#xavier fluff

caleb wants you to kiss him first—or at least ask him to kiss you—but what if you won’t? he needs to know that you want him—that you’ll willingly give him the privilege of kissing you—so he gives you a few pushes in the right direction. he teases you with heated glances and not-so-accidental touches until you walk up to him, dumb with desire. when you stare up at him helplessly, he settles a large hand on your waist and hovers over your mouth, giving you the chance to push him away. when you don’t, he leans in slowly, tantalizingly, as if wanting to drive home the fact that you’re letting this happen to you—letting him claim your mouth in a slow, consuming kiss. this way, maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the courage to take what you want from him next time—if you let him taste you, there’s no need to be shy anymore, right?

you know rafayel, so you know he would be upset if you expected him to initiate everything—would it kill you to show a little interest in him? that said, you also know that initiating things isn’t really your thing. so, you find a trick that works like a charm: you goad him into kissing you. you’re comfortable enough with kisses to other places—anywhere but the lips—so you adorn his cheeks and neck with soft, chaste kisses until he’s riled up and flushed, his breath coming out in soft pants from the pleasure of feeling wanted. when you pull away, he chases your touch, and all it takes is an innocent giggle from you before he’s pinning you down and stealing your breath away, his tongue tangling with yours in passion and power.

xavier is confused and a bit discouraged when he realizes you never initiate—he thinks you just don’t want to kiss him. one afternoon, you find him sulking in bed, huddled under his comforter with the lights off. worried he’s sick or hurt, you ask what’s wrong, and he gives you 4 pouty non-answers before finally giving in. you can feel your face heat and gut tangle in guilt when he questions if you ever want to kiss him, and with one hand stroking his hair, you confess that you’re simply too shy to kiss him first. he responds with a blink and a whispered “so you do like me, then?”, and when you nod, he tackles you at the speed of light, pressing kisses all over your face before finally claiming your lips

He walks toward you not with the speed of someone chasing, but with the deliberate elegance of someone approaching a canvas that offended him personally.

“Cutie,” he calls, the word slicing through the silence, “you’ve left me with more questions than brushstrokes.”

You’re cornered by the time he reaches you, not trapped, just enveloped in his presence, in the intensity that follows him like spilled ink.

Rafayel leans in, fingers lifting your chin, eyes simmering with something softer than his pride wants to admit.

“You kiss me like that,” he whispers, “and then run?” A breath, warm and trembling. “That’s cruel, cutie.”

He presses his forehead to yours. You can feel his small smile, pained, fond.

“Next time… don’t run from what you started. Stay, and let me do the rest.”

He hooks a finger under your chin and pulls you in with theatrical precision, kissing you with dramatic, intoxicating depth. His arm slips around your waist, holding you close like you’re the center of his world. When he finally breaks the kiss, his lips brush yours as he murmurs, “Kiss me like that again… and don’t you dare run.”

— 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Your kiss lands against his cheek soft, fleeting and then you disappear like a startled spark.

Xavier blinks. Once.

His lips curl into a small, warm smile you almost never see the kind that settles into your bones.

He doesn’t chase you.

He simply stands, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeve, and starts walking toward where you fled. Each step is measured, quiet, and unhurried. He looks like someone following the wind, not a person.

You hide behind a column, your heartbeat loud enough to echo.

He stops a respectful distance away.

“…Are you hiding?” he asks softly.

Not teasing, not mocking, genuinely gentle. His voice is dusk settling over the world.

“You don’t need to.”

You slowly peek from behind the column and meet his eyes steady, reliable, and warm. He doesn’t move. He lets you come to him.

And you do.

He lifts a hand, brushing a knuckle along your cheek with barely-there pressure.

“You startled yourself more than me,” he murmurs.

There’s something in his gaze, a quiet understanding that makes your chest warm.

“If you need me,” he says gently, “I’ll always come at your pace.”

He cups your face with both hands, drawing you in with a soft, trembling breath. His kiss starts gentle, almost shy, then slowly deepens with warmth, he’s too quiet to speak aloud. When he finally pulls back, cheeks flushed, he whispers, “Even if you run… I’ll always find you.”

— 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Your lips touch his for the shortest moment barely a kiss and then you vanish.

Zayne doesn’t tense, doesn’t jump, doesn’t even blink too fast.

He just straightens his posture, exhales, and mutters something that might be a quiet laugh.

Then he starts walking.

Not chasing. Following. His steps are steady, calm, almost silent the way he moves during missions, controlled and grounded.

You turn a corner, thinking you’ve gained distance.

You haven’t.

He’s already waiting there.

One shoulder leaned casually against the wall, arms folded, gaze steady like he predicted your escape route from the moment you sprinted.

“You ran fast,” he admits softly, “but not far.”

He steps toward you calm, composed, unhurried every movement precise and purposeful.

“You don’t have to run from me.” His hand rises, fingers brushing your jaw gently. “Or run to get my attention.”

Zayne tilts your chin just enough to meet his eyes.

“If you want a kiss… ask. I’ll always answer.”

He steps closer, his hand lifting to your jaw with that steady calm only he carries. He leans in without hurry, kissing you slow and deep, the kind of kiss that feels like warmth settling into your bones. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours as he breathes, “If you want me… you never have to run.”

— 𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

You kiss him quick, bold, mischievous and dart away.

Sylus freezes for half a second. Then a grin unfurls across his face, sharp and beautiful.

“Oh?” he hums, voice curling low. “You’re really going to try that on me?”

He doesn’t run, and doesn't even walk fast.

He simply appears wherever you aren’t expecting him.

You duck around a corner he’s already there, leaning against the wall, smirk shimmering.

You hide behind a door, his shadow slides across the floor a moment later.

You sprint down the hall he keeps pace effortlessly, voice lilting behind you:

“You’re predictable, sweetheart. I can read your steps like code.”

You whirl around, breathless and he’s practically nose-to-nose with you.

“How cute,” he murmurs, brushing a hair strand behind your ear. “You thought running would get rid of me?”

He cages you in with one arm above your head, smirk deepening.

“Next time you kiss me… don’t run. I want to kiss you back properly.”

He catches your waist and tugs you flush against him, lips brushing yours in a teasing whisper before he actually kisses you. The kiss is playful at first, then deepens with heat and a smile he tries to hide. He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Next time, sweetheart… I’ll be the one you chase.”

— 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Your kiss is gentle, affectionate, warm and then you bolt.

Caleb stops existing for a moment.

His hands go slack. His breath catches. His ears flush crimson.

Then something in his eyes sharpens soft possessiveness igniting like a spark catching dry leaves.

“Hey–! You can’t just run away!”

He chases you with his whole heart.

He nearly trips over his own feet catching up to you, breath uneven, eyes wide and shining with emotion he can’t quite hide.

When he grabs your wrist, his hold is gentle but unyielding like he’s terrified you’ll slip away if he lets go.

“You surprised me,” he says, voice trembling. Then, quieter, rawer: “I didn’t like when you ran.”

He steps closer, forehead nearly touching yours. His voice drops to a whisper, thick with something vulnerable and fiercely devoted.

“If you kiss me don’t run. Stay. I want you close.”

“No, not yet at least. It’s normal for him to get puffy when he cuts new teeth.” Your fingers run through his hair softly, soothingly. His head moving with the rise and fall of your chest. Xavier sat down by your feet, careful not to move the cushions too much and disturb the baby’s much needed rest.

“Do you want me to move him to his bed?” 

“He just fell asleep a few minutes ago, not yet.” You grin at your husband, noticing the small pout on his lips. Xavier had gotten much better with his jealousy once your son was born. He was more than willing to share you if it meant your son would smile. But, ever since your boy entered a “Mama or nothing.” Phase, Xavier has been struggling to get you alone. 

All it took was a flash of his big eyes – the same color as his mama’s – and Xavier melted. He didn’t think it was possible to give in so easily, but his son proved him wrong every day. “Then can we move this to the bed? I wanna snuggle you too.”

And you? You’ve found it incredibly hard to deny Xavier and your darling son of anything. Your heart has become incredibly weak because of them, your sweet boy had his daddy’s pout. “Alright, fine, but you have to carry us both.”

Xavier nearly leapt off the couch. 

Rafayel had been convinced that his little girl would be all about him. You know, since humans like to claim that boys are more drawn to their mama and girls are more drawn to their daddy. Well? Your little girl proved him very, very wrong. 

Your sweet little princess – only a year and a half old – wanted mama and mama only. 

Her first word had been mama, her first crawling attempt had been to mama, her first steps? Right into mama’s arms. She was a mama’s girl through and through. Rafayel was a tad hurt honestly, because he thought he’d be sharing himself with you. Not fighting with his baby for a chance to hug her mama.

“I mean really, who does she think she is?”

“Your daughter.” you snort, peeking over her little shoulder. She’s perched on your lap, chubby arms folded and signature glare on her little chubby cheeks. No DNA test needed, she was Rafayel’s daughter through and through. 

“I really can’t give mama a kiss?” he bargains, the furrow in his brows relaxing as he stares at his little girl’s face. His eyes, her mama’s hair and nose, his smile. God she was so perfect, it made it even harder to try and put up a fight. She’d always win. 

“Yuck!” her new favorite word to use against her daddy, one that you couldn’t help but laugh at because he was the one that taught it to her when trying new baby purees months back. That one word carried weight, considering she couldn’t get any of her thoughts out fully yet. Too little to string together creative insults, she’d get there though, he was sure. 

“Seriously! What if I give you a kiss too?” he puckered his lips, inching closer just to see his daughter burst into giggles and push back against her mama’s chest. “Yuck!” 

“Too bad!” Your laughter mingled with hers as Rafayel grabbed her little head and placed tens, if not hundreds, of kisses all over her chubby features. Not relenting until her giggles nearly went silent from how hard she was laughing. “I win!” 

The soft kiss that landed on your lips was sudden enough to startle you, eyes wide as you glance down at your baby’s shocked face. 

Zayne never thought he’d see the day where he was genuinely battling his four year old daughter over your attention. She was the spitting image of you, for one.

Why didn't he think she’d inherit your stubbornness? I mean, seriously, she was your identical twin. Save for the fact that she had his eye color, it looked like Zayne didn’t even partake in the creation of her.

“I just want to talk to mama for a bit, baby. Please?” He was trying not to frown, but you were leaning against the kitchen counter trying to stifle your giggles. Your daughter, however, stood her ground. Blanket in one hand and snowman plush in the other, inching ever closer to your legs. Your little velcro baby for sure. 

“No! Mama said she would read me some stories in my bed.” You had promised that, had even been on your way to her room when Zayne got home. Your poor husband looked exhausted and in much need of your love.

Your daughter, however, was not backing down. 

Zayne tried not to sigh, he wasn’t frustrated at her of course. The whole display was cute, he loved the fact that your daughter adored you so thoroughly. But, the need to be in your arms was something he very much craved too.

No room for little legs and arms to bat him out of your embrace or kick him in the stomach for getting too close to her beloved mama. 

“How about I read you your stories and then I go help daddy. Does that sound like a good compromise?” She’d be asleep half way through the first story anyways. “No! Cause then you’ll leave me alone!” Asleep in her bed, it was nearly ten at night after all, she had school in the morning.

“You’re a big girl, my love.” Zayne crouched down, watching her lips quiver as she looked between the two of you. Dammit, his resolve was crumbling right before his very eyes. “How about mommy reads to you in mommy and daddy’s bed?” 

Zayne ignored the way your eyebrow raised, but the lip quivering stopped and her glassy eyes blinked away. He could survive sharing your presence if it meant his little girl could sleep comfortably. “Oh-kay I guess that works, daddy.” 

Oh yeah, she was your child alright. It didn’t take much at all for Zayne to give in.

Sylus felt bad, honestly. Who would have thought your eight month old twins – one boy and one girl – would be so thoroughly attached to their mama. I mean, he really thought the two of them would pick their person. Your daughter would gravitate towards him and your son would gravitate towards you or vice versa. 

But, no. Both of your babies wanted their mama and their mama only. 

“C’mon, hey!” You were lounging on the couch, your little boy sitting next to you while Sylus held your little girl out in front of him. Her little legs kicked wildly as she grinned at you. Her head turned away from her daddy to just beam at you. Your son was doing the same, lips curled in a toothless smile as big red eyes peered up at you. 

“They don’t even know I exist.” Sylus sighed, but there is a grin pulling at his lips as he glances between the three of you. Two little humans, a perfect mix of you and him, who were completely and utterly infatuated with their mama. Just like their daddy. 

“Yes they do, Sy. They’re just a bit milk obsessed.” You laugh, rubbing your baby boy’s cheek fondly as Sylus relents and offers your baby girl to you. “Milk or no milk, they’d be this obsessed with you, kitten. You’re their whole world.”

You’re surprised to see a small pout on his lips, your eyes shifting between your grinning little girl and your husband. “You really think so?” You wonder softly, bringing her face to yours so you can nuzzle her nose and kiss her chunk cheeks before settling her on your lap. “I don’t think, I know.” 

“Never in my life did I think I’d have to battle two eight month olds – nevermind my own babies.” He stops to fake glare at your son, watching his little head of silver hair turn to look up at his daddy before quickly looking back at you, rocking back and forth on his butt while making a grabby fist towards you so you’d pick him up.

“For your attention, kitten. I mean really, the leader of Onychinus has met his match. Two sets of little fists with chubby dimples where their knuckles should be have brought me to my damn knees.” 

You laugh, dragging your little boy onto your lap and kissing the top of his head. Smiling fondly at his little giggle. “You met your match a long time ago, Sy. We just created two more.” Well, he certainly couldn't deny that. You, of course, were his first weakness. The two little creatures on your lap were his second. 

“You’ve weakened me, kitten. Whatever will we do?”  “Hmm, maybe we can make some more?” 

Caleb was just a tad bit butt-hurt when your two and a half year old son entered his “nobody, not even dada, can come within five feet of mama” phase. 

Coming home from work, for example, would lead to tears running down his chubby face when you and Caleb shared a hug and a kiss. Going to bed meant you would sleep in your son’s tiny toddler bed until he was in a deep slumber before sneaking back into Caleb’s arms. Until he woke up and wiggled his way between you both.

It wasn’t as if your little boy disliked him, he was his dad after all. It was just that he was overprotective of his mama. Exactly like his father. If he didn’t have Caleb’s eyes and smile, you’d still be able to tell his DNA ran through that little boy’s veins with the way he obsessed over you. “C’mon bud, I can’t give mama a kiss?” 

Your son clung to you, squeezing just a little harder as Caleb inched forward. You tried your best not to laugh, holding your boy tightly in your arms as Caleb approached like you were both wounded stray cats. “No! Nuh-uh!” His mama’s stubbornness was definitely inherited. “What about a hug? Kiss on the cheek? A high five?”

He was desperate. 

Caleb felt like he was being deprived of his own wife. But dammit, the little boy in your embrace was melting his heart regardless of what he did. “No! Leave!” He bellowed, face contorted in grumpiness as you tried to stifle a laugh. “Hey now, that’s not nice, baby. Be nice to dada, say no thank you.” Caleb nearly choked on air. “No thank you?” 

But you only grinned, “I gotta teach him manners while also teaching him to stand his ground.” Caleb frowned at that, you weren’t exactly wrong with that idea. “Can I give my buddy a hug and a kiss?”

Caleb was nearly a foot away now, and you felt your son’s head peek upwards at the question. A hesitant little nod shook his head as he used one arm to reach for Caleb.

Maybe it was a little trick, because Caleb used that opportunity to hug you both, kissing his baby boy’s head as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. “We’ll get there eventually.” 

“Maybe we can make a ‘sharing mama’ schedule.”