Xavier Is As Fast As Light

taking a shower with caleb, but for once, you're the one pampering him.

he's always the one washing your hair, but when you pout at him and threaten to leave the shower, he relents and sits on the shower bench in front of you. he sighs and tells you once more that "baby, you really don't have to, i'm okay," but you're having none of that. tilting his head up to meet your gaze, you press a kiss to his eyelids, and he tenderly places his hands on your hips — rubbing small comforting circles with his thumbs.

shielding his eyes from the water, you make sure his hair is thoroughly soaked through before squeezing some shampoo in your palms and massaging his scalp with it. caleb shudders a bit at first, your smaller hands much warmer than his. your touch is so soft, and for some reason, his chest feels like it's tightening a bit. when you push his hair back and laugh, whispering that "slicked back hair fits you, handsome," caleb looks at you as if you hung the moon and stars in the sky.

the feeling of your warm skin beneath his hands, your nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your soft hums — this is love, he thinks. you're gazing at him with so much adoration, and you're treating him as if he was fragile. it's all so overwhelming, and caleb can't help the tears in his eyes. he was always content caring for you, never expecting you to do the same — your presence alone was a blessing enough. when he takes his hands off your hips to wipe his eyes, you grow concerned.

“caleb, are you okay? did shampoo get in your eyes?”

in response, he just laughs and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head against your chest. listening carefully to your heartbeat, he exhales deeply. your body heat is so grounding, and he can't help letting out a choked sob when he feels you wrap your own arms around him. you care, you care for him so deeply, and caleb never knew he could allow himself to be selfish in this manner.

oh, how lucky you were to have each other.

“just thinking about how much i love you.”

🍎 pomme's notes — his myth damn near made me kill myself i need to love him so bad.. also inspired by that one reddit guy whose girlfriend washed his hair and he cried.. that's calebcore!!

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.

“lads boys with a clingy partner”

hi bunnies sorry for not posting🥹 happy easter to all the ones who celebrate!

content: fluff, mentions of nightmares

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

Sylus

the morning air in onychinus is cold, but not cold enough to keep you from crawling onto Sylus’ lap while he’s trying to go through files. he sits on the velvet couch, his black blazer draped over his shoulders, one hand holding a holopad and the other gripping a steaming mug. you’re practically glued to him, arms around his waist, cheek against his chest

he exhales sharply, but it’s not annoyance—it’s more like the sound of someone trying very hard not to indulge you too fast

“i can’t feel my legs,” he mutters, not even looking down “you’ve been clinging to me for the past forty minutes”

“you love it,” you murmur into his shirt, fingers playing with the fabric “i’m your favorite parasite”

he finally looks down, crimson eyes glinting in amusement “if i had a favorite parasite, you’d be it, yes”

his hand moves from the mug to your back, fingers tracing lazy circles against your spine. he doesn’t push you away. of course he doesn’t. Sylus complains, but he never actually means it. you’ve figured that out by now

“you could’ve kicked me off,” you tease

“i could’ve,” he says dryly “but i’m indulging your clinginess. it’s charming. pathetic, but charming”

you pout up at him “mean.”

“accurate.”

but he softens, just a little, when you don’t move. when your breathing evens out against him, and your fingers curl slightly like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go

his voice drops to a murmur “what’s gotten into you?”

“nothing,” you say “just wanna stay close”

he hums “you’ve been like this all week”

you don’t respond right away. instead, you tug his blazer tighter around the both of you and nuzzle in

after a beat, Sylus speaks again, quieter this time

“did you have another nightmare?”

you hesitate, then nod

he sets the holopad aside with a sigh and cups your face, guiding your head up until you meet his gaze

“you need to tell me these things,” he says “i can’t drag them out of you while you cling to me like an octopus”

“i’m not an octopus”

“you’re worse. you’re cute. and you know i can’t say no when you’re like this”

you blink up at him “so you do like it.”

he narrows his eyes “i didn’t say that.”

you smirk “you implied it.”

he kisses you before you can get cocky. just once, light and brief, but enough to silence your teasing

“you can cling to me all you want,” he murmurs, his voice low “just don’t keep things from me”

“i wasn’t trying to hide it,” you say softly “just didn’t wanna make you worry”

he lets out a soft chuckle, barely audible “i worry when you don’t cling to me”

you blink “you do?”

“mmh” he leans back, tugging you closer, settling you against him like you’re meant to be there “you’re always holding onto me like you’re afraid i’ll vanish. if you stop… i’ll know something’s wrong”

you bite your lip, warmth blooming in your chest

“besides,” he adds, lips brushing your hair, “i’ve grown fond of being your emotional support villain”

you snort “you’re more like an emotional support dragon”

“same thing”

you shift slightly, enough to peek up at him through your lashes “so you won’t get tired of me being clingy?”

he smirks, brushing your hair back “not unless you start following me into the shower”

“i’ve done that before”

“and i had to bribe you out with chocolate”

you grin, smug “you bought my favorite kind”

he rolls his eyes “you’re impossible.”

but then he presses a long, quiet kiss to your temple, and when you melt into him again, he doesn’t complain. doesn’t even pretend to

because the truth is—Sylus likes it. likes you. every stubborn, clingy, affectionate part

and if holding you close is the price for your peace of mind, he’ll let you stay right there for as long as you need

Zayne

Zayne doesn’t look up right away when you wrap your arms around him from behind. he’s seated at his desk, posture perfect, pen gliding across a patient chart with that same practiced precision. his hair falls slightly over his glasses, and the gentle ticking of his desk clock fills the silence of the office

you rest your cheek between his shoulder blades, eyes closed, arms locked snugly around his torso like you might float away if you let go

“you know this is the third time you’ve interrupted me in the last hour,” he says, not turning around “you’ve brought me tea, asked if i liked the scent of your shampoo, and now… this.”

you hum softly “you didn’t answer about the shampoo”

“lavender,” he mutters “i took note the second you walked in”

a small smile curves your lips. he did notice

Zayne sets the pen down at last and exhales, head tilting slightly toward you “i take it you’re feeling clingy again”

“is that a problem?”

he doesn’t respond right away. instead, he reaches for your hand and gently tugs you around to his side. you let him guide you, limbs loose and obedient as he pulls you onto his lap. one of his arms wraps around your waist, the other settles over your hand where it rests on his chest

“if it were a problem,” he says softly “i wouldn’t be holding you right now”

you sigh contentedly and tuck your face into his neck “i missed you”

“i saw you this morning”

“still missed you”

Zayne’s lips curve into the faintest smile “you’ve been unusually attached lately”

you shift slightly “do you want me to stop?”

he’s quiet for a second, then murmurs

“no. not really.”

you lift your head, surprised “really?”

he sighs again, but this time it’s the fond kind—the tired, helpless kind that only comes out when he’s too in love to argue “i’ve been waking up with your arm draped across my chest every night for the past week. i can’t reach for my alarm without peeling you off me. and somehow, i don’t mind”

you look at him with wide eyes “so you like it?”

“i didn’t say that” he adjusts his glasses with one hand “but if you stopped, i’d probably assume you were hiding something”

you frown slightly “i’m not hiding anything”

“then why the sudden surge in affection?”

you hesitate, then quietly say “you’ve been working more hours lately. i just… i don’t want to feel like i’m losing time with you”

his expression softens instantly

“i’m sorry,” he says “i should’ve noticed sooner”

you shake your head “i get it. your patients need you”

“and so do you.”

Zayne leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. his eyes, usually sharp and unreadable, are soft now. tired, yes—but open in a way only you ever get to see

“tell me when you feel like this,” he says gently “don’t just cling. i can handle honesty better than surprise cuddles in the middle of surgery prep”

you laugh under your breath “you did scold me that time”

“because you nearly knocked over an IV stand”

you nuzzle closer “worth it”

he shakes his head but doesn’t push you away. instead, he shifts the chair slightly, pulling a blanket from the side cabinet and draping it over both of you

“i have three more files to go through,” he says “but if you promise not to fall asleep and drool on my tie again, you can stay right here.”

you blink “again?!”

“you think i keep spare ties in my desk for fashion?”

you grin “you secretly love it.”

“i am a man of science,” Zayne replies, deadpan “i don’t love being drooled on”

but he kisses your cheek anyway. warm. soft. and when you rest your head against his chest again, his arms tighten just a little

he lets you stay for the rest of the evening, finishing his files one by one while you curl in his lap like a content cat. and every so often, he pauses—just to run his fingers through your hair, or to press a kiss to your temple, like he needs the reminder too

Caleb

Caleb’s halfway through refueling his aircraft when he hears rapid footsteps behind him—light, familiar ones that don’t belong to any mechanic on the tarmac. he doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you

“don’t say anything,” you huff, wrapping your arms tight around his waist from behind “just… stand there”

he chuckles under his breath, lowering the nozzle and tilting his head back slightly “that bad of a day, huh?”

“no,” you mumble against his back “i just missed you”

he grins, lips twitching at the corners as he sets the nozzle down and lets his hands rest over yours “you saw me this morning”

“doesn’t count. you left before i was awake”

“technically, i kissed your forehead before i left,” he says, voice playful “that counts for something”

you hug him tighter “i want a do-over”

Caleb turns slowly in your arms, the scent of jet fuel clinging faintly to his jacket. his eyes, that soft violet hue you’ve always loved, lock on yours with warmth and just a hint of mischief

“you’re clingy today” he says with a knowing smile

“is that a problem?”

he leans in a little, brows raised “have i ever said no to you clinging?”

you look up at him, teasing “you get smug about it”

“because i like it,” he says, pulling you in without hesitation “i like that you want to be close. that you run straight to me when you’re feeling needy”

you bury your face in his jacket “i’m not needy”

“you literally followed me to the plane, mid-shift, and clung to me like a baby koala”

you pout “are you calling me a koala now?”

he laughs and lifts you slightly off the ground in a warm, secure hug, spinning you in a slow circle despite the busy hangar

“a very cute koala,” he murmurs “with a death grip”

you hum contentedly, resting your chin on his shoulder “i just didn’t feel like being alone today”

he immediately softens at that, arms wrapping tighter around you

“you never have to be.”

“but you’re always working”

“so are you,” he says, brushing your hair back gently “and yet, here you are, glued to me in the middle of a military-grade launch pad. not exactly subtle”

“you love it”

“of course i do”

his voice lowers a little, quieter against the sound of nearby aircraft and voices

“i think about you all the time when i’m flying,” he confesses “when i hit turbulence, when the sky goes quiet, when the alarms go off in my headset… you’re the one i think of. and then when i land, i hope you’re here”

you blink, caught off guard by how soft he’s being “you do?”

he nods, gaze never leaving yours “every time”

you smile into his chest “then maybe i should start hiding in your cockpit”

he snorts “you’d get arrested”

“you’d bail me out”

“yeah,” he says without hesitation “i would.”

you stay there for a while, wrapped in him, ignoring the curious glances of nearby engineers. Caleb doesn’t care. he never does. even when his superiors are around, even when he’s supposed to be the strict Colonel on duty—when it comes to you, his arms are always open

“how long until you take off?” you ask, voice small

“forty minutes”

you tug on his jacket sleeve “stay with me ‘til then?”

he doesn’t even hesitate “you got it.”

he guides you over to the edge of the hangar, where the sun hits the floor in golden beams. you sit together, shoulder to shoulder, legs stretched out, your head resting against his. the world keeps moving—pilots shouting, aircraft humming—but in that little moment, everything feels still

Caleb intertwines your fingers with his

“you can be clingy all you want,” he murmurs “i signed up for that the moment i fell in love with you”

you squeeze his hand “what if i’m clingy forever?”

he grins “then i guess you’re stuck with me forever too.”

Rafayel

Rafayel’s house is bathed in warm light, the windows cracked open just enough to let in the city breeze. classical music plays softly from hidden speakers, the scent of white tea and citrus lingering in the air. he’s lounging on his favorite cream-colored couch, wearing a silk robe loosely tied over a half-buttoned shirt, swirling a glass of wine in one hand while reading something on his holo-tablet

and you? you’re practically draped over him like a second robe

“you’re heavy,” he drawls, though there’s absolutely zero heat in his voice “are you attempting to fuse with me?”

you bury your face into his chest “maybe”

he sighs—dramatically, as always—and sets his tablet aside “is this how it’s going to be now? i can’t even sip my wine without being used as a human mattress?”

you peek up at him, pouting “don’t act like you don’t love it”

he raises a perfectly shaped brow, eyes flicking down to where your legs are tangled with his

“i love many things. vintage wines, rare artifacts, silk pillows… and, unfortunately for me, you”

you grin, not the least bit offended “so i can stay here?”

he exhales, then tilts your chin up with one finger “i would sooner burn this apartment to the ground than move you”

you blink “…romantic”

“i try”

you stay quiet for a moment, tracing absent shapes on his chest through his shirt. he watches you for a beat, then softly asks “what’s this about, dove?”

you glance away “i just missed you.”

he hums “you saw me two hours ago.”

“i still missed you.”

his hand finds your hair, long fingers combing through it gently “you’ve been a bit… clingier than usual”

you wince “too much?”

he snorts “please. if i didn’t enjoy it, do you think you’d still be breathing right now?”

you laugh, muffled against him

he brushes a kiss to the top of your head “i’m not complaining, darling. i’m simply curious. your usual clinginess is adorable—this level borders on concerning”

you don’t answer right away, just sink further into his embrace like the answer’s hidden somewhere in his heartbeat

he softens, all teasing gone from his voice “talk to me”

“i had a dream,” you finally say “that you left”

he frowns “left how?”

“just… disappeared. no note, no goodbye. i woke up and you weren’t there, and it felt so real”

Rafayel is silent for a moment. then, he slides his glass onto the side table and pulls you into his lap properly, wrapping his arms around you with rare, unguarded tenderness

“i’m not going anywhere,” he says “you’d have to banish me yourself. even then, i’d find my way back”

“what if you got bored of me?”

he scoffs “impossible. you’re chaos in a pretty package. and you cling to me like ivy. how could i ever get bored?”

“some people don’t like clingy”

“those people have no taste”

you laugh again, and Rafayel leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead. his lips linger there, his breath warm and steady

“do you know how many people want my attention?” he murmurs “and how few actually have it?”

you nod slowly “a lot. and almost none.”

he smiles “exactly. you’re not just the exception. you’re the rule-breaker. you cling, and i let you. you pout, and i cave. you crawl into my lap during my very important wine therapy session, and instead of throwing you off—I hold you tighter”

you blink “…that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said”

“don’t get used to it”

“too late”

he chuckles and lets his head fall back against the couch, arms still snug around you. you curl up there, completely content, as the music shifts to something slower, more intimate

“stay here tonight,” he says softly “cling all you want. hell, cling in your sleep. drool on my robe. claim me like a pillow. i’ll allow it.”

“you’re spoiling me”

“no,” he says, kissing your temple again “i’m keeping you.”

Xavier

Xavier’s apartment is dim and quiet, lit mostly by the flicker of neon lights outside the window. the soft hum of rain hits the glass, steady and calming. he’s stretched out on the couch in an oversized hoodie, one arm draped behind his head, the other flipping lazily through a book he’s already read twice. every few pages, his eyes flick down to the weight pressed against his side

you.

curled up against him like a second blanket, arms wrapped around his torso, cheek smushed into his chest. you haven’t said much, just let out a satisfied sigh every now and then like you’re recharging on physical contact alone

“you’ve been stuck to me all night” he murmurs, voice quiet but amused

“i know,” you mumble “i’m comfy”

he glances down at you “clingy today, huh?”

“a little.”

he closes the book with one hand and sets it aside “you were clingy this morning. and this afternoon. and when i tried to go take a shower”

you lift your head slightly “you still went”

“yeah. with you sitting on the sink counter like some judgmental little gremlin watching my every move”

“someone had to make sure you didn’t slip”

he huffs a laugh, but it’s warm. he reaches over and brushes your hair out of your face with the tips of his fingers, his touch careful—almost hesitant, like he still can’t believe you let him do this. like he still feels lucky every time

“you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he asks softly

you blink “what do you mean?”

“this level of clinginess usually has a reason. not that i mind,” he adds quickly “just… you’re usually a little more subtle”

you hesitate, then bury your face back into his hoodie. it smells like clean laundry and something distinctly him—cold metal, warm skin, and comfort

“i just missed you” you say into the fabric

“you saw me yesterday.”

“i know. i still missed you.”

Xavier is quiet for a moment. you can feel the way his chest rises and falls under your cheek, steady and calm

“okay” he says

you blink “okay?”

“yeah” his arm wraps around you, pulling you a little closer “if you missed me, then this is where you belong.”

you tilt your head up to look at him “you’re really letting me get away with this?”

he smirks “getting away with it implies i’d ever stop you”

“you’ve definitely tried before”

“yeah, and every time you look at me like i just kicked a puppy”

“you hate it when i do that”

“obviously,” he mutters “you weaponize your pretty face”

“you love my face”

he rolls his eyes, but there’s a soft flush on his cheeks “unfortunately.”

you smile and cuddle back into him. the rain continues tapping against the window, and the sound of his heartbeat fills your ears, steady and grounding. he runs his fingers gently up and down your spine, over the fabric of your hoodie, the rhythm almost hypnotic

“you can be clingy whenever you want,” he murmurs “just give me a heads-up if you plan to fuse with my ribcage”

you snort “no promises”

“figured”

you both go quiet again for a while. he shifts a little to reach for the remote, flipping the TV on low—just soft background noise, some slow documentary you’re not really watching. the screen casts a gentle glow over both of you, and his thumb traces little circles on your arm

“you know,” he says after a moment “i used to think i needed a lot of space”

“you still do”

“yeah. but… i don’t mind when it’s you taking it”

your heart stutters “you mean that?”

“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t” he pauses “you make it easier. being around you doesn’t feel like noise. it feels like… quiet. the kind of quiet i don’t want to end”

you stay silent, overwhelmed for a second. then you shift up just enough to press a kiss to his jaw. his skin is warm, and you feel him freeze, then relax under the touch

“i love you, Xavier”

he doesn’t say it back right away—but you’ve learned not to expect it from him every time. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he shows it more than he says it. and right now, he’s holding you like the world could fall apart and he wouldn’t notice as long as you were still in his arms

“…i know,” he murmurs eventually “and i love you, too. now stop moving. you’re warm”

you smile, eyes closing “fine. i’ll stay. forever.”

“good,” he whispers “i was hoping you would.”

woops!

7-Days of Recovery With You 🍧🌸

SYNOPSIS: After getting injured and blacking out during a battle, you had not other choice but to take a week-long rest at home to recover. Unfortunately, the universe had a different vision for your dedicated rest & relaxation and decided to send in not just one but all five of your "emergency contacts". Oh the joy of being their favorite past time.

🍓 A/N: Hello! First fanfic here on tumblr about our favorite LADS boys (்▿்). I'll be posting daily (if I can make time lol) for this one! Each part will have a different pairing with all the fluff & humor I can squeeze into the fics. Hope you like it!

- p.s: I'll work on tumblr's interface so I can figure out how to add pictures and stuff to make it more interesting~

˚₊·Xavier's Miracle Soup—̳͟͞͞♡

Part 2 (Zayne) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Your week had been more than just the typical stressful encounter. Well, first and foremost, you took a hit. A pretty bad one, to say the least. It just so happened you were out in the field with Xavier, fighting off Wanderers just like any other day. It was supposed to be an easy job, a quick 30-45 minute battle, however you never anticipated to be battling wave after wave of Wanderers.

Now, here you were under bedrest, seeking recovery from your battle, surrounded by a thick blanket and rows and towers of pillows for your own comfort. Ironically, despite all the comfort your own bed has brought to you over the years, nothing could compete to the impending feeling of doom you were feeling at that moment.

Your phone kept buzzing non-stop, one message after the other, not just from one but from all five of your "emergency contacts". For some reason, they thought it was wise to build a groupchat and include you in it, to keep "tabs" on your well-being. Knowing well-enough your house is littered with security cameras from Caleb's recent "house project" and Mephisto being on the 24/7 watch, constantly pecking at your window to check on you and most probably bring "gifts" from Onychinus' one and only leader, Sylus. Not to mention, all five men have access to your current vital signs that directly notify them if it gets too low or too high, all thanks to Zayne's newly-installed and gifted watch, which clings onto your wrist like a second skin.

Grumbling to yourself as you rolled on your bed, shielding your eyes from the light peeking through the curtains, "So much for a relaxing long weekend".

» Flashback: 3 days ago . . . «

"Xavier!" you yelled across the field., "2:00!". Loud shots were fired into the air accompanied with the clanging of metal hitting almost everything in its path. "There's too many," Xavier respons, panting heavily as he wipes off the sweat and dirt off his forehead. "Any ideas?" he asks, slashing his sword through the air as another Wanderer comes too close for its own comfort towards you and Xavier.

You and Xavier had been fighting Wanderers non-stop since early in the morning. What was anticipated to be an easy job for the both of you experienced hunters, became nearly a full-day battle. "Well, making it out alive is one of them," you half-heartedly joked, trying to figure out another way to eliminate at least most of the Wanderers stalking your way. You and Xavier were about to be cornered against a large boulder, with no other exit available for the both of you to make it out alive without leaving the other behind. With quick thinking, Xavier slashed his sword in the air and cut down a nearby tree, crushing the remaining Wanderers that were crawling towards the both of you.

With heavy panting, you let your knees buckle and kneel to the floor, carefully clutching both of your guns to the ground. "What the hell was that?", swiping off all the sweat and grime from your forehead and carefully tucking away hair strands of your now messy ponytail to the side.

"It was more than what we had expected," Xavier holds out a hand and helps you get up. Not even standing at your full height, you felt the pang to your chest, you quickly grasp the skin over your heart to try and ease the pain. You felt the whole world spinning, bits of black blotches decorating your vision, you couldn't help but feel the swaying motions of your entire body, feeling the wave of pain and exhaustion finally crashing into you.

With one last glance at Xavier, you blacked out and felt your body, crash to the floor with only hearing Xavier's worried voice over and over until everything became tuned out.

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

It wasn't long before you regained consciousness and finally woke up from your deep slumber. Quickly looking around the room, familiarity made you realize that Xavier had brought you back home in your apartment. Carefully expecting your body, you could clearly see you were beaten and bruised from head to toe with your body being covered in layers of bandages and band-aids, for the smaller cuts.

"You're awake," a voice finally broke you out of your thoughts. As you lift your gaze up, you felt a soft smile grace your face. It was none other than your one and only partner in crime, Xavier, who was seemingly unscathed from the recent battle, carrying what seems to be a steaming hot bowl of what looks like a multi-colored soup. Well, crap.

"You blacked out, I had to bring you to the nearest hospital. You were out for a long time." Xavier said slowly, walking towards your bed with the soup in his hand, carefully grabbing a nearby chair with his vacant hand and setting himself ontop of it. "You overused your powers today, the association has been informed that we finished the task but, seeing your current condition, they're letting you take a break for a couple of days for you to fully recover".

"What? No, I can't. We still have so much paperworks to deal with. Not to mention the sudden influx of Wanderer activity within neighboring cities of Linkon." Your eyes widden at the thought, trying to slowly get up and fix yourself to a seated position, only to feel a pang of pain that puts your back against the board of your bed with a small thud and a wince of pain that makes you grab your waist in hopes to soothe the pain.

"Exactly my point. I'll handle the rest for the meantime. You need to rest. Captain Jenna has already made plans to assign me with a temporary partner while you rest up. We'll continue the mission from here and I'll update you as much as I can". Xavier, carefully, placing the soup onto the nearby table, gives your hand a small squeeze and a reassuring smile. As he pulls away, his gaze drops to his homemade soup and carefully picks up the bowl and scoops a spoonful of it.

You could feel the dread crawling out of you as Xavier stirs the soup and grabs another handful of the soup onto the spoon. "This is my own homemade recipe. I made it a while ago while you were asleep. It's mixed with all the good stuff I could find in your fridge". Well, double crap! I haven't even cleaned out my fridge for the week.

"That's so sweet of you Xavier, it means a lot but you don't have to feed me. I can handle it on my own." Reassuring Xavier as you carefully try to find a comfortable sitting position on the bed. Also hoping & praying that Xavier wouldn't feed you his bathbomb of a soup. Who knows what the man found and put into his miracle of a soup?

"No, I insist. Open wide," While grabbing both of your cheeks, Xavier quickly grabs the spoon and shoves the content forcefully into your mouth. With no choice but to swallow, you try and close your eyes to somehow pretend you're eating anything but the bathbomb soup.

Trying not to grimace at the recently-swallowed spoonful of bathbomb soup, you gave Xavier a weak smile, "Wow, it's...definitely something".

"I'm glad you like it. I won't leave until you finish all of it. Doctor's orders after all." You could feel your soul ascend and leave your body. How could you possibly finish this whole soup infront of Xavier? Taking in a deep breathe, you playfully twirl the spoon with your fingers as it rotates gently with the soup in the bowl, hoping it would buy you enough time for Xavier to go home and you can dispatch the bathbomb soup.

"Oh and, don't worry about anything else. Everything else is covered. The association said that they informed your four other emergency contacts. So, while I'm not here to take care of you, either of the four will do the job." Xavier smiles sweetly, as he wips out his phone and shows you an email from the association with his email attached to the receiver, along with not just two but four other emails? Why on earth would you have five emergency contacts? It wasn't like you were dying or anything, just beaten and bruised, but you'll definitely heal within a day or two.

"Wow, that's a lot of people but I'm sure I'll be fine. I'll only be gone for a couple of days."

"A week, you'll be gone for a week". Xavier corrected, looking through his phone to double check the email and its content. A whole week? What kind of joke is the universe trying to pull on you now? "Are you kidding me? What am I supposed to do then?"

"Well, for starters, you can finish your soup, I'll make up a new batch before I head out so I can give you time to rest". Xavier says, as he pats your head gently and slowly pushes away strands of your bangs to the side. Your eyes could never mistake the longing stare Xavier always does whenever he looks at you, as if worried you would disappear without a trace.

"I'll be fine. Have some faith in me, with your soup, I'll be back to work in no time." You say as you reach out for his hand and give it a tight squeeze and a reassuring smile.

Xavier couldn't help but smile, tidbits of little sparkles floating around him as you both reciprocate the emotion of relief, of being safe away from any worry and danger. "You'll always be my best partner in crime, you know? You've saved me more times than I can count".

"I'll always come to save you as you will always come and find me, no matter where I am". You couldn't help but smile but also wonder, what does Xavier mean by that, that you would always come and find him? Oh well, that's another mystery for another day.

"I think I'll rest up in while".

"Good, I'll make a new batch of soup. They should be arriving at any minute".

They?

And just like that, the universe decided to give you its own vision of rest & relaxation as a loud bang of the door accompanied by numerous voices flowed into your apartment.

"Pipsquek, I'm home! I got here as fast as I could!"

"Truly, we could have taken the elevator at different intervals. I don't think using your gravity evol to force the doors shut was wise".

"Oh doctor, relax. Surely, with your salary, we could pay a handsome fee and make another elevator to fit us".

"Or maybe we just don't visit at the same time? Her apartment's already cramped as is. Can't you find different day-offs or something?

Dear God, help me.

This brings comfort rn 😭😭😭

🗡️ “That time of the month again?”

because we all know that periods suck and characters are not immune to the horrors 🗡️ prompt list of comforting actions

Character A is bedridden from the cramps and Character B becomes their living heating pad (cuddles with arms wrapped around the waist >>>>)

B buys A their favorite chocolates a couple days before their period starts and keeps beverages with electrolytes on hand

A takes a day off to rest, bingewatch some episodes of a good show, and care for themselves (maybe do some yoga, and by yoga I mean curl up in the fetal position for a couple hours)

B thinks that making a nice bath for A will help and prepares everything for when A gets home (A laughs and explains why that’s not a great idea)

Searching for Shark Week’s episodes online to deal with shark week in person, but getting distracted by cute animal shows

B can’t be there for A in person so they send A $30 to cover extra snacks and/or medicine

Instead of getting emotional over posts online, A digs out an old book series and gets emotional over that (they are reliving their childhood, they swear it’s cathartic THEY SWEAR)

A can’t sleep with the back pain so B gives them a light back massage with several check-ins to make sure the noises are in relief and not pain

B keeps the lights dim and and TV volume low as A battles a headache

All meals are made with ahead of time and cravings humored (“You can’t just eat straight salt.” “I know that, which is why I’m putting all of it on this.”)

A asks for B to get more pads/tampons at the store, B calls and sends many pictures as they try to figure out what will work best for A

B quietly scrubs out any bloodstains from A’s clothes as they do laundry (and they’re really efficient at it, why are they so good at getting blood out of clothing—)

A snuggling up with their pet who knows the exact spot to be in for maximum comfy (B thinks it’s adorable and takes a picture to show A later)

“I’m sorry if I’m not really conversational right now…” “Dude you’re on your period and barely slept last night, you’re good. We don’t have to talk, we can just chill.”

B brings home a machine for homemade ice-cream and all the ingredients needed for A’s favorite flavor (they spend the evening making it and declare a “dessert before dinner” day for when periods strike)

Rely On Me // Xavier x Reader

This was a request made by @sadfragilegirl for a comfort fic! Thank you for the request, this is for you <3 Concept: Xavier notices you struggling, all he wants is to be there for you. Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, a wee bit of angst, burnout, anxiety, gn! reader Wordcount: 1010 Masterlist

Xavier started to notice the signs a couple of weeks ago, at first brushing them off as a bad day. That bad day turned into two, then three, then a week. The sparkle in your eyes started to fade as the days went on, but every time he tried to bring it up, he only received a weak smile and an even weaker assurance that you were fine. 

Fine. He grew to dislike that word, because you were not fine. Cancelling plans, taking longer to reply, sleeping more, your smile that once lit up the room not quite reaching your eyes. He opted to support you on the side, after many failed attempts to get you to talk, waiting patiently for you to open up to him about the worries and thoughts that plagued you, being a silent pillar of support, ready to catch you when you fall. 

He racked his brain about what had happened to make you like this, but nothing came to mind. The frustration that built up in him was almost overpowering. He wasn’t frustrated at you, never, but at the fact that he couldn’t figure out how to make this better, how to stop whatever was hurting you. And so he invited himself over to your place often, bringing food and making sure you ate said food, to ensure that you slept well and knew that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It all came to a point on one of these visits, when you seemed to shut down further, not even having the energy to joke around like you usually would. He needed to do something, anything. He wanted so desperately to be there for you, it killed him to see you so down. So he made his move when the two of you sat on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Your eyes were glazed over when he glanced at you, not paying attention to the movie even slightly. With a sigh, he moved to turn the tv off, turning to face you fully. You snapped out of your daze, confusion painted on your features.

“Okay, wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” His voice was soft, the serious tone and furrow in his brow a striking contrast to the usually easygoing attitude he displayed. Your eyes widened slightly as your breath caught in your throat. His hand settled on yours, thumb stroking across your knuckles in a way he hoped was soothing.

“What do you mean?” You tried to laugh it off, awkwardly glancing to the side. You felt that if you met his gaze, he’d see right through you, and that was the last thing you wanted. You didn’t want to worry him, to burden him with your problems. 

“Please look at me darling,” He says, his other hand gently guiding your face back to him, “Something’s been bothering you for a while now. I tried to give you your space, but I can’t anymore. Talk to me, let me be here for you. Please.” The pleading look in his eyes made guilt stir up inside of you. Has it been that obvious? 

“Xavier, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” A weak argument, you know it was. The hand on your cheek pulled you forward slightly, until he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Don’t shoulder your burden alone, I’m here aren’t I? Your trustworthy partner. Rely on me a little. Don’t shut me out.” With his words, your will began to crumble, as you inhaled shakily. Your hand turned to grip his, as the burn of tears welled behind your eyes. Resignation seeped into your voice as you gave in and told him everything that has been running through your mind these last couple of weeks, the anxiety, the stress, the burnout, the way nothing ever seemed to go to plan. You were drained. Physically, emotionally drained. And you didn’t know how to get out of the pit you found yourself in, not for the lack of trying. 

Tears soon streamed down your face as you got pulled in closer, right into his lap, arms coiling around you in a firm, yet comforting embrace. Your face smushed into his chest as you let go, the more you talked the more tears streamed down your cheeks. He stayed quiet, letting you take your time to unload everything, only letting you know that he was here. He was listening. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was right there with you. 

When you finished venting, he pulled you away slightly, just far enough to brush your tears away, soft kisses left on the corners of your eyes. 

“What can I do for you right now? Do you need comfort? A distraction?” He finally spoke up, his soft blue eyes scanning your face. He already travelled through time for you, he would move mountains, he would scorch the world for you, if you just asked. 

“I… I don’t know. Can… can you just hold me?” Your voice was weak, but the grip on his hand did not let up.

“Of course darling. Come here.” He guided you gently back into his arms and you quickly nuzzled in closer. He was warm, comforting, exactly what you needed. One of his hands traced across your back as he started humming softly, and you felt the adrenaline leave you. Your shoulders sagged, the tension that had built there so long escaping, exhaustion taking over. 

“I love you, my darling. Please, don’t let it build up again like that. I’ll always be there, so don’t try to go through it alone again, because you really don’t have to.” At his words, your arms around him tightened, pulling yourself even closer. 

“I love you too Xavier. I’m sorry for keeping this from you.”

“You don’t need to apologise to me. Just rest now, I’ve got you. We’ll work it out in the morning.” You felt a kiss press into the crown of your head as you finally let yourself fall into the enticing lull of sleep.

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.”

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✎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

Headcanon -

Barista Caleb takes your order

Details: dokidoki fluffy coffee caleb, maybe he adds apple juice and a squeeze of lemon? 700ish words.

“Morning,” he says, a slow, easy grin tugging at his lips as he leans against the counter. His voice is smooth, low, but carries just enough amusement to make you feel like he’s been waiting all morning for someone interesting to talk to. “First time here?”

You blink, thrown for a second, before shaking your head. “Uh—no, I’ve been here before. Just… not with you taking my order.”

“Ah,” he hums, like this is important information. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to make sure your experience today is exceptional. What can I get for you?”

It’s almost unfair, how casual he is about it. You manage to give him your order, your voice steadier than you expect, but the moment he nods and writes your name on the cup, you realize you might be in trouble.

Because he is breathtaking.

Not just in a pretty-boy, “oh, he’s attractive” kind of way. No, it’s the way he moves—fluid, self-assured, a quiet kind of charisma that doesn’t demand attention but holds it anyway. His apron is tied perfectly at his waist, snug but comfortable, emphasizing his lean build. He works with an effortless grace, hands moving with quick, precise motions as he sets up your drink like he’s been doing it all his life.

And then there’s the new barista.

You notice them standing beside him, apron still a little too crisp, movements stiff with nerves. He notices too.

“Hey, you good?” he asks, his tone light, but genuinely concerned.

The newbie nods, but hesitantly. He watches them for half a second, then gestures toward your order.

“Wanna make this one?”

They freeze. “Uh—me?”

“Yeah, you,” he grins, nodding toward the espresso machine. “C’mon, it’s just one drink. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“…I mess it up?”

“That’s the spirit,” he teases, nudging them lightly with his elbow. “But seriously, don’t worry. I’ll walk you through it.”

You watch as the newbie hesitantly steps up, hands fumbling with the portafilter. He lets them struggle for a second before stepping in behind them, close enough that his voice drops slightly, quiet and patient.

“Here, let me help.”

And then he does something devastating.

He reaches out, his hands brushing over theirs as he adjusts their grip, fingers steady and sure. “You wanna lock it in like this. Feel that little click? That means it’s in place.”

The newbie nods, but their breath catches slightly, and—yeah, okay, you can’t blame them. He is warm, too close, and entirely too unaware of how unfair it is to exist like this.

“Good,” he says, pulling back just enough to give them space. “Now, hit that button—yeah, that one. You got it.”

You swear you see the newbie swallow hard, cheeks dusted pink. He doesn’t comment on it—maybe he’s too focused on the drink, or maybe he’s just used to this.

Because you are feeling the exact same thing.

The drink comes together eventually, and the newbie looks both relieved and still slightly dazed. He claps them on the shoulder, offering a quick, reassuring grin.

“See? Not so bad,” he says. “Next time, I’m letting you handle it without the assist.”

They make a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a nervous gulp.

And then, finally, he turns back to you.

He picks up your cup, spinning it slightly between his fingers before sliding it across the counter toward you.

“Here you go,” he says, his voice just a little softer now, a little more directed at you. “Hope you like it.” And then, after a pause, his smirk deepens.

“If not… guess you’ll just have to come back so I can make it up to you.”

Your fingers tighten around the cup, heat creeping up your neck. Your brain offers you several possible responses—flirty, cool, clever—and you say none of them.

Because all you can think about is how easy it would be to just ask. His number. His shift schedule. Anything that would let you turn this brief interaction into something more.

But the words sit heavy on your tongue, unspoken.

You just nod. And walk away.

And as you take your first sip, the new barista catches your gaze, their expression a perfect mirror of yours—slightly dazed, a little overwhelmed, and absolutely thinking the same thing.

This isn’t just a barista.

This is a problem.

And then you glance at the counter one last time, at the name tag pinned neatly to his apron.

Caleb.

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There’s more barista Caleb! Check my masterlist 🫶🏻

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Not now!

Notes: masterlist \ Part 1

Summary: Your husband is calling you, but a little gremlin keeps declining it.

Tag: @teewritessmth @mitskunicheesecake @rcvcgers @vspxriddles @iloveh4nge

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Zayne

Zayne sat in the doctor’s lounge, his phone pressed to his ear as he listened to the call ring. Once. Twice. Then—

Call Declined.

His brows furrowed slightly. His hands, steady enough to perform the most delicate heart surgeries, tightened around the phone. He tried again.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Zayne exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip relaxing, Maybe you were busy. You were probably playing with Elias or cooking dinner Mayne in the shower? He wasn’t the type to overthink, but something about the repeated declines made his stomach twist in a way he wasn’t happy about.

Still, he didn’t want to be a nuisance or cause you unnecessary troubles. He wasn’t the type to text “Call me” like other husbands either, He just sat there for a moment, staring at his phone, before getting up and heading back to work.

He had patients waiting.

Back home, Elias sat cross-legged on the couch, his tiny fingers curled around your phone. Every time it vibrated, his eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, he pressed the red button.

“Papa’s calling,” you pointed out, watching from the kitchen as Elias, without a second thought, hung up again.

He didn’t say a word. Just held the phone like a little dragon hoarding treasure.

You wiped your hands on a towel and walked over, sitting beside him. “Sweetheart, why are you declining Papa’s calls?”

Elias finally looked up at you. His expression was unreadable—so much like Zayne’s that it almost made you laugh. After a moment, he mumbled, “He’s busy.”

You blinked. “That’s why you’re hanging up on him?”

A short nod.

Your heart softened. Elias was a quiet child, much like his father, and even at four years old, he had an odd way of thinking. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t being stubborn. In his little mind, he just thought he was helping.

You smiled and ran a hand through his soft raven colored hair. “Baby, Papa wouldn’t call if he didn’t want to talk. He’s probably on a break and missing us.”

Elias frowned slightly, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He shifted on the couch, staring at the phone. “…Oh.”

You chuckled. “Should we call him back?”

Elias hesitated, then nodded.

Zayne was halfway through reviewing a patient’s chart when his phone vibrated.

Incoming Call: My Love

His fingers moved instinctively, answering before the first ring finished. “Hello?”

“Papa.”

Zayne blinked. It wasn’t you. It was Elias.

The little voice on the other end sounded almost… guilty?

“Elias.” Zayne glanced at the time. “You should be in bed soon.”

A pause. Then, in a quieter voice, “…I hung up your calls.”

Zayne froze. He hadn’t expected that. His first instinct was to ask why, but before he could, Elias continued.

“You were busy. I didn’t wanna bother you.”

Zayne’s grip on the phone tightened. He looked down at his hands, But right now, his own heart ached in a different way.

He wasn’t good with words. Never had been. But there was one thing he knew.

“Elias.” His voice was firm, steady. “You never bother me.”

Another pause.

Then, a quiet, “…Oh.”

Zayne exhaled. “Is Mama there?”

You took the phone, laughing softly. “Your son thought he was being considerate.”

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.” His voice was softer than usual. “Tell him he can always pick up my calls.”

“I think he understands now.” You turned to Elias, who was now curled against your side, looking deep in thought. “Say goodnight to Papa.”

Elias hesitated, then muttered, “Goodnight, Papa.”

Zayne swallowed. He wished he was home.

“Goodnight, Elias. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Zayne finally stepped through the door that night, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, and Elias was asleep in his room.

Or so he thought.

As he passed Elias’ door, a tiny voice mumbled, “…father?”

Zayne stopped. Slowly, he pushed the door open.

Elias was sitting up in bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Zayne hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. But he walked inside, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Elias didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out with his small hands and grabbed onto Zayne’s sleeve. Not saying anything, just… holding on.

Zayne stared at him before sitting on the edge of his bed.

Then, without a word, he gently rested a hand on his son’s head.

It wasn’t much.

But for them, it was enough.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Xavier

Xavier stood in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, his sword still dripping as he exhaled. The fight had been over in minutes—another nest of Wanderers cleared out.

He wasn’t in a hurry to return to headquarters. Instead, he yawned and pulled out his phone, pressing your number.

Ring. Ring.

Call Declined.

Xavier stared at the screen, brow twitching slightly. That was odd. He tried again.

Call Declined.

The corner of his mouth twitched. He wasn’t a man prone to overreaction, but something about his own family declining his calls irritated him. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe you were busy. Maybe—

He teleported.

One second, he was in a ruined village surrounded by monster corpses. The next, he was in the living room of his own home.

The sight that greeted him made his left eye twitch.

Leo and Livia—his five-year-old twins—were sitting on the couch, your phone between them, giggling.

Livia saw him first. Her eyes widened, and she smacked Leo’s arm. “Abort mission! Papa’s here!”

Leo nearly dropped the phone. “Crap.”

Xavier didn’t speak for a moment. He simply stared, exhausted, disappointed, and vaguely impressed all at once. “…You two.”

The twins immediately shot to their feet, but it was too late. He was already in front of them, towering over their tiny forms. His sword was still strapped to his back, his hunter uniform stained with dried Wanderer blood.

They didn’t look scared. If anything, they looked ready to bolt.

“…Explain.” His voice was even, calm—but that made it worse.

The twins exchanged glances before Livia, ever the mastermind, said, “Mom said you were busy!”

Leo nodded rapidly. “Yeah! You were fighting monsters, right? We didn’t wanna bother you!”

Xavier sighed through his nose, rubbing his temples. “You declined my calls.”

Livia pouted. “Well… yeah.”

He inhaled deeply. He was not good at this. Discipline, affection—none of it came naturally to him. He could gut a monster in seconds, but parenting? That was an entirely different battlefield.

He crossed his arms, giving them a firm look. “That’s not happening again.”

Leo groaned. “But why? You never talk much anyway!”

Xavier blinked. He squatted down to their level, eyes narrowing. “You have a death wish, don’t you?”

Livia elbowed Leo. “Idiot. Now we’re really in trouble.”

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted beyond belief. He should just pick them up and force them into a timeout—he had the strength for it. But before he could, Livia clapped her hands together.

“Leo, Plan B!”

Leo gasped. “Yes, Plan B!”

Xavier frowned. “What the—”

Before he could react, Livia sprinted left while Leo ran right.

Teleportation was an option, but honestly? He was too damn tired. He just sighed and walked toward the kitchen, knowing exactly where they’d end up.

And there you were, standing at the counter, watching the chaos unfold like it was a normal Tuesday.

Without looking at him, you asked, “I take it you figured out why your calls weren’t getting through?”

Xavier leaned against the counter, exhaling. “Your kids are demons.”

You raised a brow. “My kids?”

He gave you a tired look. “They didn’t get it from me.”

Before you could argue, the sound of a crash echoed from upstairs.

A beat of silence. Then Leo’s voice: “I’LL FIX IT, I PROMISE!”

Xavier closed his eyes, counting to ten.

An hour later, the twins sat on the couch, pouting as Xavier stood in front of them. He wasn’t a loud father. He didn’t yell. But his silent disappointment was somehow worse.

“You’re not getting out of this,” he finally said.

Livia crossed her arms. “It was for a good reason.”

“It was for a stupid reason.”

Leo kicked his legs. “But we didn’t wanna distract you.”

Xavier sighed, rubbing his face. “…You’re my kids. You can always talk to me.”

Livia blinked. “Even when you’re fighting monsters?”

He crouched down, staring at them. “Especially then.”

For the first time, the twins looked guilty.

Xavier softened just a fraction. He wasn’t great at showing affection to kids. He wasn’t the type to hug them randomly or constantly hold them. But he reached out, ruffling their hair roughly or cuddle up with his little demons.

“Next time you hang up on me, I’m making you run laps.”

Leo gasped. “That’s child labor!”

Livia clutched her chest. “You’re cruel, Father.”

Xavier stood, sighing. “You’ll live.”

That night, when the twins were asleep, Xavier sat beside you in bed, rubbing his temples.

“I don’t know how to handle them.”

You smiled, playing with his hair. “You’re doing fine.”

He scoffed. “They don’t listen to me at all.”

You chuckled. “They do. They just like pushing your buttons.”

Xavier sighed, leaning into your touch. “…Next time they ignore my calls, I’m teleporting them into a cold lake.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sure you are.”

Xavier didn’t respond. He just yawned, closed his eyes, and finally—finally—slept.