The bar was crowded—not uncomfortably, but just enough that the air pulsed with low music and the warm scent of whiskey and fryer oil. The lights were low, warm and golden, casting soft shadows over tables cluttered with drinks and peeling coaster edges. Glass clinked softly in the background, a lazy rhythm to the Friday night energy building in waves.
You were leaning against the bar, waiting for your drinks, while Kyōtani had ducked away to use the bathroom. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but you ignored it, eyes on the bartender shaking cocktails two seats down.
Which was, in hindsight, the exact moment the universe decided to test your patience.
“Hey there,” came a voice to your left—slurred, low, and too close. You caught the sour tang of beer on his breath before you saw his face.
You didn’t turn immediately. You’d felt it coming—like a storm you could smell in the air.
“I been watchin’ you from across the bar,” the man said, a lazy, drunken confidence in his voice. “You look like you could use some company.”
You exhaled slowly through your nose. “I’m good, thanks.”
He chuckled. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I’ll buy you a drink, sweetheart.”
You turned your head, offering a cool, unimpressed stare. His eyes were glassy, cheeks blotched red from too much alcohol, and his grin was the kind of smarmy that made your skin crawl.
“You don’t wanna do that,” you said flatly.
The guy blinked. “What? Buy a pretty girl a drink?”
“No.” You shifted your weight, voice firm. “Hit on someone who’s taken.”
He raised a brow, like he thought you were bluffing. “Taken? Don’t see anyone here. You ditched him already?”
You narrowed your eyes. “You need to back off.”
But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Men like that never did.
Instead, he laughed—loudly, like he’d just heard the best joke of the night. “Relax, baby. You’re hot. I’m just tryin’ to show some appreciation.”
You turned back toward the bar, trying to signal the bartender, but the guy didn’t take the hint. You felt him step closer, invading your space. Then his hand brushed your arm—too familiar, too bold.
That was when you felt it.
The air shifted. Like the pressure dropped.
A presence behind you—heavy, hot, and unmistakable.
Kyōtani.
A shadow passed over the drunk guy’s face, but he didn’t turn fast enough.
Kyōtani didn’t speak. He didn’t posture. He didn’t warn.
He just swung.
A blur of movement exploded at your side—a crack, loud and sharp, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground. The guy lay sprawled across the scuffed floorboards, groaning, his hand cupping his jaw as shocked silence rippled through the nearby tables.
Kyōtani stood over him, jaw clenched, one hand still curled into a tight fist, his broad chest rising and falling as he stared down at the guy like he was debating whether to throw another punch for good measure.
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink.
You just looked down at the groaning man and said, with a shrug and a sip of your half-warm drink, “Told you so.”
Kyōtani turned to you, golden eyes burning with residual fury, scanning your face and arms like he needed confirmation you were untouched. “He touch you?”
“Barely,” you muttered. “He tried.”
Kyōtani grunted low in his throat, gaze snapping back to the guy on the ground. “You’re lucky I stopped at one.”
The bartender said nothing. No one did.
You grabbed your second drink off the bar, rolling your eyes. “Guess I need a new gin and tonic now.”
Kyōtani huffed, throwing a protective arm around your shoulder, steering you away from the scene. “Let’s go. I hate this place anyway.”
“You hate every place.”
“Not true,” he muttered, hand tightening at your waist. “I like the ones where people don’t talk to you.”
You laughed under your breath as the two of you disappeared into the cooler night air, Kyōtani’s hand never leaving you for a second.
And as you walked, he leaned in, voice low and unrepentant.
“Next guy that touches you,” he growled, “I’m breakin’ his ribs.”
You smirked, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I know.”
I'm a guy, but in the way a buck is. Delicate, and skittish, prancing on long, gamgly legs I'll never grow into, just like the oversized antlers balance on my sleak head. So easily cowed, terrified for my life, and trembling while I perform for my herd.
I'm a guy, but in the way a dog is. Snapping and snarling, backed into a corner but unwilling to go down without a fight. Reactive to every touch, every sound, so conditioned by my environment that I'll never accept that maybe not everyone wants to hurt me.
I'm a guy, but in the way a bull is. Lumbering clumsily, but with a certain amount of grace, afforded to me by my shaggy, wild nature. Plodding on, going with whatever happens, unwilling to leave anyone else behind.
I'm a guy, but not in the way you think, not in the way people are.
Added another chapter this morning! This one’s a bit shorter but I hope you enjoy it
Please check it out on ao3 if you can!
There’s some gore and violence up ahead so I advise minors to steer clear of my work
Apple Pie
Chapter 2: Something to Eat
Grumble…
….
….
Spinel trudges through the snow, depleted. He’s slouched over, dragging his axe behind him, leaving a trail in the snow of his whereabouts. This way, he doesn’t get lost since he’s strayed from his usual post in the white desert. He doesn’t usually go far from his shack, but he and his brother are particularly desperate today. His body hangs heavy with no sleep or food to support its function. He watches, vigilant for any sign of food. It’s been several weeks since Papyrus last had anything to eat. His single eye light glares wide with one intent in mind: survival.
Trees bunch in dark, tall, unnerving groves, hiding the disgusting secrets of gory sights. He just has yet to hear one of those precious whispers of a meal, but he can’t turn back, not yet. He can’t go home without something for Sugar. His crooked, gnarled teeth suggested a smile, but Sugar’s eyes betrayed his growing torment. The hunger consumed all of them, biting into their livelihood each and every day they were deprived of food. Sugar tried to deny his thirst in the sands of barren terrain, but Spinel knew him too well even as they let their emotions run high. Their yelling and passive aggressive moments couldn't hide how much they cared, and Spinel realized this. So, he strained his energy and strength to track down something for him. Sugar needed the food more than himself, and he didn’t need to know Spinel didn’t eat. Spinel would simply say he ate some on the way home.
…
…
Rising in the distance Spinel caught sight of urban structures. Buildings typical of a more modern town rest dormant, ruined as all seemed still. Doors splintered in various spots, windows cracked from the frames edges, and claws littered the area. He could smell the presence of some kind of mammal with the stink of fur. He didn’t know the location, but he could decipher that something lived here–something edible. His mouth nearly started watering at the thought. He prowled around until his instincts led him into a particular structure. This place held a certain feeling of holiness as the roofs sloped downwards before curving up towards the ends, and lanterns hung at each corner of the tiled tops. The pillars commanded respect as he peered at the architecture with passing interest. He slightly squints his eye, analyzing the place, and hears a slight shuffle inside. It’s time to eat.
He sneaks around a window, and looks inside to find several Tanu Tanu sleeping. He’s lucky the day protects him from the nocturnal eyes of one. If a single step creaked, he wouldn’t walk away without some struggle as a whole family rests within. Nothing his magic couldn't deal with, but he contained no control as his main source of command was torn away from him. And if he went overboard–using up all his mana–the thorny thrills of pain sunk into his bones. He really wishes he still had his eye, it would make surviving easier.
In the middle of the room, a pile of red apples lays, welcoming the start of rot. They hold the same essence as fuji apples, but grew corrupted by mold’s grasp. Spinel couldn’t pass up on the chance to provide food to his brother. He swings the wood of his grand axe onto his shoulder as he ventures forth. The door widens open as Spinel carefully steps through the entrance. No creature awakes from their daytime sleep. Not yet. The small murmurs of their breath and rising stomachs kept Spinel wary of their possible wake. He takes a few steps, only the subtle muses of rest and the threat of battle accompanying him. Nobody stirs at his movement as he creeps around. Spinel steps in front of the collection of putrid apples, pausing before greedily grabbing stuffing all he could into his trusted hoodie’s pockets. He knew the thing could carry him through this. Spinel turns around into an amble, breathing out in relief. He keeps walking until an apple, less decayed as the rest, slips out of his pocket. It hits the floor with nearly no sound, leaving some mush behind, but it’s enough to urge the sleeping monsters out of their slumber.
They rise with a fierce uproar, snarling at Spinel. The fur on their back stands at an end, and their teeth stand out despite the dim lighting. The world continues to darken around Spinel as all his enemies sharpen. There’s no time to panic–not when you’ve become the apple of an entire group’s eye. They’re ready to devour him whole, to crunch into his bones. They surround him, and he can’t help but grin. Ulna these pieces of meat were too much to face at once, but he could soften them up enough to get home to his brother.
Spinel acts on instinct, and bones suddenly protrude from the ground. Some attackers nearly avoid the threat, while others shriek in pain. Their screams ring in Spinel’s ears, soaking into his hoodie. It feels so incredibly heavy as he watches their wounds pour out blood. The intensity of the moment rains down on him, but he continues to defend himself. He swings at the nearest Tanu Tanu, creating a brutal slice at the monster’s front. He can see all the moving parts of the creature within, working to stay alive despite the window into their space. Saddest of all, Spinel sees some of the Tanu Tanu eyeing the red on their friends. They look as if they've just been given monster candy, one that’s their favorite flavor no less. Spinel can’t help but notice the outline of their ribs. Teeth sink into his arm, ripping new holes into his hoodie, and Spinel desperately fights off the monster. He can feel his sweat drip down his skull as he summons a bone attack that sends the creature’s body slam onto the floor. He reminds himself that it’s not for himself, it's for Sugar. He needs to get out of here. Spinel deals another round of bones before he evades to the shadows where he reappears in the forest.
…
He nearly gagged at the sight. He didn’t have any other choice.
In front of him, Sugar tried keeping the rotten apple down. Fuzzy greens and grey taints the slush. Some parts are soft enough to slip through Sugar’s large hands, while most stay put. Sugar insisted they sit at a table, even if Spinel refuses to eat. So, he watches his brother try to lift up any of the food into his maw. The substance is disgusting. It’s far past the natural point of being edible, but for them this is the best they can get.
Sugar shakes as his bones reject the apples. He can’t sit still as he eats, otherwise everything he’s worked so hard to keep down will come back up. The sound of rotten food being forced down terrifies Spinel. The gross noise fills his mind as he can only watch his brother try to survive. He himself can’t help but gag slightly as the stomach churning scene unfolds. Suddenly, Sugar jolts forward with a hand over mouth and ribcage. His skeletal face glows into a putrid, unnatural color.
Author's Notes: Hello! So this is my first time posting on Tumblr. This fic was already posted to my ao3 account (of the same name- sorry I had to) and I thought it would be the best first post over here. So I hope you enjoy!
Also! This fic has multiple chapters to it. I'll post the second one soon and I'm working on the third right now Xx
Summary: Xavier has always been an odd man, since the day he'd joined the Hunter's Association. You knew there was something odd about him but you could never nail down what it was. Until one day he reveals that he's not who you think he is, dragging you along his unbelievable backstory
Pairing: Xavier x Reader
Xavier. That name might as well have been substituted for a question mark in your mind. You had only met him a few weeks ago and yet he had proven to be the biggest question mark in your life right now. From the vague way he talked to how he managed to mysteriously disappear and then reappear at will. Everything about him was both suspicious and fascinating. From what you'd researched he only had minimal information even in his work files, at least the ones you were allowed to have access to. He had no last name on the register and had a question mark next to his age of 23. How was that even allowed on official documents?
The annoying thing was that you were both Deepspace Hunters, of which there were thousands across Linkon, and yet it was always you two who were paired together for tasks. If you were out on a Wanderer mission then Xavier was on the exact same one. If you were managing files then Xavier was managing the ones right next to you. And he was so annoyingly blunt and seemingly unaware of the feelings of those around him.
~~~Flashback- 4 months earlier~~~
You were on an expedition. You and a team of other hunters had been sent to a closed office area of Linkon. It was heavy with greenery and wildlife and hosted a myriad of different wanderers. All stalking the area looking for anything in their path to attack.
You had been living in a temporary campsite, designed to blend into the wild environment to better disguise the hunters from any wanderers nearby looking for their next meal. On your team just so happened to be the allusive new hunter to the organisation, Xavier. You were three days into the expedition and had seen him a grand total of five times. And they were all in the temporary canteen the hunters used to eat. Never out in the field.
On this particular day, the wanderer alert on your Hunter's watch had gone off at 4am, waking you from a dreamless sleep. You first thought was that they had infiltrated your camp and we're wandering around ready to kill any hunters they came across. This meant you needed to get into action quick. You had no time to get into your uniform. All you could do was grab your gear, slip hastily into some shoes and hit the panic button on your Hunter's watch that alerted all of the other hunters on site that there was danger in the area before getting out of your tent. An enclosed space, in most cases, was an instant death trap for you to fight in.
Out into the dark environment you went. Your eyes had yet to adjust to the dark, so you were essentially stalking the area with no clear goal in sight. But you could feel the presence of wanderers. You could feel their energy emanating across the campsite and knew you had to keep a low profile if you wanted to keep your head.
You kept low to the ground, keeping your gun aimed outwards in front of you so you could shoot at anything in your path. The baron land of the night in front of you raised a few questions. Why had no other Hunters come to fight yet? Surely your pressing of the panic button had woken even just a few people up, right?
You had no time to dwell on that though because that's when the sudden shaking of leaves instantly caught your attention. Your head whipped to the right, your body jolting backwards from the sight. A Wanderer, and one of the most horrific ones you'd ever beheld. Long, tentacle-like limbs protruding from a lump of flesh that resembled a torso. Long talons with blade like claws emerging from the end of it’s extremities. And a mouth full of dozens of small teeth resembling razors, open and howling at you like a rabid animal.
The creature let out a deafening shriek, making you take one hand off your gun to cover one of your ears. You feared that if you didn't, it would've shattered your ear drums.
Without a split second after the creature had released its alright roar, you were shooting your gun. You aimed for the creature's head. It hadn't any eyes, just a flap of skin that hung over where anything even close to eyes would usually be. It was just a fleshy mass that had only one goal. To rip you to pieces.
As you repeatedly hit the creature with your bullets, it reached it’s spindly arms out to swing at you, continuously clawing for you in rapid succession. You had to keep jolting your body back to avoid being hit by it's talons. It was then that you realised you couldn't keep this up alone. This was a wanderer that couldn't be defeated by just one person. You needed the rest of your team but you couldn't be certain on where they were, or better yet it they were even alive.
Not knowing whether the tents around you housed people alive or dead was a sickening feeling. “Help! I need backup!” You yelled, but you were unsure whether you were calling out to people who were even still able to hear you. But you needed something, first the panic button did nothing and now this? Something was seriously wrong and worse, you had to face it seemingly alone.
The more frequent the Wanderer’s slashes at you came, the more desperate you realised you were. “Please!” You called again. “I-” Before you could desperately call again, a form shot in front of you, too quickly for your eyes to register straight away. It was light. A sudden beacon of bellowing brightness had come to act as a barrier between you and the wanderer currently trying to slash you open.
You fell back onto the ground, losing your footing to the mass in front of you. You saw the wanderer draw it's arm back for another swipe, but when it came back down to attack, it was met with a barrier. A gut-wrenching clanking sound came from the contact of the wanderer's claw with something metal. CLANK. And there it was again. Sparks ignited from the contact, flying off in different directions as they did.
That's when a glow came from within the Wanderer, one like you'd never seen before. A sudden and sharp whine of agony erupted from the creature, piercing your ears yet again, leading you to let go of your gun and cover your ears. You couldn't help it, your body physically forced you to drop your weapon and protect your hearing from the noise vibrating through your body. The creature’s veins shone through its skin, creating a disturbing show of its innards before it retreated, back into the shrubbery it had emerged from. Leaving you with whatever had made it retreat in the first place.
The figure’s silhouette was emphasised by the moonlight. You let out a sigh of relief when you realised it wasn't a creature, but the silhouette of a person. A human. At least, you hoped it was a human. It turned to you, making you reflectively scramble away, holding your gun in front of you.
“It's alright.” A soft voice spoke to you. “I'm not going to hurt you.” You heard the noise of a sword being put back into its seathe. So far, you only knew one person who fought with a sword. The figure continued to move towards you, bending down to match your height on the ground. “It's me.”
Only when it got closer did you realise what it meant by that. Up close to your face, you were met with Xavier. On one hand you were relieved that one of your coworkers was alright, but on the other hand you were intimidated by the pure show of power he'd just presented. That wasn't like nothing you'd ever seen out of a hunter before, and you'd completed all of your training.
“W-what was that!?” You explained, still keeping a firm hold on your gun.
Xavier sighed. Almost like this was an inconvenience to him rather than a dangerous and life-threatening wanderer attack. “I can't explain to you right now.” He said, offering his hand out to you. “Come on, we need to get to somewhere out of the way.”
You tensed at his hand, choosing to stand up yourself rather than take it. That's when you clocked the gun, aiming it directly at Xavier’s chest. “I'm not going anywhere with you until you explain what the hell that was! That wasn't anything I've ever seen before! Definitely nothing we were taught in training. What even are you!?”
Xavier put his hands up in surrender, trying not to trigger you to shoot him, but he still gave you a stony-faced expression. “This isn't the right time for this. Come on.” he lowered one hand, reaching out to grab you when you stepped away.
You opened your mouth to question him again, when you heard another rustle of bushes to your right. Yours and Xavier’s heads turned to look at where the sound had originated from in tandem. Shit. Was that another wanderer? Your gun’s barrel had changed from threatening Xavier to the empty darkness of the wilderness before you. You scanned the area, trying to lock onto any possible threat before it could lock onto you.
Your focus was so deeply on the environment in front of you, that you failed to notice that Xavier’s position had changed from a good few steps away from you, to right by your side. Before you had time to process it, he had one hand pinning your wrists together and the other over your mouth, preventing you from screaming.
Instantly, you began struggling against his grip and yelling muffled protests against his hand. “Mmphmph!” You exclaimed. He'd pulled you into himself and was dragging you backwards, away from the sound you'd both just heard.
“Sssh!” He whispered. “They're going to find us if you don't quiet down!” His tone was rushed, as he looked for some sort of cover he could get you two under. Your feet kept slipping from underneath you as Xavier pulled you back, leaving you scrambling to feel the solid earth beneath them.
After being dragged for a good few moments, Xavier finally ducked you two behind one of the tents. You were still struggling against him, your focus on getting free instead of hunting and killing Wanderers. “Mm!” You exclaimed, earning a sigh from your assailant. Xavier pulled you in close to his chest, letting you hear his soft but rapid breathing.
After a few moments of silence, Xavier moved from his position behind you to in front of you. Kneeling down as if he was trying to make himself seem less of a threat. He looked from his hand and then down to your heaving chest, evidence of your heavy breathing. His eyes looked almost guilty, sorry. But in your situation right now, you couldn't care less how he felt. He leaned in close to your face so he could speak to you without alerting the Wanderers. “If I let go, will you stay quiet?” He asked, his voice soft but his tone stern.
You looked at him for a few moments, still trying to get a control of your breathing pattern even though you could only breathe through your nose. Xavier’s bright blue eyes were boring into yours, as if he could anticipate everything you possibly could do. Like he'd done this before and knew all of the outcomes. In this situation, you'd do better to just do what he said rather than fight against him. So slowly and hesitantly, you nodded your head to agree that you'd stay quiet.
“Thank you.” Xavier whispered and he slowly lessened the pressure around your mouth until he took it away completely. His hand hovered in front of your face for a few moments, as if he was testing if you'd decide to scream for help or not. You backed away from him by a few centimetres, until your back it the tent. You held a hesitant and intimidated look on your face. Eventually Xavier let up and put his hands down, turning his attention from you to behind the tent you were both taking cover with.
“The others are alive..” he whispered. “But not conscious. These Wanderers…they…have some way of knocking people out without using physical force. But I'm not sure how.”
You felt a drop of relief in your stomach when Xavier told you your coworkers were in fact alive.
“Where is everyone..?” You asked, matching Xavier’s quiet tone. Instead of responding, Xavier pointed a gloved hand out to the Southernmost tent of the campsite.
You squinted your eyes in confusion. They were all in one tent? Why?
“I've seen unconscious bodies being carried to that tent by the Wanderers…” Xavier then clarified when you didn't provide him with a response. “I'm not sure why…but I can infer that it's most likely because these Wanderers need to feed. And their discovery of us is like their own personal buffet.”
“..Don't say that..” you grumbled. You looked at your watch, noticing the broken connection signal displayed on the screen. That explained why your alert hadn't alerted anybody. The signal was jammed. That was an issue as well as now you couldn't communicate with the rest of the corporation.
When Xavier didn't give you a response, you nicked he was trying his own Hunter’s watch, testing out the connection on his. “We need to find somewhere with signal…or a way to replace the one we already had.”
“Well we can't just leave them! People are going to die!” You exclaimed, before Xavier turned back around.
“Sssh..” he brought a finger to his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him. You knew that he wanted you quiet for good reason but there were people’s lives on the line right now. You didn't know if they were just unconscious or being eaten this second. Torn, painfully limb from limb. You couldn't have it.
You took a moment to regather your composure and looked back to your watch. Somewhere higher ground was going to be the best chance you got for signal. So that should be your main priority. “One of us needs to get a message out to the rest of the cooperation..” you pointed to a particular tree amongst the wilderness. “Up there should give us the best shot.”
Xavier followed your finger, looking up the tree. “Alright, how good are you at climbing?”
You shook your head. “You fight with a sword. For taking on a large amount of them all at once, a gun is going to be more useful.” You stated, earning a less than happy look from Xavier.
“You want me to go up there?”
You nudged him. “You're a fit guy, you can handle it.”
Xavier looked to the side, a ponderous expression across his soft and porcelain skin. “Fine.” He stood up. “Let's just get this done quickly.”
You nodded. “That's the plan. I'll draw their attention over here. Hopefully that'll give you enough time to get up there and send a message.”
The two of you gave each other one more determined look before breaking off. Xavier to the trunk of the tree and you to the middle of the campsite. You watched him make a running start, grasping the branches and pulling himself up like a determined squirrel. Once he'd gotten a decent ways up the tree, you aimed your gun towards the sky, covered your ear and shot.
Instantly, you heard the sounds of surprised growling of Wanderers. You span around on your feet, readily yourself to shoot from all angles. That's when the first ones made themselves known. They were stalking you like a cat it's prey. Slowly and hesitantly. You'd made a loud, threatening noise after all, you'd frightened them. But they were still ready to attack you, evident with how they approached. You weren't safe just because you'd managed to intimidate the creatures.
There was one, then two, then three and then before your eyes there was a huge congregation of them. It was admittedly more than you'd anticipated. It seemed you'd attracted all the attention of the Wanderers in the area. They were grouping together to have a better chance of taking you down.
You steadied yourself on your feet. You just needed to hold them off long enough for Xavier to get a signal out to the rest of the corporation.
So that's exactly what you started to do. One Wanderer pounced at you, prompting you to immediately shoot at its fleshy head. The confidence of the first instilled the same quality in the others, as they all began to run at you. Thankfully, your training had taught you to use your surroundings to get ahead of your opponents. You stood by the base of the cliff the camp was set up with and jumped out of the way before one Wanderer charged at you, making it hit the middle of the assorted rocks and sediment instead of you. One Wanderer got close enough to try and take a bite of you. But you took advantage of the millisecond it took for it to open its mouth to fire your gun down the creature's horrific throat.
You were breathing heavy, tempted to ball over and just accept your case. But that wasn't an option right now. So you steadied your gaze on the myriad of Wanderers approaching you. You drew your gun once again and aimed. You pulled the trigger and-
White pain. White hot pain from your back went shooting up your spine.
“Aagh!” You made a strangled noise. You couldn't tell what had caused such excruciating pain in your back until it came out of the other side of you.
You expected the talon of a Wanderer or even a massive gash out of the side of you where it has sunk its teeth into your flesh. But no such wound existed. Instead, what extended the width of your body was a sword. Sharp and daunting.
It was removed from your body as quickly as it entered, leading to a pool of quickly oozing blood coming out of the new open wound you had. Your knees buckled under you as you tried to deal with the seething pain in your back.
“I'm sorry.” A voice spoke out from behind you. A soft and comforting voice. One extremely unfit for the situation. “I missed all of your organs so you won't bleed out as long as I stop the immediate bleeding.”
Was that…Xavier? Had he just stabbed you? Why? Why on earth would he have driven him to literally stab you in the back? Did he decide that this wasn't a battle worth fighting and want to feed you to the Wanderers so he could run away?
You doubled over, clutching your wound with your hands. Although you noticed that the Wanderers didn't pounce. They didn't even growl, they simply sniffed the air around them. The scent of your blood would have been filling the air. And before long the creatures began to back off. One by one they backed away from you and turned back into the woods, away from the campsite.
You lost your view of them after that though because you scrunched your eyes together as a surge of pain rushed over you. You heard the clatter of a sword to the ground and then felt Xavier’s hands on you.
“G-get…off me…” you muttered. You didn't really want the man who had just stabbed you to be holding you.
“It's alright. I got the signal. Backup will be arriving soon.” Xavier shifted you onto your side so he could get a better look at your injury.
You immediately felt another intense stinging sensation through the wound. “A-aagh!” You gritted your teeth hard. “Stop it! Stop it!” You yelled, biting your lip to prevent you from screaming any louder.
“I'm stopping the bleeding.” Xavier said, bluntly. As if he didn't just stab you. “Please calm down..”
You felt pressure around your waist. Xavier’s jacket. He was also missing his gloves. From what you could feel, you could only assume he'd shoved them into the wound and then tied his jacket around your waist to keep the pressure on it.
“Uugg…” you groaned, going lightheaded from the amount of pain. Your mind was like static and your vision was beginning to cloud as the pain came in searing hot waves.
Xavier’s cool hands brought you back to full consciousness briefly, holding either side of your face as he looked down at you. “Don't go just yet. You can fall asleep when the backup gets here, but you can't go right now. I'm not sure I'll be able to keep you stable by myself.”
You gave him a dazed look, your brain only interpreting half of what he was saying to you. Xavier lowered his head, talking closer to your ear so you'd understand him better. “Please…listen to my voice. Stay awake for me…” his tone was soft and tender. Almost making you want to hear more of it. But you were still hesitant to listen to the man who'd stabbed you.
“Uuugh…shut up..” you mumbled. That was the best insult you could come up with. The pain was still throbbing all around your body, being its worst by your back. Your blood felt as if it stung in your veins, your whole body felt swollen, pulsating. It wasn't long before you began to feel light. Your body felt as if it was being lifted off the ground and your brain began to feel as if it was full of cotton.
“No!” You heard Xavier’s voice, but it was muffled by the cotton wool occupying your mind. “Please. Stay awake, Y/N!” You felt him shaking your head slightly, as if that was supposed to keep your mind conscious. You felt inclined to listen to him, but you didn't have it in you anymore. Your body was begging you for rest, and you couldn't fight to ignore it anymore. The last sensation you felt was your heavy eyelids closing and some muffled protests to you. But you couldn't make any of them out.
___________
The next time you woke up, you were blinded by the pure white of a hospital ceiling. You felt extremely disorientated, dizzy.
You looked around, trying to assess your surroundings. You were in a hospital gown and there was an IV attached to your left arm. It seemed you were in your own room rather than a ward, something you appreciated.
As your senses began to come back to you, you became aware of voices outside the door. You didn't know if they were voices who knew you or just patrons of the hospital visiting their loved one. But it all became clearer when the door opened.
You were greeted with two familiar faces. The leader of your division of the Deepspace Corporation, Jenna. And, your doctor… “Zayne?”. You exclaimed. He was holding a clipboard and had a serious expression on his face. You forgot he worked in the hospital at the best of times, this being one of them. You tried to shuffle out of his view, but being bed-bound and attached to an IV, it proved difficult. You hated Zayne seeing you injured. Partly because he was someone you knew from your childhood and you didn't want him to worry. But it was mostly because of the way he would reprimand you about getting injured.
“Y/N.” Jenna spoke, she looked sympathetic to your situation. “How are you feeling?”
You blinked at her for a few moments, getting your bearings. “I-”. You cringed at the sound of your own voice. Raspy and sore. You hadn't noticed when you'd seen Zayne, but now the initial shock of him was over. “What…happened? When…when…did I get here?”
Jenna nodded and Zayne wrote something important seemingly on his clipboard at your answer. “Xavier called-”
“Xavier!” You interrupted. That was right! That literal back-stabbing bastard! “He-!”
“Keep calm, Y/N.” Zayne spoke to you. “You don't want to get yourself worked up.” He was always very matter of fact, taking the favour of logic over emotion most of the time. “Not at the risk of reopening that wound.”
“We know what he did.” Jenna patted your hand. “And he's under investigation for the actions he took.”
You weren't sure whether that comforting information or not. ‘Under Investigation’ implied Xavier was gonna receive some punishment for literally stabbing you. But that still didn't answer why he did it. “What does that mean?” You asked.
“It means that he's being interrogated for why on earth he thought it would be a good idea to stab you.” Jenna replied. You thought over her words. Yes, you didn't appreciate being stabbed, but there was a detail about it that hadn't come up in this investigation yet. The Wanderers left after he stabbed you. Now whether that was due to Xavier stabbing you or because the Wanderers decided they didn't want to fight anymore was up for question. But there was no doubt that it happened.
“Wait…there was something that happened after he stabbed me..” you croaked.
“Yes?” Jenna asked. Zayne also lifted his head up from his clipboard.
“When he took his sword…out of me..” you cringed at the thought that a sword had been driven from your back to your front. “And I started to bleed out…the Wanderers…they left.”
“They left” Jenna rose a thoughtful hand to her chin. “As in, they all retreated?”
You nodded.
“Wanderers are known to be repelled by certain things. Of course the bullets manufactured by the Deepspace Corporation being one. However, the metal in those bullets aren't the same types of metals found within the human circulatory system.” Zayne stated, looking from you and then to Jenna.
“And yet the Wanderers still retreated..hm.” Jenna furrowed her eyebrows for a few moments, clearly in thought before she looked back up to you again. “This was very valuable information, Y/N. I'll make sure it's brought up within the questioning. Now, I'll have to take my leave.” She nodded to you before walking out of the room, effectively leaving you alone with Zayne.
Zayne hummed as he put his clipboard down at Jenna’s departure. “Didn't they teach you methods of how not to get stabbed in the Corporation?” You knew it was coming. You just didn't know when. He always reprimanded you for getting injured when you did.
“They didn't teach me to anticipate that my own coworkers would stab me.” You answered, folding your arms.
Zayne shrugged and walked to sit on the chair by your bedside. “I thought you Hunters are taught to ‘expect the unexpected’. Would the betrayal of a coworker not come under that umbrella?” His green eyes were like a stone wall, constant and unmoving. Effectively contrasting the striking irises of Xavier, whose eyes had a habit of driving through yours and into your brain.
You huffed at Zayne’s words. “I just had a sword driven through me from front to back. Do you not have some words of comfort for me?”
Zayne kept his stoic expression, adjusting his glasses. “You'll get to be off work for about four months.”
You glared at him. “You know that's not what I want to hear.” You didn't like being on any sort of leave from work, even if it was just a sick day. Every day you spent off you felt useless. You knew there was people in danger, Wanderer attacks and none of them could you help or change. You hated that. Feeling useless and just sitting around in your apartment.
“Yes, but I'm your Doctor. And about the only person who can give you orders that over-ride anything your work can say.”
You grumbled at Zayne’s tone.
“You’ll still be paid in full for the first two months.” He said as if it was meant to comfort you. “I read the Hunter’s ‘Conditions for unexpected leave’ on their website. Sounds pretty good if you ask me.”
You huffed once again. “You'd hate it if I told you, you had to go on leave for four months.” You started, copying Zayne’s matter of fact tone.
“Well, yes.” He admitted. “But this is about you, not me.” A silence settled between you, you being upset about your leave and Zayne knowing that you were. After a few moments he stood up from the chair and picked his clipboard back up. “You should be good for discharge in a week or two. But you'll have to dress and clean that wound by yourself when we let you go.”
You nodded. “Sure.”
He gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You knew Zayne wanted the best for you. It just came across as cold with the exterior he had, especially when he was in ‘Doctor’ mode.
__________
Getting to sleep that night proved difficult. It was hard to switch positions hooked up to an IV anyway, but you weren't allowed to move from the position on your back as it was what held pressure on your wound. So you were stuck in the same position, only being able to move your arms and legs. On your back you could only shuffle a little, you had to in order to prevent bed sores. They were a whole other injury that you definitely didn't want to deal with on top of your stab wound.
You managed to finally get your body to rest but only for about an hour. Your eyes opened against your will once again.
You looked around your room, the hospital equipment around you looking all the more ominous in the dark. That's when a sudden draft brought your attention to the balcony window on your right. Did a nurse come in and open your window when you were asleep? You certainly hadn't opened it, being that you couldn't leave your bed.
You pulled yourself up to sit, wincing at the feeling of the bandages wrapped around your torso. The moon was bright in the sky, illuminating parts of your room with a cool glow.
“How are you holding up?” A sudden and clear voice spoke from the bottom of your bed.
You jumped at the sound. You whipped your head around to see who could possibly be in your room, when you were meant with emptiness. There was no one there.
That's when you felt hands holding you by the shoulders. “It's alright.” You recognised that tone. “It's me.” You'd heard that before. Those exact words before.
Instantly, you glared up at the familiar face holding you. “You…”. You were seething. There he was. Xavier. The moonlight formed a halo lighting up the back of his hair as it flooded into the room. Making him look like some sort of deity. The complete opposite impression you had of him.
“Me..” he responded in his calm tone, eyes cool as if he didn’t stab you and put you in hospital.
Quickly, you raised your hand and smacked him across the face, the sound of your hand on his cheek echoing across the room- sharp and blunt. Earning a paint grunt from him. “Ah!” Xavier exclaimed, letting go of your shoulders to hold his cheek. “H-Hold on.” He put his other hand, the one not nursing the red mark forming on his cheek, up. “I can explain.”
“Explain what!?” You yelled. You knew it wouldn't be good for you, or your injury, but you were ready to rip the IV out of your arm and tackle him to the ground. Maybe even stab him and give him a taste of his own medicine. “You stabbed me! Front to back! Your literally put a hole through my body! How did you even get in!?”
“Look, I know you’re mad at me. And you have every reason to be. But just let me explain before you try and hit me again.”
You were livid, your body practically steaming with how angry you were. But, against all of your better judgement, you wanted to hear him out. Well, you didn't, but apparently the logical thinking side of your brain did. So you took a deep breath and folded your arms. “You've got five minutes before I lunge at you.”
Xavier picked himself back up, running his cheek one last time before he let his hand fall down to his side. “Thank you.” He said graciously. He took a breath before opening his mouth again. “I'm not who you think I am.”
You gave him a bewildered look. So what? He was going to pull some sort of identity shenanigans on you to get your trust back? What on earth was this guy’s problem. “What's that supposed to mean.”
“I can't explain it all in five minutes. But the basics are that I'm from the future. A different timeline.” You wanted to combat the ridiculousness of his words. That couldn't possibly be a true claim. But he was dead serious, with no room for argument or contradiction in his words. “And in my timeline, you've died in every way possible.”
That struck you right in the chest. “What!?” You exclaimed.
“I know it sounds hard to believe, but it's true. I've had to live two hundred and fourteen years on earth, all while knowing it's fate and yours. In my timeline, or rather, in the future humans had to leave earth for another planet as it became uninhabitable. The planet they moved to was called Philos and that is where I am from.”
You were speechless. Your mouth was gaping open at the information being fed to you, so Xavier continued. “There was another version of you that existed in my timeline. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't save her. I had to see her die in every horrible way possible, watch as her face scrunched up in pain and agony as she passed on.” His eyes looked pained. Those sapphires morphing into a deep and dark ocean. One hiding many secrets, ones you were afraid to divulge. “That's why I came here. Because if I couldn't save my Y/N….then maybe…I could save you.”
You didn't want to fathom what he was saying. It was like the information was being completely rejected by your brain. Like it didn't make sense. Because it didn't!
You reached your hand for the IV. “That five minutes is nearly up…”
“Wait!” Xavier lunged forward a few steps, putting his hands out, ready to stop you.
You waited. Sizing him up.
He was tense in the shoulders, a concerned look on his face. Although you couldn't tell if the concern was from your lack of believing him or the fact your hand was getting tighter around the IV. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back for a moment before they fell back over his forehead.
“Look, I knew that Wanderer attack was going to kill you. Because I've seen it in the future.”
You shut up, he'd caught your attention again. “Keep talking.” You said sternly.
“I’ve seen it bite your head off, or split you in half. It's torn the skin from your body or completely scalped you.” Xavier paused to take a breath. “But it didn't get you this time.” Xavier let out a sigh after those last words. As if even he couldn't believe what he'd just said. Even if he was crazy, you couldn't deny the adamant look of relief and satisfaction on his face. As if he truly was glad you were alive. “I stopped it from touching you because I did it first.”
Your lips came together to form a thin line. You didn't want to admit it, but you could feel his argument winning you over. But a very small majority of your brain cells. But still winning you over nevertheless.
“Alright, fine. Say you are some sort of old-ass immortal dude stuck in a time loop. How do you prove that?”
“I don't look old…” Xavier muttered. As if he were an auntie at a family reunion, stating her age was nothing to be startled by. “Anyway, I guess I should be on a census somewhere. Oh, I also have a telegram from the government congratulating me on my one hundredth birthday.”
You bit your lip, considering his words. You had already gone past the realm of insane with this whole conversation. What did you have to lose from humoring him? “Fine.”
Xavier blinked at you. “Fine?”
“Fine. If you can provide me with evidence of what you're saying you are, I'll believe what you tell me. Bring me those censuses and find me that telegram. Anything and everything that proves what you're saying. Use your future vision to predict what will happen, I don't care.”
Xavier’s sad eyes seemed to glint as you said those words. You were going to hear him out.
“Alright. I will.” Xavier put a hand over his chest and bowed to you before he turned to the window he'd come in from. “I'll see you later. I…I can't tell you how happy I am that you're alive. The world has always been better with you in it.” He gave you a small smile before he leaped off the balcony, making you whip your head forward.
“Wh-!? Ah!” It was then that you were reminded of your crippling back injury. Well, if he fell from there then at least this craziness would be over…
~~~Present day~~~
It was pouring outside and you had to go out to the convenience store for lunch and also for dinner. With your back still being bandaged up, you'd had to get your groceries delivered to your apartment for the past few weeks. Zayne had also insisted on coming over a few times, due to the fact that ‘anything you could cook would probably put you in an earlier grave’- of course Zayne’s words not yours.
Now, while you did remember to bring a waterproof coat, as to not get your bandages wet, you made the mistake of picking a coat with no hood. Great. And now your hair was soaked and so was the plastic bag you'd brought from the store. At least all your products were in plastic wrappers.
Outside the complex, you had to search your body for the card that let you into the building. Trouser pockets? No. Shirt pockets? No. In your boots? No. Shit.
You felt your heart drop in your chest when you figured out you didn't have your card on you. One of the annoying parts of your building was that for some reason, you didn't need to tap anything to get out- due to the cameras scanning your face determining whether you're a resident of the building or not. But you definitely needed that card to get back in. What were you going to do? Most offices and apartments didn't have receptions anymore, there was no need now that everything was controlled through cards, chips and watches. It was times like these though that you wished you were born ten or twenty years earlier, to a time where humanity didn't solely rely on technology to function.
The cold of the rain was starting to hit you now, it was to the point that it had already soaked your hair and was now running down your face. “Ugh…shit..” You put your hand over your face, regretting all of the life choices that had led you here to begin with. That's when the sound of the rain pelting and taunting you changed. As if it was hitting a small and flimsy roof above your head.
“Hm?” You looked up to see an umbrella above your head. Not that it was doing much to keep you dry now that you were already dripping with water, but you appreciated not being in the rain anymore. You turned around to see who was holding the umbrella, only to be met with a man you hadn't seen in months. Xavier.
“You..?” You said, your tone accusatory.
“...Me.” Xavier responded, looking down to you with that usual nonchalant tone of his.
There he was, in all his angelic glory. He looked harmless out of his uniform. Cute even. Especially in that peach cardigan he had on. He was dressed like a little old man. Fitting for the age he claimed to be. But you knew better, while you weren't all too sure on his backstory yet, you knew he was far from harmless.
You also hadn't seen him since the night he'd shown up by your hospital bed. He jumped out of that window and disappeared into the night. You hadn't even seen him at work and when you'd asked around coworkers apparently he'd taken some ‘unprompted leave’. How well timed. So needless to say, suddenly having him back in your life wasn't the most comforting thing to you.
Your body instantly went into defense mode. The soft facade doing nothing to rid you of the memories of his sword being driven through your back. You could still feel the shooting pains it sent through your body. It was a sensation you never thought you'd be subjected to, not even in your line of work.
You quickly sprung into action, shoving Xavier into a wall, dropping your convenience store bag. You had one arm against his chest and the other pinning his free hand to the wall. He still kept a hold of the umbrella though, keeping you both out of the rain regardless.
“Ugh!” He grunted, big blue eyes wide at your actions.
“What do you want?” You hissed, keeping your tone low.
“Y/N…” he spoke your name softly, like he was planning on being the fairy prince to sweep you off your feet.
“Don't give me that.” You put more pressure on your grip. “You disappear then randomly show up outside my apartment? What are you, a stalker?”
You thought he'd have some visceral reaction to your words. Even for a guy as mysterious as him, a stalker was a title nobody wanted. Well, if they were level headed anyway. But he had no such reaction, keeping his face and tone calm. It was almost infuriating in a way. “...I live here..”
That caught you off guard. You were joking. No way. If he lived here, then how come you hadn't seen him? It'd been months of Xavier supposedly being on leave and you hadn't seen him at all. You must've been pondering his words for too long, because eventually Xavier spoke up again. “..Can you...let go of me?” When you made no move to do so, he struggled a bit, writhing his wrist around under your grasp. “...Please…?”
“What do you mean you live here!?” You responded sharply, looking at him with suspicion.
“I mean I live here. Apartment four hundred and thirty five, fourth floor.” He recounted. That was the apartment above you! That can't be right. The man that had managed to mysteriously disappear out of and then magically reappear in your life multiple times lived above you? “Y/N, please? You're soaked through.” He said, wriggling against your grip once again. “Can we at least get inside before you tie me to a chair and interrogate me?”
You glared at him for a few moments before those eyes got to you. He really knew how to look pathetic. Plus the rain was refusing to let up anyway, and you couldn't interrogate if you were sick. “Fine.” And with that, you let up on him, pulling away. Xavier let out a breath of relief at the pressure alleviated from his person.
“Thank you.” You stepped back and he moved himself in front of the lock you couldn't open earlier. Instead of a card, watch or chip implanted into his wrist, Xavier produced a key.
A key? You didn't think they were still in circulation in Linkon due to the modernisation of the city. But there it was. Xavier moved his hand to a growth of plants beneath the scanning lock of the building, moving them out of the way to reveal an old key hole. He inserted the piece of metal in his hand into it and sure enough, the door unlocked. He shook his umbrella a few times before closing it and walking inside, holding the door open for you to follow him in. You muttered some sort of thanks, even though you weren't all that thankful to him.
“I have that census and telegram.” he stated, walking over to the lift and beckoning you to follow him.
“Yeah?” You probed.
“They’re in my apartment. I had to go digging through public archives to find them though. It has been over one hundred years after all.”
That made more sense. “I'm guessing you needed to take leave from work to go through the archives then?”
“Well, not just that. But that was partly the reason.” He just loved leaving his words ambiguous, didn't he? Never a straight answer. “Are you comfortable coming into my apartment?”
Were you? Probably not the most comfortable you could be going to someone’s home. But you didn't really want to invite Xavier into your apartment. “At least if you kill me in your apartment then my blood will be all over your floor..” you muttered.
Xavier hummed. “Not if I clean up the evidence and hide your body.”
You gave him a look like he'd actually just threatened to kill you. He responded with one of guilt. “Bad joke..” he muttered before turning away from you to gaze longingly at the doors of the elevator.
Finally, the doors pinged open to your floor, freeing you of the awkwardness that was being in an enclosed space with Xavier. You left first, despite the fact you didn't know which apartment was his. Xavier followed you, stopping a few doors past where you had wandered down the hall to.
Xavier produced yet another key. A key again? You hadn't seen two keys in one day since you lived with your Grandmother and childhood best friend, since she had a habit of not wanting to accept modern technology. He'd told you that he was over two centuries old but couldn't he at least have evolved with technology? “What is it with you and keys?” You spoke as he finally got the door open.
“I find them easier to keep track of than chips or key cards. You could do with one.” He jabbed, a small smile coming to his face.
“Watch it old man.” You jabbed back, making Xavier frown again.
“...I'm not an old man..” he grumbled back, letting you inside.
You looked around Xavier’s apartment as you entered, wiping your wet shoes on the welcome mat as you did. It was a nice, cozy even. The door opened straight into his living room where there were wrap around shelves with books and various different planters. The living room was in the same room as the kitchen, with counters, an oven, fridge and sink on the back wall. There was also a dining table against the window and a pair of sliding doors that opened up onto the balcony. The place was also complete with more plants. It seemed Xavier had a view of them and they seemed to be in pretty good health judging from the pigment of their leaves.
Xavier put his key in a small plate on top of a shoe rack as he came in. His shoes were dripping from the rain as he lifted them up to put them away. But he then realised that leaving them in there to marinate with his clean shoes probably wasn't the best idea.
“You should put them by the radiator.” Xavier pointed to the adjacent wall to the shoe rack. “They'll dry there.”
You listened to him and put your shoes on the other side of the radiator to his, letting them dry off.
Xavier then pointed down the hallway. “The bathroom is the first door on the right. You can get showered and changed in there if you want.”
“Change?” You hadn't brought any clothes with you. Why would you have? You thought you were only going to the convenience store.
“Oh, right. Probably should've stopped off at your place, huh? Um, you could borrow some of my clothes if you don't want to walk all the way to your apartment.”
You were hesitant. “Mmm…I don't think your clothes would fit me.”
“Lemme show them to you.” And with that Xavier walked down the hall and opened a door at the end of it. He then turned around to see that you weren't there and were still in the living room. “You can follow me.”
“...” You nodded and waddled down the hall after him. His room was pretty normal. A regular bed spread and a window to the left wall. He had another planter handing off his window with yellow flowers resembling pansies in it.
While you were looking around, Xavier produced a large T-shirt and sweatpants. “Mm…they’re not the most fashionable. But they're dry.”
You assessed his clothes. They actually looked like they'd fit you and you weren't really in the mood to keep being soaking wet. So you nodded. “Alright.”
“You can change in here or in the bathroom if you if you're more comfortable.” Xavier offered, laying the clothes out on his bed for you to take. “I'll get you a towel.”
He left the room, soon returning with a fluffy white towel. “I'll have those documents for when you're changed.”
“Thank you.” You smiled to Xavier as he closed the door behind him.
You weren't sure what to think right now. On one hand, he was the guy that had stabbed you, put you in hospital, and made you take time off of work. But on the other, he'd taken you into his home to shelter you from the rain and told you he was from a different timeline in a future where you die. Come to think of it that wasn't really a good balance of pros and cons. But you were here now, you might at well see this through. At least he was cute.
You locked the door before hastily changing, not wanting to leave yourself vulnerable in Xavier’s apartment for too long. You did still have an injury on your back after all. You used the towel to dry your body off and changed into Xavier’s clothes. You wrapped your hair in the towel he'd given you. You picked up your old clothes but you weren't sure where to put them and they were soaking your arms by you holding them. You unlocked the door and emerged from Xavier’s room. “Xavier!?” You called out. There was silence for a few moments before he popped his head out of a hole in the ceiling. “What the hell?” You exclaimed.
“Yes?” He answered casually, as if he expected you wouldn't want an explanation for why he was now in the roof.
“I wanted to know where you want my old clothes, but now I'm more interested in why you're up there.” You walked over to where he was. Did he have an attic? You didn't have an attic in your apartment.
“For your clothes, you can put them in the washer.” He stuck his arm out and pointed to his kitchen space. “And I'm up here because that's where those documents are.” He fiddled around up there for another few moments before he exclaimed. “Ah, here they are.” He then produced a ladder from the hole in the ceiling. That made more sense, it was retractable. Xavier came down from his little shaft in the roof and you put your wet clothes into his washing machine.
“Here.” He gestured you over to his couch. He'd made a pile of all his files on his coffee table and he was sorting them into their own piles.
“Wow..” you exclaimed. “That's a lot.”
Xavier shrugged. “Well, you don't live for over two centuries without doing quite a lot.”
You joined him on the couch, unraveling your hair from the towel turban you'd put it in and drying it through. The towel was frizzing it up, but you couldn't really care at the moment, you'd just tie it back or something to get it out of your face.
“Here.” Xavier handed you a census from 1948. That was exactly 100 years ago. The paper was brown, with frayed edges and mysterious stains dotted all around it. But looking down the names of different families in households at the time, there it was. Xavier's name. But here that name was listed as ‘Xavier Wang Zi’.
“Your last name is Wang Zi?” You questioned. Seeing a man who shared Xavier’s first name on a 1948 census wasn't exactly the strongest evidence of someone being a time-travelling guy who was centuries old.
“No.” He said bluntly. “I've had to change it every eighty to one hundred years or so, so that I'm not listed as the oldest human in existence.”
That was a good point actually. What even was he? He'd told you that night in the hospital that he's from another planet. That would make him an alien. But physically, he looked just like any other human. “Xavier.” You turned to face him. “What are you, actually?”
“What do you mean?” He looked at you.
“You told me you were from some planet that humans moved to, right?”
He nodded. “Right.”
“So then is this what you actually are?” You gestured to him. “The only thing out of place about you is your hair, if that's your real colour.” Xavier touched his hair as you mentioned it. “Like do you not have another alien form or something? Or is this what you really are? You look human.”
“I don't have some sort of other form. This is how I really look. I had quite long hair when I first came here, but I had to cut it to make it more manageable. But that's all I've changed, aside from the general clothing and language differences that come with human evolution. To you though I guess I am an alien. I'm not from this planet after all.” Xavier patted his hair. “This is also my natural colour.”
“Really? So you're telling me that all humans evolved to do on a different planet is have naturally silver hair?”
Xavier hummed. “Not really. Only me and my father have this hair colour in my Kingdom. It's a staple of our bloodline, I assume is due to its regal nature.”
That perked your ears up. “What do you mean by that? ‘Regal nature'?”
“I'm the Prince of Philos. Did I not tell you that?”
“No!” You exclaimed. Now he was even more fantastical, just as you were getting behind the whole time travel thing. Well you weren't but this was just another spanner in the works.
“Huh. Well I am. That's why I came here. Well, it's why I had access to come here. I can travel across Deepspace due to my royal blood and status.”
“So you're a Prince as well as being a time traveler whose over two hundred years old?” You blinked at him, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Yes.” He answered.
“And you balance all of that with also being a Deepspace Hunter?”
“Yes.” He answered again.
You leaned back on the couch, letting yourself sink into the plush fabric behind you. “Is there anything you're not!? Goodness gracious.”
“I’m not an old man.”
“That's another thing.” You sat back up, pointing your finger at him. He furrowed his brows, like he was getting ready to be offended. “I'm sure it's some sort of time travel magic but why aren't you old? Why do you look so young?” You poked Xavier’s cheek.
He huffed and thought about your words, rubbing his cheek where you'd poked him. “I noticed I wasn't aging around twenty years in. I-”
“Really? It took you 20 years to realise you weren't aging?”
“I thought I just had really lucky genes.” He shrugged. “But when you're supposed to be in your forties and still look young enough to be ID checked at bars, you start to realise something’s wrong.”
“So what age are you?” You asked. Looking at Xavier he looked to be somewhere in his 20s.
“You mean in my appearance? I came to earth when I was twenty three.”
“23!?” You exclaimed.
“I look twenty three.” He exclaimed after you, matter-of-factly.
“Sure. Are you mentally 23?” You didn't know if it was rude to ask someone that question or not. But this was a very unique situation, so you guessed that regular etiquette could be bypassed.
“I mean, I don't feel any older or wiser. I've lived through a lot though. So I guess I'm a twenty three year old with baggage.”
You shrugged. “What 23 year old isn't nowadays?" You pondered the information you'd just been fed. “You're a very complicated person, you know?”
“I know.” He paused, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. “Anyway.” He delved into one of the piles again. “Here's that telegram.”
He took the census from your lap and handed you an equally as aged telegram. You looked over it. Written in fancy, old looking writing was Xavier’s name again, with a different last name this time. It made sense if this was the telegram for him turning 100. You looked at the date stated at the top and it read 1911. You scanned over the lettering before you noticed something. “Is that the English Coat of Arms?” That certainly didn't look like it had come out of Linkon, or even anywhere in Whitesand Bay. You'd only seen this coat of arms once before and it was on some old memorabilia from your Grandfather.
Xavier nodded. “Yeah. George the fifth.”
“You lived in England?”
“There were higher wages there at the time. Why not?” While you were still hesitant you were feeling more inclined to believe his story. These two pieces of history he'd handed you were quite convincing and he had piles more of it on the table in front of you.
“...” You furrowed your brows.
“What is it?” Xavier commented.
“I don't trust you.” You started, making sure he knew where you stood.
“Okay.” He responded nonchalantly.
“But I want to believe you.”
He smiled, his eyes showing the relief he was feeling. “Really?” He questioned, checking you weren't pulling his leg.
“I guess so.” You tangled your fingers in your still-damp hair before you felt Xavier’s hand on yours.
“Thank you.” He brought your hand to his chest, as if it were the most sacred item he could possess and he feared to let it go.
“Don't make me regret it.” You scolded, but you let him keep a hold of your hand. Pulling it away from him for some reason felt wrong. But you couldn't tell why.
if this fandom falls over so god damn fast, not only gooseworx will make it bad on purpose (cuz they warned us it would be like that) i really enjoyed this pilot and i really want it to become a series so pretty please be a nice and healthy fandom for the love of god
Character: Reggie Mantle and Male Reader older brother
Universe: Riverdale
Warnings: Just a little violence
Why did you have to agree to this? Why did you let your parents drag you into something like this? Why couldn't you just stay in Cambridge where your parents couldn't reach you? But no, you had to crawl back as soon as they called. Your father knew full well that you still sought his approval after all these years, and he pulled on your heartstrings until you agreed to return to their home and look after your brother for a few weeks. Because he apparently wasn't doing well at school.
But nothing was as it seemed. When you entered the house you called your childhood home, there was not the little boy who always wanted to be near you, but a moody teenager, almost of age, lying half naked on the couch, showing off his perfectly sculpted upper body.
The moment Reggie saw you, his face contorted with anger.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked with a harsh tone, very different from the loving voice he had used towards you as a child.
Already done with this shit, you drop your bags to the floor still at the front door. Eye rolling, you closed the door behind you and went to your lazily sitting brother.
“Our parents thought it would be good for me to come here and look after you while they are away. They hope I can jog your walnut-sized brain.”
Your brother mocked you dismissively. After which, he stood up from the couch and walked towards you. The two of you were at the same level, staring into each other's eyes. He became noticeably taller, and you couldn't miss how wide he was getting. Football seemed to be good for him. You never liked team sports, mostly because you were a cowardly child who hated exercise.
Reggie suddenly tried to push you, but you stood your ground, your eyes glowing fiery. You, too, have become stronger thanks to the gym.
“Oh, I see. You’re trying to mark your territory like a dog? Or do you want to test who the man in the house is?” you asked him, grinning widely as his face turned into hatred.
You could see the movement of his arms before he even tried to hit you. You duck away with ease, only to give him an uppercut. He flew onto the couch. But somehow, he quickly got back on his feet. In the meantime, you got yourself into position, already prepared for your stubborn brother to jump back to his feet.
“Trust me, baby brother, this won’t be a good idea.”
You tried to get him to stop his stupid behavior you really tried, but he didn't listen. He thoughtlessly tried to attack you again, but you knocked him down even faster than before. You weren't the best boxer, but you learned quickly.
With just two hits, you knocked out Reggie. Looking down at your brother, you could only sigh. Was he always so hateful? Or is he still angry that you up and left when you were sixteen?
Your brother was obviously an early bloomer. He was already goddamn handsome. It took you years to get anywhere close to it. If you were honest, you were pretty jealous of it. You were almost twenty-three, and your little shitter of a brother was barely seventeen, and yet he looked just as good as you. Maybe a few more hits could help?
Before you could demolish his face out of jealous reflex with your fists, you shook yourself out of these thoughts. Instead, you placed one arm under his upper back and one under his legs. With some effort, you lifted your brother into your arms.
“Shit, you’re heavy,” you said through gritted teeth.
Carrying your brother upstairs to his bedroom, you carefully lay him down on his soft bed, breathing a sigh of relief as his weight was lifted from your arms. Even after years of training in the gym, you couldn't have carried him any longer than this.
You gently put the blanket over him and check his pulse to be on the safe side. Feeling like everything was fine, you looked around.
With a growing headache, you knew you couldn't leave his room in this chaos. He was such a clean freak as a kid, but now he's grown into what you were as a teenager: a hurricane.
You took out hidden fast food rappers, something your parents wouldn't allow their star athlete son to eat. Some dishes that could almost walk, and of course clothes. His room smelled like a high school locker room. You didn't mind the smell since gyms don't smell much different, but it unsettled you inside. For just a second, a fleeting moment, you imagined your brother in an inappropriate way that shocked you to your core. You never thought you would think of your brother like this. To be fair, the asshole has grown into one hell of an attractive guy.
After you cleaned his room in record time, you stared at his sleeping silhouette for just a moment. He still looked as sweet as ever. You walked close to him. As you stood in front of him, you gently brushed some strands of hair out of his face and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. A bedtime ritual you had when you were both younger.
“Sleep well, little shit,” you murmured against his head with a big smile, hoping he wouldn't remember anything the next day.
As you moved away from him towards the door, a sudden grab on your arm turned you around, only to be pulled into someone, your brother. In his sleep, he somehow managed to grab you and pull you into him. As you lay on his bed, he immediately laid his head on your chest, wrapped both arms around you and one leg as if you were a big pillow, and just slept.
Initially, you were stunned by the situation but soon found it amusing, to the point where you almost busted out laughing. However, you managed to stop yourself just in time. Instead, you placed your right hand on your brother's head and gently stroked it. You knew Reggie was a deep sleeper, and it was unlikely that he would wake up anytime soon. So, you prepared yourself for a long day ahead of you.
[when we don’t understand someone we fall in love with them. when we realize the individual’s truth, we say they weren’t who we thought. So love is nothing but an illusion.] - abbas kiarostami.
From the streets of Naples you can gaze at the waters of the Lungomare Caracciolo. From the alley he sought out those waters, exhaling cold air, slowly lighting a cigarette. I stood in my own corner of the alley watching him.
I know all there is to know about him.
Jake.
Tonight I’ll approach him as a stranger.
I ask to bum a cigarette. He looks down at me with pursed lips.
At his silence I mention the beauty of the seafront that I know he admires. While mumbling my words he places the cigarette I asked for not in my hands but between my lips. I no longer am speaking and he is no longer looking at the seafront. He looks at me, flicking the zippo lighter flame. His knuckles on the brass are bony and slightly abraded.
I take the newly lit cigarette and slowly inhale, part my lips, exhale. He tells me I look familiar, he saw me at the banquet. I nod and say I saw him too, that I’m attracted to familiar faces. He laughs huskily. He tells me he actually knows of me. He does from my association with Riki.
Jake seems to know that I'm close with Riki, but he doesn't know that I was taken in by Riki's father in Japan.
Riki took over Nishimura Atelier, which his father and mine once owned before he passed away. My father and Riki's father were close and started the company together. After my father passed away, I had nowhere to go. My mother remarried and relinquished all custody of me. I didn't have any relatives in Japan, so Riki's father took me in as a favor.
To my surprise Jake says he’s close with Riki and that he’s brought me up, the famous muse.
“The dress you're wearing under that coat is designed by him, isn't it?”
I nodded.
The deep violet organza of the dress could be seen under my long black trench coat blending into the alley shadows.
His stare flickered up and down, quick like the shake of an open flame.
He asked why I wasn’t home this late at night. I averted my eyes to the water and said I wanted to walk along the Lungomare. Looking back at Jake I silently invited him to come walk with me.
As we strolled side by side I questioned how he knew Riki. He said that he photographed some of his designs before and through that they got to know one another. He hoped to have met me since Riki brought me up whenever talking about his work but it never seemed to happen. I noted mentally that I never heard Riki bring up Jake. All along I had been eyeing him at events where he would finally put his camera down and clink glasses with the upper echelon. When my interest in him was first sparked I stood nearby the conversations he’d have with others and put the pieces together when I heard Mr.Sim or Jake. I found he was a photographer, born in Australia, had his work published in notable magazines, editorials, hung up in galleries, directed photoshoots. I visited one of his art galleries before in January and searched up his work but I never saw any photos of Riki’s designs. It must have never been publicized?
He let out a similar laugh to his earlier one and said it must be fate for us to meet like this instead. He doesn’t realize this isn't actually fate. It’s my orchestrated efforts to be closer to him. He raised his index and thumb, both hands to mimic a camera lens and said without my coat, me in this dress would contrast beautifully against the backdrop of Lungomare. I said he knows how to flatter a woman. He said he likes to acknowledge beauty openly.
After time passed where only the click of my heels made noise and we moved forward without a word he invited me over to his place. I said I had to get home and declined politely. I know that a man loves harder when hungry, I wouldn’t satisfy him so quickly.
Like a gentleman he reached for my hand and gently placed his lips on top, burning a kiss into my memory and skin.
He offered to drive me home at the very least since it was so late at night. I feigned ignorance and said I couldn’t get in a car with a man who hadn’t even told me his name yet. He played with the fingertips of my hand he still held and told me his name was Jake but I could call him Jaeyun, his true name. I asked if he would call me a cab and he made no effort to decline my request.
When the taxi pulled up, I slid into the backseat, moving slowly, hoping he'd say something—anything—to keep me there. A quiet thrill spread through me as I looked up at him.
There is an undeniable fulfillment in this moment. All the dreams I ever had are wistfully contained within his eyes. His presence is intoxicating, his demeanor effortlessly alluring. If I let this moment pass, I know I’ll regret it.
“Can I see you again,” I mutter.
His smile spreads, wide and knowing. Holding the taxi door, he leans in.
“If you ever want to see me again,” he murmurs, “I have a studio in Chiaia. Via dei Coralli, 14, 80121 Napoli.”
I laughed and said I couldn’t remember that long an address. The taxi driver grew impatient with us but still he persisted and told me
“Just remember Via dei Coralli in Chiaia. I’ll hang a red card on the doorknob for you to see. Then you’ll know it’s mine.”
As the taxi accelerated he remained standing on the sidewalk we once walked side by side on, not watching me go, but longingly at the Lungomare.
My heart stung from the twisted desire for his attention even in those fleeting moments.
Even when he’s given me more than I ever expected, I still want more.
My heart has become increasingly selfish.
-
Aside from the occasional roar of the engine, the inside of the taxi was silent. Gazing at the dimly lit city lights, I traced the hem of my coat with my fingertips. I thought briefly that Jake would like to take a photograph of a scene like this. The heat of Jake's gaze still lingered on my skin, and the places he touched went numb. I exhaled slowly, and a white mist appeared on the windowpane.
The bitter, ashy taste of the cigarette lingers in my mouth, as if it would soon disappear. I savored it.
It was the Galleria Umberto I clock that brought me back from my fantasy.
The hands were frighteningly approaching midnight, and I hadn't told Riki where I was.
I knew it would irritate him, but I was an adult now.
I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and remained present in this moment to the fullest.
-
Caserta, my home, is outside of Naples and around a forty minute drive. It's unreasonable for a taxi ride but so was being on a train this late at night. Expectably the fare was a high price but it was nothing to worry about. When I stepped into the quiet and dim foyer there was a shift in the air. I saw Riki sitting at the top of the stairs, head in hands. Glancing over at the clock I saw it was past midnight.
Only the click of my heels sounded as I went up the stairs.
When I stopped by his side his hands fell from his face and his sleepy eyes met mine with a frustrated expression. His wrist gripped my ankle and he immediately began to scold me with worry. I knew I should have called, I had no defense and softly repeated my apologies.
Exasperated, he let go of my ankle and stood up, his stature overwhelming mine. He held back eye contact and we both went in different directions, our rooms at opposite ends of the winding halls.
A cold silence spread as I entered my room, and I walked to the vanity. Still Riki’s anger couldn’t rid me of the rising giddiness in my heart.
Tonight had gone exactly how I hoped and better.
Carefully removing my makeup, I watched the image in the mirror, the traces of the night fading away. With each wipe of my makeup, the glamor of the night softened, and only thoughts remained.
The afterglow of the time I spent showed, my cheeks flush and rosy beneath my foundation. It wasn't the warmth after removing my makeup, but the feeling of getting exactly what I wanted satisfying my heart. I thought back to that night, replaying his words and presence over and over in my head.
I combed my hair with my paddle brush, lulling myself to the rhythm and calming my mind. I was ready to go to bed and end the day with the memories made tonight.
While in my gleeful daze my bedroom door unexpectedly creaked open and from the mirror’s reflection I saw Riki leaning on the door frame.
"You know Naples isn’t safe like Okayama for you to wander out at night.”
He was annoyingly repetitive.
“I know”, I hummed, “and I’m sorry.”
“What’s it matter if you’re sorry, you’re the one in danger.”
I continued to brush through my hair while nodding at Riki’s reprimands. He let himself into my room and came up behind me, watching as the brush flattened the slight frizz.
To change the topic I looked up at him through the reflection and praised his appearance at the banquet. He ignored me and nestled his head into the crook of my neck, wrapping his arms around the middle of my waist.
“We could just go back to Japan.”
‘But there’s no better place for your designs than here?’
He sighed into my ear.
“Milan is better and five hours away, who says I wouldn’t be successful back home.”
He clicked his tongue.
“And you smell like cigarettes, it's disgusting.”
I stretched my neck away from him with guilt as he looked up into the mirror, staring at me with a sudden realization in his eyes.
‘Who were you with?”
“Just someone I met from the banquet.”
His sneer became apparent and his stare consumed me whole with unstifled dissatisfaction.
“And since when did you smoke?”
I raised the back of my paddle brush to knock his head, “I don’t, it's just social, can’t you calm down Riki?”
His hands rose from my waist to my chest where he ran his fingers over the fine, hand stitched, detailing of my dress.
“Now you’ve ruined this dress with the stench of smoke when it can’t be washed.”
I rolled my eyes. It always came back to his work. From pettiness I tried to shove his hands away but my efforts were meek in comparison to the firmness of his hold on me. Moments like this where he showed a slight semblance of clinginess he became enduring. It reminded me of the Riki I grew up with in Japan, the boyish, sweet faced Riki. It gave me the strange desire to do anything to make him happy and I succumbed to his hold.
“Now tell me who you were with.”
“His name is Jake.”
His hands moved further up, wrapping around my shoulders.
His expression was cryptic when I mentioned Jake.
“Guys like him don’t look twice unless they want something. You know that, don’t you?”
I knew they knew each other, so I wondered how he would react.
If they were close, why did he act like he couldn't accept that fact at all?
Surprisingly, he didn't ask any more questions. He simply began to slowly lower the straps of my dress in silence, and the Basque neckline slid down along with it.
His eyes reflected not the Riki I had known growing up, but the Riki he had been since he'd moved to Italy.
We'd spent several years together in Caserta, and I'd been close by as Riki reached adolescence.
Like children our age, we'd grown apart, but at our core we remained connected - like two lotus flowers.
After living separate lives, he approached me towards the end of high school and asked me to try on prototypes he had recently made. I would stand in his room and watch him stitch the most intricate designs into fabric or layer sheer silk over tulle to create flowing bodices. He cared about details and I was fascinated by the way he worked.
In high school, I had no idea what I wanted to do for my future. Every time he asked me for help, I began to feel fulfilled knowing that I was helping bring his ideas to life.
After high school Riki fully acquired Nishimura Atelier and his collections garnered a lot of positive attention. Any event he was invited to he’d bring me alongside him wearing a custom piece. It was around that time he began to cling to me closer and I garnered the reputation of his muse. In any conversation he began me as his inspiration would be brought up. I started to consider modeling but when I asked if he’d ever have me walk one of his shows he quickly shut me down.
Then there would be times like this. Times where his general passion would blend into an intimate proximity, never defined, or acknowledged outside the moment. His growing anger turned into a hunger and relentless need to exert control. My dress laid low on my body and his hands with restrained force lifted me from my seat to let it slip off into a puddle of sheer silk on the floor. Just as swiftly he pushed my shoulder blades down, making me sat again and ordered for me to pick it up, saying that I didn’t deserve to wear a dress I’d just ruined. I mourned the sweet kid he was as I clad in my slip lifted the dress off the ground and draped it on the back of my chair.
Metti sempre alla prova i miei limiti, vorrei che mi considerassi di più, he said.
An empty call from someone who lacked true consideration himself. I spit back at him asking what his unreasonable mood was for. He said I’d been acting out, coming home late, smoking, talking to strangers, of course he’d be irritated when I don’t take his worries for me seriously. I fell back onto my bed and ran my mouth at him. How is living acting out? We’re adults. I can be out at night, I can smoke or not smoke, I can talk to people at the events he takes me to. Where was the space for me to be a person free from the definitions associated with him and exist on my own? He said I was twisting his words. I said he’s always been harsh with me at the slightest inconvenience and I was tired of it. I turned to my side and lifted my sheets to lay beneath them as he stood there in silence.
He made no effort to move from his spot for several minutes until I felt a pressure fall down against the bed next to me. It was Riki laying down right behind my back. His tone was soft and apologetic. He asked me if I remembered when we were ten in Okayama, I put my palm on the hot plate of the coffee machine, twice. He said even with pain I wasn’t good at learning my lesson and he was just worried. He didn’t want me to get hurt. I turned around to see a pure look in his eyes and embraced him. He asked me not to try and see Jake again. I disregarded his words and thought he was cute like this.
The sleep I saw in his eyes since I came home finally lulled him to rest as he mumbled senselessly and his lashes brushed against my collarbone with each rising breath of his chest. When he was asleep he looked like a cherub, full faced, and soft features. But when he would open his eyes he’d appear sharp and cut deep into me in a way that is so different from the gentle caresses of his embrace. Truly I didn’t know who he was anymore, but time fostered a connection between us stronger than the confusion.
We had a patience with one another that no one else could.
