WHY YOU WANNA FIGHT? — LADS MEN PART 2!
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ — across from you now, the empty seat isn't empty anymore. "i know i messed up," they say, barely meeting your eyes. "i'm so sorry i left you waiting. can you forgive me?"
wc. 5.2k words
⋆˚꩜｡ cast — xavier, rafayel, zayne, sylus, caleb, valko
⋆✮⋆ PART 1 HERE!
🔖 tags — lads x non mc reader! comfort, mentions of blood, guns, injuries, curses thrown everywhere
a/n: please please please listen to "why you wanna fight by bruno mars" lmao it was on loop making this
You felt the bed dip beside you as you woke up, you flatter your eyes open and see Xavier beside you.
Remembering the events that unfolded last night you immedietly turn away but he caught you before you can turn your back.
"Star, can we talk? please?"
As you got up, you can see his disheveled face. Your eye also caught a tray nearby and you assumed he made you breakfast in bed.
You sighed as you look at him in the eye.
"I'll give you 5 minutes to speak, If what you did last night was forgivable—I might stay."
Relief immediately flashed in his eyes, He grabbed your hands and put in near his chest.
"Star..I'm so sorry for letting you sleep last night with doubts, It was never my intention at all—I swear I had it on my schedule and training just got long and I dozed off, when I realized I overslept I immedietly went to get your gift from MC."
"Gift? what gift?"
"It was supposed to be a surprise when we got here but everything got so late and I'm so sorry for ever hurting you my love, It would never be my intention."
He flashed you a quick smile and as you look on the corner of your room there was a home base setup and a playpen next to it, and the middle of it—was a white bunny wearing a purple tie.
"Xavier…"
"Hmm?"
"Is that a bunny?"
"Yes—"
You immedietly ran to the playpen as you took the small bundle of fluff and took a good look at the animal, you've been begging your boyfriend to adopt a pet. You told him any pet would be okay as long as it resembled him.
As you play with your bunny more, you felt him crouch beside you—you stilled, not quite sure if you forgive him just yet.
"I know I messed up and I promise to make up for it. I cleared the whole week for us two and I planned a vacation to the beach so we can spend time together, and to erase any more doubts you might have in that pretty head of yours—the bunny came from MC."
You look at him one last time, sighing as you take his hand. He smiled and kissed the back of your palm.
"I promise to make it up to you."
"And set alarms?"
"That too."
You both shared a laugh, as you play with the new addition to the family—as Xavier plans your itinerary for the whole week.
You threw the last tissue from your tissue holder at the filled trashcan across the room, reaching for the thermometer from the table—the results still stayed the same. The little beep still confirmed that you are— unfortunately still sick.
The ringing of your doorbell made you groan, assuming it would be one of your friends since you messaged—no begged one of them to get you medicine. You bundled up your blankets til you reach the ground still dizzy as you use every doorway, table and chair to get you to your front door.
As you open the door—purple hair greeted.
Fuck, you really should've looked at the intercom.
"Raf I'm not in the mood."
You began to close the door when he blocked it using his arm.
"Cutie please hear me out—you can throw me out once I tell you what happened."
"I don't really wanna hear anything you sa—"
You said as a cough immediately cut you off, Rafayel used this to opportunity to open the door before immediately diving in with his knees as you began to lose your balance.
"Honey, I know what I did was terrible. The sea's would even agree with you."
As he pointed to the non-stop rain that was going outside.
"But I promise I never intended for any of it to happen! And I don't have any excuse for my mistake. I set every calendar and alarms because I know how important it would be to us. If I could do it all over again I would've went to you first thing in the morning. Please believe me on this."
God he looked like he wanted to cry.
You let out a few coughs before Rafayel guided you to the kitchen and grabbed you a glass of water.
"Raf…I can do it myself."
"Love I'm already a bad boyfriend for letting you get sick in the first place, please let me take care of you."
You sighed as you know there was no getting out of this.
"Cutie please just rest, I promise to be here when you sleep up and when you wake up."
The rain hadn't let up by the time he got you settled on the bed, three blankets deep like an eggroll with a cold cloth on your forehead.
"You're staring," you mumbled, eyes half-closed.
"I'm sorry cutie." Rafayel was perched on the edge of the bedside table.
You wanted to stay annoyed at him—you'd earned the right to, after being alone and feverish while he was off spending time with someone else—but the guilt on his face was so plain it was almost funny. Rafayel, who never apologized for anything without turning it into a performance, hadn't cracked a single joke since he walked in.
"You missed the date," you said quietly. Not accusing, just tired.
"I know." His jaw tightened. "And I'll spend the rest of it making up for it, if you let me. Starting with—" he stood, already moving toward your kitchen, "—soup. Do you have soup? You don't have soup. I'm making you soup."
"Raf."
He was already standing up purple hair flowing in all places—un-styled.
"Sleep. I'll be quick."
The door clicked shut behind him. You listened to his footsteps fade down the hall, the rain still hammering the window, and let your eyes fall closed—half annoyed, half something warmer you didn't have the energy to fight tonight, believing that he might deliver to his promise, you closed your eyes.
The lights immediately blinded you as you opened your eyes.
"You're awake!" The nurse said as her eyes widens, she went out and called someone—a doctor you assumed as she asks you questions.
"Okay Miss, I'm going to ask a few questions okay?"
"I already know the drill"
The poor soul looks done with you but she still needs to do her job. After you answered all her questions right, the door immediately opened as you saw the visual of your boyfriend looking extremely disheveled, with his sleeves not looking as neatly as they did always, his hair looks like he ran through it with his hands a hundred times.
He immediately relaxed with the sight of you sitting up and coherent.
"My love, are you doing alright? What happened? Why were you hurt?"
"You should go to your other patients." You said coldly.
"I believe that wasn't my question Y/N."
You ran through your hair as you look at him with frustration—the look on your face says it all, you were upset and he doesn't even know why.
"Look, I get it—I'm not half as important as your patients. I can deal with this myself."
Zayne's face contorted to confusion then hurt all-together.
"What are you saying?"
"What I'm saying is, I got here hurt and bloodied expecting—praying that maybe one of your colleagues would patch me up! I was expecting myself to say sorry for being late because I accidentally hurt myself! but what I got here is you! you weren't even getting ready and I pushed all of it aside then I heard you you'll deal with us later, is that all I am to you? someone you can keep waiting?"
Tears were falling down your eyes as you exploded, this wasn't usual for you but you were so hurt and so dissapointed that you wanted answers, you wanted assurance from your boyfriend.
He immediately held your hand, as you exploded. Using his evol to cool you down while you were sobbing, he laid pecks and kisses throughout your whole palm right down to your wrist.
Zayne pressed another kiss to your wrist before finally lifting his head, his sea-glass eyes meeting yours.
"Let me explain," he said quietly, "Please."
You sniffled, saying nothing as you look at him—taking everything in you not to pull your hand away.
"Twenty minutes before you arrived, a transplant patient—MC was in the ICU…she started rejecting the organ. Sudden hemorrhaging. I was the only cardiothoracic attending on the floor and I was her primary physician as well." His thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles, grounding himself. "The 'I'll deal with it later'—that wasn't about you. Dr. Alvaro asked if we were still doing the case review after rounds. I said it without thinking—I didn't even hear Grayson because I had a phone in my hand, they were paging me non-stop after that my mind was already in that operating room."
Your breath hitched. "Then why didn't you just—"
"Because two minutes after that, someone said your name." His jaw tightened at the memory. "I heard the word 'Unconscious' and 'Y/N' in the same sentence, and I don't remember walking out of that ICU. I don't remember if I even scrubbed out properly. I just remember thinking I couldn't be the one to look at you like a patient — that if I saw you hurt and had to be clinical about it, I might lose my mind."
He finally looked up, and for a man who dealt in life and death every day with a steady hand, he looked almost lost.
"So I sent Nurse Lin in first. I told myself it was so you'd get looked at faster. But really — I think I was scared. Scared that if I walked in and saw you bleeding, I wouldn't be able to hold it together long enough to help you."
"You could've just told me that," You whispered.
"I know." He brought your hand up again, resting his forehead against it this time instead of his lips. "I'm sorry, You have every right to be angry. But please know I would never hurt you."
You let out a shaky breath.
"I thought... I don't know what I thought. That I wasn't a priority. That you'd rather be anywhere else."
"There is nowhere else I would rather be than right here," he said, voice low and certain, the kind of certainty he usually reserved for diagnoses. "You are not someone I keep waiting, Y/N. You are the reason I run."
Zayne rose slightly, pulling her gently into his chest, careful of your bandaged arm, and just held you there.
"I promise to never make you feel that way again my love."
You didn't go back to your shared quarters that night. Instead, you took the spare room near Luke and Kieran's, ignoring their wide-eyed panic when you dropped your bag by their door and simply said,
"I'm staying here tonight."
"Miss—I don't think you should—Boss is going to kill us," Kieran whispered frantically getting you to sleep at your room with Sylus.
The first text came an hour later.
sylus
It's not what you think.
You scoffed at that text—Yeah sure.
You didn't answer that one as well.
By morning, there were twenty missed calls and voicemails ranging from sly to irritation to worry. Though you weren't in the mood to parse the difference. You went about Hunt business like normal, but this time you it was apparent you were upset.
As you look at the Wanderers, you didn't bother to clean your mess up. Even though you were always particular with this part of the job.
When Sylus tried to approach you in the briefing room, you addressed Kieran instead, asking him to relay the mission details "since apparently that's how we're doing things now."
You immediately saw how his jaw tightened.
This went on for two days. You redirected his calls to Luke. You sent mission reports through Kieran. You ate meals at different times, timed almost surgically to avoid him — and for someone who ran half of N109 Zone with terrifying efficiency, Sylus looked, for the first time in longer than you could remember, completely out of his depth.
On the third night, you found him waiting outside your door. Not smug. Not composed. Just leaning against the frame like he'd been standing there a while.
"This is childish, even for you kitten." he said, but there was no bite in it.
"So is leaving someone waiting for hours and not saying a word," you replied, arms crossed. "Funny how you only noticed the silence when it was coming from me."
Something in his expression cracked—just slightly.
"I know I messed up Sweetie. I'm asking you to let me explain, not disappear on me for three days."
"You disappeared first."
He sighed, as he suddenly carried you with ease. You took it as a sign to shuffle but his hold on you was incredibly tight, to the point that you can't even use your evol to disarm him.
He took you to his room, Luke and Kieran giving you a smile with sweat beading down their faces when you saw them in the hallway.
As he set you down on the bed you began talking.
"What do you want Sy? I don't want to waste my time."
"I have all the time in the world to keep you here sweetie."
Frustrated you glared at him "You could've explained days ago," you finally said.
"I tried calling. You didn't want to hear it."
"Because you didn't even try before that! You just left me sitting there for hours, and the first thing I see when I finally track you down is you getting cozy with someone else! like I'm some loose end." Your voice cracked slightly on the last word, and you hated that it did.
Sylus's expression shifted — the careful composure he wore like armor slipping for just a moment.
He ran a hand through his hair, something almost like frustration directed at himself. "Miss Hunter needed a cover story to meet with Dimitri near the south checkpoint. It wasn't something I could loop you into safely—not until I knew it wasn't a setup."
"And the pose? The way you touched her?"
"Necessary theater for anyone watching. Nothing more."
He finally closed the distance, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes.
"But you standing there, watching it happen without context — that wasn't necessary. That was me being careless with you, and I know it."
Silence settled between you, softer now than it had been in days.
"Three days, Sylus," you said quietly. "You let this go on for three days before you actually came to talk to me."
"I know." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch featherlight, like he wasn't sure you'd let him. "I was giving you space. And also — if I'm honest — I didn't know how to walk up to you without making it worse."
That, at least, sounded like the truth.
You finally let your arms drop, some of the tension bleeding out of your shoulders.
"Next time you have to disappear for the job, you tell me. Even if it's just 'I can't explain right now, trust me.' Don't leave me guessing."
"Deal." His hand slid to rest against your cheek, thumb brushing gently. "I really am sorry. I don't say that often, so take it as the miracle it is."
You huffed a small, reluctant laugh despite yourself. "Don't ruin the moment."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours the way he always did when words weren't quite enough. "Come back to our room tonight?"
You paused, just long enough to make him sweat a little more — small payback — before finally nodding. "Fine. But you're explaining everything. All of it."
"Deal." he agreed, pulling you into him at last, the tension of the last three days finally unwinding between you both.
You woke up with someone holding your hand as you breathe through an oxygen mask.
As you move your fingers—Caleb immediately met your eyes.
"Baby? are you awake? can you hear me?" Caleb says as he meets your eyes.
Coughing you take the mask off as you let go of his hand. You immediately see how his expression changed and how he reached for your hand again.
"Y/N please."
He said as his eyes got watery.
Your throat feels raw, scraped from the tube they must have had down it. The beeping monitor is too loud, the hospital light too white, and Caleb's hand is too warm against yours—like nothing happened. Like you didn't watch him through a door, pressed close to her, whispering, hiding something in his palm.
"Don't," you rasp, pulling your hand back again, ignoring the way pain flares hot across your chest when you move. "Don't touch me."
Caleb's face crumbles. He's still in the same clothes from that night—blood on the cuffs—like he hasn't let himself change, hasn't let himself sleep.
"Y/N, it's not what you think. I swear to God, it's not what you think—"
"Wait—" Your hand comes up weakly, cutting him off, and your eyes drop to your own chest for the first time—to the bandages peeking out under the hospital gown, to the IV taped into your arm, to his blood-soaked cuffs which you now realize is not his blood at all.
"I got— what happened? Caleb, what happened to me?"
His breath catches like you'd hit him. For a second he just stares at you, like he can't believe you didn't know, like he forgot you'd wake up to a body that doesn't remember the worst part yet.
"You—" he starts, then stops, jaw tight, gathering himself before he says it plain because you deserve plain. "You ran out of the building. After you saw me with her. You weren't looking, there was a car, and someone in it—someone connected to me, to the shit with my enemies—took the shot they'd been waiting to take on me for weeks." His hand hovers near your cheek like he's afraid to actually touch you.
"It hit you instead. Right here." His fingers ghost just above the bandage, not touching, shaking. "Missed your heart by less than an inch, Y/N. Less than an inch."
He continued with shaking breaths.
"They told me—" his voice cracks clean in half, "—they told me if it had been half an inch to the left I wouldn't have gotten to sit here holding your hand at all."
He drags in a breath that shakes on the way in.
"You almost died running from a lie. My lie. Something I let you believe because I was too much of a coward to just tell you what I was planning." His hand finally closes, gentle, careful, over yours. "And now I need you to hear the truth, even if you hate me for how long it took me to say it."
He nods down at the box still open in his other hand, the ring glinting under the harsh light, his whole body braced like he expects you to throw it back at him.
"I wasn't with her the way you think. I was hiding this. I've been planning it for weeks. That night I was asking her if I got everything right by your standards—because I wanted to get it right, I wanted it to be perfect and instead I got you nearly killed by hiding the one thing I've ever wanted to be honest with you about."
His forehead drops against the mattress by your hip, shoulders shaking.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Just—please. Please let me explain the rest, and then you can hate me if you still want to."
Your chest aches—from the wound, from the words, from all of it tangled together—but you don't pull your hand away this time. You just stare at him, at this man who is normally so composed, so terrifyingly in control, completely unraveled on his knees beside your hospital bed.
"Explain," you whisper. "All of it. Don't leave anything out this time."
He nods, fast, like he's grateful you're even letting him try.
"Three weeks ago I went to your favorite jeweler. The one you pointed at in that shop window in the spring and pretended you weren't looking at." A wet, broken almost-laugh escapes him. "I noticed. I always notice. I had it made, and then I didn't know where to keep it because you go through everything, baby, you organize my socks—everything, so I panicked and I left it in the my office because in this way I can secure it without you accidentally seeing it.
His hand tightens around yours, and when he speaks again his voice is thick with a different kind of guilt. "That night—the night you saw me with her—that was supposed to be it, Y/N. I had the restaurant booked. I had the whole night planned down to the minute. I was supposed to be at that table waiting for you an hour before you even got there, ring in my pocket, and instead I was standing in my office because the gem had come loose and I was panicking, trying to get it fixed before you showed up, asking her what I should say, how I should say it, wanting every single detail to be perfect for once in my life."
His jaw tightens like it costs him something to keep going. "I lost track of time. I didn't answer your texts because I didn't want to lie to you over the phone about where I was. And so you came looking for me instead—on the one night I most needed you to just stay put and trust me—and you found me standing close to another woman with something hidden in my hands, on the exact night I was supposed to be putting a ring on your finger over candlelight. No wonder you ran. No wonder you didn't hear a word I would've said if I'd had the chance to say it."
His hand tightens further around yours, desperate.
"I should've told you months ago what I was planning instead of trying to build some perfect, secret night around it. If I had, you'd have known exactly what you were looking at. You'd have known to wait, to ask, to trust me one more second instead of turning and running into the street. You'd still be sleeping easy in my bed right now instead of—"
He gestures at the machines, the mask, the bandage, and his voice finally gives out completely, shoulders shaking with everything he's been holding since that night.
For a long moment you don't say anything. You just watch him—red-eyed, unshaven, still in the clothes he bled your blood onto—and you feel the anger in your chest finally start to loosen its grip, not because it wasn't justified, but because you can see, plainly, that he's telling the truth. Caleb doesn't cry. Caleb doesn't kneel. Caleb doesn't beg. And he's doing all three.
"You should've told me," you say quietly. "Not about the ring. About the danger. About your enemies. I didn't even know to be scared, Caleb. I didn't know I needed to look both ways."
"I know." His voice is wrecked. "I know, and that's on me too. I wanted to protect you from it, and instead I almost got you killed by keeping you in the dark. I'm done doing that. Whatever happens with us—with this—" he glances at the ring, throat working, "—I'm not hiding anything from you again. Ever. I'd rather you be angry at the truth than nearly die for a lie."
You breathe out slowly, wincing at the pull in your chest, and finally—finally—let your fingers curl properly around his.
"Ask me again," you murmur. "Properly. Not on a hospital floor with me hooked up to a monitor and looking like death."
A stunned, wet laugh breaks out of him, disbelieving and grateful all at once. "Right here. Right now?"
"You already ruined the restaurant plan," you say, the ghost of a smile finally tugging at your mouth despite everything. "Might as well."
He laughs again, shakier this time, and lifts himself up just enough to be eye level with you, ring held between two trembling fingers.
"Y/N," he says, voice low and cracked open in a way you've never heard from him before, "I have never in my life been as scared as I was watching you get wheeled away from me, thinking the last real thing between us was you looking at me like I was a stranger. I don't want to almost lose you again without you knowing, without any doubt in your mind, that you are it for me. All of it. The good, the ugly, the parts of my life I hate that I have to carry. Marry me. Let me spend the rest of it making sure you never have to run from me again."
Your eyes fill despite your best efforts, and this time you let them. "Yes," you whisper, voice cracking on the word. "Yes, you idiot. Yes."
He slides the ring onto your finger with hands that are still shaking, then presses his forehead so gently to yours that it doesn't hurt at all—just warm, and real, and finally, finally honest.
You woke up when you heard rummaging around your studio.
You went down assuming it was a robber when, the top head with maroon hair greeted you.
Valko arrived six hours late from your scheduled date. You watched him rummage around your studio when he finally stops infront of the trashcan where you threw the metal flower you made him.
You also immediately saw how his face paled in comparison to his hair.
Looking up his eyes found yours, as you try to go upstairs he ran towards you.
"Y/N." His voice cracked on your name.
You flinched, but didn't look his way. "Go home, Valko."
"I found this in the trash." He knelt in front of you, holding the flowers out on his open palm like an offering, like evidence, like his own heart handed over for you to do with as you pleased. His hands, so steady when bending iron to his will, were shaking now.
"You made this for me. You burned yourself making this for me, and I—"
His voice broke completely, and for a man who could reshape steel with a thought, and for a man who was feared, he sounded extremely small.
"I need you to let me explain before you decide I don't deserve to know why you're hurting like this."
"There was a commotion in the lower district," he said quickly, before you could even ask. "A supply cart collided with a stall, cargo everywhere, people trapped under crates—I couldn't just walk past it, Y/N, not when I could bend the metal off them faster than anyone else there. That's why I was late. I wasn't avoiding you. I was trying to get back to you as fast as I could."
You said nothing, just stared at him. Before finally showing him the photo your bestfriend sent you.
Valko's jaw tightened as he saw the photo again on your phone screen when you finally turned it toward him, the accusation clear in the way your hand shook holding it out
"And this—" he gestured helplessly at the picture still glowing on your screen, at his arms wrapped around a woman who wasn't you, "—this is not what it looks like. I swear on every forge I've ever worked. She tripped. There was rubble everywhere, uneven ground, and she stumbled right as I turned around, and I just—caught her. That's all. I didn't even know her name until after."
You let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking your head.
"You expect me to believe that? Valko, she had her arms around you in the second picture."
"Because she was startled and grabbed onto the nearest thing, which happened to be me—"
"Y/N—"
Your phone buzzed again before he could finish. Another message from your best friend. You looked down, and whatever color remained in your face drained further as you read it.
"Girl. It's literally in the news. Look."
Attached was a link—an article, published only twenty minutes ago, headline blazing across the top: "Good Samaritan Saves Bystanders in Lower District Collapse—Local Woman Injured in Cart Collision Rescued." Below it, a photo nearly identical to the one your friend had sent, except this one had context—rubble, panicked onlookers, a woman clutching her ankle where she'd twisted it in the fall, Valko's arms the only thing that kept her from hitting the ground wrong.
Your hand covering your mouth, phone nearly slipping from your fingers. "Oh my god."
Valko didn't say I told you so. He didn't say anything smug at all. He just watched the guilt crash into you the same way the truth had crashed into him minutes earlier, kneeling in front of a trash bin holding the dented piece of what you'd made him.
"I'm not angry that you doubted it," he said quietly, reaching for your hand—the same calloused, burn-marked hand. "I'm angry that I gave you a reason to doubt at all. I was late. I didn't call. And you were sitting here with something you clearly poured everything into, and instead of feeling loved, you felt like it had all been for nothing."
In his other hand, revealing the flowers still cradled there, dented slightly from where it had hit the bottom of the trash bin.
"You made this for me, and I made you doubt me enough to throw it away. So please—" his voice cracked, raw and honest in a way he rarely allowed, "—let me be the one to make this right. Both things. Me being late, and the fact that you ever thought for one second I could look at someone else the way I look at you."
You looked down at both of your hands, then back up at him—windswept, breathless, still smelling faintly of smoke and iron from a fire he hadn't even started for you.
"Next time," you said, voice thick but steadier now, curling your burned fingers around his, "just answer your phone. I don't care how many carts collapse."
a/n: FAAAAAAAAAAH this was so fun to do! i really liked how i approached caleb's storyline! also xavier could never do u wrong (i stand by it) thanks for all the love! i have so much in store for u guys <3
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