?”

Charles meets your gaze steadily. “Something happened to you. When you were a teenager or a young adult, I believe. And your mind has blocked it out, but the memory is beginning to… escape.”

You suck in a quick breath. “Something… like what?” You narrow your eyes at him. “Do you know? Do you know what happened to me?”

The professor breaks eye contact for a brief moment, giving himself away.

“Tell me!” you demand, and the force of your emotions causes your powers to flare. The door rattles in its frame.

Charles frowns and his next words come out more harshly than he plans. “No. Your mind protected you from this for a reason. To learn of it all at once…” He whispers your name. “It would break you.”

“So that’s it then?” Your voice is angry, but you don’t feel angry. You feel scared, and that fear is expressing itself in the easiest way it knows. The light beside your bed flickers, the nightstand shaking. “You’re just going to hide this from me? I have a right to my own memories, Charles! Don’t you remember Jean?”

“Of course I remember Jean,” Charles snaps, and instantly you know you’ve gone too far. Charles never snaps at you. He takes a deep breath and his tone is more even when he speaks. “I don’t want to hide anything from you. You do have a right to know. In fact, it is in your best interest to know before those walls break down. But we must proceed carefully, and slowly. The mind is a fragile thing, my dear.” He extends a hand to you, palm upright, but doesn’t touch you.

You stare at him for a moment, digesting his words. Eventually, you rest your hand in his. “Alright,” you murmur. “But Charles... I don’t know... I don’t want to do this alone.”

Charles leans toward you and squeezes your hand, clasping it in both of his. “Never, dear. We’ll uncover this together.” He gives you one final squeeze before letting you go and maneuvering himself back into his chair. “But first, you need breakfast. Especially after your accident yesterday.”

…

After you’ve eaten with the rest of the team, Charles leads you to a room off the main hallway. You’ve never even noticed it before, haven’t given a second thought to the door that is always closed. As he opens the door, it reveals a small, cozy room, similar to Charles’s office. This room, however, is furnished with a wide couch and an armchair. It’s not unlike a therapist’s office, and immediately you feel a wave of anxiety.

Charles must be able to tell, because he turns to you with a gentle smile. “Where would you like to sit? I want you to be comfortable.”

You wring your hands together before seating gingerly on the edge of the couch. Charles transfers to the armchair, expression still soft and reassuring. “Would you like to lie down? It might be easier to recall the memory if you relax.”

You chuckle nervously, patting the couch beside you. “Not sure I’m going to be able to relax at all... But I’ll try.” You lie down and settle your arms across your stomach to soothe yourself.

Charles nods with approval. “Good. Now, let me explain how we’ll do this, provided it all goes well. I’m going to guide you through your mind to uncover this memory. I don’t want to enter your mind if it’s not necessary. I would like you to try and discover this on your own. I’m here with you for support of course, but these walls were built by your own subconscious. I don’t want to interfere if I don’t have to.”

You mirror his nod, staring up at the ceiling. “What do I... do?”

“Close your eyes, to start.” Charles’s voice goes soft, softer than you’ve ever heard it, and you immediately follow his instruction. “Now, I want you to find a strong memory. Something that you remember fondly, something happy.”

You think for a moment, trying to find something that sticks out in your mind. Once you’ve finally grasped it, you smile to yourself. It’s a good memory, one that always makes you laugh, even through dark circumstances.

“Do you have the memory? Make sure it’s a powerful one.” You nod in response to his question and he continues. “Good. This will be your anchor. If anything becomes overwhelming, find this memory again. It will ground you and keep you safe.”

“Safe from my own mind... in my mind?” You question, peeking at him from one squinted eye.

Charles huffs out a laugh. “Yes, I suppose. Close your eyes.” You obey and he speaks again. “Now, we’re going to seek out the hidden memory.” Immediately you tense on the couch, but Charles reassures you. “It’s alright; I’m right here with you. I want you to pretend your mind is a house. This happy memory, your anchor, is the kitchen. The heart of the home. It’s in the center of everything, and easily accessible. Can you see it?”

“Yes,” you murmur, envisioning the house in your mind.

“Good. Now, the other rooms on this floor of the house are other memories. Perhaps from your childhood, or more recent. We’re not going to visit those memories, but they are all a part of the house. Maybe there’s an upstairs to your house, for unclear memories that are harder to access. All these pieces of your mind make up the home. But you’re going to stay in the kitchen for now.”

You wander around the mindscape that he’s guided you through, staying in the kitchen but peeking through doorways at other memories. It’s an odd sensation, to be imagining your memories so vividly and in depth, but you trust Charles.

“Now, I want you to find a door in the kitchen. One you haven’t looked through yet. It’s closed. This is the door to the stairs that lead to the basement, to the hidden memory. Can you tell me what the door looks like?”

You swallow hard, looking at the door in your mind. “It’s... wooden. Dark wood, like... like it’s burnt or something. It’s tall and narrow... there’s smoke coming out from under it.”

Charles sighs softly to himself. This exercise usually has similar results, but the detail of the smoke concerns him. He realizes this is likely a result of his meddling last night. “Good, that’s good. You’re doing well.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself now. “I want you to walk toward the door. Tell me how you’re feeling, what you’re experiencing.”

“I feel... scared. Small. When I get closer to the door, it’s like it gets... taller.” Your breath hitches at the mental image, fear coursing through you.

Charles shushes you gently. “Turn away from the door, now. Look back at the kitchen. Find your anchor.”

You back away from the door, focusing again on your grounding memory. Slowly, the panic ebbs and you feel your breathing slow. “Okay... I’m okay.”

“Would you like to continue?”

You nod firmly, feeling like you can’t turn back now that you’re here.

Charles inhales deeply before speaking again. “Slowly, face the door again. But remember that your kitchen is there. You are safe; you’re still with me. As you’re looking at the door, I want you to remember that even though this basement is a part of your house, it was built long ago. It does not control you, and whatever this memory contains, it cannot hurt you now.”

A creeping wave of anxiety rolls through you. What does Charles know that he feels the need to say this to you?

“I want you to approach the door. Even if it feels like the door is getting bigger, remember that you are the owner of this house. Nothing in here is out of your control. Even the basement.” He says the last words firmly, trying to get them cemented into your mind. “As you get to the door, I want you to reach for the handle. Don’t turn it yet, just lay your hand on it if you’re able. What are you feeling?”

You swallow past the lump in your throat and your voice comes out quiet. “Afraid… not as much as before, but it feels… heavy. I don’t… I don’t know if I could even turn the handle.”

Charles’s voice comes back, soothing and soft. “You can. You will. You are strong enough to do this. Remember your anchor is right there, and I am here with you. I want you to turn the handle now.”

In your mind, you tighten your grip on the doorknob, bracing yourself for whatever waits in this mental basement. You turn it slightly, and it almost feels like it’s stuck. You remember Charles’s words and turn it a little harder. The door pops open with a “click” and smoke rushes out at you. There’s a voice in the thick smog, but you can’t quite make it out. Anxiety and fear wash over you, both from your present feelings, and from whatever exists in this memory.

Charles hears you gasp and suppresses the urge to take a peek in your head. He can tell that you’ve accessed the hidden memory, but haven’t seen it all yet. “Now, I want you to slowly back away from the door. Keep it open, but step back into your kitchen. Take a breath, remember that happy memory. The basement is there, yes, but it cannot hurt you.”

You follow his direction, sucking in cleansing breaths. Although the smoke only exists in your mind, you still feel as though you’re choking.

Charles mimics your deep breath, needing to prepare himself too. “Now�� whenever you’re ready. I want you to go down the stairs into the basement.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you continue along with the mental image of the house. The smoke has begun to fade, and you can see the descending steps into the basement. They grow darker the further down they go. A chill passes through you. You take one hesitant step forward, then another.

“As you go down, I want you to tell me what you experience. What do you hear, smell, see, feel?”

You clear your throat and shift a bit on the couch, then take your first step down the stairs. “It’s… cold. There’s a voice… I can’t make it out, but it sounds like someone crying. It smells damp and musty.” You continue stepping down the stairs, the sensations growing stronger. “There’s another voice, a man. Everything’s fuzzy though; I can’t hear what they’re saying.” You continue and Charles gives you small hums and words of encouragement. The bottom of the steps gets closer, and brighter. “I don’t see anything… all I can hear is the two voices. There’s… it smells like blood now.”

As you finally complete your descent down the steps, you’re suddenly assaulted by the beginning of the memory. A choked sob escapes you and Charles stiffens in his chair. “What do you see?” he asks gently, keeping the tension out of his voice as he watches tears leak out of your closed eyes.

“I’m alone… with a strange man. This was when I was homeless. I’m in an alley with him, at night, it’s…” You whimper quietly. “He’s trying to… to…”

Charles shushes you lightly. “You can go back up the stairs; find your anchor.”

But you’re too far into the memory now to even remember the fake house you created with Charles. You can barely speak, the images and sounds and smells attacking you from every angle. “I don’t… I don’t want to see this! Please, no!” You curl up on the couch, trying to make yourself small, as if it will make the memory go away.

Charles, alarmed now, leans forward in his chair and says your name firmly. “Go to the kitchen. You’re safe; he can’t hurt you now.” His words seem to have minimal effect, as you continue crying and whimpering on the couch. He can’t let this go any further; you’re going to… you’re going to traumatize yourself all over again if he doesn’t step in.

He places a hand on his temple and closes his eyes, seeking out the mental space you’d created together.

He finally finds it, but the house is in ruin. The smoke from the basement clouds the air, making it difficult to find where you actually are. He can hear your cries of anguish, both in person and in the memory. He calls out for you, eventually managing to find the stairs to the basement. He heads down them as quick as he can.

He nearly stumbles over the mental image of yourself, curled up at the bottom of the stairs. Charles lets out a small noise of concern, crouching beside you. He rests a hand on your hand, hating how you flinch even in this cerebral landscape. He shushes you, speaking reassuring words. “It’s over now. You’re safe; you’re here with me. It’s Charles. Come back to me now…”

He continues to speak softly, trying to pull you back to the present. Your sobs grow quieter. Charles works quickly to unweave you from the memory. He doesn’t replace the walls, but he pulls your consciousness away from it. Once he finally feels you calming, he withdraws from your mind, opening his eyes again. He sees how exhausted you look; how red and puffy your eyes are from crying.

When you speak, your voice is hoarse and quiet. “Charles…”

“Yes dear?”

You swallow hard and sit up, slumping against the back of the couch. “I don’t… I don’t want that to be a part of me.”

Pity and guilt strike him right through the heart. He makes a small noise of recognition. “I know. But… it is only one part. One memory. It is not all of you. It is not what makes you.”

You stare down at your hands, a haunted look in your gaze. “I feel… damaged.”

Charles leans forward in his chair, eyes fixed on you. “Look at me.” He waits until you do before speaking again. “You are not damaged. Do you understand? You are not damaged. This does not make you broken, or less than, or unworthy. This is one piece of a bigger picture. What happened to you was a terrible violation, a wrong that should never have occurred. But it does not define who you are. You are not the things that have been done to you. You are the choices you make, the love you give. You are still you, whole and complete, and nothing can change that.”

You look away for a brief moment, his words sinking in. “But how do I… how do I even go on now? How do I… heal?”

Charles takes a deep breath, his expression gentle but resolute. “There’s no right way. There’s not a timeline. Grief is not a one-time occurrence; it is a collection of moments. It is good days and bad days, sadness and joy. It will not be easy. I wish it could be, to spare you more pain… but it will be long and difficult. There will be days it feels overwhelming, but these are the times when you must remember – you are never alone. There are certain things you must do by yourself – I cannot experience the pain for you, I cannot take it all away. But I will always be beside you.”

113 notes · View notes

kykyonthemoon · 6 days ago

Text

The Witch's Flowers

In the kingdom of Philos, witches are a scourge that must be banished. Many years have passed since the witch hunt was issued, and magic has chosen to hide in the dark forests. Deep in the heart of the forest, a field of wavy-leaf sea lavenders blossoming with blue tells the story of a young Knight and The Witch whom he was ordered to hunt down…

ಇ.Xavier x MC (Reader)

ಇ. Tags: AU, fluff with angst, hurt/comfort, HE, fairy tale, witch hunt, first pov (Xavier's)

ಇ.Word count: 3788w - oneshot.

ಇ. Requested by ChloeVN.

ಇ.Masterlist ♡ Request a fic (closed for the time being)

Blood.

The foul liquid was staining the blue petals a dark, deadly red. My palm was likewise saturated in the color as I pressed firmly on the open wound in my abdomen. Staggering, with each step a blue flower was stained with my blood. As though I were dreaming, the flower field in front of me radiated a mystical blue. I had traveled through many lands, discovered countless secrets, but I had never set foot in this place. The dark woodland encircled a field of wavy-leaf sea lavenders, in the middle of which was a cottage, where ivy wrapped around the walls, smoke billowed from the tall chimney, and warm light shone from the open window. Someone was humming a lullaby that made my eyes heavy. Everything before me wavered and blurred. The wavy-leaf sea lavenders welcomed me into their arms, cradling my lifeless body and saying:

“Rest now, rest,

O Knight of a distant land.

Sweet dreams

Shall heal all your wounds,

And wipe away your tears.

Rest now, rest…”

The dense forest at the eastern end of the kingdom had long remained a mystery. Few who ventured there could come back alive to tell the tale. Most feared the wild beasts within, while others spread rumors of witches who dwelled there. Witchcraft was a forbidden topic in Philos. Many years ago, the royal family issued an order to capture and execute everyone who practiced witchcraft. Today, no one would dare to speak of magic in public for fear of being arrested. Yet witches still existed, somewhere in the dark woodlands, concealed among mankind. And regardless of how much they feared or despised witches, the royal family aspired to wield their power.

That is why I, a knight of Philos, took on the mission of finding a cure for the ailing King.

I had never despised witches. To me, nobody was born good or wicked. But my oath of devotion to the royal family compelled me to travel to the East, fight monsters, and find a witch with the mythical power to bring the dead back to life. I kept adventuring and struggling until my feet could no longer move.

And then I awoke in a little room filled with the aroma of herbs. I was covered in pale blue wavy-leaf sea lavender blossoms. They tumbled into the bed as I rose up.

The pleasant singing voice that I had been listening to since regaining consciousness abruptly stopped. A few seconds later, a girl approached the door.

"How are you feeling?"

I was slightly taken aback. I had no idea who she was; if I had ever met a person this beautiful, I would never forget her. She was as lovely as the blue flowers outside the cottage, glowing naturally and without pretense. Her tenderness made me feel secure, and I was able to rest even though I had no idea where I was or what I would confront without my sword in hand.

“Hey there, Knight!” She suddenly came closer, leaning down extremely near to me. I could detect the aroma of wavy-leaf sea lavenders emanating from her. "Can you hear me?!"

Her little fingers waved in front of my eyes. While I was still in a trance, she mumbled to herself:

“Oh, did I make the wrong potion?… Have I… ruined him?…”

She dashed out of the room in a panic. She reappeared shortly after, with a steaming bowl of potion. She handed it to me.

"Drink this."

I took it. The peculiar liquid was dark blue, and the scent made me nauseous. I gazed up to meet her eyes.

"Would it be all right if I refuse this?"

She was a little startled when she heard me. She replied, “So you can speak?! I thought you… Oh, give me the potion.”

I was relieved she had moved the bowl of potion away from me. Then she stepped closer, closer than before, leading me to lean back slightly and rest one hand on the bed.

“So are you feeling better? Does it still hurt anywhere?” she inquired. Her gaze swept me from head to stomach. “Let me check your wound!”

Without waiting for my consent, her fingers slipped under my shirt. I was astonished and swiftly grabbed her wrist.

“What… What are you doing?”

“Checking your wound. I just told you!”

She brushed my hand away and lifted my shirt, revealing my abdomen where the monster’s deep cut had healed completely. There was no trace left to indicate that I had almost passed through the gates of Death. This confused me as well.

“It’s healed now. You’re recovering well!”

The girl smiled. Her cool fingertips stroking my flesh caused me to blush. I pulled my shirt down in a haste.

"That was you. You've healed me, right?

She did not respond immediately, but instead gave a mysterious grin. "If I said I had intended to use your body as fertilizer for my flowers, would you believe me?"

I was astonished to hear her say that. She laughed.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention to do that yet. As long as you don’t burn me on the pyre, I won’t harm you.”

Her gaze shifted to the corner of the table, where my sword rested. She was already aware of my identity, and she may have assumed I was here to hunt her down.

"So you're… a witch?"

She stared at me. A trace of grief appeared on her face, but she instantly cracked a playful grin.

"I am a witch, the most malevolent one in this realm. I did not save you out of any mercy. I only needed someone to test my handcrafted potions."

I looked at the bowl of horrible potion, which had already lost its smoke. My wound had healed entirely, yet my body still ached and I was fatigued. Faced with a witch, I doubted I would be able to flee to the forest's edge. Not to mention the savage monsters who waited for me outside. In addition, I still had to repay the person who saved my life.

After considering it for a while, I said to her:

“If you need me, I’m here. I want to repay your kindness.”

The Witch smiled. “You shall replant my beloved flowers that you've ruined out there first.”

From that day on, I stayed in the cottage with The Witch. Her treatment helped me purge the monster poison from my body. Day by day, I healed rapidly. However, I still used the excuse of not regaining my strength yet so that I could stay here. II frequently assisted her with little errands such as repairing the cottage, woodcutting in the deep forest, or hunting animals. She cooked really well and even provided me with a comfortable spot to sleep in the living room. I immediately realized it had been a long time since I recalled what a regular life was like.

As a child, I was trained to become a knight. My existence revolved around the orders and expectations of my clan. Yet here, in the midst of nowhere, the load on my shoulders appeared to be removed, along with the shining, hefty armor. And before I knew it, I had grown to enjoy the quiet life here.

I also fell in love with the girl who cared for me every day. How could I not, knowing that beneath that mystery exterior was a really compassionate person? Despite her claims that she was using me for potion testing, everything she gave me was a tonic. She said I was her errand guy, but whenever she cooked something, she let me have it first. She treated me, a knight - who was originally ordered to hunt her down - with all her sincerity and kindness.

If it had not been for the edict to kill witches, she would not have had to flee to the farthest reaches of the kingdom.

“Xavier? Don't just stand there. Bring me the potion.”

Her voice echoed across the wavy-leaf sea lavender field. She was sitting on the ground, with the baby unicorn creature resting on her lap. She took care of not only me, but also the wild animals and even monsters in the forest. Sometimes they would come to the cottage in tatters, and she would heal them. I wondered if she had considered me to be one of those creatures when she had first seen me.

I delivered the potion to The Witch. She put some blue liquid into the unicorn's mouth. It groaned, fought for a time, and finally fell asleep soundly.

"How many times have I told you not to go too far from the forest? Humans will catch you, skin you, and eat you alive!"

The little animal turned over in her arms. She stroked its one-horned head, then looked at it with loving eyes. Like her, the creatures living in this forest had never harmed anyone before, yet they were frequently hurt by humans chasing them or putting traps along the woodland's border.

After a moment, I spoke to her: “Not all humans are so cruel.”

She looked at me. The wavy-leaf sea lavender field swirled in the bright sunlight around us. I wished I could give her a life free of worry and dread of being persecuted. I wished I could give her my entire heart, but I was not qualified to do so. I was not deserving of her.

“Yes,” she answered. “Xavier is a human, but he won’t hurt us!” She patted the small unicorn in her arms again.

"Ouch!" I grabbed my head, appearing to be in agony. "I suddenly feel a little dizzy…"

She smiled at me. She let me lean on her shoulder and rubbed her cheek into my hair.

“Why are you so weak? Are you certain that you’re a knight, Xavier?”

I was unresponsive, just continued to pretend. I was afraid to tell her that I had come here to find a cure for death, and that she was the witch with such power. I had been discreetly investigating her for quite some time before concluding that she was the one I was looking for. She was capable of curing all ailments and even bringing life back to some creatures that were dying, like in mythology. However, a part within me refused to believe it. I did not want to be the bringer of her death.

Her lullaby resounded again. In the midst of the blooming way-leaf sea lavenders dancing in the breeze, I dreamed of a peaceful vision where I would stay here forever, with her.

Good things came to an end so soon. My blue dream was exactly the same.

The other knights had managed to track me down. The forest sent a warning to The Witch, and I knew it was time to say goodbye to her.

We sat beneath the falling stars. The wavy-leaf sea lavenders, bathed in the light from above, went about their serene lives, unknowing of the impending calamity. I silently begged that time would stand still as The Witch placed her head on my shoulder and watched the shooting stars.

“You have made up your mind, Xavier?”

She asked, and I nodded. Then she sat up straight to look me in the eye. Behind her was a silver strip of the falling star that had just split the night sky in two. Broken.

“You’re not pretending to be weak anymore?”

The Witch was well aware that I had been acting all along in order to win her gentle care. I grinned.

“"If I could, I would remain here with you forever. But I need to depart and distract the other knights. They should not come here and find you.”

Silence descended between us. The shower of stars above was fading away. After a while, The Witch spoke:

“Will we ever meet again?”

I dared not promise her anything. Perhaps I was like those stars, briefly soaring across her serene flower field before plummeting into the endless night. I took her hand, then gently placed a kiss on it.

“As long as I breathe, I will always search for you.”

The Witch leaned in extremely close. My heart missed a beat. Just when I thought she was ready to kiss me, she chuckled and slipped a sprig of wavy-leaf sea lavenders in my hair.

“Worry not. I can defend myself. I’ve been hiding from humans for so long.”

“I know you can’t bear to leave this forest. You don’t want to spend your whole life in fear, or keep running away either.”

This place had always been her sanctuary. And mine. Neither of us could bear to leave it behind.

“Just keep your word and come find me.”

Our little fingers intertwined in a sacred ritual under the blessing of the shooting star and blue flowers. Then, she leaned towards me again to grant me a real kiss.

“I can’t take it anymore. I have to tell you the truth!”

The voice of Jeremiah, another knight in my troop, interrupted my afternoon siesta. We had been on the road for several days, far from the forest where my Witch resided.

"You've been misled!" Jeremiah stated this while sitting beside me under a tree.

“What are you babbling about?” I rubbed my eyes. Jeremiah looked around to make sure we weren’t being overheard before lowering his voice to me. “He knows. Our teacher has been tracking a witch in those woods for a long time. After you disappeared, he sent people to investigate the area. I don’t know what happened to you there, Xavier. But he thinks you’ve been… bewitched! So he sent us here on purpose to get you out of the woods. He’ll deal with the witch himself.”

“What did you just say?!” I broke out of my daze.

“I’m telling you this because you’re my good friend. You’ve been talking about that witch all these days. I can't keep the truth from you, knowing that you would regret it for the rest of your life."

I got up and went to get my horse. I galloped through the trees, and Jeremiah’s voice cheered me on from behind:

“Go, Xavier! May the winds take you to her!”

But I was still a little too late.

The wavy-leaf sea lavender field before my eyes was burning, and the cottage where The Witch and I had spent our days together was also engulfed in flames. I heard her screams mixed with the roars of the miserable creatures who had just sacrificed themselves under the cutting sword to defend the Witch.

I gripped the hilt of my sword and pointed it at that person. My mentor.

“Xavier. Do you recall when I warned you that the spells of witches corrupt the minds of humans?”

Over the shoulder of my mentor, the illustrious Grand Knight of Philos, I caught a glimpse of The Witch. Her hands were bound with shackles invented specifically for witch hunting. The blood trickling from her pale face came from the creatures that had died for her, and it was the same crimson liquid that stained the blue flowers.

The Witch's eyes were filled with hatred rather than fear. Yet when she saw me, she almost burst into tears.

“She has never harmed anyone,” I said. “Please let her go.”

“Let her go?” the Grand Knight repeated. He laughed aloud. His elderly but still powerful physique trembled beneath his dazzling armor. “She is the one we seek. She is the one who can save the King!”

"At what cost?" I demanded. "Her life?" You taught me to wield my sword to fight for my principles and defend what I hold dear. But all I see here is my revered mentor hurting innocent creatures at the commands of a dying man!"

The Grand Knight turned to face me.

“The royal order is my life’s principle! Xavier, you are my favorite pupil, yet you have also disappointed me the most! In such a short period of time, you have become so enchanted by that witch that you are unable to discriminate between good and bad!"

My sword became even more steady as it was directed toward him. I replied:

“And you, my mentor, have been sleeping in the honor and orders you have been given all this time. You have forgotten what your sword once protected!”

I charged towards the Grand Knight, who did not flinch as he parried my attack. Everything I knew, every fighting skill I had mastered, was taught to me by this man. I remembered the training sessions between the two of us, when I was very young. He had told me that only the strong could defend the ones they loved. So that child practiced till he bled every day in order to be recognized by his mentor and protect his clan.

At that time, the witch hunt had not yet been issued. A few years later, when I officially became a knight, the King, in order to find the elixir of immortality, had relentlessly persecuted witches, using violence to suppress them. The myth of witches using magic to hurt innocent people was only a pretext for the royal family to publicly execute them and use their blood to create the elixir. But this was not how magic worked. The King was gravely ill and dying, and numerous innocent witches had to give their lives for his dream of immortality.

“Let him die!” I shouted as I continued to attack the Grand Knight. “Let the King and his false immortality die!”

While I was fighting against my mentor, The Witch had vanished. She kept running away, disappearing from this place. As long as she was safe, I was willing to give up everything.

Even my life.

The blade that had served as my guiding light pierced through the gap in my armor and stabbed straight into my chest. But I also thrust the sword into the Grand Knight's neck. He stared at me. Disappointment and grief were evident in his gradually cloudy eyes. In that moment, I chose The Witch and the justice that my heart urged me to pursue. I apologized and bid farewell to my mentor. This battle was not not meant to have a winner. The Grand Knight shouted my name one last time. Then he sank on the trodden ground, strewn with blue flowers.

I clutched my chest. My feet stumbled down. Blood seeped through the armor I had barely managed to remove. The blue carpet was welcoming me one last time, just like the day I first arrived. But I still had one last wish.

“Xavier! Xavier!!!”

I heard her call my name. My Witch. She appeared beside me and drew me into her embrace. Her hands were still bound. I used my sword to cut her chains.

“You… You’re free now… Leave…”

But she held me. She cried. Her tears dropped like falling stars to the ground. My trembling fingers wiped them away, leaving only a scarlet streak on her face.

“I'm sorry… I ruined your flower field again… This will probably be… the last time…”

My entire body sank into her arms. She put me on my back, so I could see the dying sun in the distance, and her tears watered my face.

“Xavier… You can’t die…” She sobbed. “I’m the one who saved your life… You owe me your life! You are not allowed to die like this…”

I could only apologize to her. But my eyes felt heavy. I whispered to her:

“Can you… sing for me?…”

She leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“Xavier… I’ll sing… Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be fine…”

I was certain that I would not be able to wake up again. But if she granted me a beautiful dream, then what if I never opened my eyes?

The Witch began to sing. It was the familiar song I had heard when I had discovered this place for the very first time. It was a song meant for me.

The surrounding wavy-leaf sea lavender field suddenly glowed with a halo as my eyes slowly closed. A tremendous and pure energy surged over me, lulling me into a peaceful sleep with her song.

“Rest now, rest,

O Knight of a distant land.

Sweet dreams

Shall heal all your wounds,

And wipe away your tears.

Rest now, rest…”

I awoke on the edge of the forest. Tears were streaming down my face, and my heart felt hollow, as if I had lost something very important in the dark forest.

I thought there was a strange dream, about a girl with healing powers and wavy-leaf sea lavenders. I could not see her face clearly, nor did I recall what had happened. Like all dreams, they shattered as soon as we woke up, my eyes were dry as I turned away.

Jeremiah was the first to find me. He asked me about the Grand Knight and The Witch, but I had no impression of anything he said. The next day, news came that my mentor's lifeless body had been found in a field of withered, burned flowers. No trace of the witch was found.

Soon after, the King died. The young prince ascended the throne, and the hunt for witches was ended. Knights like myself returned to our regular patrols. Years passed, and the witches suffered no further tragedies, but they appeared to have lost their desire to be among us mortals.

One late afternoon, when I had just finished my duty and returned home, I happened to see the blue of wavy-leaf sea lavenders covering a window. I paused in front of the little flower store, hesitated for a second, then entered.

"I want to buy those." I said. The shopkeeper appeared shortly after, holding a basket of the blue flowers I wanted in her arms.

I had never met her before, I was sure of it. Yet when she smiled at me, dreams of a witch and a field of blue flowers came back to me.

Due to my specialized skills that I have honed over the years, I could recognize witches when they were near. The person standing before me was merely an ordinary girl. Yet why had my heart ached ever since I stepped into this place? Why did I feel as if I had just been reborn when she laid her eyes on me?

I could not recall the person in that dream, the one who awaited me in the field of wavy-leaf sea lavenders. Yet regardless of her identity, I would always recognize her, my Witch.

-The End-

59 notes · View notes