#dad!rafayel

[neonbonded]

I Heard the Heartbeat and I Broke a Little

♡ ft. Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus x fem!reader ♡ cw: pregnancy, first ultrasounds, emotional devastation (soft), quiet tears, twin reveal (Sylus), stoic boy meltdowns, chaos disguised as tenderness ♡ a/n: they all swore they’d stay calm. They all lied. You hear the heartbeat, and suddenly the bravest men in the galaxy are on the verge of crying, fainting, or starting a baby-proofing war plan.

Caleb

He tries to be calm.

Really, he does.

You’re holding his hand—well, more like crushing it—and Caleb’s doing his best to be composed. He smiles at the nurse. Makes a dumb joke. Rubs your knuckles.

But the moment that grainy little flicker shows up on the screen?

The moment the room fills with the steady, quick-thudding whump-whump-whump of a heartbeat?

He stops breathing.

The grin drops off his face like it was never there.

His fingers go still.

His eyes are locked on the screen, wide and unblinking.

“That’s… that’s ours?” he whispers.

You nod, voice catching in your throat. “Yeah.”

And then he laughs.

A breathy, broken little sound—half-sob, half-hysterical wonder. Like his whole body can’t decide whether to melt or combust. He turns toward you, eyes shimmering.

“I didn’t—I didn’t think I could feel this much.”

His hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking just beneath your eye. “You’re growing a whole person. Our person. That’s my kid in there. Our kid. I—”

He can’t finish the sentence.

He buries his face in your shoulder and laughs again, shaking a little.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” he says against your skin. “And they’ve already got my whole heart. I’m so screwed.”

You kiss the side of his head. “You’re not screwed.”

He pulls back, smiling through tears.

“No,” he says, looking at the screen again.

“I’m the luckiest bastard in the galaxy.”

Xavier

He’s quiet when the screen lights up.

Not his usual stillness. This is different.

His posture doesn’t shift. His expression barely changes. But you feel it—the way his hand tightens slightly around yours, the way his breath catches just a second too long.

And then the heartbeat comes through.

Whump-whump-whump.

Quick. Strong. Inarguably alive.

Xavier blinks once. His eyes lock on the grainy blur on the screen like he’s calculating a threat.

But there’s no threat.

Just something small. And safe. And yours.

“That sound…” he murmurs, voice low and careful, “is them?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

He stares a moment longer, then lowers his gaze to your stomach—like he's only just realizing what’s been there this whole time.

“I thought I understood,” he says softly. “What this would be. I thought I was prepared.”

A pause. He shifts in his seat, fingers grazing the edge of the ultrasound photo the nurse just handed him.

“I wasn’t.”

Another silence.

Then, so softly you almost miss it:

“I’ll protect them. Always.”

He says it like a vow. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just fact.

Like this heartbeat rewired him.

You lean your head against his shoulder.

He doesn't speak again. Doesn’t need to.

He just keeps staring at the screen like he’s watching the future take its first breath.

Rafayel

He's already being too much before the machine even starts.

Kissing your hand like you’re royalty. Calling the OB “a vessel of the divine.” Whispering, “Are you ready, my muse?” in your ear like this is a movie premiere.

You roll your eyes. “Rafayel, it’s an ultrasound.”

He leans closer, eyes glowing with mischief. “And what is an ultrasound… if not the first brushstroke of our greatest masterpiece?”

You don’t have time to reply before the screen flares on—and just like that, he goes silent.

Utterly. Completely.

You turn to look at him.

He's frozen. Wide-eyed. One hand over his mouth like he just saw the face of a god.

The heartbeat kicks in.

Whump-whump-whump.

And he loses it.

“Oh,” he whispers, voice breaking on the single syllable. “Oh—look at them. Look.”

You do.

But Rafayel? He’s already gone.

Tears pool at the edges of his lashes—long and unblinking, like he’s terrified that blinking might erase the moment. One escapes down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it.

He grabs your hand with both of his, reverent. Desperate. “They’re so small,” he breathes. “And they’re ours. You—you made that. In you. I—we—”

He lets out this overwhelmed little laugh-sob that turns into a hiccup halfway through.

Then whispers, “I need to paint this.”

You blink. “Babe. It’s a blur of static and bean-shape.”

“Exactly. It’s pure. Abstract. Untouched by symbolism. It’s raw emotion, darling.”

You stifle a snort. “Are you crying?”

“I am feeling,” he snaps, brushing a tear away dramatically. “Leave me be.”

He presses a kiss to your wrist like he’s grounding himself in reality.

“Promise me something,” he murmurs.

You nod.

“When they’re born... remind me I loved them first. Before I even met them.”

You lean in. Kiss his cheek.

“I think they already know.”

Zayne

Zayne keeps his eyes on the screen the moment it flickers on.

His hand is holding yours, but it’s stiff. Careful. Like he’s trying too hard not to feel anything too early. Trying to stay clinical. Detached. Professional.

Like he’s just here to observe.

Then the sound hits.

Whump-whump-whump.

The heartbeat. Fast. Alive. Steady.

Your baby.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

You glance over, expecting some sarcastic comment. A critique. Something.

But his jaw is tight.

His eyes—sharp, exact, always calculating—are suddenly unreadable. Blank in the way only Zayne can manage.

He doesn’t blink.

Not even once.

“Zayne?” you whisper.

Nothing.

And then—

Quietly.

Like it slips out without permission.

“…It’s real.”

He exhales hard, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it.

His fingers tighten around yours. Not painfully—but with intensity. Like if he lets go, it might all disappear.

“I’ve seen thousands of heartbeats,” he murmurs. “Monitors. Flatlines. Fibrillations. But this…”

He swallows. Looks down at your hand in his.

“I didn’t know how different it would feel when it’s… ours.”

There’s something cracked open in him now. Something bare.

You watch his throat move as he swallows again, hard.

Then, softer:

“I didn’t think I’d be scared.”

You squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to be perfect.”

He finally turns to you. His eyes are glassy, but he’s holding it in like always. You can see it—the quiet shaking underneath.

“I’m not scared of messing up,” he says. “I’m scared of how much I already love them.”

You lean in, rest your forehead against his.

“They’re going to be okay.”

He closes his eyes.

And lets himself believe it.

Sylus

Sylus is leaning against the wall like this is a business meeting and not the moment his entire future is about to implode.

Arms crossed. Mouth set. Watching the monitor with laser focus, like the image might suddenly sprout a threat he can neutralize.

Your hand is in his, resting on your belly. The gel’s cold. The nurse is smiling. Everything feels calm.

Until—

Whump-whump-whump.

The first heartbeat kicks in.

Sylus doesn’t move.

Then the nurse tilts her head. Frowns slightly. Adjusts the wand.

“Oh,” she says casually, as if she’s not about to detonate a bomb in the room. “There’s another.”

You blink. “Another what?”

She clicks something.

“There are two heartbeats.”

You stare at her. “As in—?”

“Twins,” she says, cheerfully. “You’re having twins.”

You whip your head toward Sylus.

Still frozen. Still unreadable.

Except for the twitch at the corner of his mouth. The subtle roll of his eyes. The very long blink like he’s internally rebooting.

Then, under his breath—just loud enough for you to hear:

“…I’m f*cking surrounded.”

You choke on a laugh. “Babe.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Just rubs a hand down his face like the weight of responsibility has suddenly tripled.

Finally: “I agreed to one. One tiny parasite. We had a deal.”

You grin. “Babies don’t do contracts.”

He mutters something about renegotiating with the womb gods before slouching down in the chair beside you, staring at the screen like it personally betrayed him.

The nurse keeps talking—measurements, due dates, baby A and baby B—but he’s not hearing any of it.

He’s calculating. Strategizing. Probably already planning to fortify the nursery.

Then he turns to you. Deadpan. Quiet.

“I’m going to need more weapons.”

You squeeze his hand.

“More diapers, you mean.”

He scowls. You can see the crisis brewing behind his eyes. But he still lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles like it’s instinct.

And then—very softly:

“…They’re gonna be so small.”

You nod. “And they’re yours.”

He leans back. Stares at the ceiling.

“God help me,” he mutters. “I’m gonna love them stupid, aren’t I?”

You smirk. “Already do.”

He groans.

But doesn’t let go of your hand.

Not for a second.

[17chuuya]

Rafayel's toddler son is a total mama's boy, despite looking just like his father.

"Nine months in my womb and you look just like your idiot father."

The little kid follows you around everywhere you go and demands that you hold his hand. Personal space is non-existent with both your boys. If it isn't Rafayel clinging to you, it is your son who demands cuddles just as often.

Surprisingly, unlike his father, your son is a very quiet and docile child. He listens to you when you ask him to clean up after himself, and he helps you tidy, despite never being asked to.

But despite being a soft-natured child, he is his father's greatest rival.

Pushing his dad's face away softly whenever he gets too close. Pulling on his ear piercing as a way to fidget. Interrupting the two of you.

Arms wrapped around each other, with you on his lap. He deepens the kiss, sliding a hand in your hair, only for a small voice to call out. "Mama?" "Hi baby!" And just like that, he's forgotten again, left strung up behind.

Squeezing himself between the two of you in bed, which is fine, until Rafayel wakes up with a foot in his face, apparently, the passive nature disappears when he's asleep.

After waking up for the eighth time with his son starfished

"Now I know why some animals eat their young."

"Rafayel!"

Rafayel loves his little twin, though (the cuteness aggression he gets looking at the product of your love).

masterlist

[bananabreads]

Little guppy 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

I just wanted to write something about Dad!Rafayel since i still can't get his Mistsea Lament card｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´⁠∩⁠`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

SUMMARY: A little short one shot about you and Rafayel's four year old daughter, Seraphina, who recently just transformed into her lemurian side.

Seraphina was only four when it happened— when she finally got her Lemurian tail.

It had been just an ordinary, sunny afternoon. You, Rafayel, and your daughter were enjoying a peaceful day on your private beach outside your home. A mat was neatly spread across the sand, a beach umbrella casting shade over you as you lounged in quiet relaxation. The sound of waves crashing mingled with the occasional seagull call and the soft babbling of your daughter’s voice.

Rafayel sat beside you, carefully applying sunscreen to Seraphina’s tiny arms while she munched on a half melted ice pop and pointed out everything she could see a crab walking from the shore, a seagull, and a cloud that “looks like Daddy’s face”

"Daddy, I wanna play mermaids!" she suddenly exclaimed, twisting toward him with her sunglasses slightly crooked and a wide, toothy grin — one that looked far too familiar for his heart to handle, that smile that was unmistakably yours.

Rafayel chuckled, his chest filled with warmth at her enthusiasm. "Of course, my little guppy," he replied, scooping her up in his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Seraphina had always known she was part Lemurian, bedtime stories and random curious questions made sure of that, but you and Rafayel never knew if she’d inherit the ability to transform. After all, She was only half Lemurian.

Still, she believed.

As Rafayel walked towards the water with her, his legs shimmered and shimmered again, soon forming his tail. Seraphina squealed with joy and kicked her feet in the water, holding his hand tightly as he guided her gently through the shallow waves.

Minutes later, a voice rang out.

“Daddy, look! Pretty colors!”

She held up her little arm, where radiant scales had appeared, shimmering under the sunlight. Rafayel blinked, stunned. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath, then he smiled, eyes soft with disbelief and joy.

“Sweetheart,” he softly whispered, “you’re transforming…”

Back on the mat, you sat up, scanning the water. You couldn’t see them. But then, there they were, swimming back towards the shore.

Rafayel carried Seraphina on his back, her arms looped around his neck, a giggling lemurian child in the making. As soon as she saw you, her eyes lit up and her tiny arms reached forward.

“Mommy! Mommy!” she squealed, tail flicking in excitement, an actual shimmering tail now flopped from Rafayel’s arms, radient and stubby, not yet fully grown, but definitely there.

You stood, heart pounding. “Is that— Rafayel?!”

“She did it,” Rafayel said, in a voice that trembled with joy and disbelief. “She’s got her tail.” he said as he softly kissed Seraphina's forehead.

You reached out instinctively and scooped Seraphina into your arms, her little body cool from the water, her new tail dripping and glistening in the sun. She giggled and snuggled into you, unaware of just how huge this moment was.

Except, she didn’t turn back.

An hour passed. Then two.

Eventually, you found yourselves dragging her little inflatable pool across the living room so she could stay close. She didn’t mind. In fact, she was loving it, lounging like a little sea princess, wrapped in towels and smothered in kisses and attention. Rafayel even fashioned a tiny crown from seashells, which she proudly wore like royalty.

“Being a lemurian is the best!” she happily said, splashing the water lightly. “I don’t want legs ever again!”

That tune changed by day three.

She was sitting in the inflatable kiddie pool in your living room, arms crossed, frowning. “I can’t even walk to the kitchen,” she grumbled. “I want to go get my own snacks like a big girl!”

Rafayel chuckled and gently took her hand, coaxing her into focusing. “Alright, little guppy. Let’s try again. Just think about your legs.. picture how they felt, remember the way they moved…”

She tried. Really hard and focused, she did. But after a few failed attempts and a puff of bubbles, little farts coming out instead of transforming back, frustration bubbled over her.

“This is so dumb!” she huffed, kicking her tail dramatically. “Why won’t it work!!” she said as she kept kicking her tail dramatically, clearly inheriting that behavior from her father.

Seeing her on the verge of tears, you exchanged a knowing glance with Rafayel, who gave a sigh of defeat. “Time to call in the 'expert',” he murmured, already pulling out his phone.

Within the hour, Aunty Talia arrived, walking into your living room like she owned the place, looking equal parts amused and ready to help.

“Well, well. Little guppy got herself stuck, huh?” she teased gently, kneeling by the small inflatable kiddie pool.

Seraphina sniffled and nodded.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Aunty Talia said warmly, brushing a wet curl from her face. “We all get stuck sometimes. But lucky for you, I’ve taught bigger Lemurians than your daddy how to shift. Let’s do this together, okay?”

And just like that, training began.

But even as your daughter pouted and tried again, you knew she’d figure it out eventually. She had your determination, Rafayel’s power, and the heart of the ocean in her chest.

And maybe… a little too much fun being pampered like a princess for now.

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

sickly blues 👩‍🍼

wherein rafayel had to begrudgingly fly overseas for a retrospective exhibition occurring somewhere away from home. he was occupied the whole day and only now he got ahold of his phone to message his beloved wife and check on his daughter, atlantis—who is going through a bad fever, crying out her dada's name and weeping out of longingness for him.

pairing: parents!rafamc (and their little girl!)

cw: none rly, js sweet n tender domestic fatherly rafayel with a toddler, rafayel's daughter calling him "ayel" i feel so sigma and aaaaaaaawww

—

rafayel: just finished giving a long ass speech onstage sorry for being inactive 

rafayel: how are my cutie n my sick little cutie doing are you both ok 

rafayel: pls say yes im this 🤏🤏 close to jumping off the balcony and coming straight home

rafayel: to hell with thomas

rafayel: (dun respond if youre resting or busy btw we can always talk later)

mc: not resting or busy we’re doing fine. atlantis’ temp still hasn’t gone down from 38°C. pls don’t give thomas any more headaches, that poor guy

mc: and don't worry love, i’m beside her on the bed and i've prepared the car so i can take her to the hospital anytime if it gets worse. i've fed her her favourite foods too. but she keeps crying and calling out to you. hurts me to see our little antis like this

rafayel: oh no

rafayel: can i call

rafayel: i miss you both :(

mc: i’ve already put her to sleep only a while ago she got tired after crying for hours

mc: but you gotta see this

mc: [Video Attachment]

–

When Rafayel clicked play, his eyes immediately softened upon the sight of his daughter. The recording played a video showing her face softly weeping, little cheeks flushed from fever, held by you on your lap. It appears that she had just finished crying from her quiet sniffles, reddened nose, and look of restlessness. Rafayel feels a sharp pang in his chest like his heartstrings are being tugged. 

His poor baby… If only he could take all her pain away even if it meant passing it to himself tenfold.

As the scene in the video unfolds, his daughter clings to her mama and sniffles, rubbing her eyes with her small hands. Your hand can be seen in the video removing Atlantis’ small hands from rubbing her eyes and brushing her short purple hair strands off her face before wiping her tears with your palm.

Atlantis’ lips quivered as she needily mewled in the video, “Dada…”

“Dada will be away for some time, Antis.” It was your firm voice. 

“Want Dada…....Ayel…....” She rubs her eyes again, still sniffling. “Ayel” was her own way of saying “Rafayel” since she still cannot pronounce all three syllables of her dad’s name yet. Rafayel almost teared up on how his daughter's longingness can be heard from her wobbly voice. He doesn’t want to think about how much pain his baby is going through.

“Ayel.....…Ayel........” Her small hands can be seen on camera tugging on your shirt, begging for her dad. Each utterance of "Ayel" gets progressively sadder. Rafayel’s heart broke completely. He knows how children tend to seek comfort from their parents during a fever, especially when they feel pain.

You gently caressed her head and kissed her hot forehead to soothe her, as seen in the video. “Sorry, Antis. Dad’s still far away… He’ll be back very soon, love.” 

“Mum…” Your daughter curls up and hugs your chest mellowly as you rock her to sleep and whisper sweet things to her ear, the toddler’s yearning for her dad still not satisfied.

When the recording ended, Rafayel’s lips quivered and his chest tightened as he traced his daughter’s face through the screen with his finger tenderly and longingly. How desperate he is to hold her in his arms and coo at her softly to ease the pain and comfort her.

–

mc: i had to give her one of your clean shirts that had your cologne on them so she could smell your scent. she hugged and held onto it until she dozed off only then she could sleep

–

Your revelation caused Rafayel’s heart to clench tighter. His homesickness caught up to him too. Badly.

–

rafayel: in tears rn my poor baby girl im coming home as soon as possible curse this n everyone i mean it

rafayel: take care of yourself too ok cutie dun starve yourself rest and sleep properly hold on just for a little longer and ill be there with you and our lil cutie back at home 

rafayel: ill call later when shes awake i love you please tell her im omw home and dada loves her too ill be by her side 24/7 when i come back i promise

rafayel: i hope she feels better soon

mc: sure message me when you're free. i love you come home safely

–

Rafayel truly did not give a fuck if he had to pay triple the standard travel fee to rush back home to his wife and daughter. Thomas—who was also concerned about his boss' daughter—didn't stop him from running off anymore when he found out Rafayel wants to go back right away because of Atlantis' fever. The overseas exhibition that required him to stay for another day be damned, he could not withstand another day anymore knowing back at home his wife is restless and his daughter is crying out for him and in pain without his presence. Even so, he didn't forget to gather a few souvenirs for the both of you.

***

whoever disagrees that rafa deserves a married + family life w us lk this after everything he's gone through is not safe around me thank you

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2025, don't forget to support your creators by reblogging !

[deepspaceivy]

father caleb saying "i outrank you, kid" lmao why is that so funnyyyy ??

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Not Now!

Pairings: Platonic!Lads men x Their kid

Summary: Your husband is calling your phone, but a little gremlin keeps declining it.

Requested by: @mitskunicheesecake

Notes: part 2 is now out

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Sylus

Sylus sat in his office, fingers drumming against the desk as he stared at his phone. His calls kept going to voicemail. No, not voicemail—his calls were being declined.

He narrowed his eyes, dialing again.

"Come on, sweetheart, pick up," he muttered under his breath.

The phone rang once. Twice. Then—

Call declined.

Sylus exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation prickling beneath his skin. He had told you to keep your phone close. You were out running errands, and he didn’t like when he couldn’t reach you. With the kind of business he ran, being unreachable meant something could be wrong.

Still, he tried again.

Declined.

His jaw tightened.

This time, instead of calling again, he switched to texting.

Sylus: Sweetheart, answer your phone.

No response.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He was about to send luke and kieran. Then, A message.

Your Number: No.

Sylus blinked.

No?

His fingers immediately moved to type, but before he could, another message came through.

Your Number: Go away.

His eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound like you. Not exactly. What happened to you? Did E.V.E.R get their hands on you?

His phone rang. A video call.

He answered immediately, expecting to see your face. Instead, a small figure appeared on the screen, curled up on your side of the bed, holding your phone in tiny hands. Their round face scrunched up in annoyance.

"Daddy," Elena huffed. "Stop calling Mommy."

Sylus let out a slow breath, his irritation flickering into something amused. "Is that why my calls are being declined?"

Elena nodded, her little fingers tapping at the screen. "You’re too loud. Mommy’s busy. She said she’ll be home soon."

Sylus leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand down his face. "You’re hanging up on me, aren’t you?"

"Uh-huh," she said sweetly. "Bye-bye, Daddy. I wanna watch yutuube"

The call ended.

Sylus stared at his phone for a long moment, his amusement fading into something else. His little girl had declined him—multiple times. And worse, she hadn’t even looked guilty about it.

With a sigh, he pushed back his chair and stood. Work could wait.

When Sylus stepped into the house, it was quiet.

He slipped off his jacket, draping it over the couch before making his way to the bedroom. The door was slightly open, and when he pushed it wider, he found his daughter still curled up in bed, your phone clutched in her small hands.

She looked up, her big red eyes widening when she saw him.

"Daddy!"

"Princess," Sylus said, voice slow, deliberate. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, watching as she quickly tucked the phone under the pillow. "I see you’ve been busy."

She blinked, tilting her head. "Mommy is busy," she corrected.

"Is that so?" He reached forward and grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap despite her squeal of protest. "Now, tell me, Princess. What should I do with a little girl who ignores her father?"

She squirmed. "Nothing!"

"Nothing?" His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make her giggle again. "Are you sure about that?"

Elena kicked her legs, laughter bubbling up. "Okay! Okay! I won’t do it again!"

Sylus smirked before giving her forehead a kiss. "That’s what I thought."

Just then, the sound of the front door opening made them both pause.

"Mommy’s home!" his daughter gasped, suddenly wiggling out of his grip. She scrambled off the bed and ran toward the door.

"Kids and their videos these days" Sylus let out an amused huff before going to greet you at the door.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Caleb

Caleb sat in his office, his uniform jacket draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up as he stared at his phone. His brows furrowed as he hit redial.

Once. Twice.

Declined.

His jaw tensed.

He tried again.

Declined.

Caleb leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. He knew you were out shopping, the messages were lighting up his phone

"thank you for your purchase at xxx store"

but you had given Noah the phone in case he needed anything, the shops were noisy and you couldn't hear the ringing

So why the hell was his own wife declining his calls, did something happen to you?

He dialed again. This time, instead of a decline, the call went through—but no one spoke. He could hear faint background noise, you were definitely outside.

"Y/n?" Caleb said, voice firm.

A beat of silence. Then, a small huff.

"Daddy, stop calling," Noah finally said.

Caleb blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You’re calling too much," Noah complained. "Mommy said we’d call you if we needed something."

Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. "And what if I need something, huh?"

Another pause. Then Noah sighed dramatically. "What do you need, Daddy?"

Oh, this little—

Caleb exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. "Put Mommy on the phone."

"No."

Caleb froze. "Noah—"

"Mommy’s busy," Noah said in a tone that was far too smug for a four-year-old. "She’s looking at boring grown-up stuff. And you’re distracting us."

Caleb clenched his jaw. "I am your father, Noah."

"Yeah, I know," Noah said casually. "But Mommy said ugh, Caleb is calling again and told me to ignore it."

Caleb’s eye twitched. "She said that?"

"Uh-huh."

"…Are you lying to me?"

A long pause. Then, a quiet, "Maybe."

Caleb let out a slow breath. "Noah."

Noah giggled, and before Caleb could say another word, the call ended, Caleb stared at the blank screen.

As soon as he stepped inside, he heard Noah’s laughter coming from the living room. He walked in to find him sprawled on the couch with a snack in hand, looking far too comfortable.

Noah turned his head, eyes widening when he saw Caleb. He immediately sat up, gripping the phone he had confiscated like it was a lifeline.

"Daddy!"

"Son," Caleb said, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze held no mercy. "We need to talk."

Noah scrambled off the couch. "Uh—Mommy! Daddy’s home!"

Caleb caught him by the back of his shirt before he could escape. "Nice try, bud. You and I have unfinished business."

Noah wriggled in Caleb’s grip, his small hands flailing. “I didn’t do anything!”

Caleb arched a brow. “Didn’t do anything? Didn’t do anything?” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “Son, you declined my calls like I was some kind of scam number.”

Noah squirmed harder. “You called too much!”

Caleb exhaled through his nose. “I called twice.”

“Exactly! Too much!”

Caleb stared at him, unimpressed. “You’re gonna stand here and tell me you had zero problem ignoring your father?”

Noah hesitated. “Uhh…” His grip on the phone tightened. “I just—Mommy was busy! And you always talk forever!”

Caleb scoffed. “Forever? I would’ve been on for two minutes. That’s not forever.”

Noah puffed his cheeks. “It is when I was watching cartoons.”

Caleb took a deep breath, rubbing a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this. My own son, my own blood, betraying me like this.”

Noah huffed. “I had to, Daddy.”

Caleb let out a dry chuckle, crouching so he was at Noah’s level. “Had to? Had to hang up on me? Where did you learn that, huh? You got someone else teaching you bad habits? That a bad influence I need to deal with?”

Noah shifted guiltily. “Nooo…”

Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Are you lying to me again, Noah?”

Noah swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” Caleb muttered, shaking his head. He pointed at the phone clutched in Noah’s hands. “Hand it over, soldier.”

Noah gasped, gripping it tighter. “No!”

“I outrank you, kid,” Caleb warned, voice low. “Don’t make me use my colonel voice.”

Noah’s lips wobbled. “But—but—”

“Three… Two…”

With a dramatic whimper, Noah finally surrendered the phone. Caleb took it and stuffed it in his pocket. “Now, what do we say?”

Noah shifted on his feet. “...Sorry?”

Caleb nodded. “That’s right. And?”

Noah sighed heavily, like Caleb was really putting him through it. “I won’t hang up on you again.”

Caleb smirked. “Good. Now, what should your punishment be?”

Noah gasped. “Punishment?! Daddy, no! It was a mistake!”

Caleb tapped his chin. “Hmm… I could make you do laps in the backyard. Maybe push-ups. Or—" his eyes gleamed—"no dessert for a week.”

Noah gasped again, even more dramatically. “Mommy!” he wailed, turning toward the kitchen. “Daddy’s being a tyrant!”

Before Caleb could grab him again, Noah sprinted off, his little legs carrying him as fast as they could.

A second later, you poked your head out of the bedroom, blinking. “What’s happening?”

Caleb sighed, standing up. “Your son is staging a rebellion.”

Noah clung to your leg. “Mommy, Daddy’s bullying me!”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow at Caleb. “Are you bullying our son?”

Caleb smirked. “Teaching him discipline.”

Noah tugged your sleeve. “Mommy, I was so good today.”

Caleb barked a laugh. “Yeah? Good at declining my calls.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Caleb, you’re an adult. You shouldn’t be getting into power struggles with a four-year-old.”

Caleb scoffed. “He started it.”

Noah giggled from behind your leg.

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “You two are exhausting.”

Caleb smirked, stepping closer to wrap an arm around your waist. “And yet, you love us.”

Noah nodded rapidly. “Uh-huh! Right, Mommy?”

You sighed, looking between them. “Unfortunately.”

Caleb chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before ruffling Noah’s hair. “You’re lucky your mom’s here to protect you, kid.”

Noah grinned up at him. “I know!”

Caleb shook his head, amused. “Unbelievable.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Rafayel

You had been invited to an exclusive art exhibition downtown—one that featured some of Rafayel’s earlier works. Since he despised public events and would rather gouge his own eyes out than attend, and Thomas would respectfully gouge out rafayel's eyes if he did not attend, you went in his place, both to support him and to keep up appearances.

Seraphina, your four-year-old daughter, had come along for the car ride but quickly grew bored when you arrived. The moment she saw the endless rows of paintings and the adults murmuring about “artistic depth” and “symbolic brush strokes,” she looked up at you, unimpressed.

“Mommy, this is so boring.”

You sighed, crouching down to smooth out her dress. “I know, sweetheart, but it won’t take long. Daddy worked hard on these paintings, and I have to talk to some of the nice people here, okay?”

Seraphina pouted. “But I don’t care about paintings. I wanna watch cartoons.”

You pulled out your phone and handed it to her. “Here. You can call Daddy if you need anything, alright?”

Her eyes lit up as she clutched the phone. “Okay!”

You smiled, kissing her forehead as you left her at the staff room and locked the door with your keycard so no one could enter other than Thomas, after everything was secure you turned toward the exhibition hall.

—

Back home, Rafayel was in his studio, adding the final details to a massive canvas when his phone vibrated. He wiped the paint off his hands and glanced at the screen.

Landlubber 💜 is calling…

A small smile tugged at his lips as he answered. “Sweetheart, are you finished already?”

Silence.

Then—

Click.

The call ended.

Rafayel blinked, staring at his phone.

What?

He lowered the device, then brought it back up, frowning. Had the signal dropped?

Before he could think too much about it, the phone vibrated again.

Landlubber 💜 is calling…

He answered immediately. “Sweetheart?”

Silence.

Rafayel stared at the phone in disbelief.

What the hell is going on?

The phone buzzed again.

This time, he answered with narrowed eyes. “If you hang up on me again—”

“Oh. Hi, Daddy.”

Rafayel exhaled through his nose. “Seraphina.”

His daughter hummed in acknowledgment.

“Why are you calling me just to hang up?” he asked, his voice carefully restrained. “Is everything alright?”

“I didn’t hang up,” she said cheerfully. “I was just checking.”

“Checking what?”

“If you’d answer.”

Rafayel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seraphina—”

“I miss you, Daddy.”

Rafayel’s frustration wavered, replaced with something softer.

He leaned against his desk, rubbing a hand down his face. “I miss you too, little fish.”

“Then come get me.”

Rafayel sighed, he could already imagine thomas chasing him down the exhibition “I can’t. Mommy is working in my place.”

“But I’m not. Please daddy” She whined.

“Mommy will bring you home soon.”

Seraphina made a displeased noise. “That’s too long.”

There was a pause. Then, her voice turned thoughtful. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re not painting without me, are you?”

Rafayel glanced at his half-finished canvas. With a pause he answered. “Of course not.”

Seraphina gasped. “You are!”

“I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t deny it!”

Rafayel chuckled. “You caught me.”

Seraphina huffed. “That’s not fair. You promised we’d paint together!”

“And we will,” he assured her. “I’ll wait for you.”

Another pause. Then—

“Okay. But no touching the pink paint.”

“No pink,” Rafayel agreed solemnly.

“Or the sparkles.”

“No sparkles.”

Seraphina hummed. “Alright. You’re forgiven.”

Rafayel smirked. “Good.”

There was a brief silence before he heard her yawn.

“You sleepy?” he asked.

“…No.”

He smiled knowingly. “Close your eyes, little fish.”

Seraphina whined. “But I wanna talk to you.”

“I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

“…Promise?”

“Promise.”

A beat of silence. Then, a soft rustling as Seraphina got comfortable.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Rafayel listened to her breathing slow, his heart aching with warmth.

He didn’t hang up. Not yet.

Instead, he stayed on the line, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his daughter’s breath.

Minutes passed before he finally spoke.

“I’ll come get you soon,” he whispered.

Then, finally, he ended the call.

[sayangrafayel]

Rafayel talking to his kid

Rafayel: Okay, fishie. If a stranger came up to you and tell you "hi I'm your father's friend", what would you say?

Kid: You're a liar because my dad only has three friends and one of them is my mom.

Rafayel: Good job!!!

[randomfandomworks]

Sylus watched as you ran your fingers across the back of the stray you had recently taken in. The small kitten was nothing more than a black ball as it curled in your lap yet he could hear its purring even from his place across the room.

He had nothing against the small animal, he regularly took care of discarded animals himself, it was just that while the cat loved you it must have adored him.

For the past week it could be constantly found with him, padding its way quickly across the floor in an attempt to keep up with his large strides whenever he left the room.

Regularly rubbing against his legs and begging for his attention.

Meowing softly whenever he would fail to acknowledge it or when he would forget and accidentally close the door to his office before it had the chance to enter as well.

Even now it sat content with you only as it kept a watchful eye on him.

It simply had to be around him whenever it could, even when he would scold and scruff it for pawing at Mephisto it would purr in his hold until he would give up and pet it for the next few minutes.

It was quite funny to you, to watch your dear partner have to deal with the small animal, to hear his complaints of already having to deal with one Kitten only for you to bring home another.

Yet he would say these same complaints while gently petting the sleeping cat in his lap.

And then he would wonder why you never believed him when he said he wasn’t attached. When in fact he had obviously become rather adjusted to his two kittens roaming around and asking for his attention.

[loveanddeepstress]

Slight spoilers, completely humor purpose cause it's funny.

Lads headcanon, what if we're astra's daughter and he just can't stand the idea of his child in a relationship.

"You can't fall in love with the god of the sea! He's a drama queen and all the way in the depths of lemuria!"

"Maybe some time in the mountains with my forseer will do you some good.... YOU CANNOT MARRY THE FORSEER NO MORE MOUNTAIN- I SAID NO MORE-"

"You know what, I think you should go learn some swordsmanship and what better place than philos? NOT THE PRINCE-"

"Look at all the beautiful flowers mc- mc? Mc- A MF DRAGON?!"

"Now, you're in a simple life now, no dragons, my forseer almost killed me, the sea god is supposedly dead and the prince is on a deepspace mission from philos, no dragons or nothing in this time period- PUT THAT POOR BOY DOWN YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE HE'S BEEN-"

Hes just a tired overprotective dad.

[oceanxbutterfly]

Rafayel with his child in his arms: “No, I won’t draw this man a piece just because he has money, Thomas”

Thomas: “It’s 1.500.000€! THAT MAN IS VERY RICH AND POWERFUL!”

Rafayel: “And I’m in no need of his fuck-ahhnghj“

Child starring at him: 👁️-👁️

Rafayel: “FUNKY MONEY! Yes, I’m in no need of this mans funky money!”

Child: “Daddy, just say “fucking money””

Rafayel: “👁️👄👁️ MC is gonna kill me…”

[slimepuparibaba]

Lies the LADS boys tell our parents apparently

Xavier: I am really good at cooking and she likes my food (ignore the burning kitchen in the background).

Zayne: I am really funny. I am known for my sense of humor (he says, deadpan).

Rafayel: I dress properly and guest lecture at universities sometimes (not because I wanted to keep an eye on your daughter or anything (this is lore related pls read his anecdote)).

Sylus: Everything I say is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (the liar Sylus spoke, leaving out the fact he is the leader of a criminal organization).

Caleb: I'm always here for her every single day (<-- pretended to die for a year). Also, hi mom and dad. I mean mom and dad—I mean aunt and uncle. I'm her husband, I mean husband—I MEAN HUSBAND. I MEAN—

[seongwars]

Sports Day!

wc: 1500 warnings: none, just fluff and some humor part of the lads!dadverse a/n: pushing the fish man agenda cause he's my pookie

“Daddy and Mommy! Hurry up!” Ariel bounced in place, her violet space buns bobbing as she waved eagerly at you and Rafayel.

The annual sports festival at Linkon Elementary was in full swing. Parents milled about—some stretching and hyping themselves up, others indulging in food stalls overflowing with festival treats or joining in on family-friendly activities.

And then there was Xavier—blinking sleepily near the bleachers, looking as if he’d much rather be in bed.

“Honey, are you sure you want to run? We can always do something else,” Xavier’s wife suggested, eyeing him with concern.

“Huh?” Xavier stifled a yawn. “No, it’s fine. I got this. Right, Ori?”

Orion's small hand clutched his dad’s sweatpants and looked up at him with the exact same tired expression. He held up a thumbs up, signaling to his father that he had it in the bag.

Ariel giggled and tugged on Rafayel’s sleeve as they approached the track field. “Ori’s dad and Ori and his baby brother all look the same.”

Rafayel glanced over and had to admit—she wasn’t wrong. Xavier’s wife’s genes had absolutely not put up a fight. Orion was an exact copy of his father, and the six-month-old strapped to Xavier’s wife’s chest, baby Atlas, blinked drowsily in perfect sync with them both.  

“Oh, look! There’s Archer’s daddy!” Ariel chirped, pointing across the field. 

Caleb was near the starting line, jogging in place while Archer chattered beside him. Caleb’s entire brood was clustered nearby—Ciel reminding him not to forget the basketball shootout later, while his wife handed snacks to the twins. Rafayel was fairly certain all of Caleb’s kids were at least in the 99th percentile for growth, built like miniature athletes thanks to their dad’s genetics.

A few feet away, Zayne stood rolling his shoulders, his gaze locked onto Caleb as if he were preparing to charge into battle. A few months ago, Archer had “dumped” Elsa, effectively ending their “marriage.” Since then, Zayne had sworn to avenge his daughter’s honor by obliterating Caleb in the parent dash.

“Hi Elsa!” Ariel waved enthusiastically, breaking Zayne’s intense concentration for a moment. Elsa turned around at the sound of her name, her bright smile lighting up her face as she waved back.

“Hi!"

“Oh! Mommy! Daddy! Did you know that Archer broke up with Elsa?" Ariel lowered he voice as she whipped around to face you and Rafayel.

"He said he likes Cece now. Elsa was really sad."

“What!” you and Rafayel exclaimed in unison, completely scandalized by this preschool drama.

Ariel, completely unaware of the impact of her words, continued on. “Yeah, but that’s okay because Elsa said Archer was the best line leader, and I think he likes her again.”

The atmosphere on the field shifted as a heavy presence entered the vicinity. Parents who had been stretching or casually chatting suddenly found themselves standing a little straighter, instinctively sensing something, or someone, had arrived.

“Well, this seems interesting.”

Sylus stepped onto the field, clad in all black. His sleeves were rolled up exposing his veiny forearms and his red eyes were concealed under black sunglasses, sending a message to the rest of the parents that he was going to win this whole thing. 

A few parents exchanged nervous glances.

A teacher hesitated mid-whistle.

Even Xavier, perpetually teetering on the edge of sleep, cracked one eye open in vague curiosity.

“Daddy! You forgot your tiara!” 

The entire field fell into an eerie silence. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed.

Cece, marched up to him, a bright pink, plastic, jewel-encrusted tiara clutched in her tiny hands. Sylus, still looking like he could probably take out a small gang with his bare hands, crouched down, and allowed his daughter to delicately place the plastic crown atop his head. The rhinestones caught the sunlight, glittering obnoxiously against his white hair hair.

“You ready, Daddy?” you teased, slipping your arm around your husband’s waist. Rafayel smirked, leaning in against your ear. 

"Always. I’ve got my lucky charm here, after all."

He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the cheek, only to be interrupted by Ariel smacking his arm with all the force her tiny hands could muster.

“Ewww! You’re being so lovey dovey!” She scrunched up her nose, looking personally offended. “You need to get your head in the game, Daddy!”

Rafayel blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What do you mean, Glub Glub?”

“This is serious!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re representing our whole family! Lemuria depends on you!” She gestured wildly toward the field, as if this were the Olympics and not an elementary school sports festival.

You bit back a laugh as Rafayel arched a brow, clearly amused. “So what you’re saying is, I need to focus?”

“Yes!” Ariel stomped her foot for emphasis. “You can be mushy later. Right now, you have to win! Look at the other daddies!”

Caleb was focused, looking every bit like a man who did cardio for fun. Zayne, despite his usual stoic demeanor, was practically burning with vengeance. 

Meanwhile, Sylus, now infamously wearing Cece’s pink tiara, cracked his neck, his expression as serious as ever as he waited for the starting signal. Then there was Xavier, mid-yawn but somehow still managing to look deceptively athletic.

“Daddy. You have to crush them.”

You smirked, giving Rafayel’s butt a playful pat. “Well, you heard the boss. Better not disappoint her.”

Rafayel bent down to meet his daughter’s gaze, a serious expression settling over his face. “Alright, Coach. Anything else I should know before I go out there?”

“Yes. Run fast.”

The participants were lined up at the starting line. The crowd was abuzz with anticipation as kids cheered for their respective parent and the announcer’s voice rang out over the speakers.

“On your marks… Get set… Go!”

Zayne took off like a man possessed, laser focused on Caleb, who was a few feet away, blissfully unaware of the grudge match about to unfold. The Colonel, still seemingly unbothered, was just happy to be there, and that only further enraged Zayne. 

Sylus was right beside him, arms pumping, breath steady, somehow managing to keep the tiara balanced on his head as Rafayel took off beside him. Your husband’s strides carried him forward, muscles flexing as he pushed harder spurred on by the cheers of your little girl.

Then there was Xavier.

What no one saw coming, what no one could have possibly predicted, was the moment Xavier, sleepy and seemingly disinterested, exploded forward. It was like something primal took over, his long legs moving with shocking efficiency, his relaxed posture giving way to a sudden burst of unparalleled speed. 

Zayne, mid-sprint, turned his head just enough to see an absolute blur whiz past him. Sylus, who had been so focused on keeping his form tight and his tiara steady, risked a glance and nearly tripped. 

“Oh, wow, dude’s fast—” Caleb chuckled as Xavier effortlessly overtook him in the final stretch.

The crowd roared.

The kids cheered.

Parents gasped. 

And just like that, the race was over.

Xavier skidded to a stop past the finish line. He blinked at the crowd, the stunned competitors, and the announcer who was gaping at him.

“Oh,” Xavier mumbled, rubbing his neck. “Did I win?”

“You won, Dada!” Ori cheered, running toward him with open arms. Xavier scooped up his son and spun him around. Even little Atlas was bouncing excitedly in his carrier, kicking his tiny feet in celebration.

Rafayel was frozen in place, still trying to process what had just happened. His body had reacted, his legs had moved, his arms had pumped with perfect form. And yet, somehow, some way, Xavier had just whipped past him defying the laws of physics. 

And the worst part?

You had caught the exact moment his soul left his body.

“You did great, Daddy!” Ariel chirped, wrapping her arms around Rafayel in a comforting hug as he collapsed against the bleachers.

Rafayel’s eye twitched as he finally snapped out of his daze. He turned to look at his daughter, his pride, his biggest fan, his coach, only to see that she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. She was watching the replay on your phone.

Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your stomach, gasping for breath. You had watched the video at least five times now, and each time, it got funnier. Because there, right there, was the exact moment Xavier passed him, and your husband made the ugliest, most tragic face known to mankind.

You wheezed, shoving the phone in his face. “Babe, look at this—”

His brows shot up to his hairline, his eyes bulged so wide they practically swallowed his face, and his mouth floundered open gasping for air.

“I don’t want to,” he pouted, turning away from you. 

“Aww you’re still the best to Ari and me,” you cooed, crouching down to poke your husband’s cheek. 

Rafayel exhaled sharply, his cheeks puffing out like a frustrated fish as he stared into the distance. Then, with fiery determination, he straightened his shoulders. Placing his hands on his hips, he rose to his full height, his posture radiating resolve.

“Next year,” he declared. “Next year will be different.”

“Raf, it’s just a school race—”

“There’s always next year.”

[neonbonded]

Fatherhood Is a Full-Contact Sport

♡ ft. Caleb, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus x fem!reader ♡ cw: dad!headcanons, domestic chaos, tag-team toddler warfare, sticker abuse, ego injuries, public humiliation (soft), wife-led mischief ♡ a/n: you didn’t mean to start a war… but once your kid picked a target, you had to support them. teamwork makes the dream (dad meltdown) work.

Caleb

It starts with the socks.

You and your kid exchange a look over breakfast—just a slight twitch of the eyebrow, a smirk over toast—and Caleb should have known. He should have.

But he’s got stars in his eyes and jam on his fingers, and he’s too busy cutting your kid’s pancakes into perfect little hexagons to notice you’ve already swapped his socks.

They’re pink. With glitter hearts. And the words “#1 Trophy Husband” stitched in sparkly thread.

He puts them on without looking.

And then?

Operation: Bully Dad begins.

—

Phase One: Language Manipulation. You teach your kid to call him “Captain Cranky.”

Every time he sighs? “Okay, Captain Cranky.”

When he says no to dessert? “Ugh, classic Captain Cranky.”

He stares at you like you betrayed him. You just sip your coffee.

“I am not cranky,” he mutters.

From under the table: “You’re literally pouting right now, Cap.”

—

Phase Two: The Snack Swap. He reaches for his favorite protein bar in the pantry.

Finds a note instead.

"Too slow, Captain Cranky. We needed it more. For… missions"

He spins around.

You and your kid are already on the couch. Sharing it. Making dramatic yum noises.

“I swear to god, you two are a menace.”

You both say it at the same time: “A menace to CRANKY.”

—

Phase Three: The Betrayal. He finally gets a break. He’s lying on the floor with your kid on his chest, playing spaceship noises.

It’s quiet. Peaceful.

Then your kid leans down and whispers: “Mommy says you talk in your sleep. About kissing her toes.”

His eyes FLY OPEN.

You’re across the room, hiding a smile behind a throw pillow. “I said what I said.”

He groans and drags both of you onto the floor with him. “Unbelievable. My own family.”

You grin. “You love it.”

He kisses your temple, then your kid’s forehead. “You have no idea.”

Xavier

It starts with a whisper war in the hallway.

You and your kid peek around the corner like spies on a stakeout—clipboard in hand, checklist ready.

Mission Objective: Tease Daddy Until He Short Circuits.

Xavier is at the kitchen counter, pouring cereal into the mug he always insists is “just more ergonomic than a bowl.” He’s wearing socks with swords on them. A gift from you. He takes them very seriously.

You circle “Target Acquired.”

—

Phase One: The Wrong Name Game. Your kid walks in casually.

“Hey, Xylophone.”

Xavier glances up. “Hello.”

No reaction.

Not even confusion.

So your kid tries again, louder. “I said Xylophone.”

Xavier frowns faintly. “Yes. I heard. Are we experimenting with sound-based naming systems today?”

You lose it from the hallway.

—

Phase Two: Sticker Warfare. This one’s your idea.

While Xavier’s reading on the couch, your kid climbs into his lap with all the innocence in the world—and slowly starts covering him in dinosaur stickers.

One on his cheek.

One on his temple.

A brontosaurus on his neck.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch.

Finally, he blinks over his book. “Is there a… theme?”

“Jurassic Daddy,” you say sweetly, passing by.

He nods thoughtfully. “Very well.”

Doesn’t even take them off.

—

Phase Three: The Hidden Alarm. Your kid sneaks your phone into Xavier’s jacket pocket.

Sets a timer.

In two minutes, it’ll go off. Loud. In the middle of him doing birdwatching on the balcony.

He’s squinting into the trees, focused and serene—until a digital duck quack blares from his coat.

He freezes.

Then calmly pulls out your phone, stares at it like it’s a new lifeform.

“...Is this my punishment for using your mug?”

You and your kid high-five from the doorway.

—

That night, you’re brushing your teeth when you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

You smile at his reflection. “Even when we bully you?”

He hums. “Especially when you work as a team.”

He’s got a triceratops still stuck to his sleeve.

You leave it.

Rafayel

It starts because Rafayel wouldn’t let your kid put googly eyes on the blender.

A crime, truly.

So now?

You’re at war.

You and your mini-me form an unholy alliance before breakfast. The mission is clear: mess with Rafayel all day. Confuse him. Fluster him. Bring him to his knees (with love, obviously).

—

Phase One: The Sketch Swap He leaves his current canvas in the studio—half-finished, ethereal, probably titled Longing for Lemuria II: A Study in Violet Silence.

You and your kid sneak in.

When he returns, the dreamy mermaid now has a mustache. And laser eyes. And a speech bubble that says “My dad has stinky feet.”

He gasps like you physically struck him.

“You defiled my muse?!”

You shrug. “Consider it a collaboration.”

Your kid adds: “We made it better.”

He puts a hand to his chest. “You’re both going to artist jail.”

—

Phase Two: The Fashion Sabotage He goes to pull on his favorite pants—the flowy, artsy ones with the embroidered moons—and finds they’ve been replaced with hot pink yoga leggings from your drawer.

You: “I think you could rock them.”

Your kid: “Slay, bestie.”

He stares at the pants.

Then stares at you.

Then changes into them like a man on a catwalk.

But he’s muttering the entire time. “This is emotional abuse. I’m filing a glitter-based complaint.”

—

Phase Three: The Cookie Theft He opens the cabinet for his secret stash of lavender shortbread.

Finds an empty tin and a note inside:

“Stolen in the name of justice. Your blender crimes have consequences. —The Chaos Coalition”

He screams. Loudly. Then walks dramatically into the living room and collapses across the couch like a Victorian woman fainting on a chaise.

You toss him a goldfish cracker.

He glares.

Then eats it.

—

That night, he pulls you close in bed, head on your chest.

“I hope you both know,” he whispers, “that I am keeping a list.”

You run your fingers through his hair. “Of what?”

“Every emotional injury I sustained today.”

Your kid peeks in the doorway. “You forgot we replaced your shampoo with whipped cream.”

He gasps.

But honestly?

He’s never felt more loved.

Zayne

It begins when he finds his stethoscope floating in a bowl of cereal.

“Do you have a reason,” Zayne asks slowly, very calmly, “why my hospital equipment is now... infused with oat milk?”

Your child blinks up at him. “It was cold and needed a bath.”

You, from across the kitchen: “Honestly? Sound logic.”

He closes his eyes. Sets the stethoscope on the counter. Says nothing.

That was your warning shot.

—

Phase One: Renaming the Routine

You and your kid refuse to call anything by its normal name.

Zayne walks into the room, setting his laptop down with surgical precision.

You: “Look out. The Ice Cube Cometh.”

Your kid: “All hail Frost Daddy.”

Zayne: “I am literally holding your dental insurance forms.”

You both clap like he told a joke.

He blinks. Once.

“...What’s happening right now?”

—

Phase Two: The Hospital File Swap

He opens his neatly labeled folder before work.

Finds a glittery drawing titled “ME + MOMMY + FROST DAD = BESTIES FOREVER 💖”

Also, you’ve replaced his bio with:

“Zayne: World’s Coldest Softie. Will cry at piano music and is afraid of butterflies.”

He reads it. Stares at the paper.

Puts it back.

And takes it to work anyway.

—

Phase Three: Sticker Surgery

He showers. He gets dressed. He puts on his favorite button-down.

Then glances in the mirror—and freezes.

There’s a little cartoon Band-Aid sticker on his jawline.

Purple. With a smiley face.

You don’t even try to hide your laugh.

His jaw tics.

“I’ve conducted heart transplants with less sabotage than I face in this household.”

You pat his cheek. “And yet, you’re still so lovable.”

“Debatable.”

—

At bedtime, he’s halfway through folding laundry (into immaculate rectangles, obviously), when your kid leans against his side.

“Hey Dad?”

“Yes?”

“We bullied you good today.”

He pauses.

Then quietly nods.

“You did.”

You sit beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“But you liked it.”

“…No comment.”

You kiss the spot beneath his ear. “Tomorrow we’re calling you Doctor Cuddles.”

He exhales. Resigned. But soft.

“…Fine. But only inside this house.”

(You do not respect that boundary.)

Sylus

It starts before 9 a.m.

Sylus—warlord, tactician, red-eyed nightmare of the underground—walks into the living room fully dressed for a meeting with a black-market arms dealer.

Hair slicked. Suit sharp. Brooch in place.

You and your kid are waiting for him.

He stops. Narrow eyes. Tilt of the head. Suspicion.

You smile sweetly.

Your kid lunges forward.

And slaps a bright pink unicorn sticker onto his briefcase.

Dead center.

Sylus just… stands there.

“…Is this meant to be intimidation?”

You: “We’re marking our territory.”

Your kid: “Now the bad guys will know you have backup.”

He looks down at the sticker.

Then at you.

And says absolutely nothing.

But he takes the damn briefcase.

—

Phase One: Name Disrespect

He’s mid-hologram conference when your kid walks in, climbs into his lap, and announces to the entire Onychinus leadership:

“This is Mr. Grumpy Fangs. He doesn’t like it when I boop his nose.”

Sylus doesn’t even flinch.

Keeps talking about supply routes like there isn’t a giggling toddler poking his cheek on live cam.

Later?

He finds out you recorded it.

You send him the clip labeled:

“POV: You’re a villain and your child is your boss.”

He replies with one word:

“Traitor.”

Phase Two: Crow Brooch Chaos

You’re in the middle of folding laundry when your kid comes sprinting in, giggling with something clenched in one hand.

Minutes later, you hear Sylus’s voice—flat, deadly.

“Why… are there googly eyes on my crow?”

You don’t even look up. “Balance. Every villain needs a little whimsy.”

He turns to your kid. “Did you do this?”

“Team effort,” they chirp.

Sylus glares at the glittery-eyed brooch sitting on his chest.

Then sighs.

And doesn’t take it off.

Until hours later.

(He leaves it on his desk. Keeps looking at it.)

Phase Three: Tactical Sabotage

He walks into the war room.

Finds the giant wall map—his map—covered in crayon scribbles.

He blinks.

“Did someone… add butterflies to the Northern quadrant?”

Your kid: “It needed joy.”

You: “And balance.”

He stands there in silence.

Then mutters: “You’ve both become a security threat.”

You blow him a kiss.

That night, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket off, tie loose.

You crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms around him. “Did we push you too far today?”

He grumbles something unintelligible.

Then rests his forehead against yours.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him slow. “We know.”

He exhales.

“…You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“Nope.”

Your kid shouts from the hallway: “TOMORROW YOU’RE GETTING GLITTER STICKERS!”

He closes his eyes. Bends his head to your shoulder.

And mutters:

“I should’ve stayed in the shadows.”

(He never means it.)

[quinn-the-queen]

What kind of dads do I think the LaDS men would be

Master List❀ Rules!✰ My bias towards Caleb might be a tinsey bit obvious Cw: Mentions of pregnancy, Female reader DO NOT OR REPOST STEAL HEADER IMAGE OR CHARACTER IMAGES, ALL MADE BY ME

I think Xavier would be a dad to a singular boy. As we know, Xavi doesn't like sharing your attention all that much. He would take naps with the baby all the time. Our resident foodie would also try to feed your three month old fried chicken, and you would have to explain to him why your son can't have anything besides milk yet

Zayne loves kids, but he is also very logical and practical, so I think he would have two kids, a boy and a girl. Zayne in canon is very good with children, he often comforts kids in the pediatric ward, so if one of the babies is having a hard time, Dad can comfort them with ease. Zayne learned to braid hair so he could comfort the little girls going into surgery, so I think Zayne would be a very good girl Dad.

I think Rafayel would be another one-and-done kinda guy, to a baby girl. He loves kids, but he also likes his lounge time I believe. Lord knows his kid would have his level of sass. His daughter would put make-up on him, and he would critique it "Put a little more of that dark purple on the outer corner"

Literally everyone agrees that Sylus would be a girl dad, and he absolutely would be. Best believe his baby gets whatever her little heart desires. would be the type of dad to do little dance recitals for mommy with his daughter, putting on an impossibly tight pink tutu. I could totally see him going to every one of his daughter's dance practices.

Caleb would have three kids, two boys and one Girl. Caleb's eldest son would be a Carbon copy of him in every way. both in looks and in personality. His eldest would be very attached to his mama, constantly pushing his dad away from her. He loves his two sons very much, would be the type of dad to play sports and fake wrestle with his sons. The Second son would look like his dad (Mc genes need to fight back) but have his mom's personality. would be a daddies boy, showing Caleb all the cool crafts he made with an excited smile. The youngest, and the only daughter, would look just like her mama, with dad's eyes. and he would spoil her rotten. would be so sad to send his baby girl off to her first day of kindergarten. When you get home, he's like, "how about we make another one?" while giving you those signature puppy eyes

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

so i have a hc that rafayel's baby daughter calls him "ayel" affectionately FUCKHSJFKGFJDK SO CUTEEE

"what's the name of your dada?"

rafayel's little cutie smiles like she's been waiting for that question all her life and looks up to them with shiny hetero-hued starlight irises, just like her dad's.

"ayel!"

AAAAAHHHH

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Back Off!

Pairings: Dad!Lads x Afab!reader

Summary: a creep won’t leave you alone, time for your big body guard and small body guard to step in

Notes: masterlist \ part 2

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Sylus

The streets of N109 Zone pulsed with their usual chaotic energy, half-lit neon signs flickering above suspiciously quiet alleyways, the scent of smoke and street food blending into something uniquely dangerous. It was the kind of place where you kept your head down if you weren’t someone important. But Sylus? He was the boss here. The head of Onychinus. The name alone made people shut up and get out of his way.

Which was why walking around at night with Sylus and Elena—your five-year-old daughter, was exactly a casual family outing. Eyes followed you everywhere, but no one dared approach. Not when Sylus was around.

“Are you sure she’s not gonna tear into that thing?” you asked, watching Elena clutch a handful of Sylus’s coat as they walked ahead. whenever you took her out to eat ice cream, she ate so fast she would be complaining about a stomachache.

“She’ll be fine,” Sylus said, amused. He flicked a glance down at your daughter, who was practically vibrating with excitement. “Won’t you?”

“I’m gonna eat it slow,” Elena swore. But you knew that was a lie. Elena was many things, sharp, observant, stubborn as her father—but patient? Never.

You leaned against a bench outside a shop, deciding to let them handle the ice cream mission. The air was thick with the usual N109 energy—danger hidden under pleasantries. You were used to it by now. Used to the way people here either respected or feared you because of Sylus.

But apparently, not everyone in this city had a survival instinct.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you sitting alone,” a voice drawled.

Your shoulders stiffened before you even looked.

Creep.

You turned your head slightly. Man in his late thirties, leather jacket, smug expression that made you want to break his teeth. He had the look of someone who thought he was important—probably one of the many wannabe gangsters in N109 who weren’t smart enough to realize who you were.

“Keep walking” you said, not bothering to be polite.

Instead of leaving, the idiot laughed. “Come on, no need to be like that. Just saying, a pretty thing like you sitting all alone in a city like this? That’s a bad idea.”

Your fingers twitched. Sylus would kill him. You didn’t even have to do anything—if this guy laid a single hand on you, Sylus would carve him into something unrecognizable before he had time to scream.

But before you could decide whether or not to send the guy off yourself, a small, familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Hey, ugly.”

Both you and the creep froze.

Then, Elena stepped between you and the man, a little ball of rage wrapped in a pink jacket and a scowl that was all her father.

She wasn’t holding her ice cream anymore. Instead, she had her tiny fists clenched at her sides, Red eyes burning.

The guy actually laughed.

“What the hell—”

Elena kicked him in the shin. Hard.

“Ow—what the—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Elena reached into her pocket, pulled out a bottle of glitter and uncapped it before chucking it straight into his face.

The effect was instant.

“What the—gah! What the hell?!” The man stumbled back, frantically rubbing at his eyes, which were now full of sparkling, pink glitter.

You stared. Sylus’s daughter, alright.

“That’s what you get, idiot.” Elena spat, tiny hands still clenched into fists. “You don’t talk to my mama. You don’t even LOOK at my mama.”

The guy wasn’t listening, he was too busy trying to get glitter out of his eyes, coughing and cursing.

Elena didn’t care. She turned to you, face serious. “Mama, are you okay?”

You blinked, then slowly grinned.

“Oh, I’m great, sweetheart.”

Before you could say anything else, a shadow loomed behind you.

Sylus.

His red eyes flicked from you to the creep—who was still on the ground, wheezing and covered in glitter—then to Elena, who had crossed her arms and was looking at him expectantly, like she wanted him to finish the job.

Sylus exhaled through his nose, then crouched beside the groaning man.

“How about you crawl away before I let my daughter do worse?”

The man scrambled up, still half-blind, and ran.

Elena made a triumphant noise. “Hah. Loser.”

You laughed. Sylus just shook his head.

“She gets that from you,” he muttered.

“She gets it from you,” you shot back.

Elena stomped her foot. “I get it from ME.”

Sylus huffed out a laugh, ruffling her hair. Then he pulled something from his pocket.

A second ice cream cone. mint and chocolate flavored, Your child had such a uniquely bad taste, inherited from sylus dare you say.

Elena gasped. “You got me another one?!”

“You lost the first one defending your mother,” Sylus said. “That deserves a reward.”

Elena took it reverently, eyes shining. Then she grabbed Sylus’s coat and started dragging him forward.

“Come on! Let’s go before Mama finds another idiot to fight!”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Caleb

The mall was bustling with activity, but it felt like the perfect escape for you and your little family. The sun was shining brightly outside, casting its warm glow into the large, open space of the shopping center. Noah, your five-year-old son, was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement as he pulled at your sleeve.

“Mom! Look! These are so cool!” Noah exclaimed, holding up a T-shirt with a picture of a superhero on it. His eyes were wide, and his grin was so full of joy, it made your heart swell. You couldn’t help but laugh at how excited he got about even the smallest things.

“Let’s make sure you have enough clothes to last for the week first, buddy,” you said, guiding him over to the racks of shirts and pants, making sure they weren’t too small. Caleb, your husband and childhood best friend, was already a few steps ahead, scanning the store for something that might catch his eye. The way he moved through the store, quick and energetic, was such a contrast to how he was at home—patient, smiley, and filled with protective energy.

You and Caleb had been together for years, and now, as parents, your bond was stronger than ever. Caleb had always been the energetic, charming guy with an almost perpetual smile, but when it came to family, he was fiercely protective—especially of you and Noah.

“I’m going to grab some clothes for myself,” Caleb said with a wink as he turned toward the men’s section.

“Okay, but don’t take too long,” you replied, giving him a playful shove. He laughed and waved as he went off, leaving you with Noah to pick out his new clothes.

After about ten minutes of Noah trying on a couple of outfits—one of them a pair of bright yellow shorts that made you laugh—you decided it was time to go check the changing rooms.

“Noah, go ahead and try those on, honey. I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” you said as you walked him toward the changing rooms. You leaned against the wall next to the entrance, glancing around at the other shoppers while you waited.

You could hear Noah’s soft voice from inside, asking if the shirt he was trying on looked good. You smiled to yourself, knowing that it was probably his favorite part of shopping—getting to see his reflection in the mirrors and be proud of how grown-up he was becoming.

But then, your moment of peace was shattered.

A man, probably in his late thirties, appeared from the corner of your vision. He had an oily, creepy grin plastered across his face as he stepped closer, his eyes lingering a little too long on you.

You immediately felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” the man said, his voice too smooth, too casual.

You forced yourself to smile politely, though it felt fake. “I’m waiting for my son, actually,” you replied, keeping your tone calm.

The man didn’t seem to get the hint. He leaned in slightly, his breath smelling of too much cologne. “I’m sure your son’s adorable, but you look even better.” He chuckled, making you feel uncomfortable.

You took a small step back, hoping he would take the hint and leave you alone. But no such luck. Instead, he stepped closer again, his expression changing to one of false interest.

“So, how about we—”

Before he could finish the sentence, the changing room door slammed open with such force, it made everyone nearby turn.

There stood Noah—his eyes wide, his little chest puffed out, his arms folded across his body like a mini version of Caleb when he was standing up for his family.

“Hey!” Noah shouted, his voice loud and firm. “You leave my mom alone!”

The man’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden interruption. You couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh.

“Noah, sweetheart, go inside, okay?” you called softly.

But Noah wasn’t done. “You hurt my mom, I’m telling my dad. And he’s really strong.” He lifted his chin, his five-year-old voice full of the authority he had definitely inherited from his dad.

The creep smirked. “Oh, yeah? And who’s your dad?” He leaned in too close, clearly not recognizing who he was dealing with.

But before you could respond, a familiar voice rang out from behind the man. “You better take a step back, pal.”

You turned to see Caleb standing there, his smile gone, replaced with that dangerous glint in his eyes that only came out when he was ready to protect his family.

The man froze. The entire atmosphere shifted. Caleb's mere presence seemed to make the creep realize who he was dealing with. Caleb’s reputation as a colonel in the farspace fleet military, a man whose name commanded respect and fear.

“Colonel, right?” the man muttered, his voice shaking as he took a step back. He must have recognized Caleb from his black uniform. Either way, he’d lost his bravado.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Caleb replied, his voice smooth, but the cold edge in it was undeniable. He took a few slow steps toward the man, causing him to flinch. “And if you ever come near my wife again, I will make sure you regret it.”

The man turned and started walking briskly toward the exit, all sense of confidence gone. Caleb watched him leave, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you okay, babe?” he asked, his expression softening as he came over to you. He placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you close.

You nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. “I’m fine. Thank you, Noah,” you added, bending down to give your son a tight hug. “You’re my little hero, you know that?”

Noah beamed up at you, his smile growing even wider. “I’m just like Dad!” he said proudly. “I’ll protect you, Mama.”

Caleb chuckled, ruffling Noah’s hair before bending down to his level. “You’re more like your mom,” he teased gently, “but I’ll take that. You’re my little protector, huh?”

Noah puffed out his chest again. “I’m strong, just like you, Daddy.”

The proud moment melted into a laugh, the tension from earlier dissipating into nothing. You looked at Caleb, who gave you a reassuring smile before picking up a couple of shirts from the display table.

“Now,” Caleb said, with that familiar twinkle back in his eyes, “how about we get some ice cream to celebrate the fact that we’re all still alive? thanks to our superhero noah”

You chuckled, nodding. “Sounds good to me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Rafayel

The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a golden hue across the sparkling waters of the private beach. It was one of those perfect afternoons—warm, serene, and untouched by the noise of the world. You, Rafayel, and your little girl, Seraphina, had come to the beach to enjoy the rare tranquility that only a private getaway could offer. The beach, a hidden paradise that sat just behind the villa Rafayel had bought years ago, was the perfect escape from his demanding career as a world-renowned artist.

Rafayel had always been dramatic, always joking around, making you laugh even when you were sure you had nothing to smile about. But that side of him was always reserved for you and Seraphina, the two people who knew him best. Outside of the family, though, he was a completely different person—aloof, and intimidating to most who tried to get close. But with you, his beautiful, vibrant wife, and their daughter, his playfulness knew no bounds.

Seraphina, at five years old, was the perfect mix of both of you. Her eyes sparkled pink and purple, appearance was an exact copy of rafayel's, while her attitude was half like yours. She had inherited many things from Rafayel—his mischievous smile, his artistic temperament, and most importantly, his lemurian merman heritage. The faintest trace of shimmering scales peeked out from beneath the hem of her swimsuit as she darted across the sand, kicking up water behind her.

Rafayel, ever the playful spirit, was already in water, splashing some on seraphina, his laughter light and carefree, as if he had no worries in the world. You watched them both, your heart full.

But, of course, that peace was destined to shatter.

“Mom, look!” Seraphina giggled, pointing at a large driftwood she had found, perfectly shaped like a mini boat. She was attempting to push it into the water, her small hands struggling with its weight.

“Good job, honey,” you said with a smile, nodding in approval. You were about to turn back toward Rafayel when you noticed a figure in the distance—a man walking alone along the shore.

You didn’t think much of it at first. The beach was private, after all. But as the man came closer, you felt a strange unease settle in your stomach. His steps were slow, and his gaze was fixed on you, too focused for comfort.

You tried to ignore the feeling, chalking it up to being overly cautious and pent up from work's stress, But when he got closer and his eyes lingered too long on you, and you instinctively stepped back.

“Hey,” the man called out, his voice low and grating. “You look like you could use some company.”

You forced a smile, tightening your grip on your towel. “I’m fine, thank you.”

But the man didn’t back off. Instead, he took another step forward, closer to you, as if testing your boundaries.

You quickly glanced over to Rafayel, who was still distracted by the waves, unaware of the interaction. Your eyes darted to Seraphina, who was too far away to notice anything amiss. This was your moment to de-escalate the situation.

“I’m really not interested,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Please leave.”

The man’s grin widened. “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind.” He took another step forward, this time almost too close for comfort. His presence was almost suffocating now, his smile unsettling.

That was it.

Before you could even react, you heard a voice—sharp and clear—cut through the tension like a blade.

“Leave mama alone.”

The man turned toward the voice, startled, just as Seraphina appeared in front of you, hands on her hips, her small frame looking even more determined.

“What—”

Seraphina didn’t wait for him to finish. She raised her arms, her fingers curled as if preparing to cast a spell with her evol. In a moment of pure instinct, she summoned the water from the ocean, sending a wall of waves crashing toward the man with a force that sent him stumbling back into the sand. He sputtered, mouth agape, completely drenched, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“You heard my mom,” Seraphina said, her tone serious, matching Rafayel’s when he was displeased. “Leave.”

The man’s hands flew up in a panicked gesture, clearly shaken by the little girl’s unexpected power. He scrambled backward, tripping on the wet sand, and sprinted away without another word.

You stood there in stunned silence for a moment before letting out a breath of relief. Seraphina had always had a remarkable connection to the ocean, inherited from her father.

You kneeled down to her level, your heart swelling with pride. “Seraphina, you were amazing. Are you okay?”

She smiled brightly, her wide, innocent eyes gleaming. “I don’t like it when people are mean to my mom. I’ll always protect you, mama.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes at the simplicity of her statement. Your little girl was so strong and so brave, just like her father.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafayel finally turning toward you, having noticed the commotion. His eyes scanned the scene, and when they landed on Seraphina, standing there with her head held high and her chest puffed out, a big smile spread across his face.

“You did it again, little gululu” he said, walking over to you both. He lifted Seraphina into his arms, and she giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. He kissed her cheek, the playful affection in his eyes mixing with a quiet pride.

“You’re my daughter, alright,” Rafayel teased, his voice light and warm despite the tension that had just passed. “You’re just like me" He smiled at you, his eyes softening.

“I don’t know whether I should be proud or worried.”

At that he let out a big teasing pout.

Seraphina wiggled between you both, demanding attention.

Rafayel laughed, holding her close as she nestled into his arms. “Yes, fishy, we will go in the water”

You smiled, looking out at the ocean, the waves continuing their eternal dance along the shore. For a moment, you let the world slip away, allowing yourself to relax in the embrace of your family. Nothing could touch you here—no matter who tried to cross the line.

splash!

With a playful toss, Rafayel sent Seraphina into the ocean, watching with a proud smile as his little fish learned to swim even better. He then followed her into the water, diving beneath the surface. Moments later, he emerged, his form now transformed—his body now stretched to an impressive twelve feet, the full Lemurian form he’d inherited from his ancestors.

[sayangrafayel]

Rafayel as a parent

Kid: I can't sleep there's a monster under my bed...

Rafayel: GAAAH IT'S EATING MY ARM! HELP!! just kidding he only eats kids.

Narrator: That night, Rafayel slept on the couch.