Shancy Tales

She, 26 + Writing stories as form of therapy

[starmocha]

but grandma i love him! (and him and him and him and him) [Sylus/Reader, Xavier/Reader, Rafayel/Reader, Caleb/Reader, Zayne/Reader ★ 2808 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] 5 times Grandma Josephine meets your boyfriend + 1 time she meets your boyfriends. Or: AU where everything is the exact same, but Grandma Josephine lives, but wishes she didn’t so she doesn’t have to know how much of a hoe her granddaughter is. A/N: I wrote most of this, days before Sylus’ myth dropped as a way to cope with the impending and inevitable pain (and oh, was there so much pain with his myth…). I suddenly remembered this a month later, so I rushed to finish it before Caleb comes home again. This is very, very silly and full-on crackhead energy :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @lavlynyan 【 request to be added 】

Josephine had lived a long life, far longer than she would have anticipated for herself. When one lived as long as she had, mistakes were made and regrets inevitable. That was just life.

She knew that, of course, having pocketed many pearls of wisdom as she had navigated this long road, but that still did not make her feel any less foolish for her recent mistake.

It had seemed so innocent. So pedestrian, really.

How could she have realized that asking to meet her granddaughter’s boyfriend would be one of her greatest mistakes and biggest regret of her life?

one.

“Grandma, this is…Skye,” you said with a forced smile as you gestured to your partner.

‘Skye’ stifled his chuckle and extended a hand to the elderly woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” he said politely with a charming smile, “Your granddaughter talks fondly about you.”

Josephine smiled in delight, never imagining her granddaughter would bring home a very attractive man. It was like she was looking at a work of art created by God Himself. She shook the young man’s hand happily. “Come in, come in, dinner is ready. We can chat as we eat.”

As dinner progressed, the conversation remained lively. This Skye certainly had a way with his words, his charisma was so radiantly brilliant. Josephine had also never seen her granddaughter as happy as she looked now, noticing how the two would often share sweet whispered secrets when they both thought the old woman wasn’t watching.

Oh, youth, Josephine observed with wistful envy.

After dinner, Josephine left her granddaughter alone in the kitchen to do the dishes as she went to her bedroom to retrieve a family photo album to reminisce over. Along the way, she unwittingly walked in on Skye having a private conversation on the phone in the hallway. She was about to turn away before he noticed when she paused, hearing a peculiar comment from Skye:

“Hm, so they had thought I would be there to be ambushed, did they?”

Ambushed? Josephine furrowed her brows in concern.

“Never mind, I trust you and Luke had taken care of things, correct?”

Taken care? Josephine went pale.

“Hm, they should know that Onychinus does not take betrayal so kindly.”

Motherfucking Onychinus?!

Josephine immediately raced back to the kitchen, not noticing ‘Skye’s’ amused smirk.

You were just finishing the last of the dishes when Josephine grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you immediately and making you nearly dropped the plate you were holding.

“Dear, you have to break up with that man!”

You stared wide-eyed, feeling completely blindsided. “B-but why? I thought you liked Skye, Grandma!”

Josephine looked at you nervously, swallowing slowly before she spoke in a hushed tone, “Dear, I…I just heard him having a conversation…I…I think he’s part of…that notorious group…Onychinus.”

“Oh,” you said flatly.

Josephine stared, confused. “‘Oh’?” she echoed back, flabbergasted. “Dear, I don’t think you understand. Onychinus is a very dangerous group.”

“Uh, yeah, dangerous,” you agreed, tone flat. “Super dangerous…”

Josephine started to get annoyed, not understanding why you were behaving so flippantly about this bombshell news she had just dropped. “Dear, Onychinus is wanted for many crimes. Its leader—”

“Sylus,” you said.

“Right—wait, you know his name?”

“She should.” Josephine heard ‘Skye’s’ deep, smooth voice as he stepped back into the kitchen. “She is dating him.”

Josephine felt like her brain had just short-circuited as she watched this man walked over and leaned down to kiss her granddaughter on the lips.

“Did you even try to be discreet?” You scolded Sylus with a frown after he pulled away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I saw her from the side,” he admitted, adding, “And I don’t like being kept a secret so…”

“You—mmph!” Sylus immediately kissed you again before you could scold him.

Josephine watched this exchange uncomfortably, feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience as her brain tried to comprehend that her sweet granddaughter, one of the top hunters in Linkon City, was in a relationship with a notorious wanted crime boss.

“I…I need some tea…” she managed after a pause.

“Oh, I’ll make some for you, Grandma!” You pulled away from Sylus immediately, rushing to the cabinet.

At that moment, Sylus’ phone rang. He took a glance at the screen and apologized. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

Once he was out of the room, Josephine immediately rushed over to you, pulling you to the side. “Dear, do you realize what you are doing?”

“…making tea?”

“Don’t get wise with me, young lady,” she chided you instantly with a strong glare, “You know what I am talking about.”

“…Sylus?”

“Haven’t you thought about how problematic this relationship could be?”

“He does have a strange obsession with crows…”

Josephine looked bewildered. “What does that mean—never mind, I meant that he’s a felon!”

“A little bit, yeah…”

“Dear, is dating a criminal your way of getting back at me for not getting you that pony when you were eight?”

“N-no! Of course not!” You protested. “Besides, Sylus also has this amazing horse, although if I have to be honest, I prefer riding Sylus—”

Josephine had decided that was the perfect moment to black out.

“…motorcycle?! Grandma?!”

two.

Grandma, I have someone I would like you to meet! :)

Josephine felt relief when she had seen that text message her granddaughter had sent. It seemed Sylus was no longer in the picture, she thought, a little worried about any repercussion that could come from splitting with a dangerous crime boss.

As she glanced at the message again, the little smiley face at the end of the sentence calmed the old woman instantly. There was probably nothing to worry about. You seemed pleasant. Cheerful, even.

This was a good sign.

The following Saturday afternoon, Josephine was positively thrilled to meet her granddaughter’s new boyfriend, Xavier. She was immediately charmed by his princely appearance and soft-spoken and polite way of speaking. He truly looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

After introductions were made, you had excused yourself from the group after receiving an urgent phone call from Tara. The other woman was in such an overly anxious state, ranting something about her cat? It took you nearly ten minutes to finally calm your friend before you were able to hang up and return to the group.

Stepping into the living room, you were surprised to see only your grandmother sitting in her chair. You furrowed your brows, feeling a strange knot forming in your stomach. Nervously, you stepped over to your grandmother.

“Wait, where’s Xavier?”

Josephine smiled. “In the kitchen,” she answered, not noticing your face was paling. “He mentioned he wanted to heat up the dish you both brought over in the oven—”

“In the oven?!”

“Yes, the oven—”

The fire alarm blared as dark thick smokes billowed from the kitchen, but thanks to the bravery and promptness of the men and women of Linkon FD, the fire was put out in less than fifteen minutes.

Josephine remained in her chair, face covered in soot, her voice peculiarly neutral. “Dear…”

“Insurance will cover this, don’t worry, and if not, I will buy you a new—”

“I don’t even like tuna casserole.”

“I told you we should have made chicken potpie.”

“Xavier—that’s…that’s not the issue…”

three.

When her granddaughter mentioned bringing an artist over, Josephine had some doubts. She worried about her granddaughter having to support a struggling artist until he could make a name for himself, but even if she did voice her concern, it would most likely have the opposite effect and just make that man seem even more desirable in her granddaughter’s eyes.

It wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to meddle, but she hoped things would just naturally end on its own terms.

Her worries instantly disappeared when her granddaughter sent her a photo of the young couple at an art exhibition. Josephine’s eyes caught the name of the artist as well as the face of the young man with his arm around her granddaughter’s waist in the photo.

Wait.

Rafayel.

This was The Rafayel.

As old as she was, Josephine kept up with the news. She recognized both the name and the face of the artist. She laughed heartily to herself, tickled that her pretty granddaughter managed to catch the eyes of a well-known artist such as Rafayel.

Her worries eased, knowing her granddaughter had just secured her future being entwined with someone as successful as Rafayel. She immediately started planning a wedding. Maybe even a guest nursery in her home for when the happy couple would visit with hopefully numerous great-grandchildren.

From this moment all the way to the next Sunday for brunch, the old woman had an extra pep in her steps. As she exited a taxi, Josephine found herself at a well-known restaurant, popular with brunch for the younger crowd. It was typically packed and hard to get in, but Josephine supposed someone as influential as Rafayel would have no problem securing a table.

“Grandma, over here!” you rushed over to hug your grandmother. After kissing her cheek, you sighed playfully, “You know Rafayel and I offered to pick you up. You didn’t have to take a taxi.”

“Nonsense, an old woman like me is perfectly capable of getting around by herself,” she chided you gently. She patted your hand reassuringly as you both walked arm linked into the restaurant. “This is so exciting, darling. I have been looking forward to meeting Rafayel all week long.”

“Wonderful!” you exclaimed, beaming, “He is really the sweetest, Grandma. You will love him. He gotten us a table outside. It really is beautiful out there.”

Well, Josephine can check off meeting a famous artist on her bucket list.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” Rafayel greeted the older woman with a charming smile. “I have heard so much about you from this cutie over here.”

“Ra-Rafayel,” you protested with a blush and then whispered harshly under your breath to him, “N-not in front of Grandma…”

He smiled, shrugging. “Sorry, cutie, force of habit.”

“You did it again…”

Josephine laughed and reassured her blushing granddaughter. “You two really are the cutest thing ever,” she said, smiling in gratitude as Rafayel helped seat the older woman.

The time passed with a lot of pleasantries and sharing stories over a delicious array of food. Smoked salmon, quiche, waffles, fruit salad, and bellinis filled three happy bellies. Just as Josephine was already planning on speed-dialing a wedding planner, she noticed Rafayel’s face did a complete 180.

“Rafayel? Are you alright, dear—”

“M-m-m-monster!”

“Excuse me?” Josephine glared when Rafayel pointed at her.

“N-no, Grandma, it’s not you,” you quickly protested, standing up and rushing to Rafayel when he stumbled out of his seat shaking in fear. “Rafayel, calm down! It’s just a—”

“Meow.”

“Oh!” Josephine laughed when an orange cat leapt onto the table, purring happily at the plate with some leftover smoked salmon. She laughed and started petting its head as the cat greedily licked the plate and ate the remaining morsels. “Where did you come from, little one?”

The cat purred happily amid Rafayel’s screams.

“Rafayel, ca-calm down!” You trailed after Rafayel as he backed away.

“Get that monster away from me!”

“Rafayel! Come back!”

Josephine sighed.

After filling its belly with some delicious salmon, the cat napped in the old woman’s lap, purring contently as its ear was scratched. At that moment, the waiter walked over and placed the bill in front of Josephine to her surprise.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she griped once she realized her granddaughter and Rafayel were both gone.

four.

“Oh, dear, I am so excited to meet this one,” Josephine said, meaning every single word, “The way you described him makes him sound like quite a catch.”

Tall, handsome, intelligent, and with the added bonus of being good in the kitchen! There was no way this one wouldn’t be a perfect match for her sweet, darling granddaughter, who, after all, deserved only the best in life.

You laughed. “Grandma, what are you talking about? You know him.”

Josephine blinked, confused. “…I do?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Where’s my favorite pipsqueak?”

You gasped as you felt an arm wrapped around your waist, easily lifting you up. You blushed. “Caleb!”

Josephine laughed. “Caleb, you didn’t tell me you were coming home to visit.”

Caleb looked confused as he settled you back down to the floor, but his arm remained wrapped around your waist. “I thought Pipsqueak mentioned it to you already?”

Josephine frowned. “I don’t believe so,” she said, adding, “But what bad timing, we’re having a guest tonight and—”

She paused, suddenly noticing how Caleb’s arm still remained wrapped around your waist and the way you leaned in close against him. You were all giggly and blushing like a schoolgirl.

“…and…”

“Um, Grandma,” You started feebly, “Caleb is my boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Uh, yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Grandma—”

“No, he’s not.”

“Caleb!”

“Gran, I—”

“I am taking a nap!” Josephine declared, determined to wake up from this surreal dream she was having.

“Caleb—”

“Shh,” he quietly shushed you. “Gran is taking a nap…”

You glared at him, sighing in defeat as Josephine sat in her chair, blanket over her lap, and she closed her eyes, cursing whatever deity who had decided she needed to deal with this weird-ass situation at her age.

five.

Josephine smiled serenely as she watched you and Zayne make dinner together in your kitchen.

Finally, a good man.

Zayne was always the sweetest little boy, and it pleased Josephine to see he had grown into a kind and caring man with a successful career and highly-respected reputation among his peers. Zayne had effortlessly ticked off every single box in Josephine’s list of criteria for a grandson-in-law: intelligent, kind, patient, respectful, charming, handsome, successful, loving. There was not a single flaw in this young man.

“My love, come taste this,” Zayne called out as he held up a wooden spoon.

Oh, my. Even Josephine couldn’t help but blushed and felt her heart fluttering at witnessing how sweetly affectionate Zayne was with you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You pondered, licking your lips lightly. You smiled. “Maybe just a little more soy sauce?”

Zayne nodded. “Okay,” he said, “Could you grab the bottle for me then?”

“Of course, Zaddy—”

You froze.

Zayne froze.

Josephine stared.

“Za…Zaddy?” Josephine questioned from across the kitchen island.

“It’s…nothing,” Zayne said, his ears turning red, “Just a silly nickname.”

Josephine nodded, seemingly accepting his weak explanation. “How long until dinner is ready?”

You swallowed nervously and barely managed to rasp out: “An hour…maybe?”

“I’ll just take a quick nap if you two don’t mind—oh, don’t trouble yourself, dear.”

“Okay, Grandma, you can nap on my bed…” You said feebly, a little perplexed by how…calm she seemed.

Josephine nodded again and walked to your bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out her phone, searching up ‘Zaddy’ online.

She wished she hadn’t.

+ one.

This was a dream.

A motherfucking dream.

And not even a good one.

Josephine stared at all of the tall, handsome men—and Caleb—towering behind her granddaughter.

“…Dear, I thought you were dating Zayne.” She glanced at the young doctor who looked away in embarrassment.

“I am,” you answered nonchalantly, confused by your grandmother’s behavior.

“…Didn’t you break up with these other young men—and Caleb?”

Caleb blinked.

“No,” you said slowly, “I didn’t want to bombard you with all of them at once, so…I staggered their introductions.”

“You’re…dating…five men…at the same time?”

“Grandma, you are acting like I am banging them all at the same time!”

“Dear, I am sorry, it’s just—”

“We’ve only done it once.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It’s actually harder to coordinate an orgy with everyone’s busy schedule,” you explained thoughtfully, not noticing Josephine’s horrified expression. You continued flippantly, “Zayne has so many surgeries lined up for the next three months. Then Rafayel has an upcoming art show he needs to prepare for, and Sylus—”

Josephine walked away in the middle of the conversation, heading to her bedroom, leaving you flabbergasted.

You looked behind you at your five boyfriends and they all shrugged and scratched their heads, just as lost as you were. Worried, you followed after her. “Grandma? Is something the matter—"

You panicked and shrieked.

“Zayne, Caleb! Grandma is smoking and drinking!”

Josephine mentally sighed as she sat in her bed, leaning back against some propped up pillows as she stared at the ceiling with a bottle of brandy resting on her chest.

Surely, dying in an explosion would be better than this fuckery, right?

[3ardnpc]

Hiiiii I saw that you opened your requests 💗 I was thinking of a fluffy (can be smutty too) Caleb fic where he's your handyman neighbor. Like he has multiple jobs: an electrician, a contractor, etc. The reader discovers this and then uses it as an excuse to see him hehe can't wait to see what you write! 🥹

ᝰ.ᐟ SUMMARY — Somehow your grandmother's attempts at getting you a boyfriend work in unexpected ways. ᝰ.ᐟ CW — handyman!caleb, pure fluff ᝰ.ᐟ NOTES — HI LINDSAY THANKS SM FOR REQUESTING!! 💞 hope you like it (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Sure, I'll be by.

You stare at the text chain between you and your landlord about your broken heater.

Sure, he'll be 'by'—as in never. Lazy bastard.

You sigh, tossing your phone onto your bed, and start rummaging through your closet for a jacket to bundle yourself up in. You swear you can see your breath in front of you.

A long, wool coat and a scarf is enough for now. Covered head to toe, you waddle out of your bedroom when there's a short knock on your door. You're not expecting anyone or anything, so you tiptoe over to the peephole.

It's your neighbor, Caleb. The hot one who lives directly across from you. The one you can barely muster up the courage to say hello to whenever you bump into each other in the hall. He's standing at your door, idly glancing down the hall, dressed far more casually than you in a gray sweater and black sweats.

You jerk back from the peephole to straighten out your clothes, adjusting the scarf around your neck and flattening out any creases in your coat. You're praying you look presentable and not like a granny as you open the door with a tight lipped smile.

"Hey," he greets, violet eyes flitting down your body before meeting yours with a smile of his own, waving a postcard. "I think your mail got put in my slot by accident."

You pluck the card from his hands. There's a scenic beach photo on the front and flowy cursive written on the back.

To my darling granddaughter,

I wish you were here with me! The weather and water are wonderful, and I've met so many incredibly handsome men here. I showed them your picture. There are a few who'd like your number. But, of course, none of them are as handsome as that nice neighbor you have a crush on. You should invite him to vacation here with you. It's the perfect romantic getaway.

With love,

Grandma

You hands tremble as you finish reading over the card, resisting the urge to tear it up and burn it as mortification creeps up on you.

Why did this have the be the piece of mail that ended up in his mail slot? You hope he didn't accidentally read it before realizing the letter was meant for you, and you pray to whatever God is out there that he didn't realize he is the handsome neighbor you have a crush on. But, the only younger tenants on this floor are the two of you.

"Thanks," you mutter, slipping the card behind your back. "Sorry for the bother."

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his sweater pocket. "No worries."

Instead of turning around and returning to his apartment, he lingers. Your heart races. You think he's going to confront you on what your grandma wrote.

"Is your heater broken? I can feel the cold from here."

You blink. "Oh, um, yeah it is."

"Did you text the landlord and he said he'd 'come by'," he scoffs with a slight shake of his head.

You chuckle, "yeah, but he probably won't fix it until I'm already frozen over."

"I can take a look for you, if you want."

"Really?" You gawk before clearing your throat. "I mean, if you're not too busy, that'd be nice."

Caleb's smile grows from polite to excited with a gleam in his eyes. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll be right back."

When he disappears into his apartment, you shut your door in a daze, leaning against the wall. Your hot neighbor, Caleb, is getting tools to come into your apartment and fix your heater. This must be a dream.

Your eyes dart around the living room, searching for anything potentially embarrassing laying about. You dash over to your coffee table where evidence of yesterday's snack binge is. Bags of opened chips lay surrounded by empty soda cans. You pile everything into the trash.

By the time you clean up your living room, Caleb is knocking on the door again with a red tool box in hand.

"Come in." You step aside for him to enter, gesturing over to the radiator.

Caleb mutters his thanks and gets to work, looking over the radiator. You hover a few feet away, fidgeting with your scarf, and wonder what you should be doing.

"Do you want something to drink?"

"I'm good for now. Thanks though," he says, tossing you a grin before turning back and focusing on your heater. He fidgets with it for a while before speaking up, "so, your grandma seems nice."

Oh, great. "You read it?"

"I didn't mean to—swear. But I only saw a few words. Something about handsome men wanting your number," he teases.

You groan, "she's desperate for me to get a boyfriend."

Your grandmother is well meaning, but it can become too much. Especially when her attempts land in the hands of your neighbor.

"So you're single?"

"Yeah."

"Good to know," he mumbles.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he coughs, "I think I know what's wrong with you heater!"

Thanks to Caleb, you no longer have to bundle up or deal with your annoying landlord. Turns out, he's pretty handy and kind enough to offer his services whenever you need them, which is often. You want to blame the crappy, old architecture and appliances, but really you're just trying to find any excuse to invite Caleb over.

He gave you his number after that day. The two of you have been texting back and forth, nothing too flirtatious, mainly polite conversation that still has you giddy every time you hear that text notification.

Today, he's over fixing your sink because you may or may not have stuffed too many things into the garbage disposal to clog it up. Not that he needs to know.

You're leaning against the counter while Caleb is crouched at the sink, slowly unscrewing the pipes. You've been trying your hardest not to stare at his biceps straining against the sleeves of his T-shirt or the curve of his back as he bends down.

The conversation has turned to the copious amount of phone calls and text messages you've been getting as a consequence of your grandmother handing out your phone number to every eligible bachelor she meets.

"Some of these guys are super persistent," you groan, scanning through the five notifications you got this morning.

"Block 'em," he says simply.

"I do, but they're like weeds! Block one, another pops up a day later."

He pulls his head out from under the sink. He has a surprisingly intense look on his face as he stares up at you. "Any of 'em interesting though?"

You scoff, setting down your phone. "Absolutely not."

The look on his face begins to shift into a smile. "Mm, lucky me then."

"What… what do you mean?"

"I mean," he drawls, standing and leaning in toward you, "maybe I still have a chance to ask you out."

A/N — comments, reblogs, and asks (if you're shy) always appreciated! thanks for reading! <3

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] exclusive care package

Summary: LIs react when you pamper them - they indulge you and let you do their skincare/nails, then show it off the next day at work. (From a submitted prompt! edited: typos+ g/n reader for all)

Genre: Fluff <3 TW: suggestiveness

SYLUS

You corner him in his study, walking up to him and spinning his chair to face you with a bright, innocent smile that tells him you're up to no good.

You expect resistance when you pull out the nail polish. Instead, Sylus extends his hands with a smirk. “Ah, good. Something to keep me entertained while I go through these transaction records.”  

"Better than that," you purr, moving his hand onto the armrest as you sink to your knees. 

He arches a brow. "Kitten, as tempting as you look right now… take a seat with me. Or else your knees will match the shade of the polish." 

You end up sitting with your back against his chest as you unscrew the cap. "Alright, time to transform you into my hot goth boyfriend." 

He chuckles but surrenders his hand, watching with amused fascination as you paint each nail with meticulous care. When you blow gently to dry them, his free hand sneaks up to your midriff from behind and presses you closer against his chest. "Why don't we have some time to ourselves while we wait for the paint to dry?"  

“We can't- because you'll get paint everywhere,”

You jump when you feel his lips brush against the side of your neck. “Oh, kitten. I don't have to use my hands at all. Not if you stay still for me.”

You find out what exactly he means- him, leaving a litany of marks along your neck, and you, a blushing, breathless mess as he continues his way down to your shoulder. “You said I shouldn't use my hands,” he murmurs when you protest.

::

The next day, Luke and Kieran freeze mid-report when they notice his gleaming black nails.  

Luke clears his throat. “Sir. Your hands.”  

Kieran nods. “They look… new.”  

Sylus chuckles, flexing his fingers. His lips curl when he recalls what exactly he did with you after the paint dried. “They are.”  

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne tenses when you place the vitamin C mask over his cheeks, eyes squeezing shut. "This is… moist. And cold." 

"Shhh," you whisper, massaging his temples and smoothing out the corners of the mask. "Doctor’s orders." 

He exhales a laugh, leaning into your touch as you gently drag your fingertips over the softness of his cheeks and the slopes of his nose and jaw.

"…Your hands are warmer than the mask." He observes.

You bring his hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. "That’s the point." 

By the end, he’s nearly asleep, his usual sternness melted away. He stirs when the mask is peeled off, his sleepy gaze focusing on you.

When you leave a quick peck on his lips, he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. The cool moisture smears on your skin, drawing out a giggle from you. Seeing your reaction, his arms tighten around you as he watches you squirm with amusement glittering in his hazel eyes.

::

The next morning, Greyson squints at him during rounds. “Did you… moisturize?”  

Zayne’s pen pauses. “It’s called hygiene.”  

Greyson whispers to an intern. “That’s not hygiene. That’s the power of love.”  

_____

XAVIER

Xavier stares at the tiny bottle of magnetic nail polish like it’s alien technology. "It does what?" 

You giggle, dragging the wand over his ring finger, watching the moonstone effect swirl to life. "Magic," you declare. 

Xavier watches with fascination, as you paint his ring and pinky fingers with magnetic polish, swirling the metallic veins with a magnet. “It reminds me of stars and asteroid belts,” he observes.

When you lean in to blow on his nails, he tilts your face up instead, kissing you softly. “Thank you, my starlight,”

He moves his hand to your waist, but you pull away from the kiss with a yelp. He freezes, then looks at you with wide eyes.

“The paint will smear if you move your hand,” you explain sheepishly.

“Mm, I promise not to move it if you kiss me again,”

(He repeats the same request each time you finish painting a new nail)

::

At the Hunter's Association briefing the next day, a junior Hunter notices and blurts, “Sir, your- uh- nails?”  

Xavier, holding them up to the light. “Ah. A gift from my beloved.”  

The junior nods, unsure of how to continue but busies themself with tidying documents, and excuses themselves quickly when another Hunter enters the room to prepare for the next meeting.

(Xavier spends the afternoon tilting his hand to watch the polish shift colors, smiling to himself.) 

______

RAFAYEL 

Rafayel gasps when you tweeze his brow. "This is torture! I looked fine to begin with- ow!" 

You shush him, pressing a cool wet cloth to his skin to soothe it. "Hush. Just a touch-up for the handsome genius." 

He pouts but leans into your hands, sighing dramatically. "Fine. But only because your fingers feel nice." 

When you finish, he grabs a mirror, perfect brows shooting up towards his hairline. "Wow, cutie. That's… impressive.”  

You hum knowingly, then begin dabbing rice water toner over his face with a cotton pad. He lets you do your work with much more compliance now, sighing contentedly at the cool sensation on his skin and enjoying the way your fingers brush over his face gently.

Once you're done, though, he smothers you in a flurry of kisses, grumbling that he had to sit still without getting to touch you back.

You try to scold him for wasting skincare that was meant for him, but he gives you a dazzling grin. “I gotta share some of the good skincare with my cutie.”

::

The next morning, Thomas pauses by the door. “Your face.”  

Rafayel preens. “My skin glows, doesn't it? Fruits of my muse’s labor-”  

“I was going to say suspiciously moist.”  

He scoffs at Thomas. “I hear the jealousy. Now, spare me the boring details and tell me what you need from me. And it'd better not be a new schedule this afternoon- I'm booked for another appointment with my muse.”

______

CALEB

Caleb grumbles as you spread clay over his face. "Is this just mud?"

"Hush, Colonel," you tease, applying the paste with featherlight strokes. “Your skin will thank me,”

He closes his eyes and leans back. “Alright, alright. We'll see how good it really is,”

Later on, after the mask is washed off and replaced by serum, he maneuvers you onto his lap, facing him. He claims that “his personal beautician needs a proper seat”- and he wasn't wrong, but you can see the way his eyes drag over you while you fuss over him.

As you put on the lip mask, your thumb grazes his lower lip. His eyes snap to yours, then down to your lips.

“Nuh ‘air,” he mumbles.

“Not fair? Then you can do my skincare later,” You pat his cheek. “And- just five minutes. Your lips will be extra kissable after this.” 

(He does put that claim to the test after five minutes- and successfully proves the mask effective.)

::

The next day, when Caleb sets off towards his jet with his co-pilot, the man turns to him. “Ahem, Colonel. Your skin.”  

Caleb, rubbing his face. “What about it?”  

“It’s… glowing? Did you polish yourself?”  

Caleb grins. “Nah. My partner did.”  

Note: HELLO lmk what yall think!! this was based on an anon prompt and it was a pretty cute idea HeEHE. i took a 1 week hiatus bc i felt a bit tired from writing but im back and have a few ideas now!! And also got some lovely submissions from yall too. THANK YOU FOR READING AS ALWAYS! <3 Comments and reblogs truly appreciated <33

✨️

[orphicmeliora]

I was listening to Caleb's Korean VA and—😩

Small town age-gap romance—but like you’re the older one.

You were 18. Big city dreams, sharper tongue and a hell of an attitude. Temporarily exiled to some sleepy little town because your parents thought a change of pace would do you good.

You're staying with Josephine—your mom’s friend’s cousin’s sister’s whatever—someone twice removed and barely remembered.

And that’s where you meet him.

Caleb. Fifteen. Bright-eyed. Dirt-smudged cheeks. All limbs and sunshine. Everyone in town adores him, calls him "our golden boy.” He mows lawns, helps old folks cross the street, probably bottle-feeds baby goats.

And his next target? You.

Because of course the summer you roll in like a hurricane with eyeliner and sarcasm, he imprints on you like a baby duck.

It starts cute.

He offers you the bigger ice cream cone.

He pouts when you call him “kid.”

He grins like he’s won the lottery when you ruffle his hair.

Just little things. Harmless. He’s a kid, after all. You tease him. You joke. You don’t see it—

Not until the day you’re leaving and he shows up, face serious like he’s heading to war, and just says:

“Marry me.”

You laugh. Loud. "Kid, you’re not even legal.”

But he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

“So… you’ll marry me once I’m legal?”

You, still halfway through stuffing your duffel bag, laugh even harder. “Yeah. Sure. In the next TEN years, maybe.”

And he just… nods. Like it’s promise.

You roll your eyes, kiss his cheek, and leave town thinking it’ll be the best inside joke for when he’s grown. You forget. You move on. Life happens.

Then—TEN YEARS LATER—you run into him by chance (or not).

And there he is.

A hunk of man now—a pilot(!)—Leather jacket. That sultry voice that could make you forget your own name.

And those eyes—still bright—but focused. On you.

He smirks. “Am I legal now, Noona?”

And you’re blinking, stammering, not breathing.

He leans in, low and soft.

“You know I saved myself for you, right? All these years. All for you.”

[seppys-return-to-madness]

I'm enabling you. Possibly begging.

[shancytales]

High Standards (Caleb x reader)

Summary: YN is teased by her friend MC about being single, thanks to her impossibly high standards—but maybe one person actually meets them.

Genre: Fluff

MC finally tore her eyes away from her phone, curiosity sparkling in her gaze. “Hey, YN… is there a reason you don’t date?”

You paused mid-motion, blinking at her. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that question—people always seemed fascinated with your empty love life. Usually, you brushed it off with a sigh, but with her… you couldn’t just dismiss it so easily.

You raised a brow. “Seriously? We’re doing this again?”

MC leaned forward, smirking. “Yup. And don’t give me the same old answer. You’re too pretty to be single for this long. What’s the deal? Do you secretly hate men?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No! It’s just… fictional characters have ruined me, okay? They’re all perfect. No one in real life even comes close.”

MC gasped dramatically, tossing her phone aside. “So that’s it! You’re single because of your stupidly high standards.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, your blush giving you away. “Thanks to someone, they’re even higher now.”

Her eyes widened with delight. “Ohhh, so there is someone in the picture. Don’t you dare stop there. Who is he? I need details. Names, descriptions, blood type—”

“MC!” You groaned, covering your face. “You’re impossible.”

She grinned wickedly. “And you’re totally busted.”

Just as you were about to protest more, the door opened and in walked Caleb, his arms full of shopping bags. Your heart skipped before you could stop it. The sleeveless shirt clung to his frame, showing off the toned muscles of his arms, and you instantly bit your lip. Maybe that was why summer was quickly becoming your favorite season.

You sprang to your feet. “I’ll help you with the groceries!” you blurted a little too cheerfully, rushing over before MC could notice the warmth in your cheeks.

But of course, she noticed.

Her eyes flicked between you and Caleb, narrowing with suspicion. “...Wait a minute.”

You ignored her, grabbing a bag and following Caleb into the kitchen. He glanced at you in quiet surprise before smiling, that bright, steady smile that felt like sunlight. He handed you vegetables while you chatted idly about his day.

“Thanks,” he said simply, handing you a bag. You took it, your fingers brushing his for half a second too long, then busied yourself with unpacking vegetables in the fridge.

“Rough day?” you asked, desperate for something normal to say.

“Not bad,” he answered, placing things on the counter. “Better now.”

You nearly dropped the carrots at that, but forced yourself to laugh it off. When you glanced up, you caught him looking directly at you as he spoke, his eyes softer than usual. For a fleeting second, you fancied the thought that maybe—just maybe—his feelings mirrored your own. But almost as quickly, you brushed it aside, telling yourself you were being delusional.

You reached up toward the high cabinet to put them away, balancing on your toes—only for Caleb to step in, his chest brushing against your back as he effortlessly stored them himself. Your breath caught.

“Leave the high shelves to me,” he murmured close to your ear, his voice low and teasing. “I don’t want you falling.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

Before you could recover, MC appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and a sly smirk plastered across her face. “Well, well, well…” she sang. “So this is why no one in real life meets your standards. Because apparently, someone already does.”

Heat flooded your face. “MC!”

Caleb glanced over his shoulder, puzzled. “Standards?”

MC grinned like a cat who had cornered its prey. “Oh, nothing. Just that YN here thinks only fictional characters are good enough for her.” She leaned closer, her tone dripping with mischief. “But I’m starting to think the definition of fictional is standing right in front of us.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I swear I’m going to block you in real life.”

“YN, I have something for you,” he murmured while rummaging through the bags. He found it and asked you to close your eyes. You frowned in suspicion but obeyed. He placed it in your hands, his fingers lingering, his voice low. “Good girl. Open your eyes.”

“It reminded me of you, and I thought you’d like it.” His smile was bright, charming everyone—including you.

At the sight of the gift, your smile shone like the sun. Caleb felt himself pulled toward your warmth and presence, as helplessly drawn as if by gravity itself—like a sunflower turning toward the sun.

It was a hair tie with a small sunflower charm. Childish for your age, maybe, but you loved it instantly. “I’ll put it on now,” you said, removing your worn-out scrunchie. Did he notice how loosely it had been holding your hair, how the stray strands bothered you?

“Wait,” he said, catching your wrist just before you could tie your hair. “Let me do it.” His voice carried a quiet plea, a strand of your hair already between his fingers.

“You’re spoiling me rotten, Caleb.”

“Maybe I like spoiling you,” he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes. “Besides, someone has to keep an eye on you—you’re hopeless on your own.”

You shyly nodded, turning around to hide your blush. To your surprise—or perhaps not—he combed his fingers gently through your hair, smoothing out knots before gathering it into a ponytail with surprising ease.

For a moment, the world faded. You focused only on the sensation of his fingers, gentle and caring, easing away tension you hadn’t even realized was weighing on you. A sigh slipped from your lips, relief washing over you. Maybe Caleb knew you better than you knew yourself.

Then you felt a pair of eyes watching from across the room. Without looking, you knew it was MC, smirking knowingly.

MC watched, smirking. “Oh my god, YN! You’re so flustered! He’s literally doing everything for you.”

You huffed, playful but embarrassed. “I’m not flustered! It’s just… He is just kind.“

MC burst out laughing. “I knew it! You’re hopeless!”

Caleb leaned close, his breath warming your ear. “Kind? No… I’m not doing this just to be kind,” he murmured, the faintest smirk in his voice, hinting at the way he felt about you.

Caleb’s hand lingered on your shoulder, grounding you. His amethyst eyes softened as they met yours, brimming with quiet devotion. “It’s my duty to look after you,” he said softly, tender but firm, as if it were the most natural truth in the world.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t look away. His gaze held yours with such intensity it made your breath catch, as though he was silently confessing everything he kept buried. The words seemed to hover unspoken on his lips, but he held them back, swallowing them down before they could escape.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t look away. His gaze held yours with such intensity that your breath caught, as if he were silently confessing everything he kept buried. The words hovered on his lips, but he swallowed them down before they could escape.

Gently, his thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a fleeting touch that sent warmth through you without breaking the quiet tension.

This was why your standards were impossibly high. He spoiled you with kindness, showered you with compliments, and handled you like you were precious. How could anyone else possibly compare?

You only hoped—someday—that when you confessed, the feelings would be mutual.

a/n: is there someone with curly hair here? I would like to post a one-shot with a reader that has curly hair. Well, I hope you enjoyed this!

[shancytales]

Caleb x reader - Withdrawal

Summary: YN struggles with her intense feelings for Caleb while staying true to her conservative values and personal boundaries. As they navigate intimacy, trust, and vulnerability, Caleb’s patience and devotion help her open up and deepen their bond.

You came from a conservative family, raised with conservative values and high expectations. Since Caleb had proposed, it had become harder to control the desires he stirred in you—but you remained firm. Over the years, your parents’ values had become your own, guiding every thought and action. Every glance, every touch, every brush of his hand set your heart racing, yet you held yourself back, clinging to the promise of waiting, honoring both your upbringing and the life you had been taught to follow.

Caleb noticed the shift. He felt the subtle withdrawal in your affection—the way you pulled away from him even when he longed for closeness. It hurt him to see you distance yourself, and though he tried to respect your space, the ache of missing your warmth gnawed at him constantly. This distance between you hadn’t been there before, and he could sense that something had changed, leaving him restless and worried.

He would wake up reaching for your side of the bed, only to find the space cold and empty. On his days off, you used to insist on staying curled up together a little longer, savoring those precious extra moments. Sometimes you worked out with him, but even that had stopped. At night, when he pulled you close on the couch, he could feel your body stiffen slightly under his embrace before you forced yourself to relax. You still slept in his bed sometimes, but far too often you rushed back to your own room, shutting the door behind you as though to create a wall. You no longer met his eyes when he came home in uniform, or when he stepped out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He couldn’t stand this deprivation of your affection. He craved your touch, missed the way you once looked at him with devotion shining in your gaze.

So when you tried to leave his bedroom without even glancing at him, Caleb finally snapped. He caught your wrist, slammed the door shut, and cornered you gently but firmly.

“YN, why are you avoiding me?” His voice was rough with frustration and worry. It was clear you had been struggling with something, but you bottled everything inside as always. It was a bad habit of yours. His only option was to interrogate you to get the truth out.

“Are you sure you want me to be honest?” you asked, hesitant. “Like… 100%?”

“You can tell me anything, pipsqueak,” he said without hesitation.

That’s when you started ranting. You confessed how much you suffered, how hot and bothered you felt when you caught a glimpse of his torso as he stepped out of the bathroom in just a towel. How you stopped working out with him because you couldn’t focus with his grunts. Then you went further, admitting your naughty thoughts, your fantasies—the things you wanted him to do to you, and what you wanted to do to him.

The words became graphic, unfiltered. Caleb’s face turned red, his ears burning as he listened. He tried to stay composed, but his darkened gaze betrayed how deeply your honesty affected him, and you noticed it. You just couldn’t understand what that look meant.

What he admired most about you was your honesty. He always prided himself on being able to read you. He could tell when you felt guilty or when you lied. But now, he was discovering a side of you no one else had seen. To everyone else, you were the pure and innocent type, someone the neighborhood held in high regard. But that was only the surface. You were more than you seemed, and he couldn’t believe such filthy words were coming out of your mouth.

“Where did you learn about this stuff?” he asked. At this question, you stopped babbling and looked away.

“...” you spoke so softly that he didn’t catch you.

“What?”

You breathed in a deep breath before replying.

“The internet.” “I-I read stories,” you started. Caleb didn’t find anything wrong so far. “…with smut. After the first time, it became a rabbit hole, and I know things. My mind lost its innocence at a young age.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Caleb asked, hurt lacing his voice. “You didn’t have to push me away.” The memory of those weeks when you kept your distance still stung. He felt neglected when you built that wall between you. He thrived on your affection, and without your words and kisses, carrying the weight of his job as colonel had nearly crushed him.

You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, he picked you up in his arms and sat on his bed with you in his lap.

“Yes. You can be honest with me. Always. Anytime.”

The reassurance of his words was enough to give you the courage to speak freely. With Caleb, it was always a process—a repetitive cycle of him patiently coaxing you to open up, reminding you again and again that your thoughts mattered. His patience and empathy were the keys that slowly unlocked the walls you built around yourself.

You began to play with his dog tag when it became too hard to hold his gaze, your throat aching from the weight of vulnerability. The cold metal grounded you to reality, a small anchor against the overwhelming rush of emotion that came with letting your feelings spill out. It had always been difficult for you to share your thoughts openly, afraid of the repercussions your words might bring. You weren’t afraid of being honest. You were afraid of how others would feel about your words—the weight they carried.

“Then, there is you. You’re handsome, and you have the body of a Greek god. You’re a sin.”

You tried to soften the moment with a light tone and let out an awkward laugh.

“I’m sorry… did I hurt you somehow?” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes.

He sighed and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Yes, honey. It hurt when you pulled away without telling me why. It hurt that you couldn’t rely on me. Am I not reliable to you?”

From his words, you couldn’t hold back the waterfall. It was a rare sight to see yourself cry in front of someone. This was the first time in your relationship that Caleb saw you break down. He had only been allowed to see your positive side, but now he glimpsed the twisted, depressive face you’d kept hidden.

“N-No, no… no, you aren’t,” you shook your head while tears fell onto his shirt. You hid your face in his shoulder, unable to believe you were crying so much. You could barely remember the last time you had cried like this, having always blinked away the painful, burning tears.

You tried to speak, but only stutters came out. The air felt heavy and tight around your throat.

“Shh. Take your time,” Caleb murmured in your ear. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and guided your hand to his chest. “Deep breaths. In and out.”

You followed his rhythm. The tears still fell, but no longer like a waterfall. The steady rise and fall of his chest under your palm drew your focus back to him, grounding you in his presence.

“I-I don’t know,” you whispered. Silence hung between you before you tried again. “I can’t figure out when to stop trying on my own and ask for help. By the time I do, it’s too late. I’m an adult, but I feel small.”

“Pipsqueak, you don’t have to go through this alone again,” Caleb said firmly. “I’m going to be your husband. You can rely on me. Even for silly things, like grabbing something from a high shelf. Allow me to take care of you.”

He entwined your fingers with his, your engagement bands glinting together.

The burden you carried in your chest became lighter, as if gravity itself had lifted the weight away. More than he could ever imagine, his gravitational pull was drawing you closer, stronger than anything you had ever felt before. In the past, you had been indifferent—adrift, not orbiting anywhere. You floated through the void, existing but never belonging, without a space to call home. But now, in his presence, you were learning. Learning to live, to feel, to express the emotions you once kept buried in silence.

“Can you tell me more about your fantasies?” Caleb asked suddenly, his eyes darkening with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine.

Your lips parted in shock. You tried to wriggle out of his lap, but his hands clamped firmly on your hips, keeping you in place. His gaze was unrelenting.

“We could try them, you know,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. His tongue grazed your earlobe, and you trembled, the heat of his smirk burning into your skin.

“N-No,” you protested, pressing your palms against his chest, pushing him back just enough to breathe. If you let him continue, you knew you’d crumble. That was why you had built boundaries.

“Obviously, I do want to be intimate with you,” you admitted softly, your eyes shining with tenderness. “But I want to save it for our wedding night. I’ve waited my whole life for you. No matter how much I want you now, my wish is for our first time to be as husband and wife.”

You smiled at him lovingly, conviction steady in your voice.

Desire burned hot in Caleb’s veins, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny you. You underestimated his devotion—his restraint had been tested countless times, yet he never wavered. For you, he would endure anything, wait as long as needed, and protect you fiercely. He would do everything for you, cross any line, face any danger, just to keep you safe and close.

a/n: If you’ve read my bio, you’ll know I write as a form of therapy. Sometimes I struggle to speak about my thoughts or ask for help, so I wrote this piece for anyone who shares the same struggle.