Starstruck.

You Drive Me Insane // Xavier x Reader

God someone put me down please. I need to go touch some grass. Please don’t even perceive me. This is my first time writing smut, so hopefully it’s okay

This is pure smut, no plot in sight. Pure filth. Be warned. Minors DNI! Concept: Sexy times with Xavier Tags: Smut, Plot? What plot?, Oral (F! Receiving), riding, biting, fingering, creampie (wrap it before you tap it), rough sex, praise, fem! Reader Word Count: 1605 Masterlist

His lips lapped at your core like a man starved, like you were his favourite liquor, his last meal. Moans and whimpers escape your lips, your fingers tightening in his already tousled hair as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, keeping you spread open on his mouth. You feel a groan rumble from his chest at the feeling, resonating against your clit, adding and adding to the pleasure coursing through you. The tight coil in your abdomen wound tighter and tighter, his name leaving your lips like a prayer. His long fingers slid in and out, in and out of you, stretching and caressing as far as they could reach, your juices spilling out with every move, adding to the puddle that has formed under you. Not a single thought echoed through your mind apart from his name, the lustful haze clouding everything else. 

Xavier’s dark gaze caught yours, his pupils blown wide, as if he was drunk off of you, his own eyes distorted with pure want. You could feel yourself clench around him, another wanton moan escaping you. The desire built within you with every skillful swipe of his tongue, with every suck and every thrust of his fingers. His arms pulled you even closer, until he reached the spot that made your eyes roll back and your toes curl.

The heat built, built, built, his unforgiving pace not giving you a chance to catch your breath. It was unbearable, unimaginable to be able to feel this much all at once, and yet here you were, wanting to escape but never wanting this to end at the same time.

Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes as your thighs trembled, trying to close but restrained by his strong grip, a grip that promised to leave bruises.

He kept up the pace, his fingers curling into that spot within you, his tongue licking up all the juices spilled, until your pleasure peaked, that coil snapping with a cry. Your muscles seize up as you throw your head back, bucking your hips against him. 

He didn’t let up, letting your orgasm ride out wave after wave after wave. The obscene sounds from where he was connected to you filled your ears as the overstimulation took hold, and all of a sudden it was too much. Tears trailed across your cheeks, as you fell slack against the bed, the aftershocks making you whimper as he pulled himself away, just far enough to leave a trail of soft kisses against your inner thigh. 

“Good girl. You did so good for me.” Soft praises left his mouth, as he slowly crawled up above you, leaving small kisses wherever he could reach, until his lips met yours, in a slow sensual kiss. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb. 

“You okay sweetheart?” Xavier’s voice is soothing, bringing you slowly back to your senses, as you lock eyes with him. 

“Yeah, more than okay.” You breathe, a small smile appearing on your face as he gives you another soft kiss. His eyes are still blown out, still dark with a hunger that’s yet to be satisfied. Against your hip, you can still feel his erection, hard and hot, precum dripping and spreading against your skin. 

You keep your eyes locked with his, a mischievous glint echoing through your gaze, as you reach down, your hand grasping where he needs you most. He gives a sharp hiss, eyes closing at the sensation, before grasping your wrist, stopping your ministrations.

“F-fuck. You sure you want to continue?” The darkness swimming across his eyes should make you nervous, should make you shy away, but instead it pulls you in, makes you want to bring this man to ruin. 

You pull your hand up gently, before pushing him over, switching your positions until he is beneath you. His eyes widen at the sudden movement, his hands landing on your waist, holding you steady as you straddle his lap. 

“It’s my turn to take care of you.” You whisper into his ear, punctuating your statement with a bite to his earlobe. Your fingers run from his cheek, to his neck, to his chest. Lower and lower, the trail of your touch followed with your lips, nips and kisses decorating his pale skin. He’s so sensitive. He’s squirming beneath your touch, fighting the urge to roll you over and take the control back. His breathing quickens, his chest heaving as you switch to small bites across his neck, decorating it with red marks, a reminder of tonight just for him. Your hands trail lower, teasing touches on his thighs, tracing his abs and v-line. So close yet so far.

“Darling, stop with the teasing. Please.” His voice is rough, punched out, teeth gritted together as he tries to maintain even an ounce of composure.

“Shhh, you’re doing so well. I’ll give you what you want soon enough baby.” You bite your lip to hide your grin. God you loved the effect you had on him, the calm attitude crumbling beneath your fingers, red staining his cheeks. The grip on your waist is firm, nearly painfully so, as his eyes scrunch closed. 

Finally, you decided to have some mercy on him, your touch trailing down to his dick. You thumb at the head, precum already coating your hand and the sound that comes out of him is something you’d like to hear for the rest of your life. You need to hear that sound again. You move your hand, twisting and pumping just like you know he likes it, but much slower than he wants. Your thighs protest as you reposition yourself, still trembling, so pleasantly sore. You guide his cock to rub against you as you grind down, covering him with the wetness dripping from your hole, a moan escaping both of you as his head catches your clit. His hands guide you down to grind on him again and again and again. You steady yourself with a hand on his chest, calling his name until his eyes open and land on you. His pupils are blown wide, his silver hair disheveled and redness spread further across his face. He looks divine. What a sight he is, underneath you, looking so fucked out already. 

You bite your lip as you guide him against you, maintaining eye contact as you sink down on his cock. Bit by bit, you take him slowly, a strangled whine leaving both of you.

“Feels so good- so tight.” He sounds breathless as he grinds his hips up into you, bottoming out. 

You have to take a second to breathe, adjusting to his size. You feel so full it’s almost overwhelming. You can feel every vein pulsing deep inside you, the stretch around him adding the sweetest ache to the many sensations coursing through your body. 

A moment passes before you’re rising up until just the tip remains inside you, before grinding back down, setting a brutal pace. His breathing is shallow and rough as his hips snap up, keeping up with the tempo you set, hitting deeper and deeper and deeper inside of you. Hitting that sweet spot that has you faltering your movements for just a second. His grip around your hips guides you along, his eyes falling to your chest as you move one of his hands to your breast. He kneads it desperately as you lean down to spread an array of kisses and bites across his neck. Sweat drips down both of you, adding a deliciously salty taste to your kisses. 

You swipe along his neck, swirling your tongue around his Adam's apple before biting down on it. His hips stagger in response to the sting and you soothe the ache with a soft kiss. The pressure builds within you, your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire with every thrust, with every touch. 

“Gods Xavier, s-so good for me.” The words leave your mouth with a desperate tone as static fills your mind. The sounds leaving him are music to your ears as you swivel your hips, feeling him twitch inside you, delirious kisses being left across your shoulder. 

“‘m close, so close.” His words spur you as you slam your hips down, going even faster. 

“Fill me up Xavier.” You bite his ear as the pressure in your core unravels once more, your muscles spasming as you squeeze around him.

“Fuck I-” He doesn’t finish his sentence as the rhythm between you falters. You feel warmth fill you, painting your insides, dripping beneath you. You ride out your orgasms together, panting, desperately trying to catch your breaths. You lean up, your lips meeting his as you come down from your high together. You pull away just far enough to meet his eyes, gently brushing the hair from his forehead. A gentle smile braces his lips, his hands massaging your aching thighs.

“God, you drive me insane.” His voice is breathless, exhaustion evident on his features.

“Good, I’m doing my job well then.” You give him a soft, teasing grin.

“I love you sweetheart.” 

“I love you too baby. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?” You exchange a few slow, lazy kisses before you lift yourself off of him with a soft groan. You feel the wetness drip down your thigh as you attempt to stand, but your legs betray you with their shakiness and you have to brace yourself on the bed. You hear a tired chuckle before Xavier stands up beside you, lifting you into his arms before carrying you to the bathroom.

I Exist to Nobody (but you.) – Part 1

Summary: You meet your soulmate on a serendipitous afternoon in your grandparents' backyard.

And on all levels except physical, Xavier is a normal boy.

Word Count: 4.2k

Tags: fem!reader x xavier, you x xavier (no use of Y/N), imaginary friend AU, imaginaryfriend!xavier, childhood friends (to lovers, but not in this chapter!), themes of codependency?, lil sprinkle of family issues lol, growing up, time skips as a plot device, again– pretty self-indulgent 

A/N: I understand that AUs aren’t everyone’s cup of tea and that’s okay! Xavier’s always been a comfort character to me and I wanted to write something different for him, which led to this baby <3 

(art + banners are made by urs truly x)

Part I

You stand a little over three feet, and your hair is in braids. 

You’re wearing your Sunday special; a pretty purple dress with a frilly skirt and your favorite pair of stripe-print leggings. Your sparkly jelly ballerinas have been long since discarded somewhere in the grass as you run barefoot in your grandparents’ backyard. 

You’re playing hopscotch by yourself, with the family Shiba for company. The sky is starting to turn into a pretty orange hue and you hear your mom calling from inside the house when you see something white move from the corner of your eye. 

With all the curiosity befitting a four-year-old, your tiny feet carry you in the direction where you saw it; near the mossy undergrowth, beneath the canopy shade of the old Kousa dogwood tree that stood for more than four generations behind the residential building you’d spent some days hiding in when you didn’t want to go back inside for dinner. 

It’s as safe a spot to you as it is familiar, so it takes you by surprise when you find something unexpected; in the form of a small, pale boy with hair the color of rain clouds in the summer, sitting with his legs up to his chin, looking like one of those little elves in your fairytale books. 

A pair of blue eyes meet yours, alight in childlike wonder.

_____

Xavier doesn’t know how he came to be; just that he’s now present in this plane of existence, in the phantom body of a four-year-old boy, in a place he knows human beings call a back-yard. 

He knows this—just as he knows things on an objective level; like what a house is, what the creature covered in fur is called (a small wolf), or what a human girl looks like. 

What he doesn’t understand is the knee-jerk reaction to hide when his sudden appearance catches your attention, which brings him to his current attempt at concealing himself amidst a thicket; beneath the tree with star-like blooms. 

He doesn’t account for the beating of his heart when your searching gaze lands on him, nor the unfamiliar excitement of being seen feels like. 

“Hi!” You finally exclaim after a few seconds of consideration, squatting down in front of him. Xavier notices that you’re missing a front tooth when you give him a big smile. He also notices how his heartbeat quickens at the sight. “Are you an elf?!” 

“No,” he responds quietly. “I’m human. I think.” 

His voice sounds odd to his ears. 

“Oh,” you say with an undercurrent of disappointment. “Well, that’s okay! I’m human too!”

You say it with such enthusiasm that Xavier’s lips pull up in a hesitant smile.

Bouncing back up to your feet, you pat away the nonexistent dirt from your dress and extend a hand towards him. “D’you wanna play with me? Oh, oh—we can play hide-and-seek! You seek, I hide!” 

You're off to run somewhere before he could answer. He doesn't know what hide-and-seek entails, nor what it means to be amongst the living.

He doesn’t know that many things, but he thinks he’d like to know more about you.  

___

You head inside the house after your mom calls you for a fourth time, her voice straining in (rising) agitation. Towing behind you is your new (best!) friend, who you decide is joining you for dinner.

 

“This is Xavier!” You point at the boy sitting on the chair you dragged near yours, eyes wide as he takes in the spread on the table in front of him. “I saw him outside and we played hide-and-seek!”

  

Your mom exchanges a look with your grandmother. She glances at the chair beside you, then at you. 

She sees your wide grin. Resigned, she sighs and smiles indulgently. 

“Hello, Xavier.” 

The boy perks up at that. She could also–?

…No. 

It’s not obvious at first glance. But when he studies the expression of the woman who shares the same nose and chin as his new friend, he notices that her eyes look past him. Not at him. 

Xavier falters upon realizing the… facade. He is aware that his form isn’t as corporeal compared to yours. His skin has a certain translucent quality to it, more obvious under the stark, fluorescent lighting. The manner in which he moves isn’t unlike the minute particles floating in the air; more buoyant, less solid. Less tangible. Less aliv–

You squeal in excitement, and he’s distracted. He watches as you turn in your seat to face him– to look straight into his eyes and tell him—

“I’m your bestest friend now, okay?” 

You say it as a statement; like a promise. And for a second, he feels more present in the world.

So you are. His bestest friend. 

Xavier’s chest feels warm; he likes the sound of that. 

___

“Grandpa, Xavier says your beard looks funny!”

“Huh? Who’zat??” 

_____

You learn the concept of an imaginary friend after introducing Xavier to person number six, who happens to be your preschool teacher. 

You overhear her discussing boring adult stuff with your mom when the latter comes to pick you up after school. You and Xavier are in a corner, playing princess and knight. It’s just the two of you, away from the other kids, since your friends refused to join when you’d asked them if they wanted to play too. 

Or rather— they don’t think it’s fair that you just made someone up to be the knight, and have them play the villains. 

That confused you. You also notice how it made your best friend sad. So in the end, you decided that you don’t need anyone else! Xavier is already the best knight who is now also an evil dragon.

“Honey, don’t you want to play with your other classmates?” Your teacher, Miss Dahlia, asks you as she and your mom amble closer to where you and Xavier are; her tone gentle, yet careful. 

You shake your head, a ‘harrumph!’ leaving your mouth. “They didn’t wanna play villains with us. But ‘sokay, Xavier is an evil knight dragon now.” 

Miss Dahlia smiles the same smile your mother gave you at dinner last night. “Oh, of course, sweetie. But maybe you and… Xavier can find someone else to join you?” 

Your brows furrow, starting to feel irritated about the whole thing. “I told you, they don’t wanna! They said they dun’ wanna have someone made up play the knight!” 

Your mom sighs and the two share a look. 

After a moment of hesitation, your teacher begins to explain how your friends “may not be able to see” Xavier since he’s special and only appears to you. That “It’s good you’re being very independent, sweetie, as long as you don’t let Xavier prevent you from hanging out with your actual friends.”

Because, according to Miss Dahlia, he’s just an imaginary friend. 

You blink, not understanding. Xavier is silent beside you. “Huh?” 

You’re looking at the boy in question, trying to make sense of how the other kids—and apparently, everyone else—can’t see him when he’s sitting right there. You don’t understand, and it’s making you more annoyed. 

So the moment Miss Dahlia finishes talking, you tell her that you’re happy playing with just Xavier, and that you’re gonna continue to play princess and evil knight dragon now, please and thank you. 

___

Back home, you and your imaginary friend lie starfish on the floor of your bedroom. You stay quiet while you count the barely visible water spots on your ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

He doesn’t. 

Feeling fidgety, you break the silence. “They don’t see you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” 

“But I see you.” You stress the word, turning on your left to look at Xavier when you say it. 

“Yes,” He agrees, twisting his head to the right so that he’s facing you too. You try to figure out how he’s feeling about the situation—with all the naivety of a child your age—but his expression doesn’t give much away. 

You’re about to ask him directly when, finally, his lips curve into a small smile. A knot loosens in your chest.

“Don’t worry,” Xavier assures you. “That’s enough for me.” 

_____

You lost another round of hide-and-seek.

“‘S not fair,” you grouse, stomping a foot in frustration. “You always find me so fast!”

“We could always play tag instead,” Xavier offers. 

“As if you don’t win at tag too!” 

_____

It’s another bright, sunny Tuesday and your mom leaves you with her usual instruction to behave well for Mrs Dela Peña, a kind—albeit a little strict—lady in her mid-seventies who lives a block away from your house, and your babysitter since you were in diapers. You’re eight now, and starting to make heads with your multiplication tables, but your mom still thinks you’re a big baby that needs looking after. 

You think you’re old enough to be left alone during your summer break when she has to go to work, but she refuses to leave you by your lonesome no matter how much you insist. 

“I have Xavier with me anyway!” 

Your mom just shakes her head whenever you use that as an argument, not bothering with a response. 

So with the usual pout on your face, you stand at the front door with your arms crossed as you grudgingly bid your mother goodbye. 

“–and don’t forget to eat all your greens later for lunch, okay?” She reminds you one last time before giving you a wet kiss on the forehead. You scrunch your nose as you wipe it off. “Love you, honey. I’ll be home by six.” 

And off she goes. You turn to face Xavier—whose hair is a little longer now, almost past his chin, but with eyes the same shade of marble blue—and complain, “She always treats me like a little kid!” 

“But you are a kid,” he tells you, sounding a little confused by your ire. “And it’s normal for parents to care for their children, no matter how old they are.” 

You grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “I know, but you’re supposed to be on my side.” 

“I am on your side,” Xavier says, blinking innocently. “I tell you when Mrs Dela Peña isn’t looking so you could hide your broccoli before she sees.” 

He does make for a good lookout. You divert the subject. 

“Okay, whatever. But we’re still on Project: Veggie Throw, right?” You ask him, excitement replacing the crabbiness from a moment ago.

Xavier hums in assent, both him and you sharing the same aversion for all things leafy and (barely) edible, despite the other one’s inability to eat. 

Apparently, just explaining to him the yuckiness of a watercress salad is enough for him to take your side of things. 

Xavier sneaks into the kitchen—quiet as a mouse, as usual—to observe the old woman who’s starting to prepare for lunch. He notes the celery stalks being chopped on a wooden board and makes a sound of disgust.

The little phantom boy waits until the woman finishes the rest of the vegetables to put on a corner before calling out to you:

“The veggies are contained in one spot, agent. Over.” 

Your head pops out to peek from behind the wall that connects to the kitchen. Xavier, who’s now sitting cross-legged on the countertop close to the awning window, waves you towards the sink while Mrs Dela Peña’s busy taking something out of the fridge. 

Trying your best to move swiftly before she could catch you in the act, you zip straight to where the sliced vegetables are, bath towel ready to snatch them away when—

“There’s that tuxedo cat again from yesterday,” Xavier casually comments, peering through the open blinds. “I think he’s brought a friend this time.”

Like second nature, you respond without thinking, “You mean Mr Snuffles?”

“...”

“...”

“Oh, I didn't see you there, sweetie!” Mrs Dela Peña exclaims, eyes crinkling from the smile that graces her face as she sees your frozen form over by the aromatics. “Would you like to help with the cooking? Oh-ho! Be a dear now and soak those mung beans in water, will you?” 

“... Sorry,” Xavier sheepishly offers, then shrinks down from your betrayed look. 

You end up on stir duty. The large pot filled with beans and green produce seems to bubble ominously as you’re forced to listen to the same story about Mrs Dela Peña’s neighbor for the nth time. 

An apologetic Xavier dutifully recites to you the play-by-play on how Mr Snuffles and his racoon friend are rummaging through the trash bins as penance, and you swear to be more conscious of your audience next time you’re speaking to your invisible friend. 

_____

You’re in fourth grade, and exam week is coming up.

You look at the textbooks that are laid neatly on the living room table, untouched. Then at the TV. Maybe you could sneak in one episode before—

“No screen time before you finish studying, dearie!” An older Mrs Dela Peña calls out from the kitchen, apparently having a sixth sense for children and their sneaky ways. “Your mother wants you to complete the set of exercises she’s left for you there before you watch your an-e-mays.” 

Groaning in response, you let your head fall down onto the table with a thunk. “But it’s booooring!”

Xavier hums sympathetically, patting your head with a spectral hand. “I can read beside you. Do you want me to ask you the questions?” 

“I want to watch Killua beat those guys at dodgeball,” you sulk, voice coming out a little muffled against the oakwood surface. “Not memorize dates from, like, a hundred years ago.” 

“Killua isn’t here to help you with The Revolution, I am.” You’re caught off-guard by the shortness in Xavier’s tone, enough to raise your head to stare at your friend curiously. He keeps his gaze fixed on the questionnaire in front of him. 

Wait. That gives you an idea.

“I think I know how you could help me, Xavi,” You say slowly, excitement creeping in your voice. Why haven’t you thought of this before??

The pouting boy tilts his head in confusion. You start explaining what you have in store for him for the next couple of days, and before you even finish your spiel, the pout is gone and Xavier’s nodding along with your plan, seeming to be fully on board. 

The idea that his… nonphysicality could finally be of use to you has him feeling oddly giddy. You, on the other hand, look identical to a cat that ate the canary as you reach for the remote. 

Seems like you’ll be able to watch your second favorite pale-haired boy after all. 

___

You’ve been asked to stay after class, two days before the end of midterms. 

Your history teacher has been on it with your adviser for a while now, in a heated argument about your test results. Well, yours and another student in your class. 

“How is that even possible? He’s sitting three rows behind her!” 

“I don’t know how she did it, but they even got the same answer to the third essay down to the last sentence!” 

You and your partner-in-crime share a look of alarm. Uh-oh.

Any attempts at making you fess up led to nowhere. You keep denying all claims of cheating, and your adviser recalls nothing that could warrant suspicion on the day of your World History exam. 

Without enough conclusive evidence of your dishonesty for them to be able to pin the blame on you and call it a day, their resolution to this ‘conundrum’ is to have you take another test in the faculty office tomorrow after school, under the watchful eyes of two (wary) teachers. 

-

-

-

You let Xavier help you one last time—by relaying to you the answers from the paper tucked between two books on your teacher’s desk—before deciding that it’s probably for the best if you refrain from using your invisible friend for anything that could cause you more trouble in the long run; especially on the remaining days left of midterm week. 

Xavier looks deflated, but agrees. (The pout is back, though.) 

_____

“Where’d you get the name Xavier anyway?”

“It came to me in a dream,” he says cryptically. His face betrays nothing, so you can't figure out whether he’s telling the truth or just messing with you. 

“... Right.”

Xavier hides a smile. 

_____

“Hey, what are they talking about?” You ask Xavier from your perch on top of the staircase. You’ve been eavesdropping on the conversation downstairs for a while now, but you could barely make sense of the words being thrown around except for a couple of bad ones. 

Xavier cocks his head to the side, trying to listen in as well, before deciding to just transport himself closer to the source. 

Your dad, a man that you’ve spent considerably less time with compared to your grandfather (or basically everybody else, for that matter), came to visit today for reasons that aren’t really clear to you. But judging from the hushed whispers and periodic bouts of angry shouting down the living room, it isn’t for anything good. 

Your mom frequently uses the term “deadbeat”, and sometimes when she’s really in a mood, “a good-for-nothing waste of a man” when describing your father. You don’t have much of a relationship with him to feel offended on his behalf so you just nod along and agree when your mom goes off in a tirade.

You wonder sometimes, how things would be if you had a dad. A better one, perhaps. The kind of dad that picks you up after school in an SUV, just like how the dads from your class do for their kids. Or someone that’d take longer “shifts” at work to bring home enough to take care of the family, like how your mom does.

You wonder what it would be like to spend the holidays with another parent – the three of you welcoming New Years at home with a bunch of round fruits and maybe some sparklers, instead of having to sleep early at your grandparents’ house. 

Xavier floats back to your side after a few minutes, face set in a frown. “They’re saying something along the lines of moving somewhere nearer the city and finalizing the papers for the divorce. Your father’s talking about remarrying, as well.” 

It’s relayed to you in monotone, like someone reading off a script—or reciting exactly what they’ve heard sans the curse words—that it takes you a moment to process the information. 

After a beat, the only thing that comes out of you is a small, “oh.”

“Are you… okay?” 

It doesn't take much time for you to shake your head, along with the passing pipe dream you’ve entertained, if only for a few short minutes. 

You stand up from your crouched position near the top banister, leaving your little hiding spot to go back to your room. Xavier follows. 

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a shrug. “Do you wanna read Nightwing with me?” 

He agrees, of course. If he curls up closer to you when you stay up later that night to stare quietly at the glowing stars on your bedroom walls, neither of you brings it up in the morning.

_____

You had a fight with your mother earlier today. Xavier’s with you while you sit quietly on the tire swing behind your house. 

“Would you come with me if I go someplace far away from ‘ere?” 

“How far do you want to go?” 

“I dunno,” you shrug half-heartedly. “It’d be cool if we could go live on a planet of our own, don’cha think?” 

“Just the two of us?”

“Yeah. Somewhere I can just…” You struggle to find the words, but you settle on– “Breathe, I guess.” 

A flock of birds fly eastward. Envy colors you green as you think about the fact that they could call any place home without being tied down to a single location. 

“I’d like that,” Xavier smiles. “Maybe we could, one day. Once mankind improves the means for intergalactic travel.” 

“...Whatever you say, Xavi.” 

_____

It's your twelfth birthday.

You’re sitting at the head of the table surrounded by friends and family as they sing you a happy birthday. In front of you is a sunflower yellow buttercream cake with rainbow sprinkles and two lit candles in the shape of a large ONE and TWO. 

“Happy birthday to you,”

You watch your friends; girls in school that you grew up with since kindergarten, and some boys that you’ve climbed trees with during lunch breaks. Almost all of them have already gone through one or two phases over the course of years you’ve known them, and some you consider your closer friends are even acting a little distant as of late, already outgrowing old interests that you’d once shared. 

Even the general consensus on shows like Adventure Time and Spongebob has changed drastically ever since they all started watching Disney Channel. Flashy cell phones and handheld consoles are traded in place of old Barbie dolls and LeapFrog books; the latter are now kept hidden inside a dusty box underneath the bed, like forgotten relics of a simpler time.

“Happy birthday to youuu,”

They look different now, too. Some shot up in height, others gained a measly few inches. Some ditched the braids in exchange for a shag cut. The cooler kids even started wearing makeup. 

(You think you’d like to try putting on eyeliner if your mom wasn’t so strict.)

“Happy birthday, dear– ouch!” A yelp. “Jeremy, you dumdum, stop moving the cake too much!” 

Your gaze then shifts to your right, almost instinctively, to a space that all your other guests would find empty.

There, always by your side, your best friend remains the same as ever. Not the same in the sense that he looked the way he did when you first saw him eight years ago in your grandparents’ backyard, no. You’re not blind to the changes he’s gone through, in stages similar to your own. 

He’s grown taller, for one; almost as tall as you are now. The chub in his cheeks lost some of its roundness, and his limbs are lankier. His hair went through phases of being short, long, and the awkward in-between. When you had asked a couple years back how he’s able to change the length of it without going to a salon, he simply said he does it “to match yours when you do.” 

All-in-all, his physical appearance passes as a regular twelve-year-old boy, if not for the slight ‘otherworldly’ aspect one could probably… overlook. So ‘the same’ isn’t really how you’d describe him. 

“–happy biiirthday to youuu!” 

Xavier mouths the song along with the people in your life, his gaze trained on you the entire time. You look into the same galaxy-blue that you’ve associated with home, comfort, and just Xavier in every way—and you understand.

Constant. The word you're looking for is constant. 

You blow out your candles, wishing it could last forever. 

_____

“Don’t you think you’re getting a little too old for an imaginary friend, dear?” 

_____

Xavier finds you up the roof one rainy afternoon. You look like you’ve been crying. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach from the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. He sidles beside you, close enough that his right side almost merges with your left. 

(He’d like to imagine that you could feel him—as a source of warmth, of comfort to you while you shiver from both the cold and the heavy emotions weighing you down. He wishes he could be more than just a presence.)

“M-mom said that,” you sniff, angrily rubbing away the wetness in your eyes with the back of your hand. “–tha’ when I grow older, you won’t show up anymore.

That—that you’d be gone, ‘cos imaginary friends don’t stay with you when you’re all grown up.” Your bottom lip wobbles by the end of your sentence. 

A dark rain cloud looms overhead, signaling the coming of a storm stronger than the current downpour that’s drenching you to the bone. 

“You won’t leave me, would you, Xavi?” You whisper, turning to gaze at your dearest friend with greedy eyes, committing his form to memory, just in case he– “You won’t disappear on me, right?” 

There’s a crackle of energy in the air; a drop in temperature that causes the fine hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end.

“I don’t want you to ever go away.” 

(Neither does he.)

Something builds up inside Xavier. A desire, a need stronger than the limitations of the circumstance he’s dealt with since the beginning of his existence. It’s as vast and tumultuous as the birth of a star, and equally as brilliant. 

(He wants, he needs, he wishes–)

An answer from the high heavens comes in the form of a lightning strike, illuminating the world in a blinding veil of white for less than a second. The resounding “crack!” feels like a blessing. Like an affirmation from the court of gods listening in on the boy’s plea. 

A boon is granted, born from an ambition so great. And for a moment, Xavier burns brighter than any of the billion pinpricks of light in the night sky. 

-

-

-

On a roof, two children sit facing each other under a raging tempest, threads of fate tying them together in an unbreakable bond. 

Snip.

Something falls into place. 

“Never,” he vows. “I’ll always be with you. Forever.” 

My boy, sweetest joy I’ve known ;-;

11.11 ~ Pocky Day

Read ⬇ then ⬅ (I'm sorry, I know my doodle formats are all over the place every time X'D)

=====

A little continuation from a doodle back when Unique Aftertaste was announced. Just so happen that it's also 11.11 atm, aka Pocky Day (in Japan) xd

vampire: My darling, my eternal flame, my heart's joy taken human form... you simply must drink water your blood tastes like shit.

Ghosts of the Vast Sky

Why do we fear stars?

They might seem all beautiful, glimmering dots

That light up the night sky but

Are they what they show they are?

Are they brightening up the dark sky or

Are they just reminding us of the past

Showcasing the passing and experiences of the millions of years ago.

They just remind us that we don’t lose our spark even after we combust.

(My first og post ... never put out my content or poems ever on internet .. so hopefully you guys like it ... [super secret - i used to be a wattpad writer] : > )

(hopefully i am gonna write and post over here .... )

---

A Special Night

Content: Fluff, nonsexual nudity that's really just one sentence

You stumble your way to your apartment door. Colors fill your vision, and the pressure in your head makes you want to cry. You ran around Linkon City chasing potential wanderers without the chance to eat or rest all day. To make matters worse, some of the civilians affected by wanderer attacks lashed out at you for not making it to their businesses in time to prevent damage. You are beyond exhausted to the point to where you can barely speak. On your way back to the apartment building, the only form of communication you could manage with Xavier was a brief text:

I’m on my way home. Everything hurts. I just want to go to bed. 

You open your door to see Xavier standing in your living room. Fairy lights twinkle across the TV and along the walls. You also see all your most comfy blankets covering the couch in front of the paused title card of your favorite movie. You look at Xavier with raised brows and your jaw slightly ajar. You don’t need to say any words for Xavier to understand what you’re thinking. “What is all this?” your expression says for you. 

Xavier gives you a peck on the cheek. “Tara called to tell me what happened today, so I wanted to surprise you. You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you tonight.” 

Before you know it, tears run down your face. You lean against Xavier’s shoulder and begin to cry. “Thank you,” you manage to whimper. 

Xavier rubs your back as he embraces your sore body. “Please don’t cry, and there’s no need to thank me. I’m here for you.” Xavier leads you first to the kitchen where he has dinner waiting for you on the table. It’s not hot pot, but braised chicken wings from a local restaurant. “Eat first. You’ll feel much better after eating something.” He, then, hands you a glass of water that you down in seconds. You don’t have to worry about lifting a finger. Xavier fills your glass again and hands you utensils, napkins, whatever you need before you can even ask. You eat to your heart’s content, and your headache begins to dull. 

Once you finish your meal, Xavier immediately picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. “What are you doing?” you ask.

“Helping you get a bath,” Xavier says nonchalantly. “We can’t watch the movie until we’re both comfortable in our pajamas. I’ll even wash and dry your hair for you.” 

You are unable to protest. Xavier begins undressing you as he waits for water to fill the tub. You sigh in relief when he removes your shirt. Your arms are so sore that you knew you could not lift them enough to take your shirt off yourself. You could forget washing your hair. “I don’t deserve you,” you say. Xavier kneels beside you as you sit on the edge of the tub. He takes your hands into his. Your cheeks turn red when you process he is making this gesture while both of you are naked. 

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” he says, his azure eyes softening even more as he meets your gaze. Your exhaustion melts away as you admire his warmth and gentleness. “You have helped me more times than I can count when I was injured while hunting. It is a privilege to do the same and more for you. My purpose in this life is to take care of you to the best of my ability.” His words touch your heart so much that you tear up from happiness a second time that night. 

You and Xavier take a quick, warm bath. True to his word, he washes and dries your hair for you. He also grabs your pajamas from the bedroom, so you wouldn’t have to walk all the way over there to get them. Once the two of you are warm and dry, Xavier carries you to the couch where he tucks the two of you in under the blankets. 

You lean against Xavier’s chest as you both watch the movie in silence. His warmth, the dimness of the fairy lights, a full belly, and the peace from watching your comfort movie cause you to nod off. You catch yourself from falling asleep in an attempt to stay awake, at least until the end of the movie. You don’t want this perfect night to end. Not yet. However, Xavier notices your struggle to remain conscious. 

“Starlight,” he whispers, “are you ready to go to bed?” 

“Nooo,” you mumble. “I want to stay awake. We have to finish the movie.” Xavier chuckles as he kisses your forehead. 

“Alright, but I’m bringing you to bed the moment you fall asleep.” You really try to keep your eyes open. You want to appreciate every second of this thoughtful night that Xavier gifted to you, but, unfortunately, you are just too tired. It is about half a minute before you pass out from your exhaustion. Your body goes limp on top of Xavier, falling into a deep sleep. He caresses your face, giving you one more kiss before bringing you to bed. That night, you have the best sleep you ever had in years. 

Originally for my friend in the LaDs server I’m in.

After learning about Xavier's myth, finally, I'm feeling soft for him. Meanwhile I mostly started liking Xav more already because of my friend. So now I'm going to be soft about him on main.

When the light of the early morning sun filtered gently through the curtains of your apartment, you awoke to the feeling of an arm slung over your waist. Cradled gently in Xavier's arms, you carefully turn over to look at him. It wasn't as though seeing his sleeping face was uncommon, but it was as novel as the first time you'd been graced with the sight.

Despite his nature, Xavier always tried his best to be awake to spend time with you. Your hunting partner even had his notification volume at a decibel you were certain no one else ever would just to make sure he didn't miss your texts and calls when you were apart.

You couldn't help yourself and brushed your fingers over his forehead, brushing back the hair covering the skin there to plant a tender kiss on the uncovered area. A giggle had to be stifled when his nose scrunched a little and he pulled you deeper into his embrace, inadvertently forcing you to bury your face in his shoulder. There was a happy hum, barely there, when Xavier finished shifting you to be closer. The feeling was a bit ticklish as the vibrations of the noise rumbled in his throat.

You decided the dawn was too early to rise and begin the day, especially when your prince still yet slept. So you slowly sunk deeper into the peaceful quiet Xavier brought you and returned to the land of dreams to greet your lover. The noon sun would be next to bring you back to the waking world. Plenty of time to frolic in starlit fields with the man who would give you his everything just to make you happy.

The next you woke, the feeling of soft hands and softer kisses brought you into wakefulness. Xavier's fleeting touches gentling you into the waking world. "Good morning, my star. The night was long, but you were there in my dreams. So it wasn't too bad being asleep all this time," were the first words to light upon still sleep drowned ears. "Good morning, Xavier," you got out sleepily, smiling when he responded with another kiss; this time on the lips.

"We could stay here. There's still time," Xavier began. "Whatever you decide, whatever you want- I want that, too."

"We could. Buuut- I'm sure you're hungry by now," was your reply. Which was promptly met by a still bleary-eyed look of eagerness, your bunny-like boyfriend enjoying the idea of eating. "I've got you." And then you were being carefully scooped up into his arms and set down. He shuffled forward, holding you up while still rubbing the remaining drowsiness from sleep-soft features. The rest of the short noontime was spent in such a way. The two of you groggily moving together, Xavier taking care to hold up most of your weight and thoughtfully move thing and hand them to you when necessary. It was sweet. Your sleepy boy doing his best to help your equally sleepy self, holding onto you tight all the while.

He gave you a silent look of apology while you made breakfast, wishing he could do it for you. But while he was highly capable as a hunter, the kitchen was certainly not a battlefield he could brave. Which meant that whenever you caught glances of him whilst moving about the kitchen, you saw his eyes stuck to your form. Xavier's eyes never once strayed, watching you now that he was given the opportunity to stare. You were perfect in his eyes. So strong, so capable- Even able to do things he couldn't. You couldn't help matching his hopeless smile, teeth peeking out before your hand covered the upward curve of your lips. This was met with a pout and a certain hunter stalking towards you to move your hand. "Don't do that. I like your smile."

You were cheesing again. Silly man.

An entire day off spent together is a day well spent, no matter how you chose to fill those precious few hours.

A movie together, dinner, getting ready for bed...

Laying down with him, arms once again secure around your middle and face nuzzling into your nape with a tender "I love you", you wanted to do it all over again. All the simple and mundane days you got to spend with your shooting star that made all your wishes come true. You'd gather up all the stardust of the quiet moments together until next you could hold this fleeting star in your arms.

hii, im really a sucker for arguments/angst imagine HAHA can I please have a request for LaDS guys where they made you flinch in an argument (^_^;)

LaDS men when you flinch during an argument

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader

content: arguments, hurt/comfort, misunderstandings if you squint

a/n: small break from the silly

Xavier

Xavier usually didn’t get worked up during arguments, he’d just observe.

He’d listen to everything you had to say, taking the words to heart but trying not to engage too much, especially when he noticed you were starting to get more animated.

This time, however, was different.

He was upset and he wanted you to know.

He wasn’t raising his voice, he wasn’t being mean or mocking but his face gave his inner conflict away.

You weren’t backing down and neither was he.

“I can hold my own and you know that Xavier, you’ve seen me in action.”

His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed by you,

“I’m not doubting that, not doubting you, I just need to know that you won’t get hurt.”

It’s like you two were talking right past each other,

“I won’t, we don’t need to be attached at the hip for you to know that!”

He turned around quickly,

“Yes but I want to be able to reach you quickly, to get to you in time-“

He took a fast, heavy step towards you, wanting you to see the sincerity and genuine concern on his face, what he didn’t anticipate was for you to flinch at his sudden approach.

He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he just… looked at you.

You stared up at him, hands balled up in front of you and he felt immense regret wash over him.

“You…”

He started but couldn’t finish the sentence, being at a loss for words.

You lowered your hands, trying to adapt a more relaxed stance,

“Xavier, I didn’t mean to…”

His head hung low now, his eyes covered by his bangs.

You could see his shoulders rise and fall with uneven breaths.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

“Xavier…”

You tried again, softer this time.

He didn’t respond, he was standing there, the internal conflict in his mind clear.

When his gaze finally met yours again, his expression left you breathless.

It wasn’t what you had expected, it wasn’t anger, not disappointed but aching.

“I would never…”

The words left him quietly, not able to voice out what exactly had gone down just now.

“I need you to believe that.”

“I do,”

You blurted out,

“It’s not your fault. You just surprised me and I-“

“I scared you.”

He finished for you.

“Even if I didn’t do it on purpose, I can’t just say that, that’s okay with me.”

You took a careful step closer, tension between the two of you starting to ease.

Xavier didn’t move, he just watched.

“I know you’re not trying to control me,”

You said.

“But I need you to trust the decisions I make. And that I can take care of myself and still come back to you.”

“I trust you.”

He murmured,

“But what if something happens and I’m not there? What if I won’t be able to reach you in time-“

He swallowed the “again” that was about to slip him,

He took a small breath and then looked down at his hands.

“…can I touch you?”

He asked, hesitantly.

“Just- your hand. If it’s okay.”

You immediately softened at that.

You nodded, yes.

“Of course.”

He inched closer, steps slow, making sure you took in every one of his movements.

His hand reached for yours, getting a hold of it as if it were something fragile.

He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb in an attempt to ground himself.

“I’m sorry.”

You held onto his hand tightly, squeezing.

“I’m glad you’re being open about your concern but don’t try and decide for me. You want to protect me and I want to protect you.”

The ghost of a smile showed on his lips.

He leaned closer, close enough for your breaths to mingle.

He whispered,

“I want to figure this out with you.”

And this time, when his hand lifted to touch your cheek, you leaned into it without hesitation.

Zayne

The silence between you and Zayne hung heavy in the hospital room, occasionally interrupted by the soft hums of the equipment around the room.

Your boyfriend had been trying, trying to get through to you.

Telling you to stop pushing your limits, to stop taking unnecessary risks.

Yet you brushed him off everytime.

And now the consequences sat between the two of you.

“You could’ve gotten seriously injured.”

His voice was laced with restrained emotion.

Your eyes were looking at everything but him, hands clenched into fists at your sides.

“I know. I just didn’t think-“

“Exactly. You didn’t think.”

He interrupted you, voice sharper than what you were used to.

His eyes were cold behind his glasses,

“I kept trying to tell you-“

He went to adjust his glasses, hand raising.

But out of instinct, you flinched at the sudden movement.

It wasn’t a big reaction, barely a twitch but it was enough to gain Zayne’s attention.

He froze.

His face fell and any trace of anger and disappointment gone.

Instead, it was replaced by hurt.

He started,

“I wasn’t going to-“

A shaky exhale left him,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Zayne stood awkwardly, his shoulders were tense, guilt reflecting in his eyes.

You looked up at him.

“It’s okay.”

Your eyes met, relief finally easing onto his face.

Still, he didn’t dare to move.

“…are you sure?”

You nodded, a small smile gracing your lips.

That’s when he stepped forward.

This time, not to lecture and to fight but just to be there.

Rafayel

A storm cloud was starting to form in the room.

The tension thick because of something more akin to a misunderstanding than an argument. At least that’s how Rafayel saw it.

He was gesturing animatedly, his voice was getting a little more heated than intended as he tried to explain himself, it was unusual for him to get so worked up over something he himself considered trivial.

Your arms were crossed, your brows were furrowed, frustration written on your face.

With one especially sudden swing of his arm, you flinched.

You stepped back a bit and Rafayel felt himself freeze as his words were caught in his throat.

He was staring at you, confusion and concern displayed on his face.

“Why?”

His voice had quieted down, soft.

“What… why did you react like that?”

You couldn’t immediately answer.

You were standing still, feeling guilty at that urge that had overcome you.

It was an instinctive reaction, not something you had realised in time to stop.

Rafayel hesitated, he could feel his hands twitch with the urge to reach out to you, wanting to comfort you but doubt filled his mind.

He was torn between wanting to pull you close and giving you the space you might’ve needed.

“Have I ever made you feel unsafe?”

His question wasn’t meant to make you feel guilty, it was sincere, making your heartbreak even more.

The raw vulnerability in his tone simply had your heart aching.

His question hung between you two, it was his way of asking for reassurance.

You shook your head, whispering,

“No,”

You put your hand over your heart,

“No, Rafayel. Never. I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

You could see some of the tension leave him.

The next time his eyes found yours, they were filled with the light echo of relief but also a hint of regret.

“I shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that.”

He stepped closer, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist, an attempt to test the waters.

“Can I… hold you? Or do you want some space?”

You offered him a small, comforting smile,

“Come here, you big baby.”

A sigh of relief left him and he stepped closer to pull you into an embrace.

His hand brushed through your hair, as if attempting to make all your pain and sorrows go away.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispered against your ear, his voice low and sincere.

Sylus

Sylus and you stood opposite of each other, his face was devoid of any emotion but you could see his eyes, dark with frustration, showing his true feelings.

You went on a mission he warned you about, recklessly pushing ahead without considering any risks.

And lo and behold, it had gone sideways.

His arms were crossed over his chest and his breath came in sharp, controlled bursts.

“Do you think this is a game?”

His voice was firm, his words sharp.

“I told you not to go, not alone, and what do you do?”

“I could handle it.”

Cutting him off, you tried to stand your ground, though you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

As he let out a frustrated exhale, he threw his hand up, running it through his hair.

His movement was so fast and controlled, that you couldn’t help but flinch back, instinctively shrinking away.

The man facing you froze.

For a moment that felt far longer than it actually was, the room felt suffocating.

He stared at you with wide eyes, caught between something you couldn’t quite make out and something softer, something making his chest ache.

He felt overwhelmed by guilt.

“You know, Id never hurt you, right?”

His question was barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, frustration replaced by something more vulnerable.

Your answer was caught in your throat.

You felt his gaze on you, watching you carefully, analysing your every move like you were something fragile, small.

Something to protect.

After a second, Sylus took a step back, creating some space between the two of you, giving you room to breathe.

He felt the weight of his actions making his shoulders sag.

He wanted to reach out, make sure you were okay but something in the back of his mind told him not, to not scare you further.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The regret in his voice shining through,

“I was worried. And I often don’t know how to get that through to you without pushing.”

You lowered your head, letting his words settle, understanding him.

“I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking it seriously. I was just-“

You stopped yourself, inhaling, to collect your thoughts,

“I guess I just didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t handle it.”

Sylus watched you, his features softening.

He quietly said,

“You’re strong.”

A slow exhale,

“But you should know you have nothing to prove to me. All I ask for is to know that you’re safe.”

You searched for his eyes, finding worry and care still there.

They were always there.

Under all of it, even on the rare occasions that his frustrations got the better of him.

He muttered an apology, slowly closing the space between you.

“This won’t happen again.”

He kept up the eye contact as his hand reached out.

You didn’t flinch this time.

It came to rest on your shoulder, the slight pressure from his heavy hand grounding you.

It felt like an unspoken promise between the two of you.

He’d be by your side no matter what.

Caleb

Caleb’s voice was thick with concern, frustration and something he tried not to reveal to you often: fear.

He wasn’t one to argue, never one to raise his voice or escalate things, not when it came to you.

But this, this was about your safety and he couldn’t just stand to the side and not do anything.

“You’re not listening to me.”

His voice was steady, yet the edges let his worry show.

“You could’ve been hurt and you don’t even seem to care.”

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, brows furrowed.

You didn’t want to back down, wanting to stand your ground but you knew he was only acting like this because he cared.

Yet the ache of knowing he still doubted your capabilities pushed you to keep going.

“I can take care of myself.”

You said, frustration overtaking your voice,

“You’ve seen me in action before.”

In a moment of bad judgment, he thrust his arm out to emphasise his point, the movement swift.

Before he could even finish speaking, you flinched.

Caleb halted at that, words dying in his throat, eyes widening in realisation.

He felt his chest constrict slightly, breath hitching.

No, I-“

His voice cracked as he took a step back, face twisted in a display of guilt.

“I’m so sorry.”

He murmured, struggling to look you in the eyes.

Before you knew it, he dropped to his knees in front of you, face pale.

The slight tremble in his hands didn’t escape you, as he reached for you, not wanting to overstep but trying to lay his heart bare to you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never-“

He stopped mid sentence, shaking his head,

“I should’ve thought before… moving like that, acting like that.”

Your heart was pounding as you watched him bow his head in front of you, remorse clear on his face.

“I’m sorry.”

He said again, voice desperate.

“Please, just… tell me you’re okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you...”

He trailed off, wide eyes looking up at you, searching for a sign, any sign that you didn’t fear him, didn’t hate him.

He had to know that he didn’t destroy something he held so dear.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reached out, patting his head.

He stiffened at first, he was hesitant, but your warm touch seemed to reel him in.

“I’m okay.”

You reassured,

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just a reflex.”

Unbeknownst to you, Caleb wasn’t looking for reassurance, he was looking for forgiveness.

“Forgive me? Please?”

His voice was low, unsure, letting his insecurities and vulnerability show.

You knelt beside him, meeting his gaze with softness.

Cupping his face, you felt the warmth coming off him.

His breath was starting to steady slightly.

“Nothing to forgive you for…”

Your quiet voice reached his ears,

“I know you’d never hurt me, Caleb.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, resembling a puppy.

You closed the last of the space between you two, resting your forehead against his.

You and Caleb didn’t need words to understand one another.

My child — my light

Your children have been hurt.

characters: Sylus, Zayne, Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel

w: 4,3 k

warnings: not to be read by anyone who's sensitive about fathers. bullying, mdi, hurt/comfort, fluff, soft, +18, maternity certificate, child abuse. Fem!Y/N

a/n: [Y/D/N] — your daughter’s name. [Y/S/N] — your son’s name. My father is strict and I never tell him if something is happening to me. So I wanted to make the men from LADS into fathers you can only dream of. English is not my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Requests are open. Dividers belongs to me.

Sylus:

Lately, you both have noticed that your child has become withdrawn: he doesn't join you at the table, stays silent, and spends all his time in his room.

Your heart aches every time you see bruises on your son's face. You have anxiously asked him more than once, “Sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

He answers your questions sharply and coldly, “No.”And then he goes to his room. At first, it seemed like it was just a teenage phase, but your motherly heart tells you that something bad is happening.

Sylus often spends time with you and has noticed his son's behavior, which has alarmed him. Something had to be done. And so, after another outburst from your son, who retreated to his room, Sylus stroked your head and went after the boy. “Don't worry, Kitten, I'll talk to him.”

After knocking on the door and not hearing a "Come in" in response, Silas stood by the door for a while, thinking about the right words, and then opened it. “Hey, buddy, can we talk?”

“I'm not in the mood... Dad,” your son mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. Taking a deep breath, the man walked into the room and sat on the edge of his son's bed. “You haven't been yourself lately, do you want to talk to me?”

[Y/S/N] shook his head negatively. Deep down, he wanted to talk about what was bothering him, but he was scared.

“Son...” Sylus rarely addresses your child like that, only when he has something truly important to say. “Know that your mom and I have your back, no matter what. We're not your enemies, and we'll always be on your side.” He ruffled his son's hair. “Remember that we care about you and your feelings. You don't have to talk now, but you can tell us whenever you're ready.” Sylus gave his son a gentle smile and got up from the bed.

“Dad, wait!” The man stopped at the door, turning his head towards his son. “I... thank you.”Sylus nodded in response. “And I'm sorry for making you and Mom worry. You know, these are tough times... people have become more ruthless, ha-ha.” [Y/S/N] laughed nervously and looked away. Sylus felt like he was looking at you, because when you're worried, you start laughing nervously and avoid eye contact.

“Are other kids bullying you?” Sylus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not exactly,” your son said, taking a deep breath.

“Then who?” The man's face became more serious.

“Well, at first, it really was just some kids, and I could handle them myself, but then... their parents started picking on me too. I don't understand why everyone hates me so much... I haven't done anything wrong...” Your son couldn't hold back his tears any longer and began to cry, trying to hide his tears from his father. Sylus took a few large steps and was by his son's side, holding him tightly. “You're not alone. As long as your mom and I are around, no one will dare to even look at you the wrong way.” And so it was. Sylus's anger was uncontrollable, much like your own. As soon as you found out WHAT was happening to your son, you wanted to tear everything apart. How dare anyone touch your child?! Well, let me tell you, you paid back your child's tormentors in full—they're in the hospital with broken bones, and the children are so intimidated that as soon as they see [Y/S/N], they start to shy away. Now, no one will mess with your son everyone suddenly wanted to be friends with the kid whose parents are the most dangerous people in the country.

Zayne:

He's the kind of father who's rarely home due to work. But the moment he gets a chance to see his family, Zayne drops everything. No matter how exhausted he is, his main priority is making sure his beloved princesses are doing well.

Today, he got home earlier than usual, but found the house empty. Glancing at his watch, it was one in the afternoon, so his daughter must be at school. But what about his wife? Zayne kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen. A note on the refrigerator read, "Gone to the store, be back soon ♡"

Smiling, Zayne walked into the spacious living room, where a plasma TV hung on the wall. He turned on the news and sat at the table, opening his laptop. Well, while you're away, I might as well get some work done.

About thirty minutes later, you returned from the grocery store, laden with bags. Spotting your husband in the living room, you set the bags down in the kitchen and approached him, kissing him on the cheek. “Hi, honey, how's work going?”

“Hello, darling. Everything's fine. How was your day?” Zayne asked, taking off his glasses and closing his laptop. He pulled you closer by the waist and kissed you softly on the lips. “Oh, Zayne, my day was good too. Is [Y/D/N] in her room?”

At your question, Zayne raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't she be at school?” He glanced at the time with concern. It had been an hour since he got home, and his daughter still wasn't back.

“What?... Her classes ended half an hour ago, and it's only a 10-minute walk from school...” You tapped your chin, deep in thought. “What if something happened on the way home?!” You immediately sprang into action, heading to the hallway and grabbing your windbreaker. Zayne followed you. But just as you were about to leave the house, the door opened and your daughter walked in.

“Mom? Dad? Are you guys going somewhere?” she asked, her voice a little hoarse.

“Sweetheart! You scared me half to death!” You immediately pulled your daughter into a hug, but quickly released her when she hissed in pain. “What happened? Are you hurt? Where? Here?” You gently touched her shoulder. Her composure crumbled, and she simply burst into tears, burying her face in your stomach.

Zayne furrowed his brow and approached the two of you. Stroking his daughter's hair, he scooped her up in his arms, simultaneously removing her street shoes, and headed upstairs to her room. After tidying up a bit, you followed your husband.

“Snowflake, what's eating you?” Zayne asked softly, carefully laying her down in bed.

“The girls... the girls in my class ganged up on me because a boy likes me... Daddy, it hurts so bad.” She didn't hold back her feelings when she was with her dad. He never pressured her and always knew how to handle these situations. Zayne listened patiently, wiped the tears from her face, and kissed her forehead. “Don't be afraid of anything; Daddy's here.” His words resonated not only with your daughter but with you as well.

You stood outside the door, hearing every word. Zayne never made empty promises. After settling your daughter, he exited her room and noticed your worried eyes. With a sigh, he stroked your hair. “She's being bullied at school.”

“I see...” you said, feeling a surge of anger. How dare anyone lay a hand on your child? You were ready to go and tear them all limb from limb. Zayne could clearly see your fury.

“Honey, calm down. Tomorrow, we'll go to the principal and try to sort things out peacefully...” remember these words, kids, because the next day YOU were the one who had to calm HIM down he froze the principal's office and nearly skewered the parents of the kids who bullied your daughter with icicles.

Caleb:

He loves sparring with his son because it's a chance to bond and teach the kid some self-defense. The only problem? [Y/S/N] takes after you and can't land a decent punch to save his life. He's too worried about hurting his dad. Caleb's always saying he needs more killer instinct.

But lately, your son's been dodging training sessions like the plague. When asked why, he just shrugs it off with a quick, “I'm tired.”

Caleb's not one to force his kid into anything, but it's been bugging him. [Y/S/N] used to be all hyped up for a friendly spar, practically dragging Caleb into the ring. Now, the mere mention of "fighting" makes him clam up. And Caleb's not happy about it. Not one bit.

“Don't you think [Y/S/N]'s been acting kinda weird lately?” You asked, drying the dishes. A mother's intuition is never wrong, and you knew something was up with him.

"Maybe he's just worn out from school?" Caleb shrugged, switching the news to "The Avengers."

“Do you wanna talk to him?” You put down the plate and towel, walking over to him. “I'm worried…” You wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder blade, inhaling his scent.

"I'll try." Caleb squeezed your hand, which was resting on his stomach.

Your son came home from school and went straight to his room without saying hello. He tossed his backpack aside and flopped onto the bed, closing his eyes. But then he remembered the bruises and winced. It hurt like hell. [Y/S/N] started scratching his chest, as if trying to rip his heart out of his body from the unbearable pain. Heartache. Bruises and cuts heal, but a shattered soul? That's another story. [Y/S/N] didn't even hear the knock on the door, his father's voice, or him approaching the bed. Feeling a hand on his head, he startled and turned to see his father's stern gaze. “Dad…”

“I'm here,” Caleb announced, and upon hearing his words, his son launched himself into his father's arms, momentarily forgetting his stinging wounds. “What's been going on with you lately?” your husband asked, gently stroking his son's back.

“I hurt, Dad. I hurt so much.”

You entered the room, instantly drawn to your family. Seeing your son clinging to his father, uttering “I'm not okay,” nearly shattered your heart. Kneeling by the bed, you embraced your child as well, kissing the top of his head. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

“My friends... they're hurting me.” Wriggling out of your and Caleb's embrace, [Y/S/N\] pushed up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the angry bruises. You gasped, covering your mouth in horror. “But it hurts more here...” Your son placed his hands over his chest, indicating his heart. You and Caleb had instilled in him that you never hurt your friends, so your child never retaliated – because hitting a friend was like hitting himself. But not all kids were raised with the same values. Rage consumed Caleb. He shot up from the bed and stormed out of the house. Where to? Neither you nor your son knew. “Mom... are you... are you proud of me? Did I do good?” your child asked, nestled in your lap.

“Baby, I've always been proud of you, I am proud of you, and I always will be. Listen, just because you consider someone a friend doesn't mean they feel the same way about you. Friendship has to go both ways, not just one. Stick with those who truly value you, okay?” you asked, holding out your pinky.

“Okay.” He linked his pinky with yours and smiled.

Meanwhile, Caleb was raising hell at the principal's office and throwing punches at the fathers of your child's classmates. “If I ever hear that my son is being hurt again, you'll regret it. I'll shove apples so far up your asses, you'll be tasting them for weeks! Got it?!”

Well, the outcome? Your son is no longer bothered one father didn't get the memo and is now in the hospital with apples in his backside.

Xavier:

Your daughter was always a firecracker, that's why absolutely everyone loved her: passersby, classmates, and acquaintances. She could connect with anyone. Xavier saw you in her – just as impulsive as her mother.

But as we know, when someone is widely loved, there are those who start to get envious. They're like snakes, ready to strike at the most unexpected moment: slithering into the soul and thoughts, injecting venom to weaken and incapacitate their victim, making them easier to devour.

Your daughter had a friend, quiet and modest. You and your husband thought their friendship was very harmonious. Thought. Until your daughter clammed up. It was like her mouth had been sealed shut... but with what? Every time you touched your daughter, you felt a strange surge of foreign energy. “Evol?” spun in your head. But as soon as you tried to figure out more, you recoiled from the jolt. While waiting for your husband after his latest mission, you decided to keep an eye on your daughter.

Approaching her room, you felt a dizzy spell, as if something or someone was trying to invade your mind. Shaking your head and drawing your weapon, you quietly opened the door. The room was as dark as the abyss. Suddenly, something crawled on your leg. Barely finding the light switch and flicking it on, you almost fainted from horror: snakes. A huge number of snakes. And in the middle of these vile creatures was your daughter? No... it wasn't her. The girl looked like her, but those serpentine eyes... and oh god... that was YOUR daughter's body?! She lay on the floor, bitten by these creatures injecting their venom into her. “Oh, Mom!” the thing croaked, grinning wickedly.

“Xiangliu...” your daughter whispered, barely opening her eyes. “Please...”

“Silence!” the girl snapped, and the snakes immediately coiled around her feet.

“You're Xiangliu?” Your voice was like steel. “You're my daughter's friend, right? It's not cool to treat friends like that.” You drew the katana from your robe. “That's just not how it's done.” You lunged into battle, but a huge snake slithered out of the ground, blocking the path to Xiangliu. Oh yeah, your roof, and half the house, will need repairs. Just as you were about to cut down the vile creature, you felt a familiar evol and caught a glimpse of light flashing past you. “Xavier!” you cried with relief. But remembering your daughter, you rushed forward, dodging Xiangliu's attacks. Finally reaching your daughter, you scooped her fragile and pale body into your arms. “Honey, please, open your eyes!” You shook her shoulder, but there was no response. “Xavier!” you cried, tears welling up.

“I'll handle this, get out of here!” your husband yelled. You know he can handle it, after all, your husband is the best hunter. Holding your daughter carefully, you raced to the hospital. Thank god it was close to your house.

“Zayne!” you shouted, spotting your childhood friend. “Zayne, help!”

“Get her on a gurney, quick. Venom?” Zayne asked, seeing the purple marks all over her body. You nodded, clutching your hands to your chest and following the doctors. “Don't worry Y/N, I'll make an antidote and everything will be fine.” He gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder before disappearing with the medical team. Slumping into a chair, you closed your eyes, trying to calm down. “Y/N!” You heard your husband's voice and immediately jumped up. “Where's [Y/D/N]?”

“Zayne and a team of doctors are on it. They're working on an antidote...” You buried your face in your husband's shoulder, tears welling up. Right now, all you could do was pray that your daughter would be okay. “And where...?”

“I handed her over to the police for safekeeping,” Xavier replied, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You both sank into the armchairs, waiting for Zayne.

About three hours ticked by before Zayne finally appeared. “The poison was potent, but I managed to find an antidote. She's sleeping in a room now; you can visit her.” Zayne's calm tone instantly eased your anxiety. She was going to be alright.

“Thank you, Dr. Zayne,” Xavier said with a slight smile, shaking the doctor's hand. Zayne returned a polite smile and, with one last glance at you, left.

Gently easing the door open, you both stepped inside. Your daughter was breathing softly, looking less pale than she had just hours ago. You let out a shaky breath and stroked her hair. “Mom?... Dad?...” her tiny voice whispered.

“Stay still, princess,” Xavier said, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

“What happened? All I remember is playing hide-and-seek with Xiangliu at her house, and then... nothing.” You and Xavier exchanged a look of dread.

“When did you play hide-and-seek with her?” you asked, glancing at the calendar. If your daughter had been acting strange for the past few days, was that really your daughter at all?

“Well, you let us play outside so we wouldn't break your favorite vase.” Oh no... no, no, no. Three days! For three days, some other girl had taken your daughter's place! How could you have been so blind?! “I'm such a terrible mother...” Tears streamed down your face. “I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!”

“Mom... why are you crying?” The girl looked at you with confusion, then at her father. “Dad, what's wrong with her?”

“Nothing, honey, your mom's just being an overprotective worrywart, you know how she gets. You get some rest; Mom and I will check in on you later,” Xavier lied, not wanting to scare your daughter. Taking your hand, he led you out of the room. “You're not the only one who dropped the ball, honey. I didn't like that girl from the get-go, so I'm just as guilty for not voicing my suspicions.”

“We could have lost our child... I'll never forgive myself.”

“Me neither. That's why we'll make it up to her and keep a closer eye on her, especially when it comes to the people she brings into our home.” Xavier chuckled, remembering the time your daughter brought home a homeless man and introduced him as her friend. The look on Xavier's face had been priceless. The man now works as your gardener, by the way.

“That's for sure,” you said, smiling, understanding what your husband was laughing about.

Yes, you'd made a mistake. But together, you would fix it and become the best parents you could be. With parents like you, [Y/D/N] would definitely be safe.

Rafayel:

Rafayel was throwing a grand exhibition and needed his gorgeous wife by his side to help greet guests. The only problem? They had no one to watch their son.

“Maybe we should hire a nanny?” You suggested, scrolling through profiles on a website.

“Hmm, not a bad idea. How about this one?” Rafayel said, pointing to a young woman. “Lots of stars and rave reviews.”

“Alright, I'll give her a call.” After dialing the number, you arranged for her to come over the next day. “Okay, great, thank you.” Gently massaging your temples, you headed into the living room, where Rafayel and your son were painting.

“That's awesome! You're doing great! Definitely his father's son!” Rafayel proudly raised his brush, smirking.

“Mommy's!” [Y/S/N] exclaimed, spotting you. He hopped off the chair and ran to give you a hug.

“WHAT?! How dare you steal my son from me, woman!” Clutching his shirt dramatically, he placed the paintbrush on his forehead and pretended to faint.

“Such a drama queen,” you sighed, and your son nodded in agreement. “Listen, sweetie, your dad and I need to go to an important event, and we don't have anyone to leave you with. So... we decided to hire a nanny for you. Be good tomorrow, okay?” You stroked your son's hair.

“You got it, Mom!” He squeezed you tightly, smearing paint on your clothes. “Oops...” Your son stepped back and looked at your stained outfit. “Mom, I didn't mean to!” He ran to Rafayel, hiding behind him. “Dad, save me!”

“Ooh! You finally remembered you have a father?” Laughing, Rafayel lifted your son above his head and started spinning him around. Laughter filled the room, creating a warm, familial atmosphere.

The big day arrived in no time. You and Rafayel got ready and waited for the caregiver, explaining everything that needed to be done. The girl seemed sweet, so you didn't worry too much while you were at the exhibition.

However, as soon as you and your husband left, it was like a switch flipped. The girl acted like she owned the place: she grabbed some chips from the cupboard, turned on the TV, and... SHE SPILLED ON RAFAEL'S FAVORITE COUCH!

“That's Dad's favorite couch! Don't mess it up!” your son exclaimed, standing in front of her, blocking the TV.

“Get lost, kid.” She shoved him aside, popped a chip in her mouth, and your son hit his head on the couch edge. He clutched his head and started to whimper. “Can you shut up?!” she barked, cranking up the TV volume.

“Leave me alone!”

“That's it! You’re just too much!” She found some tape in the kitchen and, wrapping his mouth and limbs, carried him to the closet. “Sit here and think about your behavior, you little brat.” She even switched off the light. For some reason, your son was terrified of the dark and never slept without a nightlight. Panic gripped him; he cried and tried to kick the door with his swaddled legs, but he was too weak.

“I’ve got a weird feeling…” you murmured after greeting another guest.

“Maybe you’re just tired?” Rafayel shrugged.

“No. We need to go home. I have to see my son.” You rushed to the exit, your heart racing.

“Sweetheart! Wait!” But you didn’t reply. “Oh, that woman. Hey!” He called his assistant. “There’s hardly anything left to do, so finish the show yourself, alright?”

You could feel that something was off.

As you swung the door open, an eerie silence greeted you—no one was in sight. But then, a loud voice broke through the stillness. A television show, perhaps? You stepped into the living room, your heart pounding, and froze in shock. Rafayel stepped forward slightly, his expression mirroring yours, both of you utterly dumbfounded.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” he exclaimed.

“Why are you here so early? This isn’t what you think!” the girl began to stammer, her eyes wide with panic.

“Are you kidding me?!” you shot back, leveling a steely glare at her.

“Exactly! You were just five minutes ago fooling around with some loser on MY couch!” Rafayel shouted, his anger boiling over.

Meanwhile, your mind raced as you scanned the room for your son. Where could he be? Panic clawed at your stomach until your ears caught a faint knocking sound coming from the pantry. With urgency, you flung the door open. What you saw made your heart drop—there was your son, tears streaming down his cheeks, wrapped in duct tape.

“Mommy!” he cried, and you rushed to him, your heart breaking at the sight.

“Shh, sweetie, it’s okay. Mama’s here,” you whispered softly, carefully peeling the tape away from his small frame. Just then, Rafayel stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury as he locked onto the so-called "nanny."

“What the hell is going on?!” he barked, his rage palpable.

You held your son close, cradling him against your chest as if that alone could shield him from the chaos erupting around you. The tension in the room crackled like electricity, and you felt a fierce protectiveness take hold.

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” you said with steely determination, heart pounding in unison with his.

“She's wrecked Dad's couch! I told her not to mess it up! She shoved me, and I hit my head and started crying!” With tears streaming down his cheeks, your son lamented about the girl. “And then she wrapped me in tape and locked me in the pantry without any light.”

“Rafayel, hold our son for a minute.” You lifted the little boy and handed him over to Rafayel. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, your husband is a true gentleman who would never lift a finger against a woman, even if she were as terrible as this nanny. But you could, because you're also a woman.

With a fierce determination, you pushed her into the hallway, where she collided with the corner of the wall. Standing tall before her, you seethed, “You laid hands on my son?!” Grabbing her by the hair, you delivered a sharp slap across her cheek, pulling her toward the door with a firm grip.

“It hurts!” she screeched, a mix of outrage and fear in her voice.

“Good,” you shot back, your eyes blazing. “Maybe you'll think twice before laying a finger on my child again.” The air was thick with tension, a silent understanding that you wouldn't let this slide. In your mind, you were ready to do whatever it took to protect your family.

“I'm telling you, my son was hurting too, you little witch!” You hurled her out the door with a fierce shove. “This is just the beginning. I’ll make your life a living hell, you little brat.” Slamming the door behind you, you returned to your loved ones, planting soft kisses on their foreheads and wrapping them in warm embraces. “I wish I could've just taken her out,” your husband chimed in, pouting playfully.

“Looks like you've taken on the role of dad's personal bodyguard, huh? Desperately defending my favorite couch, like a true hero!” He scooped your son up and, with a playful flourish, set him down on the floor, heading toward the bathroom for the first-aid kit.

“Y/N! You coming or what?”

“Yeah! Just tidying up a bit, I’ll be right there!”

“Mom! Hurry up! Dad doesn’t know how to handle wounds!”

“Not true! I totally know what I’m doing!”

“Get that enema away from my head! Mom! Please!”

And just like that, the house buzzed with that familiar family atmosphere again: laughter, playful chaos, and a guy who practically jumped out the window to escape your wrath, fearing he'd end up just like that girl he cheated with.

in love? I know it's impossible to resist that look. (LMAO God, I sick in the head🤪)

(Kkkk LMAO! I'm sorry about that, but I couldn't help but make a joke.)

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