zayne's thumb hovers over your name on the screen. he wants to call you, but he's hesitating for a few reasons. it's late, you're probably already asleep, and both of you have just started going out exclusively and seriously. he's not sure if you've reached the stage of your relationship where he can call you in the middle of the night without it being a burden. but he's feeling restless from his shift at the hospital. there's a small sense of comfort that you can bring him just by talking to him, even if it's just for a few minutes.
he presses down on the screen. the line starts to ring. his heart is beating quickly, and he feels guiltier as each ring finishes. he's about to hang up and just leave it be when your voice comes through from the other end, croaky and thick with sleep.
"zayne? hello?"
"sorry," he mutters. "did i wake you?"
"well, yes," you chuckle. "it's almost two in the morning. what's wrong?"
"forget it," he says quickly. "sorry to disturb you. go back to sleep."
"no, it's okay. i'm awake now anyway. what's up?"
silence. zayne is thinking of what to say.
"i just... wanted to hear your voice."
you pause for a moment.
"like... like this?"
he smiles to himself. "yes. just like this."
"tough shift at the hospital?"
"yes."
"well, i'm glad you called me."
"you are?"
"sure. it's nice to know that i'm the first person you thought to call."
his smile grows wider. his shoulders feel lighter, his chest feeling less tight. "thank you," he whispers. "i'll let you go back to sleep."
"are you sure? i don't mind staying on the line a little longer."
caleb xia is like. he’s your big brother. he's your mother. he’s your father. he's all you've ever known. he’s you. you're him. where do you end and where does he begin? he’s alive. he’s dead. he’s alive. hes your other half. he loves you. he’s lying to you. he loves you. he's lying to you. he will smother you. he would never hurt you. his hands are so gentle. they’re braiding your hair. they're stroking your cheek. they’re around your wrists. they're around your throat. he would never hurt you. he’s the reason you’re alive. you’re the reason he exists. he's a puppy who was weaned too early and cant stop peeing on the couch. he's pathetic. he's a rabid dog with someone's throat still stuck in his teeth. he makes sure you eat every night. he does the dishes afterwards. he would eat you instead if he could. he would swallow you whole. he made you your favorite drink. why aren't you drinking it? don't you trust him? he's setting you free. he’s locking you away. he's the bird in the cage. you're the dead lizard impaled on his beak. he’s a black hole. you can’t escape. he’s a white hole. you wouldn't even want to.
Bit of a PSA from your fandom big sister that I wish didn't need to be spelled out. I promise I'm not hating and I'm saying this with love.
I've seen a concerning trend in ficlets on Tumblr claiming copyright or IP on derivative works, and even linking donation pages directly on these ficlets asking for money for them.
Bestie that's copyright infringement.
You have every right to ask people not to repost. It's valid to not want your work copied.
You do not have the right to claim copyright on something that isn't your intellectual property. If you didn't create the characters or the world you are writing about, that is a derivative work you have no claim to.
Back in the not-so-old days of the internet, we used to have to spell this out each time we posted a fic. You'd see disclaimers like "I do not own these characters, copyright belongs to X" or clarifying that the post was protected under fair use and we were not making money from it. Any money you make in direct relation to posting derivative work can be claimed by the actual IP holder in court, and claiming you have copyright when you don't is just asking to be investigated or sent a cease and desist.
Please do not put yourself or the community at risk.
How would the boys handle breaking something of Reader’s?
𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, hurt/comfort-ish! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚thanks for the request, pumpkin! ♡ also, being a clumsy girl myself, the guilt and panic that comes when breaking something that isn't yours... yeah. it shatters your soul, man. ( ˶•ᴖ•) !!
𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚feels awful. terrible. he tries to fix it however possible, and if it is truly fixable, you won't even notice what happened in the first place with how precise he is.
﹙♡﹚if it is something way beyond repair… well, he'll either text you with an attached picture once he has already found a solution (like buying a new one), or he'll spill the truth, but only if you notice. there's no in between.
﹙♡﹚though, if you don't notice right away, his nervousness will go through the roof; constant stares towards the thing he broke, a guilty, crumbled face…
﹙♡﹚he doesn't care if it is something small or something expensive. your things are precious, so even if he breaks a small piece of paper, he'll feel like a monster.
﹙♡﹚he's most likely to get you more things to compensate for what he's done; and rest assured, he'll get your favorite stuff or things you've been wanting to get for a while. it doesn't replace the thing he broke, but hey! it's a great start.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚panic, chaos, the walls are closing in, the boat is sinking, everything is going to hell because he ruined it all, and you'll hate his guts forever and—
﹙♡﹚omg, he can actually fix it! oh yeah, he'll use his skills to fix whatever he broke, especially if it is something like a vase, a figurine, a plushie…
﹙♡﹚if he can't fix it no matter how hard he tries, that's it. he's going to tell you; hands clutching the broken evidence, eyes showing his even more broken heart.
﹙♡﹚you should hate him. how dare he? do you hate him…? wait, you do? okay, rude ??? it was just an accident, he didn't mean it!
﹙♡﹚he knows nothing is really replaceable, but if it really makes you feel better, he'll either replicate what he broke with his very own, humble artisan hands, making you a very unique, one-of-a-kind edition, or he'll buy another one for you.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚silence. he stares at it for a while, trying to assess the gravity of the situation. was it something you bought? was it something from your childhood? was… it something you made yourself?
﹙♡﹚he'll immediately buy another one and call it a day, if possible. he will tell you, but only when the replacement arrives and the problem is solved.
﹙♡﹚if it is something valuable, emotionally speaking, he'll sit down with the twin-dorks so they can all come up with a plan. the last thing he wants is to make you cry or make you angry.
﹙♡﹚he will be truthful, though. as soon as he sees you, he'll explain what happened and how he is going to fix it, to at least give you some peace of mind. very thoughtful of him.
﹙♡﹚the guilt does kill him. the mere thought of seeing your face fall because of him feels like burning alive, so he is willing to do absolutely anything you ask him to do to fix his clumsy mistake.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚another silent one. he'll stay rooted in place, wondering what he broke, what it is, if it is expensive or not, how likely you are to kill him—
﹙♡﹚he'll show it to you. like, if you're not home, he'll take a selfie with the broken item and send something like “sorry :(”. straight to the point.
﹙♡﹚if you are home, he'll go to you with the evidence and show it to you with those sad, gorgeous eyes. he will fix it however possible, but you should know what happened anyway.
﹙♡﹚baby boy feels very guilty, but the overwhelming guilt might make him a little blind and desperate, so his fixing attempts will not be… perfect.
﹙♡﹚he'll offer to let you break something of his, too. you know, an eye for an eye… sweet revenge ?? and even though he knows it was an accident on his end, he'll really want you to feel better and to not hold grudges against him.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚oh no… he freezes. what has he done? how could he…? the man who is rarely clumsy, breaking something without intending to with his usually steady, delicate hands?
﹙♡﹚his heart shatters, he feels horrible. although he remains composed and finds a solution rather quickly, you can still hear how quiet his voice is when he tells you what happened.
﹙♡﹚he knows you wouldn't get mad at him, but that doesn't make the guilt go away. at all. if anything, he feels worse because he just broke something that belonged to the sweetest person ever.
﹙♡﹚if you allow him to, he'll buy the item again. if it is something you made yourself, he'll take his time to recreate it. bless his heart.
﹙♡﹚he'll become hyper-aware of your belongings, of his movements, of his interaction with your things… he never wants to feel that bad, nor ruin something of yours that you probably valued or loved a lot again. never, ever.
Helloo, I have a bit of specific request for all of the LaDS LIs if that’s okay?
So basically, I’m someone who, with my family members, whenever I’m leaving a room they’re in/leaving the house and I know I’m not coming back for a bit I’ll shoot them a quick “love you!” Right before I leave. And I was wondering how the LIs would react to an MC that does that, but then one day they stop doing it as a prank just to see how they react?
Just a little fluff/crack headcanon thing, thank you!!!
𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x gn!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fun, bit of hurt/comfort! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚the way i would overthink if this happened to me (,,╥﹏╥,,) thanks for the request, love! i hope you like it ♡
𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚his head is SNAPPING towards you. neck cracking, eyes wide as planets, breath hitched. phase number one: bewilderment.
﹙♡﹚he follows you aaaaaall the way; he's not letting you out of his sight. once he reaches you, —which happens very fast— get ready for phase number two: concern.
﹙♡﹚“you're forgettin' something, pips,” followed by “can't leave without it…” and while he has that smug “where's my hug at” expression, his puppy eyes don't lie. he's devastated.
﹙♡﹚what did he do? did you genuinely forget to tell him you love him? how do you forget such a thing? are you going to ditch him? do you want him to die?—
﹙♡﹚as soon as you explain it was a silly little prank… get ready for phase number three: sweet, sweet revenge. you're not going anywhere until he makes sure you still love him lots. ♡
𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚you haven't even opened the door and he's already replying with a “love you more!” it takes him exactly five seconds to realize… you haven't said it first.
﹙♡﹚he frowns and looks at you with concern. “i said i love you more!” and, since he's met with a soft chuckle and the door closing behind you, he's sprinting your way.
﹙♡﹚“cutieeee-uh! are you deaf? i love you! don't you?!” and no, he's not following you, but he's standing at the doorstep, about to ugly cry as if you were abandoning him.
﹙♡﹚oh no, he's waiting for a good explanation as soon as you come home… or as soon as you read the 300+ messages and voice notes he sent. you're sleeping on the couch tonight!
﹙♡﹚…or well, not really. if you tell him it was a prank, get ready to face his ugly cries and his incessant need for reassurance. you'll have to repeat how much you love him for him to believe you do. might take all night long.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚he notices right away. he doesn't comment, thinking you were probably too busy or had something urgent to do.
﹙♡﹚however, that doesn't mean it doesn't bother him. in fact, when he texts you throughout the day, you'll notice every single one of his messages ends with an “i love you,” so that you get the chance to say it back.
﹙♡﹚if you don't… then he'll know something is up. definitely. he knows he did no wrong, so his brain assumes this is one of your shenanigans for sure.
﹙♡﹚when you come back, he'll bombard you with plenty of unprompted “i love yous,” while you dress, walk around, or even when you're sitting down on the toilet… until you ask him what's going on.
﹙♡﹚according to him, you seemingly forgot those wonderful words today, so his new mission is to make sure you never, ever forget them, not even as a joke… and he has plenty of ways to do so! ♡
𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚he realizes instantly. he follows you with these huge, sad eyes, his mind wandering what the hell he did now…
﹙♡﹚he will text you, just to see how you react to him. are you mad? are you going to act cold? did he forget something? he's deeply concerned and worried; he is so used to your loving farewells.
﹙♡﹚if you answer happily and as if nothing had happened, then he'll grow a bit upset. so you forgot? you forgot to tell him you loved him? so you hate him, gotcha.
﹙♡﹚when you come back to him, he's not looking at nor addressing you. two can “forget” to be affectionate. he's crossing his arms and all, stomping his foot gently; impatiently, almost as if waiting for you to say those goddamn words.
﹙♡﹚once you do and come clean, relief comes to his body… well, partially. how dare you? but also, thank goodness you don't hate him. he'll still sulk, but don't let his pouty lips fool you. you're learning a lesson tonight for all the troubles you've caused.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚please, this man is going to overthink all day. yes, he knows you probably forgot, but it's a cute little habit of yours; one you never skipped before. did something happen?
﹙♡﹚he does try to stop you before you leave, but he doesn't question you. what if by doing so, he'll force you to say something you don't want to? maybe you don't love him today…
﹙♡﹚he just lets go and tries to focus, but it's hard when he keeps questioning things. sure, it could be a prank and he shouldn't take it seriously, but his heart can't help it.
﹙♡﹚when you apologize and tell him it was a joke, he can finally feel his breathing going back to normal. he was just overthinking, after all.~
﹙♡﹚however, it doesn't make it less painful, and, being as snarky as he sometimes is, he'll make you pay. mercilessly. you should've known better than to play around with his feelings!
Can I request the main five LADs finding out they’re having twins?
I’m a twin momma myself and I’m just curious on how they’d react. Cause ya know, everyone reacts differently.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x pregnant fem!reader ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluffy fluff! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ tw ꩜ pregnancy themes! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭
𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭
﹙♡﹚gosh, i loved this request so muuuuuuch! sending you and your precious babies lots of kisses and the best of wishes! ૮๑ˊ ꒳ ˋ๑ა sorry for the delay, btw, i'll try to go back to my usual posting schedule! ♡
the day came; you were finally eight weeks pregnant and excited as never before.
the cold, conductive gel felt uncomfortable at first, but nothing could beat the fluttering in your chest, and the way your precious husband held your hand so tightly you thought you would lose it.
three pairs of eyes landed on the monitor; yours, his, and the doctor's.
she hummed softly, a sound that made both you and him perk up.
what was going on?
what was that for?
it didn't help that you couldn't tell what was happening or what the hell you were seeing, and that your husband started to grow visibly impatient.
“well, if you take a closer look…” she started, turning to you with a soft, almost imperceptible smile. “there's embryo one.”
you immediately leaned forward, smiling brightly out of relief.
he, however, turned to the doctor, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
“embryo one?”
the doctor nodded, still rubbing the transducer over your belly while looking at the monitor.
“mhm. embryo two is riiiiight… there. congratulations, you are having twins!”
oh, heavens.
twins.
two babies.
your lips parted in surprise, and his hand suddenly dropped yours.
when you turned to look at him, well, you regretted not having a camera with you to record the heartwarming scene.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭
he stared at the black and white screen.
how could those two little blobs be your soon-to-be twins?
twins…
twins?
the word certainly felt weird; distant, almost… surreal.
like it wasn't happening to him, like it wasn't meant for him to experience.
and, for a good two minutes, caleb could only stare, a series of images flashing through his already numb mind.
you and him, your wedding, the day you moved in together, the very first time you decorated your house, all of the memorable moments from the past that he cherished deeply.
but just then, he saw them.
two babies in your arms, two toddlers running around and causing mayhem, two friends for life, two siblings who would take care of each other no matter what.
double the chaos, double the work, double the love.
all of his thoughts merged together: what he had already lived, and what was coming to him, and, somehow, it all started to fall into place.
like these babies already belonged, because they were already part of his life.
they were real.
when your hand met his arm again, a concerned look on your face, he finally focused, his eyes locking on yours.
at first, his smile seemed confident; almost too cocky.
“well, of course we'd have twins. you couldn't just get enough of me, could ya'?”
but as both his and your laughter died down, his eyes softened immensely.
you could tell he wanted to cry, or at least the subtle twitch on his eyebrow told you so.
his thumb brushed against your wrist, mostly to soothe himself, and he refused to look away from you, afraid this was just a dream, afraid that a blink would make you and his future babies disappear.
“sorry… my brain's still tryin' to catch up,” he whispered, noting your worried expression.
you knew it was a lot, and while you too had so many things going on in your mind, he seemed the most affected.
the doctor excused herself from the room, giving you some space to discuss and take in the huge news at your own pace.
his eyes flicked back to the screen, then to you again, and then to the screen… and a soft smile appeared on his face.
“two of them,” he mustered, not joking anymore. “two little ones who are goin' to… to need you. need us. forever.”
and as he spoke, his jaw clenched subtly.
you already knew that look.
the “colonel xia” look.
he was evaluating.
his mind was racing ahead; calculating possible dangers, potential threats, anything that could put your or their lives in jeopardy.
but your fingers found his, and with a reassuring smile, you managed to scare off the colonel and bring back your husband to the present day.
he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, sunset-like eyes never leaving your face.
there he was; that dreamy little boy who once wished to have a happy family.
that brave little boy who spent his days building airplane models, and who now got to build a perfect future with you.
that hopeful little boy who promised to always take care of you, and whose protection would also extend to the new and adorable additions to his life.
everything he had once dreamed of was now at his very fingertips.
so, he allowed himself to slide his hand down to your stomach, hesitant at first, like he was afraid of doing something wrong.
when you nodded, he let his palm rest there, reverently, eyes softening until they turned teary.
he didn't need to speak for you to know he was vowing to always protect them; to do whatever it took for his family to be safe and happy.
he also didn't need to make promises, for his actions and loyalty always were louder than words.
“guess we really outdid ourselves, huh?” you whispered, smiling softly. “double trouble…”
he managed a small smile back, lips finding your forehead.
“mhm. double trouble…” he echoed quietly, already savouring the idea and the plethora of responsibilities that came with it. “and whatever comes next, we'll face it together.”
his hand stayed right where it was, protective and steady, as if he could already feel his twins there, and they could feel his unwavering protectiveness.
if he could handle their mom, he could certainly handle these two future troublemakers, no matter what.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭
he was totally frozen; as still as a painting.
no blinks, no breathing, no words.
his eyes were wide, focused on the monitor as if he could decipher what was going on, or as if the two little things would suddenly speak and confirm this was happening; those two heartbeats were real, and you were going to give him not one, but two babies.
the doctor chuckled softly, used to reactions like these, and she soon angled the screen towards him.
“there's two, see? right over there.”
and raffy leaned forward so fast that you thought he would headbutt the poor machine.
his index finger pressed against the screen, once, twice, and then he turned to you.
something snapped inside of him, as he was by your side again in seconds, gentle hands cradling your cheeks.
“are you sure? is the doctor sure? are… are they there? like, really there, my pearl?”
and, as if you knew better than him, when you had literally just found out as well, you had to reassure him with a soft smile and tender caresses on the back of his hands.
“they are, raffy.”
your words were law; whatever you said to him was the absolute truth, so the faucet in his eyes finally opened, and tears started to fall.
the doctor smiled knowingly and left the two of you alone, giving him more space to freely react to the news.
he hugged you as softly as he could, afraid of pressing down too hard or somehow hurting the babies.
“will you be okay? two is a lot… i know you're strong, pearl, but—” he trailed off and sniffled, nose brushing yours. “i'm sorry, i wish i could carry one as well so… so the weight could be distributed somehow, this is so unfair…”
my, this man was sobbing already, imagining how big your tummy would get and how twice as challenging that would become for you.
your back, the swollen feet, the hormones, gosh.
you were going to suffer, and he was supposed to just stand there and stare?
he suddenly rested his head on your chest, cheek squished against your skin as he pouted.
your hands found his soft hair, and you massaged his scalp tenderly, both amused and endeared.
“my love, unless you were a seahorse, that would be impossible. you are already helping me a lot by being here, always by my side,” you whispered, utterly convinced that your words would dissipate his tantrum.
they didn't.
“that's not enough,” he frowned, turning his head so he could see your barely visible baby bump. “that's nothing in comparison with… with all of the things you'll be enduring. two babies, my pearl. two…”
he now cried quietly, sniffling occasionally as his soft fingers traced little shapes over your belly.
you couldn't help but smile sadly, his defeated tears making you more emotional. he was really worried about you; you could tell.
he loved the twins already, of course, but you were his first love. you were and would always be the one who mattered the most.
“i'll do everything; anything to make this less hard,” he whispered, not facing you.
maybe he was talking to the babies, maybe he was talking to you.
either way, you blindly trusted him.
with a tender caress, you got his attention back, and he straightened to properly look at you.
his face was glossy and pink from the tears, but his eyes were full of love.
“hey, raffy… everything will be fine. i won't suffer. after all, i'm creating something amazing with you; something that will last forever. no matter how hard things get, my happiness will prevail.”
his wet eyelashes fluttered closed as a soft sigh escaped his lips.
he nodded solemnly, before meeting your gaze again, this time with that pretty smile of his.
“yeah… yeah. you're right. this is a happy moment,” he whispered, kissing your temple and wiping away any remaining tears. “our happy moment.”
and as both of you took the time to stare longer at the monitor, trying to figure out the weird little little shapes, a peaceful silence took over.
you didn't want him to worry too much, but you knew everything would go just fine.
“my pearl…” he whispered. you hummed in response. “if i was a seahorse and pregnant with twins, would you be crying over my well-being as well…?”
sigh.
yeah, things would be just fine.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭
he knew it.
well, not quite.
he sensed it.
that third heartbeat whenever he laid his head on your tummy to hear yours and his baby's…
he wanted to think it was a mistake; maybe he was confusing it with his own.
but now that he looked at the screen with a blank expression, his heart thumping inhumanly fast, it all made sense.
you were having twins.
no matter how many days he spent daydreaming about a big, happy family, he wasn't prepared to have one in one sitting.
or, in two sittings, actually.
he already had a chaotic, redheaded pair in his life, after all.
his initial surprise washed away the moment he looked at you.
nothing else mattered but you; your reaction, your happiness or concern, your worries or hopes, your shock or your excitement.
he kneeled by your side, large palms cradling your face, wearing a soft, tender gaze reserved only for you.
he was proud, he was honoured, he was grateful.
eternally so.
his thumbs brushed under your eyes, then over the apples of your cheeks.
he wanted to memorize you exactly like this; with bright eyes, your lips parted in awe, your eyelashes already wet from stray tears streaming down your face, all because of the best news ever.
“thank you,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to your lips.
you managed a small “what for?” as you were still processing everything.
he was certain he knew why, but your question caught him off guard.
what for?
for giving him the opportunity to be a father, for giving him the opportunity to have children with the love of his life, for choosing to stay with him forever.
and while the babies weren't here yet, and he was aware that anything could happen in the following months, he was already grateful.
however, how could he possibly explain that vast, immense gratitude in simple words?
not even the longest of kisses would convey his feelings, no matter how passionate or sincere.
he took your hands in his and traced small circles over your knuckles, grounding himself in your presence and warmth.
the screen was still there; two black and white beans barely visible, proof of something miraculous and beautiful…
yet his eyes never abandoned you.
you were and would always be the most important person, and today was no exception.
“for everything, sweetheart. for this, for you, for your love and trust,” he began, but for being the outspoken, direct and straight-to-the-point man you knew, he was certainly struggling to voice his feelings.
before he could continue, your hands cradled his cheeks, effectively quieting him.
his eyes said everything, even when he thought nothing would be enough.
his outer shell was entirely broken, leaving him open and hopeful for the near future, his pupils dilated, his eyebrows knitted together, and there was this glint; this small shimmer you've only seen whenever he felt vulnerable in your arms.
you understood right away the complexity of his emotions, for your heart was also filled with intense, indescribable feelings.
you shared a long, tender kiss, the presence of the doctor completely ignored.
but that didn't matter; this was your moment, the perfect opportunity to remind each other of everything love has brought into your lives.
it reminded you how happy and fulfilled you felt by his side, and it reminded him how much he needed to protect his most precious treasures, because you three… and the other three waiting outside of the hospital, were the reason his life made any sense whatsoever.
he rested his ear against the left side of your chest, feeling your steady heartbeat until it synced with his erratic one.
two new, soft heartbeats awaited, of course, but this moment was yours.
yours to cherish, yours to commit to memory.
he was ready.
he was ready to take over with devotion and confidence, he was ready to never fail you or your future little babies, he was ready to create more memories with you, especially those he likes to replay at night when you're secure and warm in his strong arms.
maybe, along the way, he would find the exact words he needed to express everything he had to say, but for now, he hoped his affection alone reached your heart and the tiny hearts thumping inside of you just the same.~
𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭
xavi stood up.
then he sat down.
then he stood up again, approaching the screen with wide eyes.
he finally sat down for good, his mind drifting elsewhere as he… recalibrated.
the doctor hummed softly as she wiped away the gel, amused by the situation, but finishing the examination so you both could have some privacy.
when she left, you reached out for his hand, your voice above a whisper.
“xavi, are you okay?”
he just turned his head to look at you, his hand meeting yours halfway.
“twins…” he repeated softly, testing the word as it was a foreign concept.
he knew people had twins, triplets, or even five babies in one sitting.
but never in his life did he imagine he would have twins.
two babies.
would he be able to tell them apart?
would they look like you?
would they... read each other's minds?
would they inherit his quirks, or maybe yours?
he had a lot of questions.
his pretty eyes finally landed on your belly, and he gently caressed it, tentatively at first.
“there's two people in there,” he noted, further reassuring himself.
“tiny people, xavi,” you giggled softly.
“but people regardless,” he looked up at you with knitted eyebrows.
you caressed his cheek with your knuckles, tilting your head in confusion.
“what's wrong with that?”
he leaned against your touch, his warm palm still resting over your small baby bump, almost too protectively.
“what if i mix them up?” he asked, his tone completely serious. “what if i hand you… the wrong baby and you think i forgot which one is which?”
you muffled a laugh, not wanting to invalidate his feelings and fears.
“i promise i won't be offended, xav. things like that happen all the time, it doesn't mean you love them any less.”
he hummed in response, not entirely convinced.
his frown deepened.
“what if they're offended about their father not recognizing them?”
and before he could keep spiraling down, you pulled him closer and pecked his lips.
“we'll dress them in different colors… but maybe you're getting ahead of yourself. they might be fraternal twins, not identical.”
he scrunched up his nose slightly, but calmed down visibly after hearing your words.
he held you properly now, arms wrapped around you, his chin resting over your head.
the silence became comfortable, even inside the white and sterile walls.
you nuzzled his neck, breathing in his soft scent and relishing this peaceful, new moment that would soon become a pretty memory.
“i'm scared, star,” he whispered.
you tried to lean back to look at him, but he didn't let you.
“i'm scared of failing them somehow… of not noticing whether one needs me more than the other, scared of missing something. anything.”
you clung to him, your heart breaking at his soft, almost broken tone.
“aw, love… the fact that you're already worrying so much means you won't fail them. i know you won't.”
he caressed your back before clinging to your shirt, not wanting to let go.
he knew you were right, but it didn't make it any less… scary.
“it's okay to be worried and anxious. it is a big change, after all,” you added. “but we'll be together. we'll figure things out… and if the babies are like their dada, they'll be tiny, little sweethearts. trust me.”
he finally pulled back, looking at you with pink cheeks and a small, barely noticeable pout.
“or whiny, needy sleepyheads.”
you smiled, poking his cheeks affectionately.
“even better. we'll have two little, sleepy velcro babies that will love us unconditionally.”
the mental image made his tension disappear. he could almost feel two little hands curling around his fingers, two pairs of wide, puppy eyes full of wonder and trust, and the soft, powdery scent of little babies.
he finally smiled, his heart fully opening to the idea.
he also remembered you were finding out at the same time as he was, and that he hadn't even asked if you were afraid, but he'd show you that it wasn't necessary.
he'd take care of everything, and he would become ten times more attentive just so there would never even be the smallest possibility of failing his family.
he kissed your lips tenderly, his hands caressing your waist, his nose brushing yours.
he would learn everything, no matter how scared or uncertain things seemed.
and if he got lost somewhere along the way, he would always have three bright, warm stars ready to bring him back to his senses, without fail.
𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭
out of all of the places he expected to be surprised at, the hospital was not one of them.
he's seen a lot of things, he's delivered a lot of diagnoses, he's been in difficult situations, but this one?
this one was beyond his expectations.
he came prepared to see his soon-to-be baby.
singular.
he also came with many ideas in mind: statistics, worries, hope, happiness, the layout of the future nursery room…
and it all got slapped away with a single announcement.
you were having twins.
he looked at the doctor, not wanting to doubt her words and experience, but still having the urge to ask.
“twins? are you certain?”
and yes, they were right there, small but visible enough for his eyes to see.
she just smiled and nodded, not a hint of doubt in her tone. “absolutely. take a closer look.”
and he did.
he examined the screen with practiced scrutiny, trying not to miss a thing.
two embryos in good shape and of adequate size, there was no way to deny it.
the doctor gently finished the examination, picked up some files, and excused herself for a few minutes, giving zayne the chance to properly process the sudden turn of events and address you as you lay there with a concerned expression.
right.
this wasn't about probabilities or risks; it was about his precious wife.
you were happy, naturally, but you were also hypervigilant.
zayne was a doctor, so you based your reaction on his. if he seemed worried, you knew something was probably going wrong.
if he seemed relaxed, then you knew things were going to be okay.
and right now, you couldn't tell where he stood, which wasn't exactly reassuring.
he'd seen that look before, often in patients.
the uncertainty, the expectation, the anxiety, and now, that same look was on your face.
that made him crouch down by your side immediately, eyes warming up, hands finding your cheeks.
“i apologize, my love…” he whispered, caressing your face oh so sweetly. “i needed to process everything.”
you nodded, understanding him. but you needed more input, you needed to know what he thought.
“it is not my area of expertise, but i assure you… everything seems to be more than fine, flower,” he softly spoke, just confirming what the doctor had already said.
you tilted your head to the side, almost like a puppy.
“then why do you look like that?” you whispered.
his lips were pressed into a thin line, his hands trembled slightly, his eyes showed a hint of fear.
you really paid attention to every detail…
he fixed his glasses the way he does whenever he's nervous.
“i must admit, this was certainly unexpected,” he said, his tone genuine and low. “not unwanted; never unwanted. i am happy, my love. i am the happiest man ever.”
“but…?”
he sighed, leaning in to press your foreheads together.
“but i am afraid of failing all of you,” his voice softened further, sounding almost fragile. “i have been mentally preparing myself to be the best father for our baby. yet now… now i must prepare for two little ones.”
not to mention the risks, how many changes your body will go through, the complications, and all of the things husbands don't usually think about, but zayne, given his background, constantly had on his mind.
sensing his inner turmoil, you nuzzled his nose, frowning softly.
“zaynie, no one is fully prepared to be a parent, not even when you have multiple kids… they won't want the perfect father, nor will i. i just want you to love them, and to allow yourself to learn and make mistakes, always with me by your side.”
he closed his eyes, taking in a slow breath.
when he opened his eyes again, they were full of love, and his lips curled up in a soft smile.
fate was uncertain, and while it hasn't always been kind to zayne, it hasn't been the worst, either.
he now has you, he has two babies on the way, and while he can't control everything, he can control how much love and security he wants to give you.
and that's all of it.
he kissed the tip of your nose, and then your eyelids, further confirming that he agreed with you.
“i already love them. i love them with all of my being,” he whispered, voice breaking at the end. “and i love you, my love. i love you, i love you…”
his arms wrapped around you, and in his embrace, you broke down as well.
the future was uncertain, things could change in seconds, but what you both knew wouldn't change, falter, or waver was the constant love blooming between you two.
Beggin’ on your knees: LADS LI begging for your forgiveness
Synopsis: The LI’s have said something to you they instantly regret. Cue the most groveling, pathetic, lovesick apology you’ve ever seen.
Warnings: Fluff, Hurt to Comfort, Angst, Description of medical issues, description of wounds, they are pretty pathetic ya’ll.
A/n: This was another commission from the lovely @moonlitnycto! This was for my Christmas Commission deal i have going on right now! Spots are still open!
˖᯽ ݁˖ Xavier
The mission was supposed to be simple, extract intel, minimal engagement with Wanderers. But of course, you had to improvise.
Xavier watches from the tactical feed, jaw locked tight as you ignore his direct order to fall back, charging headfirst into enemy sightlines instead. His knuckles whiten around the comm unit.
“What was that?" His voice cracks through the earpiece, sharp enough to make you flinch mid-stride. “Do you enjoy being a liability? Or are you just determined to get yourself killed?"
Silence. Even the static in your comm feels heavy.
Then, worse, the choked sound of your breath hitching.
Regret drowns him before the mission even debriefs.
Xavier cornered you in the armory the second you were alone, his palm slamming the locker beside your head.
“I didn’t mean—" His voice breaks, raw with frustration, At himself. “You know I didn’t—.”
You finally meet his eyes. And his breath stutters.
“You meant it," you say softly. “That’s the problem."
The moment your words Xavier’s knees hit the floor like a man sentenced to death.
His hands fist in the fabric of your mission pants, forehead pressing into your stomach as his breath comes ragged and unsteady.
“I hate myself when you look at me like that," he grits out, voice muffled against your uniform shirt. “Like I’m just another person who doesn’t see you."
His fingers tremble where they grip you.
“I see you. Every reckless, brilliant inch." He takes a harsh inhale. “And I’d burn the world before I let my own pride make you doubt it again."
You slide your fingers through his hair, gently at first. Then your grip tightens until his pretty blue eyes flicker up to meet yours. The regret there is volcanic, but you don’t let him look away.
“You want to make it up to me?" you question, thumb brushing the scar on his cheekbone. The one you stitched up after his last reckless charge. “Then listen next time. Trust me like I trust you.”
His jaw flexes, but he doesn’t argue. You lean down, your lips a breath from his. “I’m stronger than you think. Nothing is going to keep me from you. In this lifetime, or the next.”
You seal the confession with a kiss.
˖᯽ ݁˖ Rafayel
The air in the studio was thick with tension, the scent of paint thinner sharp in your nose as you stood frozen under Rafayel’s glare. He was pissed.
"You lied to me." His voice was dangerously calm.
You swallowed hard. "Rafayel, I didn't—"
"Don't." His hand sliced through the air, cutting you off. "I trusted you. I told you things. Things I've never told anyone and the whole time, you were just—what? Playing along? Waiting to report back to them?”
‘Them’ was the Unicorn Operatives. It was never in-detail things. But Rafayel was still a person of interest for your organization.
Your stomach dropped. This wasn’t about some minor mistake, this was about everything, The secret mission, the hidden agenda, the lies woven into your time together.
"I had to," you insisted, stepping forward. "It wasn’t about you-”
"Of course it wasn’t!" he exploded, voice cracking. "Nothing ever is, is it? Not my art, not my trust. Not even this." His gesture between you two was vicious. "Was any of it real?"
The second the words left his mouth, his face twisted with regret.
You saw it, the flicker of pain in his eyes, the way his fists clenched like he wanted to take it back. But the damage was done. The silence between you was deafening.
And then, quieter, broken: "...Get out."
He froze, the sound of your sharp inhale like a physical blow. When your eyes began to water, the sight sent a lance of guilt and regret through him.
He'd wanted to hurt you with his callous words, to channel his anger into something that would leave you as wounded as he felt. But now, watching the tears well up in your eyes, all he felt was sickening remorse.
His throat tightened. The urge to take it all back clawed at his chest like a wild animal. To apologize, to comfort you, to go back to the way things were.
His knees folded with the weight of his regret. He fell to the ground before you, grasping your hands tightly as if fearing you'd slip away.
"Don't cry," he pleaded, each word a tight whisper. "Please, please don't cry.” His fingers clenched around your wrists, desperate, as if he could anchor you with touch alone.
"I didn't mean it," he insisted, desperation coloring his voice. "I was angry, I was hurt, but I didn’t mean a damn word."
A tear rolled down your cheek, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at your lips as he clung to your hands like a sinner at prayer.
You sniffled, wiping your face with the back of your hand. "If you really want to make it up to me..."
Rafayel nodded frantically, ready to agree to anything. "Name it."
You pointed at the scattered sketches and paint tubes across the studio floor, his earlier outburst had sent them flying. "...You clean this up."
His mouth fell open slightly.
You tilted your head. "And..." You pause for effect. "...You make me hot chocolate. With whipped cream."
Rafayel blinked once, then exhaled a shaky laugh, pressing his forehead against your knuckles in sheer relief. "Deal," he mumbled.
You nudged him with your knee. "And marshmallows."
He groaned dramatically, but his grip on your hands tightened, like he never wanted to let go again. "Fine. But only because you're cute when you cry."
You scowled. "Rafayel.*"
He grinned, already scrambling to his feet. "Kidding! Mostly."
˖᯽ ݁˖ Zayne
The hospital room is too bright, too sterile. The rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor a mocking counterpoint to the furious pounding of your own pulse. Zayne stands at the foot of the bed, his white coat pristine, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the railing.
"How long?" His voice is quiet. “How long have you been having arrhythmias and didn't—" He chokes on the words, his composure fracturing. “Didn't tell me?"
You flinch. The truth lodges in your throat like glass. Three months of hiding skipped beats, of biting back gasps when your heart stuttered mid-mission, of pretending the black spots in your vision weren't getting worse.
Zayne reads the answer in your silence.
“Do you have any idea—" He cuts himself off, jaw working. When he speaks again, it's with a cold, clinical precision that cuts deeper than any shout. “You're my patient first. Always. If you can't trust me with that, then what are we even—"
He stops. Catches himself too late.
The unspoken words hang between you like a death sentence: ‘Then what are we even doing?’
The second they leave his mouth, regret floods his features. He reaches for you.
But you're already turning away, swallowing the bile rising in your throat.
Because the worst part? He's right. And now neither of you can pretend otherwise.
The apology comes hours later, whispered into your hair as he holds you through the worst of the episode, his tears hot against your shoulder.
Zayne holds you in his arms as the episode passes, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a steadying counterpoint to the ragged thudding of your own. His tears are hot against your shoulder, his fingers trembling as they trace your spine. He whispers apologies against your hair.
"I didn't—I didn't mean—"
He sighs, his grip tightening. You feel the fight go out of him, replaced by a raw vulnerability that's rare in him.
"I don't want to lose you," he breathes. "That's all. I just don't want to lose you."
You turn into him, burying your face in the safety of his chest. You can feel the steady thrum of his heart against your cheek, the rise and fall of his breathing, the way his fingers trace patterns on your back, as if committing the curves and planes of your body to memory.
For a moment, you let yourself forget the world outside this hospital room, the looming specter of your illness, the arguments and apologies that still linger between you. Here, wrapped in his arms, you're not patient and doctor.
You're just the two of you.
“Just stay with me…hurts more when your gone…” Your body shakes with a cut off sob. Zayne just tightens his grip on you.
“Always.”
˖᯽ ݁˖ Caleb
The argument had been brewing for week. Ever since Caleb came back from that last deep-space mission with the neural chip embedded behind his ear. At first, it was little things. The way his eyes glitched violet for half a second when he laughed, how he’d sometimes stare at the wall like he was listening to something you couldn’t hear.
But tonight? Tonight it all snapped.
“You don’t get to shut me out like this!" you shout, slamming your palm against his chest. “That thing in your head is changing you, and you’re just-just letting it!”
Caleb's jaw tenses, his pupils flickering with that unnatural glow as he steps closer.
“Maybe I like the upgrade," he sneers, voice colliding with a coldness that doesn’t sound like him. “Maybe I’m tired of playing the dumb, lovestruck boy when the Fleet needs me sharp."
The second the words leave his mouth, his whole body goes rigid, his expression collapsing into horror as he reaches for you.”
“Wait—Pips, I didn’t—"
But you’re already backing away, your eyes burning with tears.
The second your footsteps echo down the hallway, Caleb’s entire body jerks like he’s been shocked awake. His breath is coming in ragged gasps as the artificial glow behind his eyes flickers and dies. The chip’s cold influence fractures, leaving only your Caleb.
“No—no no no—”
His knees hit the floor so hard the impact reverberates up his thighs, but he doesn’t care. He’s already scrambling after you, his Evol flaring wildly as he slides the last few feet on his knees, colliding with your legs like a man begging for mercy. His arms lock around your waist, his face pressing into your stomach with a broken, wet gasp.
“I hate it. I hate the chip, I hate what it’s doing to me!” His fingers dig into your back, clinging like you’re the only thing grounding him. “Please, please don’t let it take you away from me too. I’ll ripit out myself.”
His voice cracks, and for the first time since the implant, you feel him shake.
You sink down, wrapping your arms around his trembling shoulders to pull him against you. His tears are hot and shaky against your skin. You've seen him through so many things, but this is different. He's usually so strong, so resilient, but this feels like the weight of every battle finally breaking him.
“Hey, hey," you whisper, one hand cupping his jaw with gentle ferocity. “It's you. You're still you, do you hear me?"
Caleb leans into your touch like a kicked puppy. You gently wipe away his tears and give him a smile. “You can make it up to me by helping me with that model plane. The chip can take away a lot from you. But it can't take away your hyperfixation on those planes.”
Your teasing makes Caleb let out a wet chuckle and sniffle. “Yeah…please?”
You kiss his flushed cheek and stand with him. The over 6ft man leans on you like a cane. You’ve always been his support, and always will.
˖᯽ ݁˖ Sylus
The door to the penthouse slams open with enough force to make the windows rattle. Sylus strides in, his usually impeccable posture rigid with barely restrained fury. You trail behind him, limping, clutching your bleeding forearm but he doesn’t turn to check on you.
Not yet. His hands clench at his sides, the leather creaking ominously.
“Sit," he snaps, gesturing sharply to the leather couch.
You flinch but obey, sinking onto the cool material with a hiss of pain. The wound isn’t life-threatening, just a deep graze from a stray bullet, but the blood has seeped through your sleeve, staining the fabric a stark, accusing red.
Silently, Sylus retrieves the medkit from the side cabinet. When he kneels in front of you, his face is carefully blank, except for his eyes. His irises burn with a simmering, scarlet intensity, the glow pulsing in time with his rapid breaths.
He doesn’t speak as he peels back your sleeve, revealing the angry, jagged gash beneath. His touch is strict, antiseptic swabs, pressure, bandages but his fingers tremble. Just once. A fracture in his composure.
“You could have died."
The words crack like a whip. You look up, startled, but he isn’t looking at you. His jaw works, his gaze fixed on the bloody gauze in his hands.
“And for what? A stakeout?” It’s spoken in a venomous whisper. “You’re reckless. Stupid. You don’t—"
He stops.
Sylus drops the gauze. His hands fly to your face, cupping your cheeks with a desperation that steals your breath. His thumbs brush over your skin, tracing invisible wounds as if reassuring himself you're whole. “I can't—" His voice breaks. If I lost you—"
There is a moment of silence as he cradles your face. He falls to his knees.
Not the controlled, graceful descent of a man who kneels only to dominate, but a collapse. A surrender.
“Forgive me," he rasps, eyes desperately searching for your own.
He presses his forehead against your knees, his breathing ragged. The anger has evaporated, leaving only raw, unfiltered terror in its wake. Terror of you, for you.
“I didn't mean it." The words are muffled against your skin, his fingers digging into your thighs like the bullet may re-aninate and take you from him again. “Fuck. Fuck. I never should have—"
His shoulders shake. Just once. He looks up.And you see it: the wet, furious gleam in his crimson eyes. You can’t move. You’ve been wounded far beyond this simple bullet wound.
But this time, it had been on HIS watch.
“Tell me you hate me," he demands, "Tell me you’ll never forgive me. Anything. Just—" His fingers tighten. “Don’t lie there like you’re already gone."
You reach out, brushing a tear from his cheek with your thumb. He flinches, like your touch burns.
“Sylus," you whisper.
That’s all it takes. He crumbles. And for the first time in his life, the most dangerous man in the N109 Zone begs.
📖 S Y N O P S I S : Emotions? What were those? Oh, just mildly inconveniencing things that you experience daily, of course. Lately though you've opted not to, as best as you could. Eventually it catches up to you though. . .
TLDR the LADs men help you through a tough time.
W A R N I N G S : Arguing, the reader is a bit of a crybaby and sensitive, not the most well-adjusted person emotionally. Undiagnosed but something is DEFINITELY wrong kind of vibe. Full-on breakdown in Xavier's part. I mean you're breaking down in each one but it is somehow so much worse in Xavier's part.
X A V I E R 🌌
- Now he's not necessarily the most open guy either. But he does notice things and is rather attentive when it matters, contrary to popular belief.
- When you first start distancing yourself, he doesn't point it out just yet. He's noticed your short, clipped replies. Whether it's due to stress or just everyday frustration, he knows you can't exactly be sunshine and rainbows all the time. You're only human, after all, so he just leaves you be most of the time.
- Except that actually ends up backfiring.
- While you're usually chatty and loud with him, you just sometimes shut down. Let the world pass you by, which honestly pisses you off in a way that you can't explain.
- You want to be better. You want to be there for everyone, do everything perfectly, be perfect. But you can't. Somehow that makes you sick to your stomach.
- So when Xavier leaves you to your own devices, your thoughts are left to fester. He didn't even mean anything by it, you knew he was just doing what he thought was best. You didn't even blame him, you definitely needed the space, but God it just adds on to everything else.
- So when inevitably, he asks you to hang out again after giving you your space, you say yes. You are definitely not in the right headspace to be hanging out with anyone. You haven't slept, every little thing you've failed to do over the week is catching up to you. You need a break, plain and simple.
- But how could you ever say no to him?
"your turn." his voice snaps you out of your reverie, and you look up. he's already picked his card and put it down. a red card displaying the number two in big, white text.
you're at your place, sitting down on the couch with him across you, after he had suggested spending the afternoon in. not having the will to go outside, you jumped at the opportunity. a little too enthusiastically in his opinion, but he didn't comment on it.
despite not having seen you for a week, xavier has kept tabs on you in his own way. at least twice a day, he's sending you a message. whether it's to ask a question or share something he saw, he always made sure to contact you. though the most he's received is more short, clipped answers. still, it was better than nothing.
though it didn't fully assuage him of his worries.
you don't offer him a reply. just shuffle through your own deck and plop one down.
it's a red six.
"it's wrong," he says, and you take in a much too loud deep breath.
uno should not have you this heated.
"sorry," you mumble, quickly taking back your card and putting another one down. a green seven. his gaze meets yours, as the realization slowly sinks in.
. . .
". . . it's still wrong---"
"yes, i know it's wrong!" you blurt out before you can even stop yourself, your movements too harsh as you reach for the stack again, taking back your card. but at that point, xavier is done.
he reaches forward, stopping your hand and lowering it to lay flat against the table. his eyes meet yours again, and you almost begin to cry. you've been curt and snippy at him all week, and just now you've snapped at him.
"let's do something else," is all he says, not even questioning your behavior as he reaches over, cleaning up the cards. you almost want to stop him, but he moves too quick for you. he's standing up, walking around the table to plop himself beside you.
the next few minutes are a blur. you're just sitting there, trying so hard not to lose it any more than you already have, and he's. . . just there. not saying anything, just letting you lean against him. his hands find your remote, turning the tv on to some show he knows you like.
you break eventually, and he just holds you. his hand is on your back, patting as you let it all out. he doesn't know the specifics, doesn't demand for an explanation or even an apology, just sits there.
"i'm sorry," you manage after a while, as he nods. he knows you hadn't meant it. "i'm sorry, xav---"
he interrupts you, "tell me next time. so i can help."
you want to cry, and you think you already are. judging by the way his fingers draw closer to your cheek, wiping away the streams on your face. you can barely help it then, as your shoulders begin to shake, and he wordlessly takes you into his arms.
you're trembling, sobbing and full-on ugly crying and that only makes you cry even harder. but it isn't those hushed, restrained tears. it's the one where you can barely speak, barely *breathe*, as xavier holds you tighter. his hand cradling the back of your head to bring you closer to him.
the weight that's been suffocating you lifts with every tear that leaves your eyes. his jacket is probably soaked with them, but you can't bring yourself to care. instead your arms only lift to wrap around his shoulders. for the first time in so long, you're allowing yourself to reach out. reach out to him.
and what an indescribable feeling it was.
you don't know how long it's been. the next time you lift your head from his shoulder, it's hard to breathe through your nose. xavier leaves you for a moment to grab you some water and *lots* of tissues.
"thanks," you whisper, a bit shakily, as he hands you a glass and the box of tissues. you take a tentative sip, sniffling quietly.
strangely enough, you don't feel too embarrassed. not really, more guilty because you snapped at him earlier.
- Xavier stays with you throughout the whole night. In the following days and weeks, you best believe he keeps a close eye on you.
- He checks on you pretty often. When he's unable to be with you physically, he'll text you. Asking about your day, talking to you about his own.
- If your replies are too vague for his liking, he will most definitely prod. He soon finds out you're easy enough to get info out of when he does.
- Throughout it all though, he will do his utmost best to make sure you never have an episode like this again. At least to this extent. You're the brightest light in his life, after all. He doesn't want you to burning yourself out.
Z A Y N E ☃️
- You don't know if it's the world or you, but someone is definitely moving too fast.
- It might be you, honestly. You don't even know at that point. There's too much to do to think about even *thinking* of slowing down to think of who's moving too fast.
- Even with your speeding brain however, he's the first to notice.
- The way you've slowly been pulling away. How you restrain your emotions more than usual. Like you've just realized how loud you were being and now you tone it down.
- He approaches you about it, of course. Though it's subtle. He's always been a man of action, after all. Eager to get to the root of it and fix things, the opposite of you who lets their feelings foster and rot until it physically hurts too much to contain.
"You're quiet today, did something happen?" He asks, eyes trained on you even as you focus on something else.
"No, not really. Just have a lot to do." You lie through your teeth, fingers thumping incessantly against your thigh, hoping he doesn't see.
Unfortunately, he does see, and he does not believe you. "Just remember to take a break once in a while."
- You in fact did not remember. You do the opposite, actually, you just keep pushing through even when your body is begging for rest. It's the only way things will get done, right? You have to carry on, you can rest later. You just have to finish this one, last thing.
It's late at night, and you're leaning back in your chair. You should be asleep, but the workload is too much for your liking. So you work, and work, even when you're fraying at the edges. Like now.
You don't know how it starts, or even why. All you know is you're sobbing quietly into your hands, when you have no need to be. But a lifetime of hushing yourself has made you incapable of even allowing you to cry openly.
Next to you on your desk, your phone buzzes, and immediately you know who it is. There's only one person in the world that would be awake and chatting you.
Zayne : I just got off of work. I'm sorry I wasn't able to drop by.
You read the message over and over, swallowing back your tears despite him not even being able to see or hear you.
You : No worries! I needed to get some work done anyway, and there's still tomorrow 🙌
Zayne : Alright, I'll come by tomorrow evening then. Did you take a break like I told you to?
You : Yessir 🫡 don't worry.
You turn off your phone afterward, feeling sick to your stomach.
Tomorrow comes, and so does Zayne to your place. It's late, you're sat in the kitchen, looking at your laptop, up to your eyeballs with emails, requests and whatnot. You grumble as yet another message buzzes through your phone. You don't know what it is, who it's from or why, all you know it's just another thing to take care of. Because when is it not?
Zayne is across from you, standing there. he was going to invite you out to dinner together, but it seems you're far too preoccupied at the moment.
You've been busy a lot lately, much to his displeasure. Though he admires your dedication, it quickly turns into obsession when you're left unchecked for too long. Which is how you end up like this ; overworked, emotional and constantly stressing over details that don't matter.
Normally he'd be a bit more careful with how he approaches you about this. Letting you come to him at your own time. But this has been going on for far too long.
He steps over to you, and you don't even notice it at first. Not until his hand reaches forward, pressing your screen down gently, his hands quickly moving it aside. You open your mouth to protest, but he beats you to it.
"I thought we'd go out to dinner." is all he says, unmoving, like he'd already made up his mind that you two were going to dinner.
You stare at him, a bit aghast, but speak anyway. All while your hand subtly reaches for your laptop again.
"I can't. But we can still---"
Zayne only pulls the laptop closer to the edge of the counter, setting it aside before walking around to be next to you.
"We can still go to that restaurant you mentioned. I believe they should still be open." he says, placing his hands on your arms and guiding you out of your chair. Despite yourself, you follow, though your mind is still nagging at you to finish your work.
"Zayne, I have work."
His reply is still calm, as he ushers you toward your door, grabbing your coat and handing it to you before putting on his own. "Your work hours end at 6pm, and last I checked, I was the doctor between the two of us. Therefore there's no reason for you to be on call."
You stop him there, turning around, ready to chew him out.
Then you hesitate.
Because what was there to scold him for?
He was just being concerned, after all. You couldn't repay that with vitriol and malice.
So you took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, but I really need to finish some stuff. I can walk you out---"
"So we're taking my car, then?" he interrupts, taking your coat back from you to put it on you himself. You freeze once he does, caught off-guard again as he all but sweeps you off your feet. Faster than you can blink, you're already sat down, at a restaurant you knew you only mentioned in passing.
You don't talk. Not yet at least, preferring to stew in your emotions once more. Even in this little moment, you're already thinking of what to do next, your mind jumping from one thought to another, your leg anxiously bouncing.
Why was he doing this? You should've put your foot down about work. Should've said no, turned him away---
"What are you getting?" he asks you, and you finally look up, glancing down at the menu. The words hardly register, and you just say the first thing that comes to mind.
Zayne nods at your answer. It isn't quite what you'd usually order at a place like this, but he doesn't push.
You're quiet as dinner comes. He asks you questions here and there, and you give short responses, trying your best to remain your usual self. Even when it's just so hard.
By the time you're done, he gets the bright idea of walking around for a bit. Just close together, as for once he's the one talking your ear off. But in a way that is uniquely his.
"I had stopped by the pediatrics ward today," he says, observing you as you reply.
"Is that why you were covered in stickers?"
"I'm surprisingly very popular among the children."
You laugh quietly at his reply, continuing to walk. Just one step in front of the other, until the two of you stop over a bridge, illuminated by fairy lights up above.
It's a peaceful, lovely night, and for the first time in so long, it's like you can finally breathe. Like you had finally taken a moment to stand still and take everything in. To think and reflect, instead of trying make sure everything was perfect.
"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or do I have to resort to other means?"
Instinctively, you tilt your head, playing dumb. "What are you talking about?"
For a moment, Zayne keeps his eyes forward, his eyes landing on the river below. On the ripples of the water as the fish swim, before you hear him sigh.
"When you comfort others, you're the chattiest person I know, yet you seem so unwilling to follow your own advice," he begins, his voice frustrated, but if you listened close enough, *concerned*. "Do you suddenly lose all your wisdom when you're unwell?"
You open your mouth to reply, to brush off his concern, but he interrupts you again. A common theme of tonight.
But this time it's not with words. It's with the slow reach of his hand, steadying you as it lands on your shoulder. You're practically frozen as he turns you to look at him.
"What will it take for you to realize, that you can rely on me?" his voice comes out as an almost pained whisper, as his hand tightens, and it's then your heart begins to start beating a bit too fast. Does he even *know* what he's doing to you right now?!
You want to pull away, to take a second to catch your breath, but he only grips you tighter. You're about to protest again when he just pulls you in, like you aren't already on the verge of cardiac arrest.
"I do, I always do. . ." the words die in your throat, as he shushes you softly. Now he pulls you into his arms, silencing your meek wails as he holds you against his chest.
You really try not to be too loud, or cry too much, but you can't help it.
Not when he holds you so tenderly, like you're actually something worth slowing down for. When the world seems so eager to leave you behind, he's going to stay right there until you can keep up.
R A F A Y E L 🎨
- The first instance is when you're at his studio. You've been pretty quiet up until then, but Rafayel hadn't paid too much attention to it. It wasn't unusual for you to be quiet, after all, you'd get chatty later.
- Then, he pulls you to stand in front of one of his almost finished pieces. Since you came into his life, for the first time he'd been in the business of asking someone of their opinion on his art.
- Even when you didn't have much knowledge on his art, what materials he'd gathered for the pigments, or even what the hell he was painting, he was appreciative of every word you gave him. Because it was your opinion, your thoughts that you felt safe enough to express with him.
- So when one day you barely spared his painting a glance, his first instinct is to pout. Because of course it is.
"It looks horrible, don't you think?" he asks, his usual flippant tone present, and he glances up at you, his eyes narrowing at every twitch and change in your expression.
You're slow to look up, and the only thing that registers in your head is his voice. The tone of it, the words he's saying, what he's *asking*, and that constricting feeling returning in your chest at the thought of upsetting anyone.
"What? No! No, I didn't say that, you're great I was just---" you're rambling before you can stop. Continous apologies leave you, your mind spinning out of orbit as Rafayel stands there, astounded, and a little worried.
Could he have given you a reason to be like this lately?
Before you can continue, he reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder to calm you down
"Relax, I was asking about the painting."
Okay, now you just feel stupid. Your face heats up, the world stops for a moment to watch, and you want to explode. Rafayel just stares, a single brow raised, expectant. But you don't offer an explanation.
"Oh, the painting," you take a breath, looking back at the canvas. It's akin to any other of his work ; vibrant and pretty. Your words, not his. "It's beautiful. Are you going to display it in the next exhibition?"
His gaze lingers on you, looking unconvinced for whatever reason, before he shrugs, "No."
You don't push much further, chalking it up to his usual eccentricities, going back to staring into space.
His eyes narrow at your behavior, biting his tongue so he doesn't say something that will undoubtedly set you off. He'll leave you alone. For now.
The next time you see him, he's in your apartment. You're coming home from a long day, and you absolutely don't want to talk to anyone, especially him.
Yet somehow he's there.
". . . Raf, what are you doing?"
"Waiting for you, what's it look like?" He answered casually, a bag of your favorite snack in his hands, tilting it towards you, "Want one?"
You stare for a moment, a bit befuddled, before shaking your head.
"Not today." You turn away and trudge towards your room, barely even remembering to change. Rafayel follows after you, watching as you practically collapse to your knees and let your head fall onto your bed. He sits himself on it, placing a hand on your head as you subtly begin to cry.
He just continues gently petting you all the while. Not demanding an explanation, just allowing you to let it out.
"There there," he says, patting your back, "Cheer up. You're awful to be around when you're like this. "
"Screw you." you manage weakly, though you smile just a bit, shaking your head at him. You don't catch it, but he begins to smile as well, looking down at you as his hand still against your hair.
Though he hates it when you cry, he's grateful you're comfortable enough with him to do it. How you willingly let your walls down just this once, not even pulling away when he goes to comfort you.
That said, he would've liked it better if he had you closer.
"You feeling better?" he asks after a while, when you've seemed to settled down. When you find the strength to lift your face, he reaches forward, not even hesitating, as he wipes at your tears. "Who knew you were such an ugly crier."
"You're terrible at this pep talk thing, I hope you know that."
Rafayel only shifts closer, fully sinking down to the floor to be next to you. Almost instantly you move as well, resting your head on his shoulder, a couple mote tears leaving you. No matter how many jabs you throw at him, he's always going to be the one you go running to.
His hand moves to wrap around your back, and if he were any bolder he would've brushed his lips against your forehead. He holds himself back however, content to let you rest against him. For as long as it will take for you to feel better. He'll always be there to pick up the pieces with you.
NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR ~
This took me way too long to finish and I lowkey hate it? Idk, it just feels very choppy for me. But, it's done so here you guys go!
Caleb was going to be a part of this but then I couldn't finish it in time, so he comes out whenever. Sylus girlies, I will MAYBE write for him. Let's see if any inspiration strikes for him.
Valentine’s week has started, and we whimsical babies will celebrate it (trust), so here I go with some thought dumps. I’m writing it as I fly and since there is no internet in the plane, might as well make it useful.
Xavier: You woke up, waiting for just another normal weekend. Weekends go pretty breezy for you and Xavier, you both love going to a hot pot place during the evening, spending time playing with plushies in the morning. And going out cafe hopping (you can’t possibly bring yourself to trust Xavie’s cooking, really). Not after he almost burnt the kitchen entirely. Not after he almost burned the kitchen Another Time After. The door bell rings, and you rush out from your vanity. Xavier’s here to pick you up. What greets you is a beautiful bouquet you didn’t know the occasion for. “Is this… did Jeremiah?” You blinked, perhaps your common friend wanted to make you something.
“These flowers are from Jeremiah’s shop, yes, but these are… from me. To you.” Xavier shyly scratches the back of his neck. A soft blush creeping across his cheeks, his gaze gentle and tender as always. You chuckle softly, taking the ginormous bouquet filled with beautiful flowers of different colors. “This is so beautiful— and oh— smells great too! Thank you.” You lean in, kissing his lips ever so softly. Xavier’s body language changes instantly when he wants to be loving and when he wants to be Touchy. You know it, the way his longer arms wrap around you speak for themselves. “I was on my way back from the No Hunt zone 38 yesterday, and saw this in a mall. It’s Valentine’s week… I, never paid attention to stuff like this before, but I hope… now I can.” He croons.
“I want to show you through my actions. How much I love you.” He smiles. Oh you want to smash him against a wall and bite him. Xavier gives you cuteness aggression like nobody else.
Zayne: Yvonne and Greyson can look at the joy on their doctor’s face today. Today is one of the rare days where Zayne has taken a vacation, by vacation— it still means working for the morning hours. He is here at 7 am, checking on the slightly critical patients with the admirable professionalism he embodies. Yet, there is a mirth in his gaze that’s inescapable. Zayne just can’t wait for his beloved Jasmine to wake up. He has prepared a presentation Pinterest worthy for you today. The entire dining table is littered with Jasmines, and lilies. Red roses between the coral-like white of the flowers only accentuates the smell and the aura more. There is a perfectly splayed out breakfast plate, with the note. ‘Good morning, Happy flowers day. It’s the start of the Valentine’s week. I hope this will show my sincerity in wanting to spend the week doing things which are related to being a couple. Your favorite breakfast is sitting in the microwave, you need to heat it for one minute. Your iced coffee is in the fridge. Ice is in a separate cup so it doesn’t dilute the taste you like. I am at the Akso Hospital and will be there soon.’
Your heart soars and dives like a free bird, Zayne is truly the best husband you could ever find. Sometimes you wonder how did you get so lucky…
You text him, “Package received Dr. Zayne. I love you.”
He sends you a silly snowman ⛄️ emoji. Followed by a heart. ♥️
Rafayel: The art and the artist often conspire together against you. Today just happens to be one of those days. Rafayel is nothing, if not romantic. He embraces the tradition of living & dying for love like his fellow Lemurian brethren. After a particularly rough night with your insatiable Fishie, you wake up with slight cramps on your lower abdomen and wince. “Good morning Cutie, here,” He croons, rushing to you instantly and picking you up bridal-style. “Today’s weather is amazing— it’s almost like— the weather and I decided to spoil my perfect Bride today.” The smile and the chirp in his voice makes your hazy senses perk up, and yet— somehow calm your nervous system. “Valentine’s week starts today, what kind of an artist would I be if I don’t let my muse feel special? Though, don’t get me wrong I’m not doing it just because it’s Valentine’s week, cutie—“
You chuckle, gently cupping his face and kissing all over it in softened pecks.
“I know Rafayel.”
“Good!” He grins, walking outside to a setup perfect for you. A setup that screams that the organizer knows his muse. The table is by the beach, translucent lilac curtains covering the table and the flowy curtain roof. The flowers that Rafayel named after you, along with roses perfectly christened together in a gorgeous bouquet.
“Breakfast will be here soon. I didn’t plate it before hand because the Sea gulls would be a problem.” He flicks his hair and scorns at them with a pout.
“But I love you, Cutie. Today is just one of the many days I want etched in your heart.”
Sylus: The Onichynus boss man and his affinity for Red. An occasion as perfect as this? You better believe Sylus is going all out for you. He got the information about it from Luke and Kieran, they very carefully implanted the TikTok they saw of a girl being smothered in roses as Valentine’s week is coming in. “Boss!” Kieran yelled, showing him the video. They want their dad— oops, Boss— to excel at courting Miss Hunter after all. After a definitive caw! From Mephisto, the deal was sealed. “Hmm, I do think this is good for an inspiration… yet I don’t see why I need to spoil my Kitten with roses just this day. We will go at it the entire week.” He declares to no one but himself really.
And this is why you don’t have space to walk in your apartment, and this is just day 1! Red roses with a brilliant lustre are everywhere you see. Bouquets upon bouquets, “Sylus—“ you call him, a deep blush in your cheeks.
“Did you like the gift?” His calm voice purrs from the other end of the phone.
“I… I do, so much— but don’t you think it’s a bit intense? I feel like you bought the entire flower shop! What would other boyfriends give to their girlfriends—“
“Other boyfriends are not my problem, Sweetie. They should have just been richer than me.” He chuckles in that cocky and melodious way that reaches your core. You swallow thickly, “It’s… it’s… lovely, Sylus. It almost… reminds me of another time.”
That sentence makes his eyes widen. “Oh, really? How… interesting. However, my dearest Kitten. Flowers won’t quench your appetite. I will be there picking you up soon… be ready for me.”
“And oh, this is just the beginning. As I told you before, there is no love purer than mine. I adore you.”
Caleb: Gege always sends you flowers ritualistically. And keeps one to himself to send you another one of the bouquets when they start to wither. This time, though— when you stand at the station platform, waiting for Coelum express to land and to meet the love of your life. There is a bouquet in his hand that seems… different. “Gege—“ you blink softly, hugging him tightly and pouting. “I missed you, welcome back to Linkon!” You still cheer up like you used to whenever he visited you during his DAA days. Only now, he can do this—
He leans in, capturing your lips in the softest kiss ever. Pouring all his love and unhinged devotion into the very marrow of your bones. “Meimei…” He hums. Kissing your forehead deeply. “I’m back, and I’ll be here for the next three days. You know what that means? You can bring up all the demands to me and I’ll make each wish come true.”
His arms wrap around you lazily, but carry a possession that etches into your veins. “What’s this?” You take the bouquet, examining the roses. “Caleb- you- made these?” You gasp.
The roses are beautiful, perfect in every sense and almost indistinguishable from real ones. Only… they’re made from paper. Caleb put his Origami skills into life so beautifully you are astounded.
“These… won’t wither. Just like me. Always by your side.” He holds your hand, walking outside with a smile on his face. You are touched, you always wonder what you ever did to deserve someone like Caleb.
“Thank you, Gege…” You pout. Your heart is heavy with the compounding weight of joy.
“You’re welcome Pipsqueak, remember this. I would do anything to bring a smile to your face.” Little do you know that your old house which he restored— has a rose garden in progress. He did promise to make you the most beautiful garden ever, didn’t he?
Can I request a SMAU for LADS men reacting to gender neutral reader accidentally texting to him where you told him about your feelings for him when you thought it's your friend please?
Happy Accidents
‣ PLOT you accidently text the LIs your feelings.
‣ DISCLAIMER None! gender neutral reader. Color dividers by @/kaitsawamura.
Xavier: Warm. Soft clothes. Big spoon. Little spoon. Doesn’t matter. Just be horizontal with him l, please. Legs all tangled up in yours. “Just five more minutes” while sneaking his hand up under your shirt. 10/10. King of cuddling.
Zayne: Likes it when you nestle up under his arm. Will kiss your forehead and run his fingers through your hair. Composed. Unless it’s the middle of the night. You’ll wake up to him hugging you from behind, his face squished into the side of your neck, arms locked. Congrats: that’s where you’ll be until morning.
Rafayel: He doesn’t want to cuddle. Why? Do you? Well, if it’ll make you happy… (hard cut to him clinging to you like a koala bear on a eucalyptus tree). Lots of little kisses. Lots of hand holding. Lots of deep breaths. Lots of nuzzling. Full-sensory cuddling experience.
Sylus: You know this man is going to be attached to you. Manages to find ways to cuddle that aren’t actually cuddling. He’ll wind his forearm over yours while you’re holding hands. He’ll pull your legs up over his lap while you’re watching a movie. His foot is always finding yours when you’re eating at a restaurant. Just. Touch. Him. Please.
Caleb: Does not understand the concept of sitting in a chair alone. You’re gonna be on his lap or squished in beside him. His hands? On your thighs. His nose? In your hair. Need to get up? How could you do this to him? Cannot fall asleep unless - at minimum - three of his limbs are wrapped around you. Human space heater. Enjoy.
fluff!! reader is very sleepy, thinks they are dreaming of angel! zayne, pre-relationship but they are very good friends here
sitting in the passenger seat, you blearily watch as zayne drives you back to your apartment. despite how handsome he looks, you feel your eyelids become heavy, unconsciously drooping.
the drive back to your apartment is relatively quiet, the sound of the engine humming lulling you to sleep ever so slowly.
finally resting, you feel your self consciousness slip away from you. your body feels lightweight, and you find yourself in zayne’s car in your dream.
the car comes to a stop and you faintly hear the sound of a seatbelt being unbuckled. your car door opens, and in front of you stands an angel.
“why is an angel standing in front of me?” you furrow your eyebrows together. “such a handsome angel too.” you giggle, this dream feeling very real.
the angel fights back a smile and rests his arm on the car door. “my name is zayne. i will be escorting you back home.”
“mr angel, can i tell you a secret?” you move closer to him, your head almost lolling out to the side. he nods and you feel your vision become blurry. “you look really similar to my human friend who is also called zayne. i really really like him, mr angel! he’s so nice to me and he smells so nice too. but he doesn’t like me back.”
“i see. based on my angel knowledge, he might feel the same as you too.” your eyes twinkle with hope.
“thank you, mr angel!” you clasp your hands together. “i would like him to be my boyfriend. since you’re an angel and all, can you tell human zayne for me please?”
angel zayne coughs. do angels get sick too? “i would be more than happy to, as long as you remind me in the morning. i would like to see your reaction when he tells you he likes you back.”
you hum happily, mumbling something as you feel even more tired than you did when you started this dream of yours. “i’m sleepy, mr angel. can you take me home please?”
“of course.” he unbuckles your seatbelt and puts your arms around his neck. “hold on tight for me. the quicker you fall asleep, the quicker zayne becomes your boyfriend.”
“goodnight mr angel.” you rest your head on his chest, falling asleep once again in this surreal dream.
dededos
blakekathryn
origamiaround
2087
areudirty
jacobvanloon
jbbartram-illu
snowghoul
pixelskylines
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
germansingergirl
