*Nudges Season Three Lauren With Foot* Doing Okay There, Sport?

Pancakes at Sunset

content: fluff, xavier x reader, soft teasing, domestic, cozy vibes

word count: 893 words

requested by — @sadfragilegirl

now playing: Best Part by Daniel Ceaser ft H.E.R

You place the plates on the table as Xavier settles into the chair beside you. You had cooked pancakes with bacon and eggs—definitely not your usual dinner choice. The savory scent of sizzling bacon mixed with maple syrup still clings to the air. It’s oddly comforting, but also… well, odd. It was already dinner time.

Xavier glances at the spread, then up at you. One brow arches, his golden eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. “Breakfast?” he says, tone smooth and relaxed, like velvet draped over mischief. There’s no judgment there, just that usual playful cadence in his voice that makes your stomach flutter—more than it probably should.

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Yeah. I was craving it.”

“Craving,” he echoes, slowly, drawing the word out like he’s tasting it. His fork hovers over the pancakes for a moment before he stabs into them. “That’s a new one.”

You tilt your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He takes a bite, chews thoughtfully, and swallows. “Just that you usually go for something more… balanced. You’ve never made breakfast food for dinner before. This is a bold choice.” He gestures to the pancakes dramatically, like he’s hosting a cooking show. “An unprecedented one.”

“Maybe I just wanted comfort food,” you say, folding your arms and trying not to smile.

“Or…” He trails off, leaning back in his chair, fork spinning between his fingers. That sly smirk starts forming—the one you know all too well. “You’re being weird lately.”

Your brow lifts. “Weird?”

“Yeah. You’ve been… emotional. Sleeping a lot. Getting all huffy at me over nothing—don’t think I didn’t notice you almost cry when we ran out of strawberry jam.”

Your face warms. “That was a traumatic moment, thank you.”

He chuckles, low and warm. “And now pancakes for dinner? Something’s up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Maybe I just missed you.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He falters for half a second, eyes softening, that teasing edge dipping into something gentler. “I missed you too,” he says, sincere and quiet.

And just like that, your heart stumbles.

But then—he’s grinning again. “Still… this isn’t just missing me. You’re like… glitching.”

You scoff. “Oh, shut up.”

“I mean, first the jam, now the pancakes? You’ve been acting like a walking mood swing.” He props his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s next, singing to the plants? Crying over a commercial again?”

“It was a dog reunion ad, Xavier. You cried too.”

“That’s beside the point.”

You take a deep breath and lean back in your seat. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He doesn’t even try to deny it. “Because now I get to ask the big question.”

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. “What?”

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice, but still laced with that teasing edge. “Are you… pregnant?”

You nearly choke. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it would explain the weird cravings, the naps, the moodiness.” He waves his fork like he’s presenting evidence. “You’ve been late too, right?”

Your cheeks flush instantly. “You are not seriously—”

“I’m just saying.” He takes another bite, talking through the mouthful. “Maybe there’s a little me in there already.”

You drop your fork. “Xavier.”

“What?” He’s laughing now, head tilted back just slightly, the kind of laugh that feels like a warm breeze—easy, light, completely him. “You’ve been looking at baby clothes on your phone too.”

“That was one time and it was an ad!”

“Sure it was.”

You throw a napkin at him. He catches it mid-air with a casual flick of his hand and smirks. “Reflexes of a starship pilot.”

“You’re impossible.”

He leans forward again, eyes crinkling at the corners with the fondness he always tries (and fails) to hide. “You know, if you were pregnant,” he says softly, “I’d take it in stride.”

You blink. “You… would?”

His voice turns warm, serious for a beat. “I’d be terrified. But I’d also be all in. No running. No hesitation. Just me… and you… figuring it out.”

Your chest tightens in the best way. You hadn’t really thought about that. At least, not seriously. But now, hearing him say it, tease it—mean it—it sends a pulse of warmth through you that pancakes alone couldn’t have managed.

Still, you roll your eyes. “Well, I’m probably not. I’m just… late.”

“Mmhm.” He hums, biting into a strip of bacon. “For now.”

You point a finger at him. “Don’t start nesting. We’re not naming anything.”

He grins devilishly. “Too late. I’ve already got five options for a girl and seven for a boy.”

You groan dramatically and cover your face. “I’m never making breakfast again.”

“You say that now,” he murmurs, sliding his chair closer so he can wrap an arm around your shoulder. He kisses your temple, a whisper of warmth against your skin. “But wait till the cravings hit again tomorrow.”

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The teasing continues until the plates are cleared and the night grows soft around you. And even though you’re sure you’re not pregnant, the way he looks at you… the way he smiles like he already sees a future unfolding with you in it—maybe, just maybe—you let yourself imagine it too. Just a little. Just enough.

Thank you for requesting! Requests are open. Reblogs and liking would help a lot!! Thanks for the past support. My heart is warming. - Zane 𖹭

vampire: My darling, my eternal flame, my heart's joy taken human form... you simply must drink water your blood tastes like shit.

Forget-Me-Nots

Xavier x reader

summary: Both you and xavier take time being extremely domestic, caring for the plants he has.

word count: 1.3K

masterlist!

Usually during this time, it was easy to laze around with Xavier, both of you lulled by the warm sun rays, the sound of chirping outside of the window providing a cozy feeling. But alas, the plants out in the balcony needed some caring for. Wilted leaves scattered across the floor, and soil that needed to be hydrated. 

You sat there staring at the plants, taking in the breeze from the outside when all of a sudden you heard the sound of the screen door sliding open.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare at them?” Xavier ruffled your hair, a soft smile gracing his lips as he took a seat next to you. Pouting you fixed your hair, “I was waiting for you.” Xavier chuckled, placing down the watering can on the floor and handing you some gloves. “We might need to re-pot the forget-me-nots” he said softly, leaning to the side to grab the brand new pot. You looked at him curiously, grabbing his arm to see it closer. It was round in size, the glossy deep green color shimmering slightly in the sun. “pretty” you mumbled, leaning your cheek on his arm. He hummed, setting it down and grabbing the older pot. Sitting up, you slipped on the gloves, grabbing it from him, while he opened a new bag of soil. You set the pot down on your lap, watching the small blue flowers sway in the sun, each of them standing proudly. 

“Do you think they’ll like their new home?” you asked, your finger brushing against one of the petals. “I’m sure they’ll love it.” Smiling you began to push against the soil, loosening it up in order to free it without ripping any roots. Finally pulling it out, Xavier held the new pot in front of you, softly putting it in. He set it down, sprinkling more soil on top before handing you the watering can. “I don’t think I'm ready for this much responsibility.” you said, humor glittering in your eyes as you looked at him. Shaking his head softly, he smiled “I trust you.” 

Taking the watering can from his hands you tilted it slightly in front of the flowers, watching as it showered them. The soft sound of the water sprinkling around. Xavier got up and knelt down in front of the other plants, shears in hand. Clipping away at the dead leaves. You set down the watering can, picking up the newly potted flowers and setting them down in their old place. Smiling as you gazed down at them. Arms wrapped around your waist from behind, Xavier leaning his head on your shoulder. 

“We still have to clean up the leaves.” you said, melting into his embrace. He nuzzled your cheek, “We can do that later.”

A gentle smile graced your lips before slowly pulling his arms away. Turning around you looked up at him, softly placing a palm on his cheek. “If we finish this now, we can get some snacks and watch a movie.” He sighed, leaning his forehead on yours, “Okay.” pressing a small kiss on your lips. He pulled away, “Let’s hurry then.” grabbing the broom that was leaning against the wall. You sweeped while he held the dustpan, each of the leaves being thrown away. Both of you working silently, taking pleasure in these serene moments where you were just in the comfort of each other. Finally picking up the last of the leaves, Xavier quickly went to toss them in compost. Coming back and reaching to grab your cheeks, stopping him, “Let’s wash our hands first.” you grinned, pushing them down. He pouted slightly before agreeing. Walking inside and closing the door, you made your way to the sink in the kitchen, Xavier trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

Standing next to you, he looked down before putting his hand out, waiting for you to pump some soap. You side-eyed him, “Does the poor baby need help washing his hands?” you teased. The tips of his ears turned red, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “it’s closer to you.” he mumbled. Eyes softening, you reached for the bottle, pumping the soap. The fresh smell of citrus wafted into your nose, putting some into your own hands. The only sound that could be heard was the running water, you bumped your hip against his lightly. He turned to you, running his hands under the water. Booping his nose with some of the soap in your hands you giggled, Quickly washing off the soap and turning off the faucet. 

   “Where do you think you’re going?” he teased as he saw you try to run away, grabbing your waist from behind and pulling you against him. Giggling, you tried pulling away, “Xavier, we need to go get our snacks.” you said trying to be serious. 

You felt him shake his head behind you, burrowing his face into your neck inadvertently cleaning his nose with your sweater. “We don’t need to do anything, we can just order delivery.” his breath tickling you. “Xavierrr…” you whined, turning around in his arms you gazed into his blue eyes,  huffing before smiling softly. “Okay, I'm lazy anyways.” 

He pressed you flush against him, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. “We really have to order something star.” you mumbled against his lips, pressing your hands against his chest. He tightened his arms, lowering his head down, brushing his lips against your ear, “we’re still watching a movie right?” he mumbled. You chuckled, “That’s if you don’t fall asleep like you always do.” pulling his arms off you, grabbing your phone and plopping yourself down on the couch. 

“Should we get the usual?” you asked, he settled down next to you, laying down on his side and resting his head on your thighs. You smiled down at him, running your fingers through his silver hair. He nodded, eyes fluttering closed. The warmth of the sun, shining through the windows. Basking the both of you, typing away at your phone, scrolling through the various options. While Xavier slowly let himself succumb to the comfort of your presence, lips parting slightly as he fell deeper into sleep. 

A gentle smile graced your lips, lightly brushing his fringe away from his face. Putting your phone down next to you. Eyes scanning his face, your fingertip brushing the shape of his eyebrows, following the slope of his nose and then finally reaching his pink lips. Running your thumb across his bottom lip. Mesmerized by him and not noticing he opened one eye to peek at you. The corner of his lips lifting slightly, amused. 

“See something you like?” 

Pretending to think about it, looking off into the distance. “Hmm, I don’t know.” a teasing smile playing at your lips. He glared playfully, sitting up and squishing your cheeks together. 

“Rethink your answer.” 

“I rethink that I might have to go see Charlie to compare.” smirking at him, he furrowed his brows, eyes darkening. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a fervid kiss. His hand cupping the back of your neck, tilting his head slightly, “You’re not going anywhere.” he mumbled against your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, gripping his sweater, kissing him back with the same intensity. His tongue brushed your bottom lip, lightly prodding them open. You obliged, sighing softly against his lips. 

Xavier deepened the kiss, pushing you down onto the couch. He pulled away, kissing down your neck. Your breathing heavy, reaching up to place your hand on his hair. 

“Any changes?” he mumbled, lightly biting the space between your collarbone. 

“I love you Xavier.” you breathed out, meeting his eyes as they softened with affection. Pulling him up for another kiss, running your hands down his back. He cupped your cheek, pulling away to look down at you. His thumb brushing against your cheek. 

“I love you too.”

⋆˚࿔ the best pillow 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

-the LaDS men cuddling with you and laying their heads on your lap (fluff)

୨ৎ── . Sylus

The living room was peaceful, bathed in the soft golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Sylus lay stretched out on the couch, his head resting on your lap, while a book was placed in his large hands. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, as his red eyes scanned the pages with sharp focus.

The low hum of music played from the speaker across the room, a slow, soulful tune drifting through the air.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through your phone, when you glanced down at him. “Hey, can I connect my phone to the speaker?”

Sylus didn’t look up from his book. “No.”

You blinked. “No?”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Listen and appreciate real good music, sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing dramatically. “You sound like an old man.” The comment made him smirk, but he didn’t respond, his eyes still on his book.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips.

Sliding your fingers beneath the frame of his glasses, you gently pushed them down just enough to reveal his striking red eyes. Before he could protest, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss between his eyebrows, right at the root of his nose.

Feeling his body tense ever so slightly, you knew your 'attack' was effective. Bingo.

Sylus inhaled through his nose, his grip on the book tightening just a fraction. "I'm trying to read, kitten." he murmured, his voice as smooth as ever.

But you saw the way his ears tinged just the faintest bit red, the way his fingers twitched against the page.

A giggle escaped you and you felt him exhale, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Sylus shifted, pretending to be unaffected as he grabbed his phone to check what song was playing.

That’s when you saw it. Your gaze flickered to the screen and your teasing smile softened. The playlist title was clear as day.

“Songs That Remind Me of Y/N”

When Sylus noticed where you were looking, his thumb casually covered the screen, as if that would make you unsee it.

You grinned, warmth spreading through your chest. “You big softie.”

He scoffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he flipped the page of his book, still looking entirely unfazed. But as you glanced down at him, you caught it—the barely-there smile playing at his lips.

Sylus’ free hand moved from your tight to intertwine with your own hand, before bringing it to his lips and plant a soft kiss on your knuckles.

୨ৎ── . Zayne

The clock struck midnight as Zayne stepped into the apartment, exhaustion weighing heavy on his broad shoulders. His dark hair was slightly disheveled from running his hands through it all day, and his sharp green eyes, usually so intense, were dulled with fatigue. But despite the ache in his muscles and the relentless pull of sleep, he made his way to the living room—because he had made a promise.

And Zayne never broke a promise to you.

You were sitting on the couch, papers spread out around the couch and the coffee table, biting your bottom lip in concentration. At the sound of his quiet footsteps, you looked up.

"You're home," you murmured, a mixture of relief and concern in your voice. "Zayne, you look exhausted."

"I'm fine," he said softly, his voice gentle despite the obvious tiredness in his tone. "Let’s get this done."

You sighed, but didn’t argue as he settled beside you, his broad frame sinking into the cushions. He leaned slightly toward you, your shoulders brushing as he picked up a form and started filling it out with his precise handwriting.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence. But with each passing moment, Zayne's pen moved slower, his eyes blinking sluggishly as he fought the exhaustion clawing at him.

Then, without warning, his head dipped forward before he caught himself.

You turned to him, your lips pressing together in fond exasperation. "Zayne…"

"I'm awake," he murmured, but his deep voice was quieter now, softer, laced with drowsiness.

Another few moments passed, and then—he slumped.

His head rested against your shoulder at first, his body leaning heavily into yours, before he finally slid down, laying his head on your lap with a deep exhale. His dark lashes fluttered once before his breathing evened out, the exhaustion finally winning.

You glanced down at him, your expression softening. Even in sleep, he looked serious, but there was a rare peace on his face that made her heart ache.

Gently, you adjusted his position, letting his head rest more comfortably on your lap. You ran your fingers through his black hair, smoothing it back, with a featherlight touch.

With a small smile, you picked up your pen again and continued working in silence, letting him recharge. After a while, you feel a big hand gently squeezing your leg. “You’re such a nice pillow, you know that?”

Zayne looks up at you with only one eye open and a tired but fond smile on his lips.

“Look who woke up! Hi sleepy head.” you tease him, caressing his cheek gently. “I’m almost over with these papers.”

He nodded as a small yawn escaped his lips. “I’m sorry, next time I’ll be more helpful.” he whispered softly before falling asleep on you once again.

୨ৎ── . Rafayel

Rafayel stretched out across the bed, his head resting on your lap, his eyes half-lidded with contentment. The soft fabric of your sweater brushed against his cheek as he exhaled slowly, savoring the warmth of your presence. But something was missing.

Your fingers weren’t running through his hair. You weren’t teasing him with a sly remark. You weren’t paying attention to him at all.

Instead, you were glued to your phone, your delicate fingers tapping away at the screen. Occasionally, you let out a quiet chuckle, further fueling his mild irritation.

Rafayel pouted. "Babe." No response.

He shifted slightly, pressing his forehead against your lap. "Baaaabe."

Still nothing.

A smirk curled at the edge of his lips as an idea formed. He nuzzled against you, his breath warm against your skin. Then, he let out the most dramatic sigh he could muster, his broad shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated defeat.

"Are you really going to ignore your very handsome, very lovely boyfriend, who just wants a little attention?" his voice was laced with playful desperation.

You hummed absently, still not looking up. "Mhm. Sounds tragic."

Rafayel gasped, clutching his chest as if you had mortally wounded him. "Tragic?! This is abuse, beloved. I'm starving for affection."

You snorted, shifting your head the slightest to peer down at him.

“Put your phone down..” he murmured, drawing patterns on your thighs with his fingers.

He was pouting, so you followed his instructions. “Yes?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Hi gorgeous.” he smirks, as you grab his pretty face between your hands.

“You really become a brat if I don’t give you attention for five minutes, don’t you?” you chuckle, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones.

A pleased rumble vibrated from his chest as he closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

"Yes," Rafayel declared, looking up at you with the biggest, most pitiful puppy-dog eyes his irises could manage. "Because my beautiful, sarcastic, heartless partner is ignoring me."

You bit your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. "You are so dramatic."

"And yet you love me," he shot back, smirking before going back to leaving pecks on her legs.

You feign a sigh, when you feel him playfully biting your skin.

“Ouch!” you immediately half-heartedly slap his forehead, while he laughs amused by his actions.

“Stop it or I’m gonna crush your skull.” you playfully glare at him, but he just shrugs.

“A nice way to leave this world, not gonna lie.”

He proceeded to nibble her thigh again, so you squeeze his head between your legs, chuckling.

“Now beg.” you challenge him, raising one eyebrow. But he simply cackled, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your thigh. "You really think I’m gonna complain about this?"

୨ৎ── . Xavier

The door clicked shut softly and Xavier stepped inside, his frame carrying an air of quiet exhaustion. His light-colored hair was slightly tousled, his big blue eyes dimmer than usual, lost in some distant thought. He didn’t say a word.

You knew this version of him well. The one that withdrew into silence when something weighed on his mind. He was lost in his own thoughts, tangled up in emotions he didn’t know how to put into words.

So you didn’t ask. Didn’t press. Instead, you took his hand, gently tugging him toward the bed. Xavier hesitated for a second before letting you guide him, his shoulders relaxing just a little under your touch. You pulled him down until he was lying on top of you, his head resting against your lap as you softly ran your hands through his hair.

With a small smile, you let your fingers drift from his hair down to his back, as you began tracing invisible shapes against the fabric of his shirt. At first, you just doodled—little swirls, hearts, nonsense patterns—letting him feel your presence without forcing him to talk.

Then, slowly, you spelled out the words.

I love you.

A heartbeat passed. Then another. You felt his breath hitch ever so slightly, his tense shoulders easing as if a weight had been lifted. So you kept going, tracing a small heart at the end.

Xavier shifted, turning his head just enough so he could glance up at you, his deep blue eyes no longer clouded. A soft, almost bashful smile ghosted his lips. Then, without warning, he rolled over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer in a way that was both shy and desperate.

His face was buried against your neck now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin. Finally, he spoke—his voice quiet, but steady.

"…Again," he murmured.

You blinked. "Again?"

He nodded against you, his grip tightening slightly. A soft laugh escaped your lips before you resumed your gentle tracing of sweet nothings and hearts.

୨ৎ── . Caleb

Caleb sighed dramatically as he rested his back against the couch, his broad frame comfortably settled between your legs on the plush carpet. Your fingers worked gently through his thick brown hair, separating strands to weave into intricate braids. Every now and then, you’d clip a tiny butterfly or flower pin into place, giggling to yourself at how utterly adorable he looked.

He loved this. The feeling of your hands in his hair, your presence surrounding him. But there was one small problem.

He couldn't sit still.

His hands roamed absentmindedly, his fingers lightly tracing over the soft skin of your thighs. The warmth of your legs bracketing him was too tempting to ignore. Without thinking, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her knee, then another, higher this time.

You huffed, tightening your grip on his hair just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to warn him. "Caleb. Stop moving."

He grinned. "But you're so soft" he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing along the inside of your thigh now. "How am I supposed to resist?"

You rolled your eyes, though he couldn’t see it. "You're not supposed to try to resist. You're supposed to sit still and let me finish your hair."

Caleb chuckled, but he didn’t stop. His hands squeezed your legs gently, thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs in slow, teasing circles. "M’sorry, baby," he muttered, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. "You're just really distracting."

"I’m distracting?" You scoffed. "You’re the one squirming like a hyperactive puppy while I’m trying to make you pretty."

"Hm..pretty, huh?" He smirked, tilting his head back against your stomach, his striking purple eyes gazing up at you. "Does that mean you're finally admitting you like playing with my hair?"

You flicked his forehead, making him laugh. "I've always liked playing with your hair. I just don't like when you make it impossible to finish."

"Okay, okay." Caleb raised his hands in surrender. "I'll behave."

"Good." You started braiding again, your fingers moving deftly through his locks. For about ten seconds, he actually sat still. Then his lips ghosted over your thigh once more, this time leaving a soft bite.

"Caleb!" He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "I tried to behave, I really did," he said between chuckles. But then he finally stopped moving around and let you finish your masterpiece. “Wanna grab something to eat later?”

“But it took me so long to make these braids.” you pout slightly, already sad at the idea of having to remove all the cute clips from his hair.

“Who said I’m gonna take them out? Everyone needs to see what an amazing job you did!”

SILENT COMFORT

❥ First time wearing his clothes

✎ AN: Xavier and MC are the best hunter duo, neighbours and close friends. A sudden predicament now threatens to change that dynamic (no angst, they're good). Reader is referred to as MC.  Word count: 1.7 k Disclaimer: I cannot guarantee these are 100% compatible with the story and lore, I don’t have all cards and my memory only stretches so far.

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❥ Xavier: You and Xavier finally return to HQ after a grueling long battle fighting wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon. Upon your arrival several coworkers showered you both with praise and applause earning awkward smiles from you, whereas Xavier remained as calm as ever as you both made your way toward the locker room. Suddenly you heard someone declare you and Xavier the best team of your branch. Feeling a warmth rise on your cheeks you carefully turn to look at Xavier who adorns a soft smirk whilst keeping his gaze firmly on the floor. He would never dare admit it, but he loved when people praised your teamwork. Not your skills individually, but the fact that you made each other better hunters and everyone knew it.

The door to the locker room closes behind you and a calm silence soothes both your headaches. Xavier looks at you for the first time since you got back and you both sigh in unison. A gentle smile plays on his lips as his body tries to relax. He stretches his arms out and turns his neck left and right in an attempt to loosen the strained muscles. You do the same. No one says anything but there is nothing awkward about this silence. You’ve worked together for so long now that you know the need for silence after long missions is a necessity, before you’re in any position to discuss the mission and how your tactics worked. You move toward your locker leaving muddy shoe prints in your path. Xavier disappears around the corner.

“Oh no…” You whisper as you stare at the contents of your locker. It’s not as full as you expected it to be. You look down at your uniform. It is covered in dirt, dust and mud. Taking the train home in your uniform usually grants you attention from strangers, but in its current state you’d basically be littering on the train. 

“What is the matter?” You jump at the sudden sight of Xavier peeking out from around the corner. He’s in the middle of pulling a clean shirt onto his toned arms. You can’t help but stare and let your gaze linger a bit too long on his sculpted torso. Only when you notice he’s started working on the buttons of his shirt are you able to regain your sanity. His brows furrowed at your strange behavior and he pauses his buttoning to cross his arms and give you a concerned stare. 

You swallow hard before you’re properly able to voice your concern. “I don’t have any clean shirts. I forgot I spilled coffee on my other one before we went out this morning.”

“Hm, this shirt is not really public transport friendly.” He moved closer to you and attempted to dust off the dried mud on your shoulder. He frowned. Not only was your shirt still dirty, his hand was too. He grabbed your wrist with the muddy hand and dragged you over to his locker. 

“You can borrow my hoodie?” He reached into the locker and grabbed his neatly folded white hoodie with his clean hand. 

“Why do you have your hoodie here? I thought everyone wore their uniform back and forth from work.”

“I faced a similar predicament as you are facing now, this morning. I had no clean shirts at home, but knew I had an extra here. I was supposed to do laundry yesterday, but I took a nap after work and forgot.”

You smiled at the thought of him napping, thinking of all the times you had accidentally woken him up when you’d call asking if he needed anything from the store, or if he wanted to join you for a jog. 

“Take it. I don’t mind sharing with you.” He smiled and you melted. It was just an innocent smile, but his hold on you was growing with every passing day. You had shared many things over the course of your friendship. Books, drinks, dinners… Nothing beat sharing the couch with him, napping in opposite corners with your legs tangled in the middle. He was too tall for either of you to get properly comfortable, but you easily dozed off each time anyways. However, sharing his hoodie seemed more intimate… Such a clichè… 

A familiar warmth reclaimed your face once more as you muttered out a thanks whilst returning his caring smile. You grabbed the hoodie and slowly turned around savoring an extra second of him in his half buttoned shirt before moving back toward your locker. That famous Xavier smirk reappeared when he carefully studied your frame as you walked away.  

You returned from the bathroom clean and dressed. His hoodie reached the middle of your thighs, and the sleeves reached beyond your fingertips. You were certain no item of clothing had ever fit you so perfectly. Clutching the collar you lift it to your nose and take in his scent still lingering on the fabric. Xavier… My Xavier… At least you wished he was. Such a terrifying thing to admit to yourself. You were coworkers and neighbours, adding a romantic relationship to the list seemed very risky. What if it didn’t work out? 

You reluctantly release the soft fabric from your grasp and take a few more steps to discover Xavier sitting at a bench waiting for you. Staring at you. His mouth stays quiet but his mind is racing at the sight of you being hugged by his favorite hoodie, almost an extension of himself. How he longed to wrap his strong arms around you. My MC…  

The train ride home is the same as any other day. You shared earbuds whilst engrossing yourselves in literature. He was reading a sci-fi novel about time travel, your recommendation. You had attempted to discreetly nuzzle your face into his hoodie keeping your book intentionally low so you’d have to crane your neck down to see it. Every time someone walked past you the wind would aid his scent to your nose and make you lose your spot on the page, but you didn’t mind. You were not able to maintain focus on the book anyways. Xavier seemed enthralled by the drama happening in his fictional world and for the first time you found yourself wishing the normally welcomed silence to finally come to an end. Speak, Xavier… Look at me, really look at me… But he doesn’t. 

You’re in the elevator slowly approaching the fifth floor. Each ding bringing you closer to an afternoon pining for the neighbour. You felt silly. You’d thought about Xavier a lot, but being engulfed in his essence seemed to have triggered something deep within you. 

Xavier had purposefully positioned himself slightly behind you in the elevator. He had been sneaking glances the whole way home, but with your gaze safely away from him, he could look for as long as he wanted. The incessant dinging of the elevator snapping him back to reality for a split second before his body refills itself with the warm and fuzzy feelings he always got when he was around you.

He felt such a strong sense of pride walking home with you today. He always hoped that any stranger who passed you would assume you were in a relationship, but today surely, no one could question it. The hoodie draping over your smaller frame was clearly his. You looked beautiful. His hand slowly crept upward as if to stroke your hair, but he did not dare to actually touch you. He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath as he longingly stroked the air behind you. 

The final ding of your journey startled you enough to make you lose your balance a bit. The back of your head was met by a soft palm that did not linger. You quickly turned to face Xavier and an unfamiliar expression stared back at you. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened and his ears were bright red. A stark contrast to his silver hair. 

“I’m sorry, I-I was just, uh.” The quilty hand that was still suspended in the air attempted to find refuge at the nape of his neck. You couldn’t come up with a response, too scared to make any assumptions regarding what his hand was doing so close to you.

“Oh, the door!” Xavier called out but the doors closed before he could get his feet to move. The sixth floor was now the next stop. His stop. Another ding and you’ve reached your final destination. He slowly cowers out of the small elevator and turns to face you as he exits. It looks like he’s about to say something but you beat him to it. Shit… You wish he had gotten the chance to speak first. 

“I’ll wash your hoodie and return it t-to you t-tomorrow.” Your vocal cords betray you as you can barely stutter out the words. Xavier slowly nodded before the action transitioned into him shaking his head vigorously. 

“No!” He exclaimed as he reached out to grab your arm. He misses but get’s a firm grasp on the sleeve of his hoodie quickly pulling you out of the elevator before the door closes, threatening to separate you from him once more. He wrestles with the idea of pulling you further into his embrace but settles on grasping your wrist with his other hand and holding it securely to his chest. 

“Would you maybe like to join me for dinner, MC? We can make something together, or get take out, whatever you feel like.” There is a sense of urgency and desperation in his voice and you can’t help but lean into the hope that his sudden lack of composure might mean what you hope it does. Your hand hovering over his racing heartbeat certainly gives off such an impression. This dinner invitation was different to past meals you’ve shared. 

You look up at him and smile fearing that your words will fail you. He catches on and lets out a sigh of relief as you both move toward his door. He suddenly pauses and reaches out to stop you.

“Just in case my intentions weren’t clear.” He says as his hand wanders up the sleeve of his hoodie searching for yours. His slightly sweaty palm gently grabs yours and you suck on your bottom lip trying to contain the smile threatening to explode. You slowly move further down the hallway as you both relax into the security of each other's touch. It feels so right… 

The door unlocks but before he enters he turns to you and says “Oh, um, please don’t wash the hoodie before returning it to me.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

✎AN: And they lived happily ever after. Had to get a tiny bit of freak Xavier in at the end there, hope you don't mind. English is not my first language, so I hope you'll cut me some slack.

- Colonel Kaboom

This is one of my fav xav arts i have seen ....🥹🥹

Its so gooood.. AHHHHHHHHHH

My child — my light

Your children have been hurt.

characters: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel

w: 4,3 k

warnings: not to be read by anyone who's sensitive about fathers. bullying, mdi, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft, +18, maternity certificate, child abuse. Fem!Y/N

a/n: [Y/D/N] — your daughter’s name. [Y/S/N] — your son’s name. My father is strict and I never tell him if something is happening to me. So I wanted to make the men from LADS into fathers you can only dream of. English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open. Dividers belongs to me.

Sylus:

Lately, you both have noticed that your child has become withdrawn: he doesn't join you at the table, stays silent, and spends all his time in his room.

Your heart aches every time you see bruises on your son's face. You have anxiously asked him more than once, “Sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

He answers your questions sharply and coldly, “No.”And then he goes to his room. At first, it seemed like it was just a teenage phase, but your motherly heart tells you that something bad is happening.

Sylus often spends time with you and has noticed his son's behavior, which has alarmed him. Something had to be done. And so, after another outburst from your son, who retreated to his room, Sylus stroked your head and went after the boy. “Don't worry, Kitten, I'll talk to him.”

After knocking on the door and not hearing a "Come in" in response, Silas stood by the door for a while, thinking about the right words, and then opened it. “Hey, buddy, can we talk?”

“I'm not in the mood... Dad,” your son mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. Taking a deep breath, the man walked into the room and sat on the edge of his son's bed. “You haven't been yourself lately, do you want to talk to me?”

[Y/S/N] shook his head negatively. Deep down, he wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but he was scared.

“Son...” Sylus rarely addresses your child like that, only when he has something truly important to say. “Know that your mom and I have your back, no matter what. We're not your enemies, and we'll always be on your side.” He ruffled his son's hair. “Remember that we care about you and your feelings. You don't have to talk now, but you can tell us whenever you're ready.” Sylus gave his son a gentle smile and got up from the bed.

“Dad, wait!” The man stopped at the door, turning his head towards his son. “I... thank you.”Sylus nodded in response. “And I'm sorry for making you and Mom worry. You know, these are tough times... people have become more ruthless, ha-ha.” [Y/S/N] laughed nervously and looked away. Sylus felt like he was looking at you, because when you're worried, you start laughing nervously and avoid eye contact.

“Are other kids bullying you?” Sylus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” your son said, taking a deep breath.

“Then who?” The man's face became more serious.

“Well, at first, it really was just some kids, and I could handle them myself, but then... their parents started picking on me too. I don't understand why everyone hates me so much... I haven't done anything wrong...” Your son couldn't hold back his tears any longer and began to cry, trying to hide his tears from his father. Sylus took a few large steps and was by his son's side, holding him tightly. “You're not alone. As long as your mom and I are around, no one will dare to even look at you the wrong way.” And so it was. Sylus's anger was uncontrollable, much like your own. As soon as you found out WHAT was happening to your son, you wanted to tear everything apart. How dare anyone touch your child?! Well, let me tell you, you paid back your child's tormentors in full—they're in the hospital with broken bones, and the children are so intimidated that as soon as they see [Y/S/N], they start to shy away. Now, no one will mess with your son everyone suddenly wanted to be friends with the kid whose parents are the most dangerous people in the country.

Zayne:

He's the kind of father who's rarely home due to work. But the moment he gets a chance to see his family, Zayne drops everything. No matter how exhausted he is, his main priority is making sure his beloved princesses are doing well.

Today, he got home earlier than usual, but found the house empty. Glancing at his watch, it was one in the afternoon, so his daughter must be at school. But what about his wife? Zayne kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen. A note on the refrigerator read, "Gone to the store, be back soon ♡"

Smiling, Zayne walked into the spacious living room, where a plasma TV hung on the wall. He turned on the news and sat at the table, opening his laptop. Well, while you're away, I might as well get some work done.

About thirty minutes later, you returned from the grocery store, laden with bags. Spotting your husband in the living room, you set the bags down in the kitchen and approached him, kissing him on the cheek. “Hi, honey, how's work going?”

“Hello, darling. Everything's fine. How was your day?” Zayne asked, taking off his glasses and closing his laptop. He pulled you closer by the waist and kissed you softly on the lips. “Oh, Zayne, my day was good too. Is [Y/D/N] in her room?”

At your question, Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't she be at school?” He glanced at the time with concern. It had been an hour since he got home, and his daughter still wasn't back.

“What?... Her classes ended half an hour ago, and it's only a 10-minute walk from school...” You tapped your chin, deep in thought. “What if something happened on the way home?!” You immediately sprang into action, heading to the hallway and grabbing your windbreaker. Zayne followed you. But just as you were about to leave the house, the door opened and your daughter walked in.

“Mom? Dad? Are you guys going somewhere?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

“Sweetheart! You scared me half to death!” You immediately pulled your daughter into a hug, but quickly released her when she hissed in pain. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where? Here?” You gently touched her shoulder. Her composure crumbled, and she simply burst into tears, burying her face in your stomach.

Zayne furrowed his brow and approached the two of you. Stroking his daughter's hair, he scooped her up in his arms, simultaneously removing her street shoes, and headed upstairs to her room. After tidying up a bit, you followed your husband.

“Snowflake, what's eating you?” Zayne asked softly, carefully laying her down in bed.

“The girls... the girls in my class ganged up on me because a boy likes me... Daddy, it hurts so bad.” She didn't hold back her feelings when she was with her dad. He never pressured her and always knew how to handle these situations. Zayne listened patiently, wiped the tears from her face, and kissed her forehead. “Don't be afraid of anything; Daddy's here.” His words resonated not only with your daughter but with you as well.

You stood outside the door, hearing every word. Zayne never made empty promises. After settling your daughter, he exited her room and noticed your worried eyes. With a sigh, he stroked your hair. “She's being bullied at school.”

“I see...” you said, feeling a surge of anger. How dare anyone lay a hand on your child? You were ready to go and tear them all limb from limb. Zayne could clearly see your fury.

“Honey, calm down. Tomorrow, we'll go to the principal and try to sort things out peacefully...” remember these words, kids, because the next day YOU were the one who had to calm HIM down he froze the principal's office and nearly skewered the parents of the kids who bullied your daughter with icicles.

Caleb:

He loves sparring with his son because it's a chance to bond and teach the kid some self-defense. The only problem? [Y/S/N] takes after you and can't land a decent punch to save his life. He's too worried about hurting his dad. Caleb's always saying he needs more killer instinct.

But lately, your son's been dodging training sessions like the plague. When asked why, he just shrugs it off with a quick, “I'm tired.”

Caleb's not one to force his kid into anything, but it's been bugging him. [Y/S/N] used to be all hyped up for a friendly spar, practically dragging Caleb into the ring. Now, the mere mention of "fighting" makes him clam up. And Caleb's not happy about it. Not one bit.

“Don't you think [Y/S/N]'s been acting kinda weird lately?” You asked, drying the dishes. A mother's intuition is never wrong, and you knew something was up with him.

"Maybe he's just worn out from school?" Caleb shrugged, switching the news to "The Avengers."

“Do you wanna talk to him?” You put down the plate and towel, walking over to him. “I'm worried…” You wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder blade, inhaling his scent.

"I'll try." Caleb squeezed your hand, which was resting on his stomach.

Your son came home from school and went straight to his room without saying hello. He tossed his backpack aside and flopped onto the bed, closing his eyes. But then he remembered the bruises and winced. It hurt like hell. [Y/S/N] started scratching his chest, as if trying to rip his heart out of his body from the unbearable pain. Heartache. Bruises and cuts heal, but a shattered soul? That's another story. [Y/S/N] didn't even hear the knock on the door, his father's voice, or him approaching the bed. Feeling a hand on his head, he startled and turned to see his father's stern gaze. “Dad…”

“I'm here,” Caleb announced, and upon hearing his words, his son launched himself into his father's arms, momentarily forgetting his stinging wounds. “What's been going on with you lately?” your husband asked, gently stroking his son's back.

“I hurt, Dad. I hurt so much.”

You entered the room, instantly drawn to your family. Seeing your son clinging to his father, uttering “I'm not okay,” nearly shattered your heart. Kneeling by the bed, you embraced your child as well, kissing the top of his head. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“My friends... they're hurting me.” Wriggling out of your and Caleb's embrace, [Y/S/N\] pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the angry bruises. You gasped, covering your mouth in horror. “But it hurts more here...” Your son placed his hands over his chest, indicating his heart. You and Caleb had instilled in him that you never hurt your friends, so your child never retaliated – because hitting a friend was like hitting himself. But not all kids were raised with the same values. Rage consumed Caleb. He shot up from the bed and stormed out of the house. Where to? Neither you nor your son knew. “Mom... are you... are you proud of me? Did I do good?” your child asked, nestled in your lap.

“Baby, I've always been proud of you, I am proud of you, and I always will be. Listen, just because you consider someone a friend doesn't mean they feel the same way about you. Friendship has to go both ways, not just one. Stick with those who truly value you, okay?” you asked, holding out your pinky.

“Okay.” He linked his pinky with yours and smiled.

Meanwhile, Caleb was raising hell at the principal's office and throwing punches at the fathers of your child's classmates. “If I ever hear that my son is being hurt again, you'll regret it. I'll shove apples so far up your asses, you'll be tasting them for weeks! Got it?!”

Well, the outcome? Your son is no longer bothered one father didn't get the memo and is now in the hospital with apples in his backside.

Xavier:

Your daughter was always a firecracker, that's why absolutely everyone loved her: passersby, classmates, and acquaintances. She could connect with anyone. Xavier saw you in her – just as impulsive as her mother.

But as we know, when someone is widely loved, there are those who start to get envious. They're like snakes, ready to strike at the most unexpected moment: slithering into the soul and thoughts, injecting venom to weaken and incapacitate their victim, making them easier to devour.

Your daughter had a friend, quiet and modest. You and your husband thought their friendship was very harmonious. Thought. Until your daughter clammed up. It was like her mouth had been sealed shut... but with what? Every time you touched your daughter, you felt a strange surge of foreign energy. “Evol?” spun in your head. But as soon as you tried to figure out more, you recoiled from the jolt. While waiting for your husband after his latest mission, you decided to keep an eye on your daughter.

Approaching her room, you felt a dizzy spell, as if something or someone was trying to invade your mind. Shaking your head and drawing your weapon, you quietly opened the door. The room was as dark as the abyss. Suddenly, something crawled on your leg. Barely finding the light switch and flicking it on, you almost fainted from horror: snakes. A huge number of snakes. And in the middle of these vile creatures was your daughter? No... it wasn't her. The girl looked like her, but those serpentine eyes... and oh god... that was YOUR daughter's body?! She lay on the floor, bitten by these creatures injecting their venom into her. “Oh, Mom!” the thing croaked, grinning wickedly.

“Xiangliu...” your daughter whispered, barely opening her eyes. “Please...”

“Silence!” the girl snapped, and the snakes immediately coiled around her feet.

“You're Xiangliu?” Your voice was like steel. “You're my daughter's friend, right? It's not cool to treat friends like that.” You drew the katana from your robe. “That's just not how it's done.” You lunged into battle, but a huge snake slithered out of the ground, blocking the path to Xiangliu. Oh yeah, your roof, and half the house, will need repairs. Just as you were about to cut down the vile creature, you felt a familiar evol and caught a glimpse of light flashing past you. “Xavier!” you cried with relief. But remembering your daughter, you rushed forward, dodging Xiangliu's attacks. Finally reaching your daughter, you scooped her fragile and pale body into your arms. “Honey, please, open your eyes!” You shook her shoulder, but there was no response. “Xavier!” you cried, tears welling up.

“I'll handle this, get out of here!” your husband yelled. You know he can handle it, after all, your husband is the best hunter. Holding your daughter carefully, you raced to the hospital. Thank god it was close to your house.

“Zayne!” you shouted, spotting your childhood friend. “Zayne, help!”

“Get her on a gurney, quick. Venom?” Zayne asked, seeing the purple marks all over her body. You nodded, clutching your hands to your chest and following the doctors. “Don't worry Y/N, I'll make an antidote and everything will be fine.” He gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder before disappearing with the medical team. Slumping into a chair, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down. “Y/N!” You heard your husband's voice and immediately jumped up. “Where's [Y/D/N]?”

“Zayne and a team of doctors are on it. They're working on an antidote...” You buried your face in your husband's shoulder, tears welling up. Right now, all you could do was pray that your daughter would be okay. “And where...?”

“I handed her over to the police for safekeeping,” Xavier replied, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You both sank into the armchairs, waiting for Zayne.

About three hours ticked by before Zayne finally appeared. “The poison was potent, but I managed to find an antidote. She's sleeping in a room now; you can visit her.” Zayne's calm tone instantly eased your anxiety. She was going to be alright.

“Thank you, Dr. Zayne,” Xavier said with a slight smile, shaking the doctor's hand. Zayne returned a polite smile and, with one last glance at you, left.

Gently easing the door open, you both stepped inside. Your daughter was breathing softly, looking less pale than she had just hours ago. You let out a shaky breath and stroked her hair. “Mom?... Dad?...” her tiny voice whispered.

“Stay still, princess,” Xavier said, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

“What happened? All I remember is playing hide-and-seek with Xiangliu at her house, and then... nothing.” You and Xavier exchanged a look of dread.

“When did you play hide-and-seek with her?” you asked, glancing at the calendar. If your daughter had been acting strange for the past few days, was that really your daughter at all?

“Well, you let us play outside so we wouldn't break your favorite vase.” Oh no... no, no, no. Three days! For three days, some other girl had taken your daughter's place! How could you have been so blind?! “I'm such a terrible mother...” Tears streamed down your face. “I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!”

“Mom... why are you crying?” The girl looked at you with confusion, then at her father. “Dad, what's wrong with her?”

“Nothing, honey, your mom's just being an overprotective worrywart, you know how she gets. You get some rest; Mom and I will check in on you later,” Xavier lied, not wanting to scare your daughter. Taking your hand, he led you out of the room. “You're not the only one who dropped the ball, honey. I didn't like that girl from the get-go, so I'm just as guilty for not voicing my suspicions.”

“We could have lost our child... I'll never forgive myself.”

“Me neither. That's why we'll make it up to her and keep a closer eye on her, especially when it comes to the people she brings into our home.” Xavier chuckled, remembering the time your daughter brought home a homeless man and introduced him as her friend. The look on Xavier's face had been priceless. The man now works as your gardener, by the way.

“That's for sure,” you said, smiling, understanding what your husband was laughing about.

Yes, you'd made a mistake. But together, you would fix it and become the best parents you could be. With parents like you, [Y/D/N] would definitely be safe.

Rafayel:

Rafayel was throwing a grand exhibition and needed his gorgeous wife by his side to help greet guests. The only problem? They had no one to watch their son.

“Maybe we should hire a nanny?” You suggested, scrolling through profiles on a website.

“Hmm, not a bad idea. How about this one?” Rafayel said, pointing to a young woman. “Lots of stars and rave reviews.”

“Alright, I'll give her a call.” After dialing the number, you arranged for her to come over the next day. “Okay, great, thank you.” Gently massaging your temples, you headed into the living room, where Rafayel and your son were painting.

“That's awesome! You're doing great! Definitely his father's son!” Rafayel proudly raised his brush, smirking.

“Mommy's!” [Y/S/N] exclaimed, spotting you. He hopped off the chair and ran to give you a hug.

“WHAT?! How dare you steal my son from me, woman!” Clutching his shirt dramatically, he placed the paintbrush on his forehead and pretended to faint.

“Such a drama queen,” you sighed, and your son nodded in agreement. “Listen, sweetie, your dad and I need to go to an important event, and we don't have anyone to leave you with. So... we decided to hire a nanny for you. Be good tomorrow, okay?” You stroked your son's hair.

“You got it, Mom!” He squeezed you tightly, smearing paint on your clothes. “Oops...” Your son stepped back and looked at your stained outfit. “Mom, I didn't mean to!” He ran to Rafayel, hiding behind him. “Dad, save me!”

“Ooh! You finally remembered you have a father?” Laughing, Rafayel lifted your son above his head and started spinning him around. Laughter filled the room, creating a warm, familial atmosphere.

The big day arrived in no time. You and Rafayel got ready and waited for the caregiver, explaining everything that needed to be done. The girl seemed sweet, so you didn't worry too much while you were at the exhibition.

However, as soon as you and your husband left, it was like a switch flipped. The girl acted like she owned the place: she grabbed some chips from the cupboard, turned on the TV, and... SHE SPILLED ON RAFAEL'S FAVORITE COUCH!

“That's Dad's favorite couch! Don't mess it up!” your son exclaimed, standing in front of her, blocking the TV.

“Get lost, kid.” She shoved him aside, popped a chip in her mouth, and your son hit his head on the couch edge. He clutched his head and started to whimper. “Can you shut up?!” she barked, cranking up the TV volume.

“Leave me alone!”

“That's it! You’re just too much!” She found some tape in the kitchen and, wrapping his mouth and limbs, carried him to the closet. “Sit here and think about your behavior, you little brat.” She even switched off the light. For some reason, your son was terrified of the dark and never slept without a nightlight. Panic gripped him; he cried and tried to kick the door with his swaddled legs, but he was too weak.

“I’ve got a weird feeling…” you murmured after greeting another guest.

“Maybe you’re just tired?” Rafayel shrugged.

“No. We need to go home. I have to see my son.” You rushed to the exit, your heart racing.

“Sweetheart! Wait!” But you didn’t reply. “Oh, that woman. Hey!” He called his assistant. “There’s hardly anything left to do, so finish the show yourself, alright?”

You could feel that something was off.

As you swung the door open, an eerie silence greeted you—no one was in sight. But then, a loud voice broke through the stillness. A television show, perhaps? You stepped into the living room, your heart pounding, and froze in shock. Rafayel stepped forward slightly, his expression mirroring yours, both of you utterly dumbfounded.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” he exclaimed.

“Why are you here so early? This isn’t what you think!” the girl began to stammer, her eyes wide with panic.

“Are you kidding me?!” you shot back, leveling a steely glare at her.

“Exactly! You were just five minutes ago fooling around with some loser on MY couch!” Rafayel shouted, his anger boiling over.

Meanwhile, your mind raced as you scanned the room for your son. Where could he be? Panic clawed at your stomach until your ears caught a faint knocking sound coming from the pantry. With urgency, you flung the door open. What you saw made your heart drop—there was your son, tears streaming down his cheeks, wrapped in duct tape.

“Mommy!” he cried, and you rushed to him, your heart breaking at the sight.

“Shh, sweetie, it’s okay. Mama’s here,” you whispered softly, carefully peeling the tape away from his small frame. Just then, Rafayel stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury as he locked onto the so-called "nanny."

“What the hell is going on?!” he barked, his rage palpable.

You held your son close, cradling him against your chest as if that alone could shield him from the chaos erupting around you. The tension in the room crackled like electricity, and you felt a fierce protectiveness take hold.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” you said with steely determination, heart pounding in unison with his.

“She's wrecked Dad's couch! I told her not to mess it up! She shoved me, and I hit my head and started crying!” With tears streaming down his cheeks, your son lamented about the girl. “And then she wrapped me in tape and locked me in the pantry without any light.”

“Rafayel, hold our son for a minute.” You lifted the little boy and handed him over to Rafayel. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, your husband is a true gentleman who would never lift a finger against a woman, even if she were as terrible as this nanny. But you could, because you're also a woman.

With a fierce determination, you pushed her into the hallway, where she collided with the corner of the wall. Standing tall before her, you seethed, “You laid hands on my son?!” Grabbing her by the hair, you delivered a sharp slap across her cheek, pulling her toward the door with a firm grip.

“It hurts!” she screeched, a mix of outrage and fear in her voice.

“Good,” you shot back, your eyes blazing. “Maybe you'll think twice before laying a finger on my child again.” The air was thick with tension, a silent understanding that you wouldn't let this slide. In your mind, you were ready to do whatever it took to protect your family.

“I'm telling you, my son was hurting too, you little witch!” You hurled her out the door with a fierce shove. “This is just the beginning. I’ll make your life a living hell, you little brat.” Slamming the door behind you, you returned to your loved ones, planting soft kisses on their foreheads and wrapping them in warm embraces. “I wish I could've just taken her out,” your husband chimed in, pouting playfully.

“Looks like you've taken on the role of dad's personal bodyguard, huh? Desperately defending my favorite couch, like a true hero!” He scooped your son up and, with a playful flourish, set him down on the floor, heading toward the bathroom for the first-aid kit.

“Y/N! You coming or what?”

“Yeah! Just tidying up a bit, I’ll be right there!”

“Mom! Hurry up! Dad doesn’t know how to handle wounds!”

“Not true! I totally know what I’m doing!”

“Get that enema away from my head! Mom! Please!”

And just like that, the house buzzed with that familiar family atmosphere again: laughter, playful chaos, and a guy who practically jumped out the window to escape your wrath, fearing he'd end up just like that girl he cheated with.

in love? I know it's impossible to resist that look. (LMAO God, I sick in the head🤪)

(Kkkk LMAO! I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't help but make a joke.)

© 2025 do reblog, but don’t copy or publish my work on other platforms, or translate (without my permission) into other languages.

past your bedtime.

"You never told me you knew about mythlogy." — "You never asked." You struggle to sleep during bedtime. Xavier has just the trick to send you straight to dreamland. - 779 w. not proofread.

cw.: nothing. just sleepy xavi

It’s 1 am when you give up on trying to sleep. You toss and turn on your side of the bed in hopes to find a comfortable position to maybe, if your body is merciful enough, take a nap before you have to get up again.

You’re sore, your back hurts from the mission you’ve finished in the afternoon and your feet throb at the slightest contact with the ground. Exhausted is what you are. You came home sure you’d fall asleep in a second and yet, here you are, still wide awake when the digital alarm on your bedside table hits 2 am.

You almost feel sorry for Xavier, who’s currently lost deep into dreamland, for moving around so much beside him. Oh how you envy his ability to fall asleep anywhere and anytime. You toss and turn for a while longer, going static when your ears perk at the sound of Xavier snoring softly in his sleep, a pair of strong arms snake around your torso and trap you close to him like the perfect little emotional support pillow. 

Accepting you won’t be able to move around anymore, you stare at the shape of his peaceful sleeping face in the dark, bits of his hair illuminated by moonlight seeping through the thin curtains. Struggling under his embrace as gently as possible, your hand leaves your chest to comb his blonde hair out of his face in affection. Xavier’s breath hitches, not tense, but surprised at the contact in his half-awake-half-asleep state.

You choke on a yawn trying to escape your lips as Xavier’s lashes tremble and his sleepy eyes meet your wide awake ones. 

“Why are you still awake?” You can barely see but you just know there’s the tiniest frown forming in his face. 

Afraid that if you move, you’ll make him lose his sleepy state, your hand freezes in place but never leaves his hair. “Can’t sleep. Sorry- did i wake you up?” You whisper.

Xavier has always been your knight in shining armor with the looks of the most stunning prince ever. And even though you’ve said multiple times you can stand up for yourself no matter what, he insisted that he’ll always be there when things get messy. So why are you, of all people, worried you’re interrupting his sleep? 

“why didn’t you wake me up earlier is the real question. C’mere” He mutters, his voice laced with sleep. Closing the space between you two, he pulls you closer by the small of your back.

“Xavi- go back to sleep, i’ll fall asleep soon-” It’s already impossible to make wide awake Xavier finish reports so you worry what a pain it’ll be to get him to get anything done in the morning if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

“Do you know the story behind ursa major and minor?” He interrupts you with no ceremony, yawning at the end of his question. 

“Xavier- we have work in the morning, now is not the time-” — “Shhhh…” A kiss is placed between your brows.

“Once upon a time…” — He starts slowly, like he’s reading a bedtime story to a toddler. When Xavier has something in mind, it’s impossible to change his mind. Stubborn man he was. 

“…The beautiful maiden Callisto had an affair with Zeus, and they had a son named Arcas.” A kiss to your forehead. His hand snakes under your shirt to trace light patterns on your back.

He yawns but continues anyway. — “To protect them both from his jealous wife Hera, Zeus turned both of them into bears, grabbed them by their little tails and threw Callisto and Arcas  into the beautiful skies.” 

Now it’s your turn to yawn, eyelids droopy with tiredness. His voice could be a lullaby on its own, everything about Xavier had a sense of… gentleness, love. Every touch of his fingertips on your back was an act of adoration, the slow kisses on your skin painting a constellation of his own making on your face.

“Because of that, their tails stretched out and can be seen to this day in the night sky.” He concludes.

“So ursa minor is Arcas and ursa major is Callisto. And they have twenty nine stars in total. Oh and-” At the sound of your slow paced breath makes him go quiet and a tiny, proud smile plays on his lips.

It doesn’t take him long to also fall asleep, never does. Curling impossibly close to your body, he takes a deep breath in your hair, inhales the fresh scent of your shampoo and presses a good night kiss on your hairline before falling into a deep slumber once again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading! (*´▽`*)

Xavier (Lumiere) | Shimmering Moonlight Event Playlist

Twilight's Dawn Full Myth Another Dawnbreak Mini Stories Midnight Rainfall Kindled Midnight Whisper Kindled

So I received this ask from anon:

I have recently had a very uncomfortable experience...I am a uni student and have to travel via train sometimes. I was in my seat, wearing headphones, and I could see in the reflection of a window that there were 3 guys looking at me and one of them was all spread out touching himself. Later, that man came to sit next to me and tried to talk to me or get me to look at him. I was just ignoring him, and staring into my phone and pretending not to hear him since I had headphones over my ears, but I could hear them talking about me. They kept daring each other to touch my hair and stuff like that.

Later when we had to get up to get off the train, they walked up to me and kept "brushing" theirs hands "accidentally" against me.

Thankfully nothing happened because they lost me in the crowd once I got out of the train but I was super scared they would follow me

I am so so so sorry you had to experience that. My heart was breaking as I read your ask🥺 I know exactly how that feels, to be completely helpless in those situations. I hope you stay safe always and be sure to always travel with a companion next time🥹

Here is the request for the LADS boys reacting to the events/finding out what happened to you.

You tell them what happened—the train, the way you were stared at, touched, followed. Your voice shakes by the end of it, even if you’re trying to keep it steady.

You didn’t want to make it a big deal. You just needed someone to know:

Zayne

He doesn’t speak at first.

But you see it—the shift. The stillness. Like something inside him tightens, coils too tightly to breathe. His face remains calm, but his eyes say everything. Fury, quiet and buried, held back by habit. By choice.

“They touched you?”

His voice is soft. Too soft. Like he’s trying not to believe it.

You nod.

He inhales slowly, jaw flexing as he exhales through his nose. Then his hand scrubs over his face, once, grounding himself. “Did you report it?”

You shake your head. “No. I was scared. I just… I just wanted to leave.”

His gaze flickers toward the floor, then back to you. “You did what you had to do. I’m not angry at you.”

He hesitates. Then quietly adds, “I hate that I wasn’t there. That you had to face that alone.”

You glance away, and he steps in closer. Not fast. Not overwhelming. Just enough to rest his hand gently on your arm, the warmth of his skin an anchor.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “tell me. Call me. Text me. Anything.”

His voice lowers, thick with the words he struggles to say aloud. “You matter to me more than you think. Don’t go through something like that alone again.”

Later that night, he doesn’t leave your side. He lets you sleep curled against him, one arm around your waist, the other brushing soft strokes through your hair. And every time you shift in your sleep, he murmurs something under his breath.

“You’re safe now.”

“I’m here.”

“They’ll never get near you again.”

The next morning, he drives you to campus.

Kisses your forehead before you get out of the car.

Then heads to the hospital.

It’s a quiet day, until three men are wheeled into the ER. Minor injuries. Nothing urgent. But Zayne hears them laughing. Whispering. Mentioning a girl.

The words catch his ear.

Train. Girl. Scared.

He stills. Completely.

He doesn’t ask questions.

He reads the chart, notes the names.

And when the others step out, Zayne lingers behind. Alone.

What happens next isn’t in the textbooks. It isn’t written into the Hippocratic oath. But he’s a surgeon—he knows exactly where it hurts. Where to press. Where to leave no trace.

Later, when a nurse asks why all three patients discharged themselves early and limped out without a word, Zayne simply nods and goes back to work.

He never mentions it to you.

He just holds your hand a little tighter the next time you walk through the city.

Sylus

There’s a pause.

Not hesitation—calculation.

A flicker in Sylus’s crimson eyes as he scans every word, every tremble in your voice, cataloging and analyzing it with terrifying precision.

You can almost hear the gears turning. Quiet. Lethal.

“Did you get a good look at them?” he asks. The question is sharp, deceptively calm.

You shake your head, voice small. “No. Just… their voices. One of them was touching himself. Then he sat beside me. Tried to talk to me. They were laughing. Daring each other to touch my hair.”

Sylus doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

But his jaw sets, ever so slightly. A muscle ticks in his cheek.

“Scum like that,” he says, voice low, “always think they’re untouchable. Like the world won’t notice when they disappear.”

He doesn’t pace. Doesn’t shout. He doesn’t need to. His fury manifests in stillness—in the way his fingers lace together too tightly, in the frigid control of his tone.

“You’re not taking the train again. Ever.”

“That’s not—Sylus, it’s not realistic—”

“I wasn’t asking.”

His voice slices through your protest like a knife. “I’ll walk with you. Drive you. Put a goddamn tracker on your coat if I have to. But you’re not going near that station alone again. Next time, they won’t even get close enough to breathe near you.”

Silence. Then something shifts in his eyes as they flicker down to your clenched fists.

His tone softens—but only slightly. “I know you were scared. And I hate that they made you feel powerless.”

He reaches out, knuckles grazing your hand. Careful. Controlled.

“But you’re not small. And no one gets to make you feel that way. Not under my watch.”

You nod, and he pulls away.

“Luke. Kieran,” he calls out, without raising his voice. His eyes stay on you. “Get her home. Stay with her.”

Mephisto swoops in and lands on the back of his chair, watching in silence as Sylus stands.

He doesn’t bother turning. “You were tailing her. Track them down.”

His voice is low. Icy.

And Mephisto launches into the air with a mechanical screech that echoes like the end of a countdown.

Within minutes, they bring them to him.

Three men. Faces bloodied, defiant—until they meet his eyes.

There is no grand speech. No threat.

Only Sylus, standing over them like death incarnate, sleeves rolled up, gaze as sharp as a blade.

He leans in, smile cruel and quiet. “Let’s see how untouchable you feel now.”

By the time he’s done, they can’t so much as whisper your name.

And Sylus?

He wipes the blood from his hands with surgical precision. Straightens his coat. And walks out without looking back.

You never hear their voices again.

Rafayel

He goes very still.

The kind of stillness that unsettles the air, that draws the light out of the room without a sound. His expression—usually teasing, theatrical, bold—shifts.

Not into anger. Not yet. It becomes unreadable.

Cold in a way that doesn’t suit his fire.

“They touched you?”

The words fall low, sharp. Stripped of all his usual lilt. Dead serious. Dangerous.

You nod.

His hands curl at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The crackle of heat that usually dances around him is absent. It’s quiet. Controlled. But the restraint is louder than any fury.

“Give me their names,” he says. “Or their faces. I don’t need both.”

You shake your head. Quiet. “I don’t want revenge… I just wanted to feel safe again. That’s all. Just… stay.”

Something flickers in his eyes. Not disappointment—never that. But something else. Like the desire to burn the world colliding with the aching need to be what you asked for.

He exhales through his nose. Shoulders relax just enough for him to step in.

Then his arms are around you, pulling you in, holding you so tightly you feel real again. His warmth wraps around you, not scorching—just steady, grounding. Like embers at your back.

“Then that’s what I’ll be,” he murmurs into your hair. “Your safe place.”

A beat.

“But if they so much as breathe your way again,” he adds, voice quieter, crueler, “I won’t be as merciful.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, lingers there. “You did nothing wrong, love. You hear me? I’m proud of you. And I’m so, so glad you’re here.”

Your voice cracks when you finally whisper, “I was scared.”

He tucks you closer to his chest, hand cradling the back of your head.

“I know, cutie. I know.” His voice softens like dusk, like waves kissing ash. “It’s over now. You’re with me.”

You fall asleep in his arms, safe in the heat of him.

And later—when the moon is high and your breathing is steady—he slips away. Silent. Focused.

CCTV footage. Street cameras. Reflections in windows. It doesn’t take long. He’s always been good at finding the shadows people try to hide in.

By dawn, three men are reported missing.

One is found knee-deep in a freezing river, babbling about glowing eyes and a voice that promised worse.

The others? Well.

Let’s just say they won’t be going near open water again.

And Rafayel?

He returns before you wake. Washes the blood off his hands.

And makes you tea.

Xavier

He blinks. Once. Twice. Then goes still—completely still.

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. You can see it in his eyes—the disbelief, the horror. Like something in him can’t reconcile the image of you—you—with the violation you just described.

“They were… watching you?” he repeats, slowly. “And they touched you?”

You nod.

Xavier’s breath hitches, his hand tightening ever so slightly at his side. He looks shaken—not by fear, but by the weight of helplessness. His voice comes quiet, almost broken.

“I—I don’t understand… how anyone could think that’s okay. How they could look at you and—”

He stops himself. His jaw clenches. It’s subtle, but telling. Xavier rarely shows this much emotion all at once. You see the storm gathering behind his calm.

Then, with careful control, he steps closer. His hand reaches for yours, warm and trembling faintly. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. That you were scared. That they made you feel small.”

He swallows. “You should never have had to feel that way. Not for a second.”

His eyes lift to yours, and they’re unwavering now. That quiet strength he carries, the kind most people miss—it sharpens into something else. Resolve.

“I wish I had been there,” he says softly. “Because I would’ve stopped them. I would’ve made sure they never looked at you again.”

Then, quieter—like a vow spoken into the space between heartbeats—

“You won’t ever be alone again. Not if I can help it.”

He holds you that night, as long as you’ll let him. A steady presence. A silent promise.

But when you’re asleep—peaceful at last—Xavier slips away. Quietly. Deliberately.

He tracks them down. It doesn’t take much.

He already had access to security feeds, transport records, street cameras.

He watches the footage once, then again, jaw tightening.

Then he finds them.

And Xavier doesn’t scream. He doesn’t threaten. He doesn’t need to.

All he says, in that low, even voice of his, is:

“You made her afraid. That was your first mistake. I won’t give you time to make a second.”

They don’t know what hit them.

And the next time you take that train, no one dares come close.

No one even looks at you the wrong way.

Not with Xavier walking beside you—quiet, composed, protective as ever.

But now, there’s something different in the way people step aside when he passes.

Something cold.

Something earned.