#lads headcanons

[calebsapplesnapple]

WHY DID THEY JUST IGNORE US THEY CANT DO THIS FOREVER IM ABOUT TO THROW HANDS BRING VALKO BACK

[lovelyblossom87]

Hello! First off, happy early birthday and congrats on reaching 500 followers! I self-ship with Caleb and Zayne of LADS. I would like to request 🩷 & 🔥 for Caleb and 😍 &💋for Zayne. I would like headcanons for Caleb and a mini drabble for Zayne please. Onto my matchup info ⬇️

I’m introverted and like to keep to myself. Sometimes I like listening to gossip, but I mostly mind my own business. It takes me awhile to warm up to someone new, but people who are goofy, patient with me and genuinely try to get to know me actually make me open up faster. I’m someone that’s playful and likes to tease others. I’m usually calm and try not to worry too much, especially about stuff I can’t control. However, there are times where I overthink and get into my head. Usually it doesn’t last long after I think about it logically, but sometimes I seek comfort and reassurance from loved ones. I hate conflict and try to avoid it as much as possible. I start crying in middle of arguments and it’s soooo annoying like omg 😭. I’m supportive, caring, empathetic, honest, easygoing and a tad bossy. I yap a lot with people I trust and like, but I prefer to listen. As for my hobbies/interests it’s music, video games, reading, writing, playing with my cat, watching old movies, dancing, acting, astrology, daydreaming. My likes are thunderstorms (it feels so nice sleeping through it or watching out the window), Dubai chocolate, labubus, animals (specifically bunnies and cats), having alone time, carnivals, horror movies, pizza, cheesecake and the color purple. My dislikes are people who try to control me, being told what to do, nosy people, SPIDERS!!!, heat, my peace being disturbed, having to wake up early, being underestimated, traffic, people who hurt animals, mint chocolate ice cream and onions.

I hope I did this right

We couldn’t be happier! Thank goodness!

Thank you for choosing lovelyblossom’s the good love stories! We hope you and your special someone enjoy your time here today! 💖

Caleb: 🩷🔥

Now we all know that you and Caleb liked to pretend date back in high school

But boy did you not know this dude was insanely in love with you to the point he knew he was gonna have you

Yandere high schooler Caleb is younger and more unhinged too

Like so unhinged he spread a rumor about a guy who wanted to confess to you

You think he’s over protective now? He was worst in high school, mans literally goes overboard

Maybe you don’t see it due to you being an introvert but still, something always feels off when he smiles like nothings wrong…

But it’s Caleb, so you know not to worry too much!

Zayne: 💋😍

Oh gosh, falling in love with Zanye felt so natural. Maybe because you two knew you were meant for each other. He listens to you rant about your favorite games and books and about your cat! Which Zanye is the proud father of.

But can we talk about how hard he fell for you? Yes? Good. Because Zanye as we know is the cold doctor that tries to keep his work at his number one priority. But then you come into his life making it hard to not put you as number one, it’s easy for him too.

Yes it’s against the rules to have a romance between and doctor and patient, but you can’t fight true love! Especially when it was made for the both of you especially. He lets you get away with stuff, like messing with his glasses, calling him during work hours (not when he’s in surgery of course, you know better than that) plus even though he shouldnt he spoils you with candy and sweets, just make sure to share. He’s eyeing that Dubai chocolate in your hands.

“Please can’t I have a bite?” Zanye asks you as you shake your head. “Nope, these are all mine. You said so yourself.” You say with a cheeky smile as he huffs. “That was before I had a stressful day at work.” Zanye explains as you chuckle, “how about this then? I feed you chocolate while you vent.” You says moving closer to his side. He chuckles and smiles at you. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

Good news!!! Thank you anon for your request! I hope your time here with Caleb and Zanye was wonderful. And thank you for the early birthday wishes too!! 😘

[lost-in-deepspace]

Oh, I had one more idea for the 200 follower celebration thing. When Sylus gets Broody from his draconic instincts, do the other LI get pulled into the situation? Like if Reader had to be out of town for Young Heir stuff does she come back to Raf or Zayne lying down in Sylus’s nest as he drapes them in cloths and shiny objects? If this flies too close to the “no smut” rule feel free to ignore!

Short answer is hell yeah. Sylus may not be a dragon physically now, but the ancient instincts are embedded in his very existence. And considering how he hoards his lovers, he will shower all of them in his affection and gifts. Especially when spring nears and his instincts get restless. Long answer will be the set of headcanons.

None of this will make any sense unless you're familiar with the main fic! And unless you are okay with the eventual poly!LIs x non-MC (GM) Reader dynamics that will happen in the long run.

This request was for my 200 Follower Celebration (which is closed now)!

Summary: Headcanons on the first time Sylus properly broods... on the other LIs and you.

200 Celebration masterlist

Spring Fever

Sylus was always restless in the spring. When new life bloomed and much of nature shook itself awake from it's winter slumber, the draconic instincts that no longer fit the human body start to emerge.

It had been manageable when his hoard was simply objects that he was interested in. When his hoard was gems and weapons and records and wine. Not when his the heart of his hoard shifted away from the most precious gems to lovers that he cared deeply for.

Now, he grows restless when they're not nearby. The tail he no longer has still feels like it exists, lashing out. His back tense and coiled from the phantom sensation of wings that aren't there.

His lovers are busy. You in particular. But things are slightly better when he knows all of them are in Linkon. When they could come back to the nest after their work is over so that he could get rid of the 'other' scents that taint them.

But when you're out of the city for your 'young heir' duties, he is... a lot more insistent.

Rafayel

Is the first to be dragged into the nest of the 'dragon'. Sighs. Pretends to complain. But in all honesty, he's one of the most understanding. Ebb day may not be the same as whatever was ailing Sylus, but he gets it. Besides, it wasn't like he had a strict schedule or anything.

Lets himself be draped with whatever pretty gem the 'dragon' found. Very vocal about his aesthetics and rewards Sylus with a soft content trilling sound when the other man fetches the right thing. Grins when he gets an answering rumble back. Knows that the gems are his to keep now.

Will fight a little on the scenting aspect. Not like seriously, but it was a matter of principle. He was Lemurian! The tether to the Deep Sea God! If anything, he should be the one scenting. Anyways, the end result is the two of them aggressively scenting each other. It's a fight for dominance that surprisingly (or maybe not) Rafayel wins most of the time.

Is very accepting of the more insistent touches offered. No biting though. If Sylus bites, Raf bites harder. Doesn't really care that much when the other man peels off the clothes he was wearing to instead drape him in clothes that smelt very much like 'dragon'.

All in all, is very content in the nest but will have some trouble if he's the sole object of attention. He doesn't particularly like be hovered around, thank you.

Valko

Is the one to climb into the nest of the 'dragon' purely voluntarily. It wasn't like his company didn't know about these things. Most of the higher ups were wolves, after all. He gets time off for 'pack matters'. He also understands the instincts Sylus has. Even more so than anyone else.

Snuggles himself amidst the various blankets before he can be ushered to do so. Is rewarded with a soft, amused croon and a pat on the head by Sylus. Gifted various precious metals he can tinker around with. Offers a quiet whine in return. Mainly because this was not his nest. And when in Rome...

Will let himself be scented. This wasn't Valko's first rodeo with broody pack members. He knows that the brood-er(?) had full reign until their instincts settled down. Most likely Sylus' favourite hoard member because he's so pliant and willing. Valko will scent back though.

He will be surprisingly resistant when Sylus tugs the 'outside' clothes he first wears into the nest. But at a firm look from the 'dragon', he just lets the other man tear the clothes off. He will instead steal Sylus' shirt. Not that the 'dragon' would mind. Will accept all the fond affection.

Is completely chill with being in the nest and under the broody attention. He is taking this opportunity to be doted on.

Caleb

'What the fuck is wrong with this guy' <- Caleb's thoughts when Sylus pounces on him to drag him into the nest. 'What the fuck is this guy ON' <- when Sylus full body lies on top of him to keep him still. Struggles for quite a bit. Eventually he remembers the game lore(TM) and gives up.

Stiff and a little uncertain when Sylus drapes like. shiny chains and gems on him. His mind goes first to how expensive the things on him most likely are and then to how weird it all feels. Will start to relax when Sylus noses at his cheek.

Doesn't have a clue what the other man is doing when he's rubbing his neck against Caleb's wrists and neck. Will startle violently when Sylus rubs his neck on his thigh. His INNER thigh. Jolts violently the first time that happens but relents when Sylus blinks up at him.

Sylus most likely will pick up on his uncertainty and won't pull his clothes off. But Caleb would take them off when he sees that the other inhabitants of the nest are not in their own clothes. Is rewarded with a soft purr...? Is bundled up in soft fabrics and tucked to the side. Again, pretty accepting of the touches.

Please do not leave this man alone in the nest. He is confused, unused to this, and is a little uncertain about what he's doing. But he won't leave.

Zayne

'What is wrong with this guy' pt. 2. Is genuinely concerned that Sylus has lost his mind when the 'dragon' snatches him outside of Linkon Central to dump him in the middle of a dark room with soft pillows. Tries to get out because he had a shift the next morning. Fails fantastically when Sylus drags him down and straddles him.

Tries to refuse the gems that the other man is draping on him. Also fails in doing that. This leads to Zayne being the most decorated person in the nest. Sylus assumes that he was refusing the gems because they weren't good enough and decided to compete in quantity instead.

Realises that this is some kind of not-human instincts and assumes that whatever Sylus is doing- like rubbing the junction between Zayne's neck and shoulder with his nose- is related to that. Figures out that fighting is futile and just lets it happen. Is rewarded we a fond chuffing sound. Did not realise that human vocal cords could make those sounds.

Will resist a lot when Sylus tries to tug his clothes off. Goes to the degree that his Evol bursts out. Settles when the other man backs off. Settles even more when the 'dragon' offers his warmth to get rid of the frost. Will not resist being draped in fabric on top of his own clothes though.

More curious than anything. Once his boundaries are set, he relaxes and decides to just... take a break. Will be very accepting of all the touches.

Xavier

Last one to be snatched up. Mainly because he is out and about everywhere considering your absence. But as your return approaches, he gets to slow down a bit. And is immediately taken by a greedy 'dragon' and placed in the nest. Does not resist. Has little to no idea what's going on, but goes along with it. He's lived way too long to be taken off guard.

Is also surprisingly vocal about his aesthetics. Well. He has firm dislikes, at least. He prefers soft fabrics rather than gems, and the moment Sylus picks up on that, Xavier is swarmed by pillows and cushions. He does not mind this at all.

When the 'dragon' rubs his cheek on the top of Xavier's head, he just... lets it happen. He has a slightly better sense of smell than those of Earth, and can smell Sylus' scent. Eventually gets a little tired of it and mimics the movement after pushing the 'dragon' down.

Will threaten to leave when Sylus' fingers tug at his clothes. Relents when he's offered more fluffy fabrics. Assumes that this particular behaviour has to do something with the scent-thing and wraps himself up in the fabrics instead. Blinks when Sylus purrs at him.

Yeah, sure. This is fine. He needed more sleep anyways, and Sylus did make a warm pillow. Is perfectly happy to stay in the nest.

[You]

Dragged into the nest the moment you get off of your mode of transportation. A blink, and you're essentially locked in an embrace in the middle of a soft nest. You immediately know what's up and just... run your fingers through his hair.

You're indulgent of everything Sylus does and you don't really vocalise your preferences. He however, knows everything and decorates you in gems. The other boys give their own commentary and Rafayel is more vocal than you about what suits you and what doesn't. Sylus takes every recommendation.

You're okay with scenting. He smells nice, and he reminds you of a cat when he rubs his nose against your neck. You also like the soft sounds he makes when you sigh contentedly.

Will let Sylus take your clothes off. He wraps you up in his clothes not too long after that anyways. You're very open to his touches and aren't afraid to initiate. Please choke him at some point. You gave him a collar for a reason.

You're fine being in the nest. You actually love it. This was nothing like anything you had experienced in your past world, so this was fun. And you were surrounded by six hot men. This was your paradise.

All together now!

Group cuddles. Everyone has to be touching Sylus in some way though, or he'll shift and turn restlessly. There are multiple tries of sleeping positions, but the end result is basically a tangle of limbs.

Sylus cooks. It's an extension of the brooding. He hovers and watches like a hawk as he feeds everyone. The twins and the Beasts are in charge of grocery shopping. But they just pop into the mansion's kitchen and leave. The 'dragon' gets territorial. Well. The twins are fine, but neither of them particularly want to see their bosses in compromising positions.

Sylus is so smitten, so lovesick and so willing to take care of everyone that at some point he will be rearing to go hunt. It takes all six of you to convince him that there's no need and that he's doing perfectly fine taking care of you all without fighting a bear.

None of you are leaving Sylus' sight. He will escort everyone everywhere in the mansion. It's cute, it's a little annoying, but it's mostly endearing.

He's so ecstatic when he sees his lovers all in the nest and draped in the parts of his hoard that he kept for them. Everyone smells like his. Everything is complete now and he is so, so content. His instincts curve into something quieter after a while and he can actually speak words.

Does sex happen? Yeah. Am I going into detail? No. I'll leave that to your imagination.

[tuystnhunq]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ headcanons: zayne was your classmate back in elementary school.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

w: lowercase.

¹. it was your very first day of elementary school. when you arrived at school early that morning, you saw so many other children crying their eyes out as they came to class with their parents. you weren't crying like they were, but before walking into the classroom, your eyes still welled up with tears. you looked up at your grandma with your adorable little eyes, and she gently comforted you until you finally agreed to go inside before she left.

inside the classroom, though, there was one kid that caught your attention. you read the name tag pinned to the front of his uniform, you learned that his name was zayne. his parents brought him to school, reminded him of a few things, and he simply nodded in agreement before saying goodbye to them so they could go to work. he didn't cry at all. to a child who had just started elementary school, you thought zayne was so cool! he was so calm, not afraid of a new environment, a new classroom, or new classmates at all. besides, there weren't even any toys in elementary school, nor could you watch tv or do whatever you wanted anymore.

after the teacher came into the classroom, she assigned zayne to sit next to you.

and just like that, zayne became your deskmate!

². studying together with zayne was actually really nice. even though he was a little cold, during every recess, he would usually read books while you talked instead (well... more like you were the only one talking while zayne read and listened). on top of that, zayne always played along with you. as you grew older, you realized that even though zayne had always been smart since he was little and was a very realistic person, he never once tried to extinguish the imaginative little world you had during those innocent elementary school years.

-

you: zayne, you know what? every evening when i go for a walk with my grandma, she tells me that the moon follows me to protect me because i'm a good child. do you think every good child has the moon following and protecting them?

zayne: yeah, that's right. my parents told me that too.

-

you: oh... it's raining, zayne. did you bring an umbrella?

zayne: i did. if you need to go somewhere, you can borrow mine. or i'll walk with you and hold it over you.

you: but... isn't it kind of sad? i think the clouds are feeling really sad, that's why it's raining...

zayne: yeah... but once the rain stops, the clouds will feel better again, right?

ꔫ

³. zayne really was a quiet and reserved person. but you always believed that he would look really pretty if he smiled. the very first time you saw zayne smile at you was also the day you found out that he liked sweet things.

the day before monday, you baked a batch of cookies together with your grandma. she gave you a cute little bag to put them in and told you to share them with the friends you cared about when you went to school the next day. once you got to class, you realized you weren't actually close with that many people, so you still had plenty of cookies left. in the end, you decided to give all of them to zayne.

at first, zayne looked a little suspicious. you had only been classmates for half a school year, what was the meaning behind giving him cookies? he even joked, half-seriously, that maybe you were trying to "poison" him.

that immediately made you flustered, chirping out apologies like a little bird learning how to sing.

after zayne took his first bite, you were so nervous. after all, you were about to hear his feedback right on the spot. who wouldn't be nervous?

you: zayne, are they good?

...

zayne: they're really good. they're not too sweet. thank you.

you let out a relieved sigh before looking up, you noticed that, zayne is smiling at you.

your eyes lit up as if you had just seen the moon in broad daylight.

you: your smile is so pretty, zayne!!!

you beamed with excitement as you praised him.

from that day on... it seemed like zayne smiled a little more often. or maybe, at the very least, he smiled more when he was with you.

⁴. since both of you lived in linkon city, every now and then, whenever you were out somewhere around the city, you would run into zayne while he was shopping for groceries with his parents.

there was one time when you got so distracted by the toy section in a shopping mall that you accidentally got separated from your grandma. luckily, you ran into zayne nearby.

you were so scared. what if your grandma went home without noticing that her adorable, pretty, well-behaved granddaughter had gotten lost?

your eyes became teary as you sniffled and looked at zayne. he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped your tears away.

after asking his parents for permission, he held your hand and walked around the mall with you, looking for a staff member who could help. while passing by the hair accessories section, zayne used his pocket money to buy you a hair clip.

he told you that if you kept crying, at least your hair wouldn't stick to your face because of your tears. and if your hair got all tangled up, it would hurt when you tried to brush it out after getting home.

eventually, with the help of a staff member, you and zayne found your grandma.

your grandma thanked zayne and his parents over and over again. his parents also noticed the hair clip you were wearing and asked zayne about it. although he answered a little hesitantly, they were very happy that he had helped you and cared about you.

they even praised him, saying he had done a really good job, and that he should keep it up in the future.

...

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ the end ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

૮ ྀིᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ྀིა thanks for reading ͙͘͡

3/8/26~1k words.

[lost-in-deepspace]

Congratulations on reaching 200 followers! Hooray!This is my first time sending in a request like this so I hope I’m doing this right (I went over the rules multiple times so I hope I got this right). I have a fluffy idea, if you’d like to write it.

Reader : MC!Reader

Format : blurb or list of head canons

Topic : the guys reacting to reader coming up behind them and putting a flower crown on their head then kissing them (you can decide where reader kisses them) when they turn around.

If the blurb format is one LI only, then I would like to request Valko specifically. I really love fluffy fic ideas with him.

I hope this is okay! Even if you don’t write this out, that’s okay; I can still imagine and daydream about it. Maybe even write it myself whenever my writer’s block goes away so no pressure if you want to write something else. I’m just happy to put the idea out there.

I hope you have a lovely day or night whenever you read this! And thank you for reading my request! 🫶💗🍀

Thank you! You're doing everything right, and in such an organised way too! (that sounds a little sarcastic, but it's not. I promise)

First MC!Reader request, yay! It's going to be a little weird bc of that lmfao. I've never written MC!Reader before. Uh. Let's see if I do your idea justice.

I'll go for headcanons for all the LIs. Hope your writer's block goes away asap.

Thank you! Hope you have a lovely day or night as well!

This request was for my 200 Follower Celebration (which is closed now)! And for the first time, you don't need any information about the main fic!

Summary: Headcanons on how the LIs react when you come up behind them to put a flower crown on them and then kiss them.

200 Celebration masterlist

Wild flowers like a crown of glory

You giggled to yourself as you fiddled with the flower crown in your grasp. You had learnt how to make one not too long ago, and who else but to put it upon than your lover?

Quietly, sneakily, you approached them and pounced.

Xavier

Xavier knew you were there from the beginning. Just because he was sitting down at the couch with his eyes closed didn't mean he wouldn't recognise your footsteps.

Blinks confusedly when he feeling something on the top of his head. Gains a lot more awareness when you press a kiss onto the top of his head. Is fully awake when you laugh and run away.

Starlight, where are you going? <- He is following you, flower crown gracing his head and a soft smile on his lips. You can't just give him a crown, kiss him somewhere that wasn't his lips and then run away.

When you're caught- very willingly, mind you- he's pressing his lips onto yours insistently, all the while thinking about how beautiful you would look with a flower crown that matches the one you put on him.

Rafayel

Rafayel- in his bout of inspiration and work ethic- is caught completely off guard when something's carefully put atop his head. He only realises it's you when he catches your scent. He would definitely have snapped if it was anyone else.

Immediately raises a hand to his head to see what you put on him and smiles when he feels soft petals. Smile is wiped off and a pout replaces it when he feels you kiss his cheek instead of his extremely kissable lips.

Cutieeee <- instant whining as he abandons his painting for the time being, making you send a silent apology to Thomas as you 'run away' from him. He's inspired by something else now, and that something else is you.

He catches you swiftly, turns you to face him and peppers your face with kisses. He will also be grumbling half-heartedly as he swears vengeance in the form of multiple flower crowns on top of your head.

Sylus

Sylus is always aware of where you're at. He's heard your quiet giggling. He's heard the muffled footsteps. And he's more than aware of his kitten's tendencies to cause mischief. He is pretending to work, and he knows you're approaching.

Lets you do whatever, really. Is pleasantly surprised at something light resting on top of his head. Is even more pleasantly surprised when you kiss the back of his neck.

Yeah, you're caught before you can even start running. Has his arms wrapped around you and he is smirking infuriatingly at you. 'Are you going somewhere, sweetie?' <- as he presses you closer to him.

He is kissing you. Deeply. Fondly. Vaguely reminiscing a shared past that only he truly remembers. This time, he was clawless and hornless. And he could crown you in flowers too.

Valko

You think Valko- with his wolf ears and nose- won't be able to tell when you're sneaking up on him? Man knows where you're at, what you're holding and can very distinctly imagine what you're planning. Is he going to stop you? No. Whatever his mate wants, his mate gets.

Ears are popping out when you set something on top of his head. He knows it a flower crown from the floral scent he caught. Tail is also out and wagging. He is whining though when you kiss the top of one of his wolf-ears before running away.

Chases after you immediately. He's a wolf. And so, whenever he sees something desires run off, he is chasing. The game of 'cat and mouse' doesn't end mainly because he enjoys the chase a little too much.

When he catches you, you are bombarded in kisses and little nips. He asks if you would be willing to indulge his little nieces and nephews with your flower-crown making skills. You ask him to make you one. You are promised a flower crown. As many as you want.

Zayne

Completely caught off guard part 2. Zayne was reviewing some article and that required most of his attention. He assumed that you were busying yourself with your own reports.

Startles when he feels fingers gently place something on top of his head. Softens greatly when he feels your familiar touch linger briefly in his hair. Smells the jasmine and knows that you were up to your antics again. Blushing furiously when you grab his hand to press a kiss onto his knuckles.

Article? Discarded. Attention? All yours. Especially when you're laughing and running away. He doesn't run after you, mainly because he knows you'll come to him eventually. But he does speed walk.

Smiles at you fondly when he does catch up to you and kisses your cheek once. Coming to kiss you properly when you pout at him. He plucks a flower out of the crown you had beautifully made to tuck behind your ear. He promises to make you one too.

Caleb

Caleb knows you're there. He knows you're up to something. He knows you, full stop. He's grown up with you and is more than familiar with all your antics. He is waiting to see what exactly you're doing now though, sneaking up behind him as he 'works on' some Fleet reports. He was done with them like. Half an hour ago.

Grins when he feels your finger tangle in his hair as you put a flower crown on him. He's made some for you, back before everything. Laughs when you bite the tip of his ear and then run away. Could he have used his Evol to pin you to place? Yeah. Did he? No.

He does, however, use his Evol to lift you up, laughing even more when you glare at him from up in the air. Give you a very exaggeratedly teasing frown and says something about how it wasn't nice to bite someone. Flushes a little when you tell him that's what he likes.

Kisses you on the lips multiple time until you're breathless and only lets you down when you promise him that you won't run. Removes the crown off of his head to plop it onto yours instead, all the while ignoring your comments that you had made it for him. Honestly, he doesn't care too much. What's his is yours, anyway.

[scftcxlxb]

LADS boys seeing MC in her element back home/ vacationing to ur home country 

anons request: had an idea for a short story/ plot line for a post that I thought was interesting but ofc ur not obligated to do it if you don’t like it or if you don’t take suggestions, My idea was like the lads characters seeing and reacting to you in your element aka ur home country, and I mean like HOME so like bargaining in the markets, being urself, speaking ur language, and stuff, being mesmerised, attracted etc. like seeing you speak your language in your element in your home country? Thanks for reading and considering ❤️😋😋

pairing: ladsxreader

tw: none, just fluff,

a/n: hi anon this ask is so cutesy i love the idea of them seeing you just in ur element makes me miss my own home country a lot i did make this vague so u can insert your own cultural customs and stuff thanks for the ask again :) also for requestes ill try to do them, but im still very new to this, soooo just be patient with me :) i actually dont know what i was cooking up but hope you enjoy lol

xavier

The debrief said international, low-threat, indefinite duration. That was all Xavier had bothered to read before he fell back asleep against the jet's window, snoring softly with his hood pulled up. He'd been up until four watching a drama he swore he'd only watch "one more episode" of, and now his body was paying the price — slumped, boneless, one earbud dangling out of his hoodie.

touch down in 20 minutes, the pilot's voice crackled.

You'd been half-asleep yourself until you reached for your passport and your boarding pass slipped loose. You caught it out of habit. Read it out of boredom.

Then read it again.

The airport code. The little flag icon. The name of the city printed in the alphabet you hadn't seen on official paper in years.

"Xav." You shook his shoulder. Nothing. "Xav." You shook harder. "XAVIER."

He startled awake so violently his hood fell back off his head. "Wha— hazard? Where's the—"

"We're going to my country." Your voice cracked on the last word. "Xav, this is my home."

That woke him up properly. He blinked at you — at your hands trembling around a boarding pass, at the way your whole body had gone electric in a way he'd never seen outside of a fight — and something in his chest went soft and sharp all at once. Xavier's seen a lot of skies in his time, but never you under one that was actually yours. He doesn't get homesick. He isn't sure he's allowed to. But watching you light up like every constellation had rearranged itself just for you — that, he understood completely.

"I can't wait, my star," he said, giving you a weak, sleepy smile, but his hand was already finding yours.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

You did. You showed him street food carts and the particular chaos of your mother tongue as you haggled and joked and slipped into your first language like slipping into warm water. Xavier followed a half-step behind, quiet as always, but watching — soft-eyed, completely in awe, like he couldn't quite believe this version of you had been waiting inside you the whole time.

On your last night you took him to a shadow-puppet theatre tucked behind a night market, the kind of place tourists never find because it isn't listed anywhere, it's just known. The show was old — older than the country's borders, older than most gods people still prayed to — a folk epic about a river spirit who fell in love with a mortal woman and, unable to bear watching her grow old while he stayed young forever, begged the sky to either age him or take his immortality away entirely. The sky refused both. Love was never measured by matching lifespans, the narrator intoned, only by whether you chose to stay. The river spirit chose to stay by her side anyway, mortal lifetime after mortal lifetime, meeting her again in every reincarnation, never explaining why he already loved her before they'd even spoken.

Xavier went very, very still.

You felt it before you saw it — his hand tightening around yours, not painfully, just permanently, like a knot being tied. You glanced up at him in the low lantern-light and found him leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the screen like it held the answer to a question he'd been too afraid to ask the stars directly.

"Xav?" you whispered.

"I'm okay." His voice was thick. "I just—" He stopped. Started again. "I think I needed to hear that a river can love a girl for one lifetime or a hundred, and it isn't the length that matters."

You didn't know exactly what memory or fear that story had reached inside him and touched, but you knew Xavier well enough not to push. You just laid your head on his shoulder and let him hold your hand like a tether for the rest of the show.

Back in Linkon, you caught him three nights later at 3am on the couch, blue light from his phone washing over his face, seventeen tabs deep into your country's mythology. When you padded downstairs for water and raised an eyebrow at him, he didn't even look sheepish.

"There's a whole legend about the constellation that guards travelers," he said, patting the seat beside him without looking away from the screen. "It sounds like something my ancestors would've told stories about. Come here, I want to show you."

The boy who reads the stars for a living, learning to read yours instead. If that isn't devotion, nothing is.

⊹₊ ⋆ ⋅☆⋅ ⋆ ₊⊹

✦ zayne

Zayne had been to your country before — three medical conferences, one charity surgical mission, a handful of case studies he still cited in lectures. He knew the skyline of the capital, the good coffee near the university hospital, the exact walk from his hotel to the conference center. What he didn't know was you, here. He'd only ever met you in Linkon.

So when he mentioned, almost offhand, that he had another trip scheduled — a conference, and a follow-up visit to a pediatric ward he'd operated at years ago — and you went quiet in that particular way that meant you were trying not to want something too much, he didn't need you to say it.

"Pack your things," he said simply. "You're coming with me."

You'd been homesick for months and hadn't wanted to burden him with it. Zayne, predictably, had noticed anyway. He notices everything. He simply doesn't always say so.

At the airport you were vibrating with a kind of joy he'd rarely seen from you — gripping his arm, narrating an itinerary he had no time to actually do, apologizing immediately after for "being too much." He just looked down at you, something unbearably fond behind his glasses.

"Don't apologize for being excited," he said. "I like seeing you this happy and excited."

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

The hospital visit came first — always work before pleasure, that was Zayne's rhythm, precise as a suture line. The children he'd operated on years ago had grown taller, louder, and the moment he stepped into the ward they descended on him in a wave that made the unflappable Dr. Zayne visibly overwhelmed, hands raised slightly like he wasn't sure which small person to address first.

You stepped in without thinking. Crouched to their height, spoke in your mother tongue — one at a time, one at a time, he can only understand one language, be patient with him — and something about the cadence of it, the total ease in your voice, made Zayne go quiet in the doorway.

He had heard you speak your language before. A word here, a curse dropped under your breath, a lullaby half-remembered. He had never heard you speak it like this — fluent, unhesitating, fully yourself in a way Linkon never quite let you be. It undid something in his chest that he usually kept very carefully stitched shut.

Zayne feels things enormously. It's precisely why he's spent a lifetime training himself not to show it — surgeons who feel too visibly don't survive their first year. But watching you translate for him, watching a room full of children realize their doctor's girlfriend was one of them, watching them erupt into cheers because the man who saved their lives had chosen someone who understood exactly where they came from — Zayne had to excuse himself for a moment under the pretense of checking a chart. He was not checking a chart. He needed thirty seconds where no one could see his face.

When he found you again, he laced his fingers through yours without a word and simply held on, tighter than necessary.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

Two days later, once his obligations were finally cleared, you dragged him to a dessert stall you'd been dreaming about since the plane touched down — a syrup-soaked, rose-scented thing that Zayne, who has never once turned down a sweet treat in his life, was already leaning in before you'd even set it down.

"Open," you instructed, spoon raised.

He opened his mouth eagerly, no hesitation at all. Then his eyes went wide.

"...that's genuinely good," he admitted, startled, already leaning in for a second bite before you could offer it.

By the time you left, he'd bought a full box "for research purposes" and was — quietly, privately, only for you to see — smiling the entire walk back to the hotel.

"Thank you for today," he said, forehead resting briefly against yours. "I don't think I understood what home meant to you until I watched you have one."

"Anywhere with you is home too," you murmured.

"Then let's build one everywhere you love," he said, and kissed your forehead like a promise written in careful, controlled ink.

⊹₊ ⋆ ⋅☆⋅ ⋆ ₊⊹

✦ rafayel

Rafayel had only ever seen your country in pictures — pulled up late at night while hunting for inspiration for a new painting, saved in some folder he'd never admit existed.

He wanted to know it from up close instead.

You stepped off the plane into a wall of noise and heat and color and your whole posture changed — shoulders back, chin up, a bounce in your step you didn't have anywhere else in the world. You were already pointing things out before your feet had properly hit the ground, narrating the names of trees and streets you passed like he'd asked for a botany lecture, and Rafayel was watching you with a huge, helpless grin.

"Excited, cutie?"

You barely heard him, too busy yapping about the flora.

"Look at you," he said, watching you light up over a literal tree, "all cute and happy. It's nice to see." He meant it — genuinely, helplessly — but he also couldn't resist a jab. "Why can't you look at me the same way you look at that completely normal-looking tree?" he pouted, one hand pressed to his chest like you'd wounded him.

"Raf, please," you said, laughing, dragging him along by the sleeve while he kept up a running, wounded commentary about losing to local flora the entire cab ride to the hotel.

You'd built an itinerary with the precision of a woman reclaiming lost time: Tuesday for your favorite restaurants, the streets you used to play in, the corners of the city that belonged to no one but your childhood self. Wednesday for the museums and temples and every painting-worthy inch of architecture Rafayel had been begging to see in person — his day, entirely, because you knew exactly what your boyfriend needed to feel like this trip belonged to him too.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

Tuesday, you talked. Endlessly, joyfully, switching between languages mid-sentence without noticing, joking with locals, laughing at things that didn't fully translate. Rafayel — who has spent centuries feeling like an outsider even among his own people, half-human, half-something the sea never lets him forget — recognized the specific comfort of belonging on your face immediately. It reminded him, achingly, of the rare moments he lets himself think about the ocean as home instead of inheritance.

Wednesday was his day, and he'd clearly been saving up requests for weeks. He wanted to wear the traditional clothing, eat the real food instead of his and your clumsy attempts at recreating it back in Linkon, and stand in front of every mural and sculpture he'd only ever seen photographed. You took him to the shop first, helping him into hand-embroidered robes the color of pomegranate and gold, and it would be an understatement to say he loved it.

"Wow, cutie," he said, hands smoothing over the fabric at your waist, completely reverent, "you look out of this world."

"Not too bad yourself, Raf," you said, taking in your already-beautiful boyfriend somehow managing to look even better dressed in your culture's colors — which you genuinely hadn't thought possible until right that second.

He wouldn't stop touching the embroidery for the rest of the afternoon, running his thumb along the stitching like he was trying to memorize the technique by feel alone. Once you got to the museum proper he all but forgot you existed for a solid ten minutes — dragging you by the wrist from painting to painting, talking fast and a little breathless about brushwork and pigment, pointing out gold leaf work he swore predated half of what people back home called "innovation," hands sketching shapes in the air because he physically couldn't help himself. You'd never seen him nerd out quite like this, not even in his own atelier, and watching him fall in love with a piece of you that had nothing to do with him made your chest ache in the best way.

By the end of the day he'd bought a fresh sketchbook from the museum gift shop, muttering something about his usual one running out of pages faster than expected. Every sketch in it, without exception, somehow ended up being you.

⊹₊ ⋆ ⋅☆⋅ ⋆ ₊⊹

✦ sylus

Sylus, leader of Onychinus, has done business on every continent and in more shadowed corners of the world than most governments know exist. He's met people from your country before. Knows fragments of your language — enough to charm, enough to unsettle, never enough to let anyone underestimate him.

He also, apparently, bought a property there over a year ago. Before the two of you were even official. Just in case.

It came out on an ordinary night — you scrolling through a friend's travel photos, a small, private ache in your chest you tried to swallow before he noticed.

He noticed.

"Homesick, kitten?"

"...A little," you admitted, curling into his side.

He didn't say much. Just held you until you fell asleep. By the time you woke up, the private jet was already fueled.

"Pack a suitcase," he said, far too casually for a man who'd apparently rearranged his entire week overnight.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

The house he'd bought sat on a hillside above the old quarter, all pale stone and dark wood shutters, courtyards stacked with fig trees, a rooftop terrace that caught the whole skyline at sunset. It was, unmistakably, too much — the kind of gift that comes with strings even when Sylus insists it doesn't.

"Sylus, I can't accept this," you said, trying to shove the keys back into his hand.

"You already did," he said, smug and immovable as ever, "the second I decided you were mine to spoil."

You were too jet-lagged to properly argue. That would come later.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

The next morning you came across a small market, vendors shouting over each other in your native language, trying to lure people to their stalls. One of them zeroed in on you immediately — draping a scarf around your neck before you could protest, steering you toward a mirror to admire how it looked against your skin.

"Well hello, my darling — care for a scarf? Premium quality, and that colour matches your skin tone perfectly," he said, already sensing a sale.

"How much?" Sylus asked, stepping in behind you.

The number the shopkeeper quoted was almost laughable — the kind of price only a "not quite local anymore" accent gets charged.

"That's too much, I can get a better price elsewhere," you said in your own language, straight to the shopkeeper, before switching back to add out loud, "£30 is all I'm taking this for," arms crossed in total conviction.

Sylus went quiet beside you, delighted, watching you try to haggle for what you were fairly sure was the first time in your life — normally this was your mother's job, or your older sibling's, never yours.

Thirty minutes in, you were still arguing. Sylus had that insufferable little smirk on his face the entire time, watching his kitten bare her claws. When the shopkeeper still wouldn't budge, you finally snapped, switching fully back into your language: "Your clothes are cheap and tacky anyway, no one's going to buy from you," and dragged Sylus away from the stall, empty-handed and seething.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

You couldn't let it go. "That man yesterday infuriated me," you grumbled the next morning. "All I wanted was a fair price and he wouldn't budge."

"I could get you a good price, kitten, if you're that hung up on it," Sylus offered.

"No — I want to do it myself. I've watched my family haggle my whole life, I just never got to try."

He loved that about you, your stubborn independence — even if, privately, he thought yesterday's attempt had been a tragedy. So he leaned down and murmured a few tactical pointers in your ear before you went back: start low enough that there's real room to move, keep your face neutral no matter what he counters with, and be ready to actually walk away — that's what gets the price down, not the number itself.

"You're back again," the shopkeeper said, unimpressed.

"Of course. Couldn't stop thinking about that scarf," you said, chin up.

Sylus's tips fresh in your mind, you opened absurdly low: "I'll take it for £10," you said in your language, utterly convinced.

The shopkeeper looked personally offended. "£60, or nothing — I'm being generous here," he shot back, clearly thinking he could still take you for a fool.

Sylus leaned in, murmuring against your ear, "Don't worry, kitten, this is part of the game."

"£20," you countered. "Aren't I one of your own? I'm not a tourist, am I?" — leaning hard into the guilt trip, and watching it land.

"...That's true," the shopkeeper admitted, some of the fight draining out of him. "You are one of us."

"You wouldn't sell it to a local at that price. What would you actually charge one of your own?"

He sighed. "£20."

"Then I'll take it for £20," you said, already handing over the money before he could reconsider.

You dragged Sylus away practically vibrating, gushing the whole walk back about your first successful haggle, ego thoroughly inflated.

"Well done, kitten. Your first deal," he said, dry as ever — but he was, in fact, unbearably proud. Sylus gets what he wants out of people through charm and careful pressure applied at exactly the right moment — it's more or less his entire business model — and watching you do the same thing, cold and sharp and completely unbothered in a language that wasn't his, felt like watching someone speak his native tongue for the first time. Hands on your hips, thoroughly pleased with yourself over a £20 scarf, you'd never looked more like his kind of trouble.

"Remind me never to let you sit in on one of my deals," he said. "You'd talk me out of my own profit."

"Maybe I want to," you said, still riding the high.

"Mm." He kissed the crown of your head. "Then I'd let you."

⊹₊ ⋆ ⋅☆⋅ ⋆ ₊⊹

✦ caleb

With Caleb, it was different from the start. You'd been adopted as a young child, and for most of your childhood your country of origin was less a place than a question mark — a blank space you filled in with guesses every time you caught your reflection looking different from everyone around you. You were curious about it for as long as you could remember, but it took years before you worked up the nerve to actually ask.

Grandma Josephine was the one who finally told you the truth of where you came from, patiently, over a kitchen table, answering every question you had and the dozen more you asked after that. And once you knew the name of the country, you couldn't let it go — you told Caleb, half-embarrassed, that you wanted to learn the language. All of it, properly. Not just a few phrases for a party trick, but actually learn it.

Caleb didn't blink. He just started studying alongside you that same week.

You two spent years on it — clumsy pronunciation, flashcards taped to the bathroom mirror, Caleb butchering tones so badly in the beginning that you'd both end up in tears laughing instead of practicing. But you kept at it, both of you, long after the novelty should have worn off, until one day you realized you were actually fluent — properly, comfortably fluent — and Caleb wasn't far behind you.

It happened on an ordinary night, curled into his side with the TV on low, that you finally said out loud what you'd been circling around for months: you wanted to go there. See it in person. Not just the language anymore, but the actual place.

"Then let's go," Caleb said instantly, like it was the easiest decision in the world. "I'll fly us there myself."

He had you packed and an itinerary drafted within days — real, authentic food at the top of every list, clearly done with the years of your and his failed home-cooked attempts back in Linkon still fresh in his memory. The flight over was smooth, steady, exactly what you'd expect from your favorite pilot showing off a little for the occasion. By the time you stepped out of the airport into the warm evening air, all you could do was stare — the skyline, the smell of the streets, weather that felt like it had been waiting for you specifically.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

The next day you finally got to explore properly. It was overwhelming in the best way — loud, fast, a little disorienting even for you — and when you two got turned around looking for a train station, you were the one who stepped up and asked a local for directions in your own language, understood every word of the answer, and even walked away with a restaurant recommendation for good measure.

"Pip, you're amazing," Caleb said, delighted, watching you navigate the train station like you'd never left. He wasn't exaggerating for your benefit, either — years of late-night study sessions and butchered pronunciation had led to this, watching you thrive in a place you'd once known almost nothing about.

"I told you I was fluent," you said, smug, practically strutting toward the platform.

"You told me. I just didn't believe you'd be this smooth about it," he teased, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Kind of unfair, honestly. I'm supposed to be the pilot. I'm supposed to be the one who knows how to get us places."

"You got us here," you pointed out. "I'm just getting us to lunch."

The lunch spot the stranger recommended turned out to be a tiny family-run place three streets over, no sign, no menu in any language but yours — the kind of restaurant that exists purely on word of mouth between people who already belong there. Caleb ordered by pointing enthusiastically at whatever you were eating, mangling the dish's name so badly the owner laughed out loud and corrected him twice, patient and delighted, before finally giving up and just patting his shoulder like he'd adopted him on the spot.

"I love it here," Caleb said around a mouthful of food that was clearly too spicy for him, eyes watering, refusing to admit defeat. "I love — ow — I love that everyone just, like. Feeds you. Adopts you. No questions."

"That's just how it is," you said, sliding your water toward him without a word.

"No, I mean it though." He set his fork down, suddenly more serious than the moment called for. "You spent your whole life not knowing this part of yourself. And now you're just — fluent. In the language, in the food, in knowing which street to turn down. You did that. Grandma Josephine helped, sure, but you're the one who kept showing up to learn even when it was hard and you had every excuse to give up."

You blinked at him, throat suddenly tight. "Caleb—"

"I'm just saying I'm proud of you," he said, easy and warm, already reaching over to steal a piece of your food like the moment hadn't just cracked something open in your chest. "Also, incredibly attracted to you right now, for the record. Bilingual Pip ordering street food like a local is doing something to me."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm in love," he corrected, grinning. "There's a difference."

That evening he insisted on one more stop before the hotel — a night market you hadn't even mentioned, one he'd apparently found and researched himself weeks ago without telling you, tucked between two apartment blocks and lit end to end in paper lanterns. A woman selling hand-painted kites recognized the regional dialect the second you spoke and lit up, launching into a story about her grandfather who'd made kites the same way for sixty years. You translated for Caleb in real time, and he listened to every word like it was the most important flight briefing of his life.

"Buy one," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"The kite. Buy it. We're flying it tomorrow before we leave, I don't care if I have to reroute the whole trip." He was already grinning at the woman, giving her an enthusiastic, badly-accented thank-you that made her laugh again. "I want a piece of this place to bring home. And I want it to be something you picked, because everything today has been you finally getting to be all of yourself at once, and I don't want to forget what that looked like."

You bought the kite. The next morning, on a hill just outside the city with the whole skyline spread out gold and hazy below you, Caleb ran it into the wind like a kid, whooping when it finally caught, turning back to grab you by the waist and spin you both around until you were dizzy and laughing and thoroughly convinced you'd never loved anyone this much in your life.

"Home looks good on you, Pip," he said, breathless, forehead against yours. "I hope you know I'd learn a hundred more languages just to keep hearing you talk about it."

⊹₊ ⋆ ⋅☆⋅ ⋆ ₊⊹

✦ valko

Valko has never needed the lecture on why home matters. He runs with a pack, quite literally — raised on a hierarchy built out of loyalty instead of blood, on the instinct to circle around whoever's yours and keep them safe without being asked. It's not so different, he'd tell you, from what you grew up with. Family is family whether it howls or not.

So when you finally worked up the courage to admit how much you missed your country — half-expecting to have to explain it, the way some of the others initially needed it explained — he just nodded, slow and understanding, like you'd told him something about yourself he'd already clocked weeks ago.

"You don't have to justify wanting to go back to your pack," he said simply. "I'd never ask you to."

Pack. You'd never thought of your family that way before, but hearing him say it — easy, matter-of-fact, like it was the most natural translation in the world — made something in your chest loosen.

He didn't turn it into a production. No grand itinerary, no dramatic gesture — just quiet, steady logistics handled without fuss, because Valko's love has always looked like showing up rather than performing. Before you'd even booked the flights, he was already asking to learn a few basic phrases — not tourist phrases, but the ones that mattered. How do I say thank you to your mother. How do I ask your grandfather how he's feeling. How do I tell your cousins my name.

⋅ ⋆ ⋅

The strange thing was, once you landed, Valko barely looked at a single landmark. He'd glance politely at whatever monument or view you pointed out, nod, and then his attention would drift straight back to whoever was in the room — the way your mother refilled everyone's plate before her own, the pecking order between your older cousins, which aunt secretly ran the whole household despite never raising her voice. He read family dynamics the way other people read a map, fluent in it instantly, because it was a language he already spoke fluently back home.

"Your family runs it a lot like my pack does," he told you one night, quiet, almost amazed. "The oldest look after the youngest without being told to. Everyone eats before anyone leaves the table. Nobody's really in charge, but everyone knows exactly who to listen to."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It's the highest compliment I have," he said simply.

He started sharing pack stories back, unprompted — who'd raised him, who he'd fought to protect, the strange found-family logic that had shaped him just as much as blood shapes you. Your grandmother, delighted to have a captive audience, traded him story for story across the kitchen table for hours, neither of you needing much translation once the two of them found their rhythm.

By day three he'd stopped asking whether he could help around the house and just started doing it — hauling in groceries before anyone noticed they were missing, fixing a wobbling table leg your father had complained about for a decade, appearing at your grandmother's elbow the second she so much as reached for a heavy pot. Your youngest cousins adopted him within the hour, dragging him outside for a game that seemed to have no rules beyond "chase Valko," which he submitted to with the patient good humor of someone used to being climbed on by things smaller than him.

One of them — barely seven, all elbows and nerve — took one look at his size, his quiet, and his permanently serious expression, and decided, very firmly, that he was terrifying.

"Is he mad?" she whispered to you, hiding half behind your leg.

Valko, crouched a respectful distance away, heard her anyway. Instead of getting louder or more animated to prove otherwise, he just lowered himself the rest of the way to the ground, folded his hands in his lap, and waited — patient as anything, letting her come to him instead of the other way around.

"I'm not mad," he said, gently. "I'm actually pretty easy to win over. Ask your cousin."

It took her the better part of an afternoon to fully believe it. By evening she'd claimed his shoulders as her preferred seat for the rest of the trip, one small fist gripping his hair like reins, entirely unbothered by the fact that she'd called him scary that same morning. Watching your six-foot, permanently stoic boyfriend get bossed around by a seven-year-old with complete, cheerful obedience did something to your heart you weren't fully prepared for.

By the end of the week he knew every name in the house — not just the adults, but every cousin, every nickname, which grandparent preferred which nickname and which one hated theirs. He helped your grandfather to his chair every evening without being asked twice. He sat through your grandmother's longest stories without once checking the time.

The night before you left, watching your whole family crowd around the table one last time, laughing too loud and talking over each other in a language he'd only just started to learn, Valko went quiet in a different way than usual — jaw tight, eyes a little too bright.

"You okay?" you murmured.

"Yeah." His voice was rougher than he meant it to be. "It's just — this is exactly what I'd want for a pack of my own, someday. Watching you have it already, watching them already love you this much, it's—" He stopped, cleared his throat. "It's a lot. Good. But a lot."

At one point your uncle, sizing him up the way protective uncles do everywhere, asked bluntly through you whether Valko would look after you the way family should. Valko didn't wait for the translation.

"Always," he said — plain, immediate, a single word that needed no dialect to land.

Your uncle understood him just fine. By the time you left, he wasn't a guest anymore. He was just Valko — cousin-approved, grandmother-fed, fully and permanently folded into the family, the same way he'd have folded any one of them into his pack without a second thought.

Different language. Different word for it. Same love, exactly.

⊹₊ ⋆ ⋅☆⋅ ⋆ ₊⊹

thanks again anon this was really fun to write hope you enjoyed reading it lol i tried my best lol

[lost-in-deepspace]

I would like to ask for some headcanons for all Lis with GM Reader.

NI don't know if it will ever be portrayed in the story or if it will be shown later, but I wonder what GM Reader and the Lis would be like as parents, whether it was their biological or adopted child.

By the way, many congratulations on reaching 200 followers 🫶

Thank you! And no, I have no plans of making the LIs and R parents in the main fic, but the idea of them having children has been a guilty pleasure of mine for a while now.

I did however, take some liberties in interpreting your request... I hope that's okay with you.

This request is for my 200 Follower Celebration!

Most of this won't make any sense unless you're familiar with the main fic!

Summary: Headcanons on what each Love Interest would be like as a parent, through baby acquisition in the magical way.

200 celebration masterlist

Hush, my little child/Drift into slumber

Caleb blinked slowly at the sight that greeted him when he opened the door following the bell ringing.

"Why is there a baby on our doorstep."

"Scratch that, puppy." Rafayel shoved Caleb to the side. "Why are there several babies on our doorstep?"

"Babies?" Sylus asked, voice slightly rough with sleep, as though the mere mention of children roused him from his strange sleeping schedule. "Why are we talking about children?"

"Because there are babies on our doorstep." Caleb reiterated, before looking at the group do children. "Well, not full on infants, I guess..."

Valko's head popped over Caleb's shoulder and he regarded the scene contemplatively.

"And not random children either." When the others turned their attention to him, the man shrugged. "Look at them. They're carbon copies of... us."

"They may be able to explain this situation." Xavier said, although his tone was less certain that it usually was. "This might be something related to the business they are taking care of."

"What are you all doing in front of the door at..." Zayne glanced at the clock. "Seven in the morning?"

As soon as the last member of the household- not including you, of course- came to look at the scene, the children started to tear up and-

"Mama!"

Baffled silence.

"...Did they just call us mama?"

"Hey, I'm back-" your voice came from behind them all- "and I brought her with me-"

Your words trailed off as you most likely took in the sight before you.

Some sniffling. A couple of adorable head tilts. And-

"Papa?"

"Did they..." You blinked owlishly. "Did they just call me papa?"

She poked her head from behind you and peered to get a better look and gasped as she tugged at your sleeve urgently as she said your name.

"-did you get them all pregnant? I know you said it mostly as a joke but I knew I shouldn't have believed that that was the case-"

"No!" was the answer that she received from every other adult in the room.

"Aw." She studied the children and grinned brightly. "I still get to be the aunt though!"

Valko

The child that looks like a copy of him- wine red hair, golden eyes, and a certain wolfish tinge to the face- is a girl. His daughter takes after a lot of his personality- easy to laugh, sociable, and playful- but it's also pretty clear that you too were genetically related to her. She looks far too much up at the moon.

He's on the playful side of being a dad, but he has hard, firm rules. The wolf instincts in him has to correct her and teach her manners- both wolf and human- and he's very firm when she steps out of line. You are the one that she runs to when her 'mama' snaps at her to correct her. You don't have the same instincts as he does, so you follow his lead.

To reiterate though, he is playful dad. He loves playing rather roughly with his her, just as she loves playing with him. She's tougher than most toddlers, considering the blood of wolf and Weaver making her up. Still, you have to make sure that neither of them get too overexcited.

Again, wolf instincts. He nests. He normally doesn't do that- his cousins with pups and grandma are the ones that are responsible for maintaining the nest at their family home and he didn't have the urge to make one when he's living along- but having a pup makes things... different.

His child will always be in his arms if he can help it. Shareholder meetings? Yeah. In his research lab? Also yes. The two of them drink chocolate milk. Like a lot of it. The rest of his wider family are involved to an extent, but they all respect his decision to raise his daughter in his separate, inner pack.

As his daughter ages, I think he'd be very happy. There's little to no feelings of nostalgia or wishing that she'd stay young and cared for just a little longer. It's a part of life and natural order for pups to grow up and set off to form their own pack. As long as she knows that she'll always have somewhere to return to in him and you (and the others), he'll be content.

No matter what though, Valko takes care of his pup. Always. Not even Time and Space would be able to stop him from taking care of his family.

Rafayel

The child with webbed hands and feet, purple hair, and pinkish blue eyes is of course, his son. A carbon copy of the older Lemurian himself, with the sensitivities that followed more Lemurians. Sensitive sight and sensitive hearing... The boy is hard to settle, unless you're there, of course. The seas find calm under the moon, after all.

Lemurian children have become so... hard to find after all EVER had done to their kinsfolk. His son is pampered to the depths of the seas and back. You had to reign him back from spoiling his son too much. You have to resist two identical pouts, and you often find yourself considering their request before stopping and being firm.

That doesn't mean he's a pushover though. He's terrifying when he wants to be. Especially when it comes to you. Disrespect to the Moon is not taken lightly. His son is a mix between Lemurian and Weaver, and holds some degree of sway with the Deep Sea. He has to make sure that his son is able to wield that power intentionally.

A significant portion of the beach at Whitesand Bay is strictly private and his, so that's where he takes his son to swim and to connect with their Lemurian nature. That's where songs are taught and techniques to shift and swim are passed down. Lemurians have started to repopulate again, and the Deep Sea is now able to strengthen their children, so his son does have some other Lemurian children to interact with.

He's the one to exhibit all sorts of arts and crafts his son did. Some proudly stuck to the fridge, some in his art studio, and some actually exhibited in one of his art exhibitions. He also lets his son play around with the art material he has about, and goes to you to present their shared creation proudly.

As his son ages, he'd be nostalgic. Not sad, not really, but proud. As the tether to the Deep Sea god, he's aware of the natural order of things. Besides, he had taught his son everything he needs to know, so he trusts that he'll be fine. But he makes it very clear that his son can always dip into the sea and call for help if he ever needs anything.

The population of Lemurians have dwindled, and his son is one of the precious next generation. Rafayel will keep his family safe, so that nothing like the tragedy that had fallen on his kinsfolk ever happened again. So that his son could live without having to hide himself or turn to a darker path tinged with assassinations and vengeance.

Caleb

Boy dad! Twin boys, actually. Both are carbon copies of him- dark brown hair, gaseous orange-purple eyes- with only very slight difference between the two of them. Both in personality and in looks. There are hints of you in them, but it's extremely clear that both the boys favoured their 'mama'. One is quieter than the other and takes more of the side of him that's broody and sharp. The other is more sociable and smiles very often. But both of them take after you in the way they pull attention towards them, like the moon tugs gently at asteroids.

Another playful dad, although he's firm. He remembers what he was like a child- although he is also aware that a lot of his childhood tendencies had been tainted by the experiments- and he knows that his sons need firm breaks. He teases the boys relentlessly, especially when they intentionally do things to tug for your attention. 'I want to marry 'papa'!' 'Too bad, your 'papa's mine.' <- an interaction that most likely happened. You have to glare at him to get him to knock it off.

He is, in all the important ways, fully human. Unfortunately though, his brush with the eldritch that was you had done something. His sons are Aware of a couple of things that they didn't really need to be aware of. The Weaver strain in them coming from you probably didn't help. In older times, he thinks that his sons would have been called Seers. Oracles. He doesn't care about that though.

His Evol is perfect for handling two boys that are a little too curious and reckless for their own good. He catches them before they can do anything to hurt themselves, and he can throw them up and keep them in the air as they giggle gleefully.

He loves his sons, but I think he'd be happy to see them grow up and become slowly and steadily independent. There's a sense of accomplishment I think he'd feel. For all intents and purposes, he had grown up on his own and had brought the main character up too. He plans on watching from a distance and have them learn in a similar way that he did, with the only difference being that he would always be there as a safety net to catch them if need be.

Caleb cares for his family, and he will do everything in his power to make sure that his sons are shielded from the hardships that had plagued his own life. As long as they're safe, he would do anything.

Zayne

His daughter is nearly identical to him in looks and demeanour. Quiet, calm, and an absolute stickler for sweet things. She observes her surroundings, and her smiles tend to be quiet, but pretty frequent. Her interests lie in books and she will ask many questions, most of which he could answer. There are hints of you in her that makes it very clear that you 'fathered' her. The way she seemed to settle the energy of the people she was around was akin to the way the moon calmed their Beasts.

Looks like a stern dad, is not one. He is very soft for his daughter. He indulges his daughter in any play she wants. She wants to play hospital? He's the patient that goes with anything she says. She wants to play some dramatic story with her dolls? Yeah, he'll do the voices and pull at his pool of drama. You have many photos of him and his daughter decked out in stickers. They are adorable.

Considering his connection to Astra, the Weaver King, his daughter is a little more Weaver than the others. She understands the world and other people better than most, and there's a part of him that's scared that she would be forced into a role that others want for her. But he's also aware that you would block that on your end.

With the appearance of his daughter, he utilises his Evol a lot more. Yes, he made a lot of ice sculptures for you, but now that's just ramped to the max. Inadvertently, that helps him handle the ever fluctuating aspect of his Evol a lot better. She will not stop hogging him to herself in the summer. Even if/when she develops an Evol similar to his.

Devastated to see his daughter grow up but doesn't let it show. He's proud of the person she's becoming yes, but there's a part of him that always thinks of her as his little girl. Is the type of dad that would silently think back to when his daughter constantly clung to him. The day she leaves home for good is the day you have to wipe his tears away.

Zayne knew the love of his parents, even if he spent more time physically away from them. The road to build up one of his own had been hard, which is why he would ensure that his daughter knows what it's like to have people she can rely on, wherever she is.

Sylus

The child that looks exactly like him- the curve of her nose, the bright crimson of her eyes, and the shockingly pure white hair- is his daughter. She's confident from the get-go and very curious. There are apparent slivers of you shining through the parts of him he passed onto her. She sleeps the best when the moon is full and watching over her.

Pampered and spoiled to the max. She wants something? More often than not, she has it. He's indulgent of whatever she wants to have or do. If she looks at something for longer than three seconds, he is pulling out his card to buy it. You have to be very quick to stop him from buying things. He always arches an eyebrow at you and tells you that desires should be fulfilled.

He is Fiend, you are Weaver that is somewhat divine, somewhat not. Perhaps that's why his daughter- both divine and fiendish- portrays some characteristics that he no longer has. Like the small black horns poking from her head or the swaying tail she can bring out. He feels mixed about that, as he knows how hard it could be. He pulls out his previous life's knowledge and will do his best to guide her.

When his daughter shows aspects of a more draconic nature, he takes her out into more chaotic areas to hunt and chase. The dragon needs to feed off of chaos and blood. Claws needed to be sharpened and wings needed to be strengthened. It was simply a part of who they were. You of course, always accompany the two of them. Always watching over them.

Devastated to see his daughter grow up but is silent about it part 2. He's proud that she's grown up and can fend for herself, but every time he looks at her, the image of her as a child overlaps. He just smiles as she become more and more independent and as she flourishes. She knows that he- the crow twins and Mephie too- is always watching.

The love of family- of parents- is something Sylus has never experienced before, in all his lives. He was always monster, something to isolate and kill. His daughter, who is more fiendish than normal humans will find it difficult to assimilate completely. But he will always, always be there to tell her that there's nothing wrong with her.

Xavier

Soft hair, soft blue eyes, and a calm demeanour? Yeah, his son is a smaller, nearly identical version of him. The etherealness of his beauty was passed on fully, and even with the baby fat on his face, there is a regal look to him. The regal look more befitting of a prince than a reigning monarch, but there are hints of you that blazes through. He's enamoured by the moon and all the stars that shine high in the skies.

Soft, but stern dad. He's firm with his rules and most of the times, his son doesn't deviate from it. When his son does though, they're all for reasons that he himself can understand. So he scolds his son, but not too much. Whilst he might understand the reasons for his son's action, you don't, so you have to give both of them an earful. You easily succumb to their sleepy, comforting hugs though.

He's Philosian- 'gifted' an eternal life- and a backtracker. That nature combined with whatever a Weaver entailed made it more than certain that his son would live a life as eternal as his. He used his eternal life to do good. After backtracking, he did his best to do good for the Earth with the advanced knowledge he had of the Deepspace tunnel. He had to pass on his thoughts and his attitude to his son, so that he did not use Weaver power and long life for dubious things.

He might have given up his place as the crown prince and delegated himself to serve more than be served, but he was brought up as a prince. In rigid etiquette lessons and engrained lessons with the blade. Whilst he's not as strict as the ones that had taught him, he still teaches his son similar things. You have to laugh when the two of them eat in the exact same way.

When his son grows up, he's quietly proud. There's no regrets clouding his thoughts and he sure doesn't want his son to be dependent on him and you for the rest of his life. But he's familiar with distant family, and he doesn't want the relationship between him and his son to reflect the one between him and his own kingly father. He frequently tells his son that he and you are always there for him.

Xavier will always be truthful to his family. Having lies tinging familial ties only maintained distance. And that type of distance was something he didn't want. No matter what happened, he would tell his son the truth, so that his son could trust all he says.

All together now (poly and aftermath)

The children are all siblings. They don't care which 'mama' they're related to genetically. All the boys are their collective 'mamas' and you are their 'papa'. It's not uncommon to see Valko teaching Sylus' daughter to hunt, Rafayel swimming with Xavier's son, Caleb throwing Rafayel's son up in the air with his Evol, Zayne carrying Valko's daughter around, or Xavier indulging Caleb's sons with his Evol.

Because the household now has nearly doubled in size, it takes an adjustment period. Co-parenting doesn't come naturally to most of them- except maybe Valko, who was brought up in a pack and in a huge family- so there bouts of irritation on all ends. And burn out. Thankfully, as there are more than enough helpful hands, things smooth out fairly quickly.

You're baffled that your genetics have done nothing and there are times where you actually think that your lovers had reproduced asexually, but then one of the children starts pulling at threads out of nowhere and you go 'oh fuck okay so I am related to them'. When you say this to your lovers they all look at you weirdly and go 'they're all your children, look at how they act.'

Because you and your lovers tend to busy, having a schedule is key so that everyone has time spent with all the children. And there has to be at least one day of the week where every member of the household is present in the mansion. In many cases, Sylus and Rafayel are the ones to care for the children, considering their more flexible schedules. At night, it's Caleb and Valko who watches over them. You, Xavier, and Zayne are the ones that need that schedule.

Nest vs. nest conflict does happen. Sylus and Valko clash in that sense. Sylus' nest is more a mix between a hoard and a soft nest and he prefers having a large window somewhere that towers over everything else. Valko's is fully for relaxing and sleeping and he prefers fully dark, contained areas. They come to a compromise of having the nest on the highest floor of the mansion but the floor is dipped and there are blackout curtains.

MC is an integral part of the family. She is the aunt-babysitter-co-parent that saves your sanities often. At one point, she fully moves into the household and everyone- you, your lovers, and the children- is very happy to have her permanently around.

When the children are still young- toddlers, at most- the entire household sleeps in the nest. After they grow up though, they have separate, private rooms, even though they're more than welcome to join the nest again, regardless of age.

You watched as the children were wrapped up in silken cocoons to return to where they came from. The future, perhaps an alternative timeline, or even another branch deviating branch of the universe.

You thought back to the past couple of months that you had cared for them, as well as the flickers of visions of them growing up that had been shown to you.

You glanced at your lovers and saw varying degrees of fondness and longing gracing their features. The very blatant longing and hope on Caleb and Valko's features. The glimmer of thoughtful longing in Sylus and Rafayel's. The gentle affection tugging at Zayne and Xavier's lips.

Hm. You wondered what you looked like right now. Did you look like you longed for children with them like Caleb and Valko did? Did you look like you were seriously considering the implications of the children's existence like Sylus and Rafayel did? Did you look like Zayne and Xavier, with their affection for children that weren't quite yet theirs? Or did you look like a mix of all three?

You looped your arm through Caleb's.

Eh. Considering children could come at a later date. If they truly did come from the future, it would mean that things would happen naturally.

Well. As naturally as things could be considering the strange state of being you and your lovers were in, anyway.

[avarelefay]

Sanctuary

Content labels/warnings: mentions of being exhausted, skin-to-skin contact, non-sexual semi-nudity, overwhelmed brain, fluffy comfort. Cuddling as a form of self-care. Xavier x reader

It was just one of those days, you know?

From the moment your alarm went off and you had to push yourself out of bed, you felt the weariness deep in your bones.

Nothing bad had actually happened. Nothing particularly taxing. Just another mundane day like any other... and yet you felt how thin your patience was, how low your social battery even started, and how haywire your brain felt with all your senses overreacting.

The day just dragged longer and longer, so by the time it actually ended and you were back at your door trying to fish your keys out of your bag, you had to take a second and press your forehead to the door to take a deep breath and ground yourself.

Exhaustion strips you bare to your very nerves. You felt raw and undone in such a way that your body actually ached. Your brain was still reeling from the overstimulation of life passing through you instead of with you.

And then you entered your home, your sanctuary; you didn't even bother to turn on the lights and went straight into your room. And there he was:

Xavier had been trying to wait for you, trying to entertain and keep himself awake by reading a book. He had failed miserably, judging by the deep, soft breaths and the book actually covering half of his face.

You didn't care; none of it mattered. You took off your outside clothes and let them fall to the floor. You weren't really gentle or careful when you crawled across the bed to collapse over Xavier.

He didn't startle, didn't jump, didn't even change his breathing pattern. One arm immediately enveloped your waist and pulled you closer, while his other hand removed the hair claw clip from your head, letting your hair fall freely, his fingertips burrowing between your long locks to massage the tension from your scalp.

You sighed, taking the book off his face and discarding it onto the floor; your hands pawed at the soft fabric of his shirt, your brain divided between how nice the fabric felt under your hands and the deeper primal want of having your skin pressed flush against his. You felt stuck, unable to make a decision, your brain too overworked to function properly.

You let out a soft, meek whine that would have made you ashamed of yourself if you weren't so bone-deep tired and back in your safe place, with your safe man.

"It's okay, I got it. I got you," he whispered, chuckling lightly.

He just tightened the arm over your waist and sat both of you up. Took his shirt off over his head with one hand and let himself drop back into lying on the bed, pulling you with him. Then pushed you up on his body so he could push his pyjama trousers down and kick them off the bed.

The light caresses of his fingertips over your back after he unhooked your bra created a full-body shiver that seemed to actually, finally, send the message to your brain that it was okay to just relax and turn off for the day. The way you nuzzled your face to the side of his and then buried it in his neck, inhaling the smell that was just him, managed to deep-settle that message into the very core of your being, and your whole body basically melted in place on top of him. Like room-temperature butter over warm toast.

"That bad, mhm? We can rest like this for a while, but even if you are not hungry, you are gonna need to eat something before falling asleep," he muttered against your temple, one hand going back to massage your scalp and play with your hair while the other just slid up-and-down your back in random patterns. "It's not negotiable," he added, a bit more serious, when you attempted to grunt your disagreement.

He could literally feel the pout your lip formed against his skin, snickering when you took a light nibble on it as your only form of protest. Xavier lightly moved your head to the side so he could look at you, his lips pressing to your forehead momentarily and pulled back to give you his own, very lethal pout.

"I bought your favourite yoghurt. At least eat just one before going to sleep, yes?"

You wanted to tell him that you weren't a child. That you were fine and just needed to sleep. But he started to do his own nuzzling against you and hold you tighter, fully enveloping you in his warmth, his smell, his arms caging you in the safest embrace possible, and you just gave up.

He giggled; the bastard actually let out a victorious giggle when you nodded your head before fluttering your eyes shut and letting yourself be as boneless as possible. "Alright, then, sleep. I will wake you up to eat." And just like that, everything settled in place. His warmth banishing that weariness from your melting bones. Everything was okay. You were okay.