Hey, do you think you could do how the boys react/help MC/reader who has dyslexia? Also, I love your writing!
Hello! Thank you so much for the request and kind words! My partner is dyslexic and I asked him how he would like the lads men to help him through it and he just walked away.
I hope you enjoy~
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Xavier:
You stand in the hallway with the mission briefing Jenna shoved into your hands, staring at the tight block of text that refuses to hold still. The words blend and slide, letters switching places faster the harder you try to force them into line. You keep pretending you are just taking your time, studying the detail, but Xavier has been watching you and knows instantly.
He steps closer, his arm brushing against your side. “Starlight,” he murmurs, “you're holding your breath.”
Only then do you realize you are. You let out a slow exhale and flip the page, hoping the movement makes you look occupied instead of overwhelmed. His hand comes down gently over yours, stopping the motion.
“You don't have to pretend with me,” he says softly. “Not in any part of your life.”
A flush creeps up your neck “It's nothing. The text is small. I'm just tired.”
His eyes hold your gaze and soften. “You're struggling to read it. That's all. There is no shame in that.”
You hesitate, “I don't want to slow you down.”
He shakes his head and nudges his shoulder against yours. “You have never slowed me down. Let me help you.”
You nod and relief spreads through you as he takes the page and reads aloud, steady. When you whisper thank you, he presses a soft kiss to your temple.
“My star,” he says quietly, “you never need to fight the anything alone.”
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Zayne:
Your notes lie open across your knees, thick paragraphs stacked in tight columns. You read a line, lose your place, go back, lose it again. Your eyes burn with the effort. Zayne notices instantly. He always does.
He taps his pencil against your knee. “Hey. Look at me.”
You lift your head. His grin is bright, easy, the kind that takes the pressure out of your lungs. He flips the book around and pulls it closer.
“We can break this down,” he says. “If we take it in chunks, it won’t feel like the page is yelling at you.”
You let out a tiny laugh at that. “It really does feel like that.”
“I know.” He leans his shoulder against yours, warm and grounding. “And I am here. We are doing this together.”
He starts sectioning the chapter into small bullet points, circling key terms, drawing little doodles in the margins to help you remember. He reads every line aloud, slow enough for you to process. Then he holds out a handful of colored pens.
“Pick a color. Whichever you like best sticks in your mind, right?”
You grab the purple one.
Zayne grins as if he already knew. “Great. Purple is our wanderer identification color now.”
You work through the chapter at your pace. When you answer something correctly, he celebrates like you have just earned your hunter badge on the spot.
By the time you finish, your shoulders finally drop. Zayne looks at you with so much pride.
“You are doing great,” he says softly. “I promise, you are going to pass this test.”
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Rafayel:
You hold the instruction sheet in both hands, reading aloud as best you can, stumbling over a word here and there. Your frustration grows each time the letters blur or switch places. When you miss a line entirely, you sigh and mutter under your breath, something sharp and unfair aimed at yourself.
Rafayel freezes.
“Don't say that,” he says quietly.
You blink at him. “What? I was just...”
“Insulting yourself,” he interrupts gently, stepping closer. “I will not allow that.”
You want to look away, but he lifts your chin with a his hand, guiding you to meet his gaze. “There is nothing wrong with the way you learn, cutie,” he says. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
You swallow hard. “I just…feel slow. Like I can never keep up.”
He smooths a palm along your cheek, warm and steady. “You could never hold me up. I asked you to help because I want you beside me. And if reading is difficult, then it'll just take a little more time. That's how this goes.”
You shake your head. “It is embarrassing, Raf.”
He folds the instruction sheet neatly and sets it aside. “It is human. And it does not change how I see you.”
His fingers lace with yours, carefully. “I love you,” he says softly. “All parts of you. Even the ones you judge too harshly.”
Your eyes sting, but you nod. Rafayel smiles, resting his head against yours.
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Sylus:
The restaurant menu glows on your phone, long descriptions written in that tight font you dread. You try to skim, but the words refuse to stay in place. You tilt the screen, blink, refocus. Sylus watches you with that careful, observant stillness he has.
Without comment, he leans closer and pretends to be thinking aloud. “This one looks good. And this one has the spice you like.”
You exhale, grateful without saying it. He knows. Of course he knows.
When the waitress arrives, Sylus orders for both of you, saying everything the way you would have if the text stopped fighting you. Once she leaves, you whisper an apology.
“I should be better at this by now. I just…freeze up.”
Sylus looks at you for a long moment, then shakes his head. “You don't need to apologize for how your brain works.” His tone gentle. “I adapt. That's what I do.”
Your brows knit together in frustration. “I don't want to be difficult.”
“You're not difficult.” He reaches out and takes your phone. “I just want things to be easier for you. Like how I text with more spacing. Clear fonts. Voice messages when it's longer.”
You blink at him. “You did that on purpose?”
He gives a small, smile. “Of course, kitten. I would do anything for you.”
He lifts your hand, brushing his thumb along your knuckles. “You never have to struggle alone. Not when I am right here.”
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Caleb:
Caleb sits on your bedroom floor like he has a hundred times before, legs crossed, posture relaxed. The book between you is much more complicated than the ones you tackled as kids, but the feeling is the same.
“You remember this?” he asks with a crooked smile. “You, me, and your absolute hatred of phonics.”
You groan. “I hated phonics, I couldn't do it.”
“You were trying,” he corrects. “And you learned. Slow and steady. Just like now.”
You try reading the paragraph again. Letters shift. Your tongue stumbles. You lose your place halfway through a sentence. Caleb just waits, patient as ever.
Finally, you let out a frustrated breath. “It should not still be this hard.”
Caleb tilts his head. “Who said that?”
You start to answer but fall silent. He nods as if that confirms something he already knew.
He nudges the book toward you. “Want help?”
You nod, embarrassed, but he only smiles. “I have been helping you read since we were kids. This is nothing new.”
He reads the sentence slowly, giving you time to follow, repeating words when you need him to, celebrating quietly every time you get through a full line without stumbling. Wit him, reading feels safe. It feels like home.
When you finish the section, he squeezes your hand. “You have always been smart,” he says. “You just learn in your own way. And that way is good. It always has been.”
You lean against his shoulder. Caleb rests his head on top of yours.
“I've got you,” he murmurs. “Then, now, forever.”
