Lads Xavier - Blog Posts

Not gonna lie. I would also date LADS MC too.

A little late to the trend, but who does my MC look best with? I have a fav but we shall see who she is destined for.

just fell to my knees

hello! good day to youuu, can i make a request for the lads men? in which reader is not the mc and here's the prompt: having to beg them to do something with you then seeing them doing it with mc willingly, sorry english is not my first language but pleaaaseeee 😭 i love some angst.

Bitter

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: Watching the one you love partake in what you once pleaded to share—a quiet betrayal—feels like an arrow through the heart, swift and merciless. (angst, no comfort)

A/N: Thank you for the request, it came out more as a drabble. Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

What a bitter, gutting thing it was—to stand in the shadows and watch him shine for someone else. To see the light in his eyes, the easy laughter, the quiet devotion as he did for her what he had never done for you.

The one thing you once begged for. The one thing he had denied you.

But not her. Never her.

She was fate’s beloved, the one woven from the same celestial thread as him, bound to him in ways you never could be. You had always told yourself to be rational, to be understanding. Xavier came with a past. He came with baggage.

And inside that baggage, nestled close to his heart, was her.

The woman you would envy until the world turned to dust.

And yet—how could you ever bring yourself to hate her? When she was made of kindness, of soft edges and warm light? When she looked at you with nothing but affection, oblivious to the ruin she left in her wake? She was an angel. A blessing. A curse.

And fate, it seemed, had always been on her side.

So there they were, walking side by side, woven together so seamlessly it was almost poetic. Almost cruel. Her bags in his hands, the weight of them carried so effortlessly—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet, when you had asked for the same—just a simple day together, just a moment of his time—he had sighed, shaken his head, told you he was too tired. That work was too much. That he simply couldn’t.

But now, watching him with her, you couldn’t help but wonder—did she take his exhaustion away? Did her presence breathe new life into him in a way you never could?

The answer settled deep in your bones, cold and unrelenting.

Your friend beside you said nothing, only looking at you with that quiet, suffocating pity that made your stomach turn. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing to soften the truth you had known all along.

You were not his first thought in the morning. You were not the name on his lips when he passed a garden of wildflowers. You were not the presence lingering in his mind when the world grew quiet.

And you never would be.

You had spent so long fighting against it. Xavier loves me. He chose me. The words had been your lifeline, a fragile, trembling thing you whispered into the silence. But even your friends never seemed convinced.

And now, neither were you.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned away.

No confrontation. No desperate pleas for an explanation that would only come laced with half-truths and empty reassurances. What good was honesty when it had never been yours to begin with?

When he came home that night, his lips still curved with the ghost of a smile, he found an emptiness he had never felt before. Your things, your presence—gone, as if you had never been there at all.

And in your place, only a single note remained.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for. Because clearly, it was never me."

And Xavier, poor Xavier, would stand there, reading those words over and over, grasping at the fraying edges of something he had never truly held onto.

But then again—

Xavier had never noticed his wrongdoings.

Not until there was nothing left but the weight of his own ruin.

Zayne

Zayne—or Dr. Zayne, as she called him—had always been a good man. A gentleman in every sense. Caring, affectionate, endlessly considerate.

But never for you.

His tenderness felt practiced, his affections routine. As if he wasn’t loving you, but fulfilling some unspoken obligation. A kindness given not out of devotion, but out of mere habit.

And you had tried to ignore it. Swallowed your doubts, convinced yourself you were overthinking.

Until you saw them together.

Her.

The one fate had tied him to. The one who never had to ask for his attention, because it had always belonged to her.

Her laughter lit up rooms before she even stepped inside. Her eyes gleamed like sunlight catching on water—brilliant, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. And neither could he.

And then, there was the picture.

A simple post, one she likely uploaded without a second thought, oblivious to the quiet devastation it would bring.

There she was, sitting in his office. Smiling. At ease.

Sharing lunch with him.

Something you had never been allowed to do.

You had asked once—just to drop by, to see him, to spend even a sliver of time together in the place he spent most of his days. But he had refused, brushing you off with a gentle but firm, “I don’t want distractions.”

And yet, there she was, sitting across from him, urging him to eat the food she had made, as if she had every right to be there. And maybe she did.

They had known each other forever. That was what you told yourself—Of course, they’re close. Of course, they understand each other in ways I never will. You had tried to accept it. To be understanding.

But then you saw the way he looked at her in the picture.

The softness in his eyes. The quiet, unguarded devotion.

Like she was the only one who could unravel him, the only one who could slip past his carefully built walls.

You had spent so long trying to do the same, but you never even made a crack.

And so, that was the moment you made a promise to yourself.

You would not be someone’s second choice. You would not collect the scraps of his affection while she—effortless, radiant, destined—was given everything you had ever wanted.

And Zayne noticed.

He noticed in the silence. In the missed calls that went unanswered, the messages left on read. In the bouquets left wilting at your doorstep, the petals curling at the edges.

Roses.

Her favorite flowers.

Not yours.

And that was all the confirmation you needed.

Zayne was never the gentleman you thought he was.

Or perhaps, he was. Just never for you.

Or maybe—maybe it was fate itself that was cruel.

Rafayel

Something inside you cracked, splintering like fragile seashells beneath careless hands—shattered beyond repair, beyond mending.

It wasn’t a sudden break. No, it had been slow, creeping in like the tide, eroding the edges of your love bit by bit, pulling pieces of you away before you could even notice you were unraveling.

And now, the final wave had come, and it had taken everything with it.

Because there he was—your Rafayel—kneeling beside her, smiling in a way you had longed to be the cause of.

The sight alone stole the breath from your lungs.

You had spent so long pretending not to notice. Ignoring the way his gaze always sought her out, the way his voice softened just a fraction when he spoke to her. You had swallowed the ache, told yourself it didn’t matter.

"That’s just the way he is," you had whispered, time and time again.

But it had never been the way he was.

It had only ever been the way he was with you.

And now, you knew why.

Rafayel hated cats.

You remembered the way his nose had scrunched when you had once tried to feed a stray by the docks, the way he had flicked his fingers as if to ward the creature away. “Little beasts,” he had muttered, half-amused, half-disgusted. “I don’t understand how you humans tolerate them.”

You had laughed then, nudging him playfully. “You’re just jealous they’re cuter than you.”

And yet—here he was.

Crouched beside her, cradling a trembling kitten in careful, delicate hands, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. His touch—usually teasing, fleeting, always just out of reach—was steady, warm, tender.

For her.

Not for you.

Something cold curled around your ribs, sinking deep, making it harder to breathe.

It was never about the kitten.

It was never about the things he couldn’t do.

It was about the things he never wanted to do for you.

And watching him now, so unguarded, so effortlessly kind, made you wish you had never met him at all.

Rage and sorrow burned through your veins, curling beneath your skin like a sickness. You wanted to rip that stupidly charming smile from his face, wanted to demand why he had never looked at you like that.

But there was no point.

So you turned and walked away.

Ignoring reality, just as you had once tried to ignore fate.

But fate never ignored you.

And something in the air told you—Rafayel wouldn’t either.

Sylus

Sylus had never been an easy man to love.

Sharp edges, cold precision—every move calculated, every word spoken with intent. He was not a man swayed by sentiment, nor was he one to entertain trivial affections.

You had known this from the start.

And yet, knowing had never stopped you from wanting.

So you learned to take what little he gave you—stolen moments in the dead of night, whispered conversations where he let the ice thaw just enough for you to believe there was something beneath it. But always, always, he kept his distance, his affections measured, restrained.

"This is who I am," he had told you once, when you asked why he never let himself soften. "I don’t have the luxury of being gentle."

You had believed him.

Until now.

Until you saw him, standing there in the dim glow of a high-rise restaurant, his head tilted ever so slightly toward her. The woman fate had written into his story, the one whose presence seemed to unravel him in ways you never could.

His fated one.

And in front of them, two untouched glasses of wine.

Wine.

The very thing he had refused to share with you.

"I don’t drink with others," he had said once, his voice clipped, final. "It's a pleasure reserved for my time alone."

But now, here he was. Sharing a glass with her. His fingers resting idly against the stem of his glass, his expression unreadable yet undeniably present. He was here. Fully. With her.

A man who never entertained distractions, utterly enthralled.

The way he looked at her—it was something different. Something you had never been granted. There was no calculation in his gaze, no careful restraint. No cold, distant amusement.

Just quiet acceptance. As if she had been meant to sit beside him all along.

And that was when you knew.

You could tear yourself apart, try to become everything he had ever wanted, and it still wouldn’t matter. Because fate had already made the choice for him.

And it wasn’t you.

Still, you lingered a moment longer, letting the pain settle, letting it carve its lesson deep into your ribs.

And then, without a word, you turned and left.

Because you, too, could learn to be cold.

Caleb

Caleb had always been warm. That was the problem.

He had a way of making you believe you belonged there—tucked into his arms, held close by quiet promises and easy smiles. He made you think you mattered.

But there was always her.

His childhood best friend.

Not bound by fate, not chosen by some cosmic force—just there. Always. In every story he told, in every old memory that made his eyes soften with something you could never quite reach. The one who had been with him before you, the one who had held his hand through storms you’d never even known existed.

And you told yourself it wasn’t a competition.

Until the night you saw them.

The neon lights of the karaoke bar cast the whole street in a soft glow, music and laughter spilling from inside as you walked past—until something, someone, made your steps falter.

Through the open doors, past the booths and glowing screens, you saw him.

Caleb.

Standing there, microphone in hand, singing.

With her.

The sight knocked the breath from your lungs.

"I don’t like singing in front of people," he had told you once, shaking his head with a sheepish smile when you begged him to join you for just one song. "It’s embarrassing. I just—I can’t, okay?"

But now, here he was.

Swaying slightly, smiling as their voices blended together in a song you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t perfect—his voice cracked in places, he missed a beat or two—but that didn’t matter. Because he was trying. Because he was enjoying it.

Because she made him feel safe enough to do what he had never done for you.

Your stomach twisted.

It had never been about singing.

It had been about you.

You should have walked away then. Should have swallowed the lump in your throat and turned back, should have spared yourself the cruel spectacle of watching them.

But you didn’t.

You stayed long enough to see the way he laughed when she nudged him playfully. The way he looked at her, unguarded, free. The way she reached for his hand without hesitation—because she knew it would always be there, waiting for her.

And for the first time, you realized—maybe you had never been holding his hand at all. Maybe you had only been grasping at the space he left behind.

Something cold settled in your chest.

You didn’t wait for him to notice you.

You just turned, and left, without a sound.

And Caleb, too caught up in a song meant for someone else, never even saw you go.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Xavier’s expression shifts subtly—a change most wouldn’t notice, but you’ve learned to read him. His dark eyes focus entirely on you, any trace of his usual sleepiness vanishing instantly.

“That’s dangerous, giving me cues like that,” he murmurs, his voice low and unchanged in tone despite the intensity behind his words.

He closes the distance without warning, one hand cupping your face while the other slides around your waist, pulling you against him. There’s something possessive in the way his lips claim yours—deliberate and unhurried, yet leaving no room for retreat.

Time seems irrelevant as he deepens the kiss. For someone who typically appears so detached, his actions speak volumes, betraying the emotions he reserves only for you. When you attempt to pull back for air, he follows, unwilling to break contact.

“Not yet,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm. “I’m not done with you.”

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Zayne sits at his desk in his home office. He looks up, dark eyes meeting yours over the rim of his glasses. Without a word, he removes them carefully, placing them beside his laptop.

“I suppose I’m due for a break,” he says, pushing back from his desk.

He stands and gestures for you to come closer. When you reach him, his hands find your waist, guiding you against the edge of his desk.

The kiss starts measured, methodical—like everything else he does—but quickly deepens with underlying hunger. His fingers trace up your spine, cradling the back of your neck with surprising tenderness.

“Fifteen minutes,” he murmurs in between kisses. “That’s all I need to refresh before returning to these reports.”

But the way he pulls you closer, the subtle sweetness on his tongue from the candy he keeps hidden in his desk drawer, suggests he might extend his break after all.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The afternoon light streams through the studio windows, casting golden hues across Rafayel’s canvas. His paintbrush pauses mid-stroke, hanging suspended above vibrant blues and greens.

A smile spreads across his face as he sets his palette down. “And here I was thinking I’d need to convince you to distract me today.”

Paint-stained fingers carefully return the brush to its holder before he steps down from his step ladder. He allows you to make the first move, watching with fascination as you approach.

“For inspiration’s sake,” he whispers as your lips meet, though the way his breath catches suggests it’s more than artistic motivation driving him.

He lets you set the pace initially, responding to your lead with appreciative hums, his hands roaming your body. Then, something shifts—he’s in control.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your neck, fingers finally tangling in your hair.

His kiss deepens—wild and untethered, like he might disappear with the tide if not anchored to this moment with you.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“What a bold request,” Sylus says, making no move to stand. Instead, he pushes his chair back slightly from the table, eyes never leaving yours. “If that’s what you want, come here and take it.”

The challenge in his voice is clear—he wants you to approach him, to claim what you desire. As you cross the room, his expression remains composed, though a certain hunger darkens his gaze.

When you settle onto his lap, his hands rest lightly on your hips, neither pulling nor pushing. “Well?” he prompts, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You made the request. I’m merely accommodating it.”

You initiate the kiss, setting a tentative pace that he follows without trying to accelerate. He restrains himself—a calculated decision to let you lead while he receives. Only when you deepen the contact does he respond in kind, his composure slipping just enough to reveal how much he’s been holding back.

“Good,” he breathes against your lips. “Now, show me what else you want.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The moment the words leave your mouth, Caleb’s expression darkens. He reaches past you to lock his bedroom door, the click echoing in the sudden silence.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice dropping lower as he backs you against the wall.

His lips find yours with urgent precision, one hand braced against the wall while the other cups your face. The kiss is consuming—a clear message that now that he has you, he won’t be letting go anytime soon.

You stumble backward as he guides you through his room, neither of you willing to break contact. Your back hits the wall next to his desk, and he cages you in with his arms, lips never leaving yours except for the briefest moments to catch your breath.

“Been thinking about you all day,” he confesses against your neck, voice ragged. His lips remain possessively on yours throughout the close-distance trip to his bed.

“Mine,” he whispers, pulling you down with him.

Another post upcoming for today 😼

Can u guys say something nice about his tummy he’s getting self conscious ☹️🥺

you know, another thing that fascinates me about LADS is how which LI(s) a player chooses is reflective of personal preferences? like, i recognise that that is pretty ‘obvious’ - sure, obviously, the LI(s) players choose are going to, to some degree, embody what a player likes; but it’s interesting to stop and self-reflect on what that says about oneself on a deeper level?

using myself as an example, i’m very much a Xavier girl; and, sure, on the surface level, it’s just a “the heart wants what the heart wants” situation - but it’s honestly quite…revealing? to actually sit with and discern the ‘why’ behind what draws me to him. while on a surface level, it can be summarised as a ‘he’s my type’ kind of thing, but i think stopping and thinking about why he’s my type - like, what that says about me and what i, consciously or not, look for - is a fascinating thought experiment?

personally, i think it speaks to a sense of ‘reliability?’ like, to me, a chronic overworker, xavier seems to embody a sense of rest, a sense of being the type of person you could depend on, someone who you could ‘turn off your brain’ around because you can rely upon them. and i think that that speaks to something on a deeper level - i think that that type of need often manifests in women like myself, people who are used to having to be self-reliant, to having to be the ones who ‘do it all.’

i think that need is a very common manifestation of the burden that comes with that level of self-reliance; of retreating into, or simply just daydreaming about, having a partner who can be that, of someone who’s not only capable, but willing - interested - in taking care of you - and i think that that often does begin and evolve out of that fantasy. very often, this desire is born out of previous experiences where such a need hasn’t been met, which results in then having to shoulder the burden of being the only person who takes care of yourself - which is not only physically taxing, but also emotionally taxing; it evokes this sense of “i take care of everyone, but who takes care of me?”

and i think that that’s one of the things that i love about the LADS community; it’s really interesting seeing these open conversations around why other players choose the LI(s) they do. particularly, i love getting to be exposed to these discussions around LI(s) that i specifically feel no strong draw to - it’s actually quite cool seeing why someone might be a caleb girl (as he’s basically the opposite of my type lol) and have that additional perspective. especially because the logic is often quite similar? like, the very things that draw me to xavier could be nearly identical to what draws someone to caleb, or sylus, or zayne, or rafayel - and it’s really interesting hearing about how that manifests in people.

Guys. You all gotta calm down with the Catch 22 fanart. I'm just trying to peacefully scroll Tumblr in the living room and it's all softcore. Guys please don't stop.

I saw others doing this so...

‼️ Bonus points if you can guess who my fav is <34

Please send me freaky Caleb or Xavier fics I’m starving

God he’s so fucking handsome I need him to die

Randomly slept for 14 hours. I think Xavier took over my body

I hc that Xavier would totally hump/grind against mc while sleeping 😇 i just know he’s having the freakiest of dreams and unable to control how his body reacts in the conscious world

LUMIERE RERUN I NEED MY MAN

We went to see the Minecraft movie

And I need them to make out too

Please rec any dead dove Caleb or Xavier fics I’m starving

I’m so scared rn

Caleb has BPD and Xavier is autistic you can’t convince me otherwise

My boyfriend really is Xavier irl but can he please wake up.. he’s going on 15 hours of sleep rn

:3 Xavier ita bag (ft Sylus) (more on the way)

Incredibly hard over Xavier with a mommy kink oml

Caleb and Xavier both have such stalkerish tendencies.. 1. Hot 2. More people should write about that

I need more Caleb x Xavier content !!

I hc Xavier has super sensitive nipples and gets super whiny when they’re played with ^_^

Xavier sneaking onto MCs balcony when he hears something going on downstairs. The curtains are pulled most of the way closed, but there’s just enough room to see Caleb eating her out on the couch. Despite the raging jealousy in his heart, Xavier is as hard as a rock.

He covers his mouth as he palms himself through his hunter’s uniform, desperately trying to imagine himself in Caleb’s position. He’s fantasized about tasting her sweetness countless times, once even going as far as to steal her panties she’d left out after getting changed just so he could smell her lingering scent. But nothing could compare to the real thing- he needed her wetness on his tongue, needed to make her scream his name.

The lights flickered. Fuck. He was close.

It’s not enough. He unbuckles his belt as quietly as he can before slipping his boxers down far enough to touch his aching cock. Small whimpers escape his lips as he gazes lustfully at MC’s blissed out expression. She should be moaning his name. Caleb should have stayed dead.

Any coherent thought escapes him as MC arches her back, grabbing a fistful of Caleb’s hair as she finally climaxes. Xavier can barely steady himself on the balcony’s rail in time as he coats his uniform in a fresh layer of white right before everything goes dark.

Caleb’s eyes dart to the window as a flash of bright light fills the room before disappearing, leaving the two surrounded by darkness as the lights blow. No thunder follows, but he swears he hears the balcony door above him slide shut.

Xavier's "Seeker of Light" card art is pretty much surreal. He looks so much bigger than the astronaut, almost like a cosmic being. Very beautiful and different from previous card arts.

Also him trying to be slick about the way he feels and MC is like "I love you too, dummy." My fragile heart 🥺🥺

21 DAYS - REVISITED

Yeah I know I'm late to talk about the "21 Days - Xavier Card" but I watched a video of it recently and my brain worms are acting up.

The fact he kisses you so gently?? And is wondering if it is too late? AND THEN MC KISSES HIM BACK?? AND THEY BOTH THINK OF THE OTHER AS UNREACHABLE??

I am extremely normal about this card, I promise

I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT XAVIER TRUST ME

THE DUALITY OF THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE BOYS:

Xavier and Zayne: enjoying being cats way too much. Use their feline privileges. One might think they don't want to go back.

Rafayel and Sylus: hate it and loud about it. Do use their privileges but don't like it. Will fistfight other cats upon eye contact.