⭐️ Silent Cry

Weight

Rule: 10💖= 1🐰 added

Morning after Long Work Days

CONTENT: a little suggestive ... which it is not as this will get a Part 2. Fluff, sleepy weepy. Mainly FLUFF and Comfort...

The first rays of sun slipped through the closed curtains illuminating the room in a warm yellow orange glow. I have been up since a long time but not able to move or shift and my arms and legs have numbed out by now. Why you may ask…

Well, the problem is, there is this 6ft boyfriend of mine practically sleeping on top of me and I don’t have a heart to wake him up or move him and just … I have giving up at this point. This has been going on since 4:30 am, but one thing I can say, he looked peaceful enough for me to just …… (deep breathe) appreciate him.

The sunlight hit his face just at the right angle to illuminate his features, Xavier lays on my chest, like an ethereal god. The last few days were hard for both of us with the amount of wanderer appearance and night duties we both pulled through, barely resting and just going on and on. And looking at both of us walking around like zombies at the association, Jenna at last called us to her office and told us to get a leave. Both me and Xavier didn’t remember how we returned home or if we ate anything or even bathe. I just remember somehow, I got those leather straps and work clothes off and just wear one of Xavier’s hoodies and shorts and falling on bed, and then as I drifted off, I did feel a oh so light kiss on my forehead and being enveloped in a warm embraced and soon I was out like a light.

And now, here I am being crushed by my 6ft boyfriend Xav, who looks much better and I am happy that he got is much deserved rest. This sweetheart of mine couldn’t even take a proper nap in past 1 week. Looking at his face, his mouth just slightly open, his chest going up and down sync with my heartbeat, his arms hanging loosey around me, legs dangling off and his face on my neck. It felt good to be trust like this by a person. A person, even if everyone says “Xavier is the best hunter out there, Xavier this, Xavier that…” treating him as something dangerous, or a lethal weapon, but in the end of the day, he is too a person who needs to rest which he doesn’t get much due to his active hearing or alertness. Therefore, seeing this idiot of my bf, forgetting the world and sleeping soundly like a baby on top of me, yes, he a person to me first before he is the best hunter in Linkon.

Thoughts like these were running wild in my head as I slowly caressed his head and ran my fingers through his hair. Letting out a heavy sigh and deep in my thoughts, I didn’t feel him shift closer to me until I felt a soft and feather like kiss on my neck followed by him nuzzling his nose and sniffing me.

“Stop that brain of yours from overthinking, its going to break soon enough.” He said softly.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” I asked him letting my fingers graze his back, along his spine which sent a shiver down his body as he shifted again and at last faced me.

“Why you up now?” he said nuzzling into my chest like a literal cat and a laughter bubbled out of me.

“OH, my handsome sweet pie, love of my life, cutie of a boyfriend.” I said pampering him with kisses on his hair and forehead... getting cute aggression just by looking at him and how soft and cuddly he looked.

“Ahhhhh ahhh…. Nooooooo…. Not yet” he said with a shriek as I attack him and embrace the shit out of him, murmuring words of nothing and everything, and he tried to protest that he didn’t like being pampering, but THIS IDIOT LIKED IT. I knew it. He acted as he repelled it but leaned more closer to me as I continued on with my playful assault on him. And he did let me, until I found my arms being pinned on my side.

“Seriously Xav…” I looked at him. Those night blue eyes looking right at me. There was a gleam to it, a liveliness to it which was gone this week. I let out a deep sigh, kissing his crown saying “Welcome back my prince charming” with a small smile.

He stilled for a moment, before relaxing again, “Why welcome me back? I was here…”

“Yeah, you were, physically, but mentally you were exhausted as f… and ya” I said caressing his head and scratching his scalp lightly ‘but that liveliness and happiness was not there… which are back again as you … I hope you did get some good sleep?”

“SOME GOOD SLEEP? No... I had the best sleep of my life today honestly. “He said with a laugh and at last rolled off me. I grunted slightly shifting to my side and saw him looking at me.

“What?”

“It looks painful” he said with a amused face.

I playfully hit his head ‘Its all your fault but ya ... I don’t mind it” I smiled at him.

He embraced me again kissing my nose and then my lips before I stopped him. “Not now… you smell and I don’t remember if we brushed out teeth or what not … Sorry”

“You denied me KISSES? And even EARLY IN THE MORNING? I have been betrayed.” He said with a exaggerated sigh “Betrayed by my own star… what a terrifying thing to wake up to. This is not my reality. Come here … lets sleep again and wake up in our reality where you let me kiss youuuuu” he said trying to hug me again but I slipped past his arms and sat up.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DON’T GET UPPPP…... Plweaseeeeeee”

I let out a laugh, “Idiot… get up now. We didn’t bathe yesterday and I feel dirty all over.”

He looks at me with his classic smirk… “Are you perhaps suggesting something to me sweetheart?”

“MAYBE… but my idiot of a boyfriend won’t get up so…” I trailed off and got up from the bed to go to the washroom.

Soon after, I heard a knock on the washroom door and then saw Xavier’s face poke out, “Is the offer still valid yet?’

..........................................................................................

Sooooo.. even if i am swamped with college works due to exams and having writers block since forever, I made a line art of xavier yesterday night and

EARLY IN THE DAMMASS MORNING MY INSPIRATION HIT ME LIKE A SNOWSTROM

Hopefully you guys will this 😅, wanted to write a fanfic for so long and I at last did...

Might post this on AO3 🫣😵‍💫

But whatever

ENJOYYYY

How the LaDS men react to you leaving a note in their lunch

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x F!Reader(separate)

content: corny puns(i’m sorry), tiny bit suggestive, mostly fluff, mentions of meals being skipped in caleb’s

a/n: caleb’s and sylus’s a teensy bit longer bc i got carried away at end oopsies

Xavier

You and Xavier usually ate lunch together, be it after a mission or after training. Perks of being partners at work.

Today, however, was different.

Xavier had to join the analytics department for a debrief after a special solo mission.

He originally planned on flaking and leaving with you as soon as you had wrapped up your work.

But once you had persuaded him a bit with promises of spending the whole day together tomorrow and a long cuddle session tonight, he caved.

You patted his head as he was pouting at you and pressed a small box to his chest, before turning around and waving goodbye.

He barely registered the tupperware he was holding, as he longingly stared at your retrieving back.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at what exactly you had given him.

Taking in the silver box, he smiled to himself.

The corners of his lips turned upwards and he went to sit down on the nearest chair.

You expected him to eat it during a short break during the meeting, but he couldn’t wait that long, knowing you prepared something for him.

He was contemplating taking out his phone and telling you to come back and join him right now, eat the food you had made for him, together.

He stopped that train of thought, thinking to himself that he didn’t want to drag you back here.

With a slight shake of his head and sigh escaping his lips, he went to open the box.

The first thing he noticed was the amazing smell of whatever you had packed him, the second wasn’t the food but a little yellow note stuck to the roof of the lid.

“Hang in there, Xavie.

I’ll make it worth your while tonight ;)”

The tips of his ears turned red, he stared at the note before breathing out a chuckle.

You really knew how to motivate him, didn’t you?

Before he could linger on the note for too long, he heard a chipper voice behind him.

“Oh, hey Xavier! Mind if we join you?”

He saw Tara and Simone put their bags on the table he was sitting at.

He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement, immediately tuning them back out again after.

He hid the note in his pocket, thinking about how to repay you later.

Zayne

Zayne was used to you preparing his lunch for him, he considered you bringing him his lunch during his breaks as part of his work routine.

He loved getting to see you amid his packed schedule, finding a way to sneak in some extra time for you two to spend together.

Unfortunately, today you couldn’t drop by and bring it to him in person, since you had to go on a mission outside of town.

Instead, you had handed him his lunchbox this morning, kissing him on the cheek before heading out.

He usually looked forward to his break because he knew he’d be able to see you.

Today, that perk fell away, so once his break time rolled around, he kept on working on some reports.

Until he heard the notification sound he put specifically for you,

“Don’t forget to eat, Dr. Zayne!”

“I miss uuuu, can’t wait to see u later”

A small smile graced his lips, an expression you easily brought out of him.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be alright, as long as you’ll return in one piece later.”

Once he saw you were offline again, he put his phone away, finally taking out the lunchbox you had prepared for him this morning.

He placed it on his desk, taking the lid off.

He immediately noticed the small sticky note you had left.

“I’m “nuts” about you ;D enjoy your break, my love.”

Zayne silently quirked a brow as he read the message you wrote for him.

He shook his head as a quiet laugh escaped him.

His face went back to its usual deadpan expression.

If anyone were to walk in, he’d appear the same as he usually did. You’re the only one who would’ve been able to make out his hidden amusement.

Before he went to eating, he quickly pressed the sticky note to the frame of the picture he had of you two on his desk.

He was looking forward to welcoming you home tonight.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been whining all morning.

He was being forced to meet up with some art brokers outside of Linkon.

He had come up with 10 different excuses and 7 different plans on how to get out of this, yet all of his attempts were shut down. By you.

Talk about betrayal.

You had spent the entire morning talking him into going, saying how it would benefit him and how he should just make Thomas’s job easier for once.

Why couldn’t you understand that he just wanted to spend as much time with you as he could!!!

The next best idea in his mind was coaxing you into coming along.

Too bad for him, you already had plans for the day.

“Just get going already, you big baby.”

You had said to him.

“The sooner you get there, the sooner you can come back. Probably.”

You paid no mind to his heart clenching pout(self proclaimed) and just pinched his cheeks.

Before he could attempt anything else, like tripping over a brush and pretending to have broken his back, or blowing up his car(who knew what lengths he was willing go to, just to get out of work? You certainly didn’t want to find out.) you pressed a chaste but sweet kiss to his lips.

“Have a good day, Rafayel. And be nice to Thomas!”

And before he knew it, you were out of the door.

A groan left his lips, as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He was willing to go along with anything you had planned today, he just wanted to be with you a bit more.

Finally, wrapping up his sulking once he realised you weren’t coming back and he really did have to get going.

He grabbed his bag and left out the door you had disappeared out of, minutes before.

Fast forward a few hours later, he’d been sitting in some stuffy office, barely paying attention to what Thomas and the man sitting across from him were saying.

“Alright, let’s take five.”

At that, Rafayel perked up.

Immediately getting out of his chair and walking towards the door.

“Always nice doing business.”

Thomas gave him a pointed look,

“Rafayel, we aren’t done here yet. You better not take too long.”

The purple haired man hummed without looking back and left the building as quickly as he could.

While he knew Thomas was probably gonna think he left, as soon as he couldn’t find him inside, he didn’t care.

He got in his car and rested his head against the steering wheel.

He stretched and went to reach into his bag to grab his phone to text you, when he suddenly saw something he hadn’t noticed before.

There was a silver box sitting in his bag.

You sweet, cunning little thing.

He immediately pulled the lunchbox out, a look of intrigue in his eyes.

Of course, you wouldn’t just cruelly send him into hours of boring work, without rewarding him!

He took the lid off, being met with another sweet, sweet surprise.

Your handwriting immediately caught his attention.

“You’re doing amazing, baby!”

A chibi you doing a thumbs up next to the message,

and on the bottom you drew two stick figures holding hands, surrounded by hearts.

He chuckled quietly and if anyone told you about the lovesick look on his face as he stared at the tiny note, he would’ve sworn they were lying.

He reached back into his bag to grab his phone, snapping a picture of the note,

“seems like ur down bad for me lol”

You didn’t have to know about the goofy grin on his face as he ate whatever you had prepared.

Sylus

Whenever he could, Sylus would make sure you and him shared at least one meal together.

He knew, that due to your conflicting schedules, that wasn’t always possible.

By the time you’d wake up, Sylus’s day was slowly drawing to a close,

by the time you’d have lunch, Sylus would be fast asleep,

and by the time he’d wake up, you were finishing up the last of your work.

Yet he’d make an effort regardless.

Whether it be having breakfast, while you were eating your last meal of the day or keeping you company while he brought you breakfast, simultaneously getting ready to wind down after a night of work.

Obviously, that didn’t always work.

Sometimes you two would barely be able to see each other, missing one another due to your complicated relay race of a sleep schedule.

Today was one of those days.

Yesterday was your day off, but you had to get up early today to get to the Hunters Association on time, so you decided to catch up on some sleep and hit the hay early last night.

As Sylus had to get ready to leave, you had finished up your dinner.

Just as you got into the bedroom to call it a day, Sylus was heading out to tie up some loose ends.

With murmured declarations of love, you bid each other farewell. A quick kiss on the cheek, a soft peck on the lips and out the door he was and you were settling into bed.

Morning came rolling around, Sylus was taking longer than usual.

Before you knew it, you had to head out of the door, taking one of Sylus’s many cars to drive back to Linkon City,

not before sending him a quick text, though;

“I’ll get going now. Rest well, Sy!”

By the time he had gotten back to the base, you had long been gone.

He rubbed his eyes as he read your text.

Feeling groggy, he decided to skip his last meal and texted you back a good night message.

Once he had woken back up, he was half expecting you to be back, laying next to him but to his disappointment, you were no where in sight.

He headed to the kitchen as he checked the time.

5 pm. Surely you’d be coming back soon.

Sylus found Luke and Kieran lounging around the fridge and he quirked an eyebrow at them,

“You two usually don’t show your faces here, unless it’s time to eat.”

The twins looked at him, Luke scratching his neck and Kieran going back to looking around the kitchen,

“Well, boss…”

“Your bad luck struck again.”

“Very unfortunate, indeed.”

“Mhm, mhm!”

Sylus looked at them unimpressed, waiting for them to elaborate.

Luke and Kieran looked each other, silently trying to get the other to break the news to him.

“You see,”

“You might’ve just missed…”

“Miss hunter, boss-man.”

“Mhm, you totally missed her, boss.”

“She just left actually.”

Sylus could feel a headache forming, squinting his eyes at his henchmen.

“She was here? Why would she leave so soon, then?”

The twins shrugged in unison. Mumbling something about how unpredictable hunters were.

“She actually got here a few hours ago,”

“Said she didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Something about you needing the sleep.”

He heard one of them snicker, he couldn’t care enough to glare at the one who did.

Sylus ran a hand through his hair and a pointed look was enough to send the twins scurrying off.

He made a mental note to subtly complain to you about this later.

His mood souring after finding out he just missed you by a hair, he decided to have someone bring his breakfast up to his office, as he turned on his heel.

He spent the day in his office, working through a pile of reports and modifying Mephisto.

He sent you a few texts in between but gathered that you were busy, considering the lack of responses.

He was starting to think he shouldn’t have worked on Mephisto today, curious to see what you were up to, that was so much more important than answering his texts.

At around midnight, a knock resounded on his door.

“Come in.”

His hopes that it might just be you crushed, as he saw one of the twins walk in.

“Yo, boss-man, we were told to make sure you take a break. Instructions from the boss of all bosses.”

He placed a lunchbox on Sylus’s desk and disappeared as quickly as he had shown up.

Mephisto started cawing, reminiscing a laugh.

Sylus shut him up with a flicker of his gaze.

He reached for the black box and opened it.

His lips curled upwards into a half smirk as his eyes landed on the post-it note.

“The anticipation of seeing you later is driving me crazy.

Now, eat up!”

He could read you like an open book, even when you weren’t with him, yet having you be so open about your feelings made something inside of his chest bloom.

Even when you were busy, you still made sure to leave your mark on his day one way or another.

The soft look in his eyes was only ever reserved for you and he couldn’t wait to show it to you.

Don’t think he’ll forget about how you didn’t answer his texts, though.

Caleb

Growing up, Caleb always packed your school lunch.

He would cook for you whenever you were home.

And even when he wasn’t home, he’d make sure you were fed one way or another.

That habit never stopped as you two got older.

He loved cooking for you, it’s the reason he learned how to make all of your favourite dishes.

You always wanted to return the favour but a good moment never presented itself.

From starting college and becoming a pilot to becoming the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, his discipline only increased and so did his love for you.

Just when on earth could you find the time to make food for a man who got up at the ass crack of dawn to work out and make you a nutritious breakfast.

Well, once you found out that this same disciplined man skipped his own meals in favour of getting his work done, you decided to step your game up.

You had it all planned out, you’d take a few days off without telling him, meal prepping for him and getting to his apartment in Skyhaven without telling him.

As you arrived at his place and unlocked the door, stepping inside, your phone vibrated.

“Whatcha up to, pips? ;)”

You squinted around the room trying to see if he had any cameras inside.

Arriving at the conclusion that he probably(hopefully) just got a notification from his door being unlocked, you texted him back.

“Got the day off, gonna wait here until you come back.”

You felt your phone vibrate a few more times after you tucked it back into your pocket, you made your way to his fridge.

Wishing he could see your face of absolute disbelief at the sight of his pathetic fridge.

Empty. Entirely empty, aside from a few apples.

Who lives like this?

Does this man live off of apples?!

You placed all the tupperware you had prepared ingredients in, in his fridge.

Some rice, boiled veggies and proteins.

You’d have to give him a good talking to about this later.

A weird feeling settled in your chest, realising he only really takes good care of himself when you’re around, which is also just a by-product of him taking care of you.

With a sigh you closed his fridge, one more lunchbox remaining at the bottom of your bag.

Still ignoring the messages he had sent you, you left his apartment again.

Caleb was lounging in his office, he still had some time before he had to attend another meeting with the other Colonels and their subordinates.

He was wondering why you weren’t answering him, he was about to check the cameras around his apartment, when a knock resounded in his office.

He put his phone away, knowing he was about to get busy again.

-

His authoritative steps echoing through the emptying hallway.

The nurses and soldiers hurrying off after seeing his annoyed expression.

He paid them no mind, as he unlocked the door to his office.

As soon as he stepped inside, he took his hat off, running a hand through his hair.

Caleb couldn’t care less what the other people working there thought of him.

He gets his work done and he gets it done well.

Nothing else mattered, yet he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at these stuck up old men who dared to doubt his capabilities, be it out of sheer jealous or fear.

They got another thing coming, if they think they could mess with him.

He doesn’t take lightly to his duties, and he doesn’t take lightly to protecting you.

You. That’s who all this was about.

He would put up with about anything, as long as it meant you’d be safe.

Because you were everything to him, his sweet pipsq-

He lost his train of thought as he spotted the silly lunchbox sitting on his desk.

A pattern of red and green apples on it, decorated with stickers that had started to wear off.

It’s your old lunchbox.

He looked around his office, a grin finding its way onto his lips.

You’ve always been a sly one.

He sat down in his chair, inspecting the childish box.

As he took a look inside he was hit by the smell of braised chicken wings.

But he immediately lost interest in the food as soon as he saw the note you had snuck inside of the box.

“Learned from the best.

Eat well and rest well, Caleb.

Or you’ll have to face my fury >:(“

He chuckled to himself, you managed to get into his office undetected, just to drop off some lunch for him?

Caleb loved taking care of you.

It’s what he lived for, but he couldn’t lie.

He liked the feeling of you looking out for him as well.

You always manage to make all his doubts and worries disappear.

He’ll have to get creative with thanking you later.

fiction | xavier

synopsis : What happens when your fiancé turns out to be a guy who walked right out of one of the fanfictions you read? Tall, handsome, and surprisingly, not emotionally constipated. Time to find out.

content : arranged marriage!au, fluff, mentions of OC, comedy

writer’s note : soooo, sylus has an arranged marriage au (ahem two), so does rafayel, zayne? Not yet. It’s xavier’s turn first :D

“Wow,” Xavier whispered, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You blinked, caught off guard. He was staring—no, gazing—like you were something out of a dream.

Or maybe a particularly poetic hallucination.

You instinctively took a small step back, your fingers twitching at your sides as a shy warmth bloomed across your cheeks.

“Is there something on my face?” you asked, voice quieter than usual.

Of course, that snapped him right out of it.

He coughed, his expression smoothing into that carefully polite, vaguely princely calm you assumed was his default setting.

Stoic. Controlled. Maybe a little embarrassed.

You were currently seated across from him at a long, ridiculously ornate dinner table that looked like it belonged in a museum rather than someone’s actual home.

Your parents had brought you here for the grand unveiling—your fiancé. Surprise.

It was an arranged marriage, one you hadn’t really protested.

Mostly because the alternative involved crawling back to school, where existential dread roamed the halls like a vengeful spirit.

So, marriage. Sure. Why not.

You hadn’t seen a picture. Not a single hint of who this man might be. Just your mother’s breezy, “He’s charming, calm, and mature,” like she was describing a limited-edition tea set.

But as you sat there now, staring at the man who would somehow become your husband, you realized charming didn’t quite cover it.

Because Xavier—silver-haired, blue-eyed, and carrying that whole otherworldly melancholy like a tailored suit—looked like he’d stepped off the cover of a novel where people fall in love and die tragically.

Great. Now you had to marry that.

His mother, seated gracefully beside him, clasped her hands together with the kind of delight only aristocratic women and overzealous matchmakers could muster.

“Oh, what a lovely girl your daughter is,” she beamed at your parents, as if you weren’t sitting right there, very much alive and blinking.

You offered a polite smile, the kind you reserved for distant relatives and overpriced waiters, while Xavier glanced your way again—this time with something almost like amusement flickering behind those calm blue eyes.

Apparently, being praised like livestock was the beginning of romance now.

Dinner dragged on, the distinct hum of polite chatter between your future in-laws and your parents filling the air like a background track you hadn’t asked for.

Voices rose and fell in curated excitement over wedding venues, family values, and the excellent weather—as if any of that would help you survive this evening.

You tried to focus on the plate in front of you.

Tried being the keyword.

But cutting through steak while sitting across from your unnervingly beautiful, maddeningly composed fiancé wasn’t exactly conducive to concentration.

Especially not when you could still feel his occasional glances—curious, measured, and far too calm for someone who’d said “wow” like he’d seen a shooting star five minutes ago.

You stabbed at a green bean with a little more force than necessary.

Romance was off to a fantastic start.

—•

After dinner, you were gently—read, forcibly—escorted onto the terrace by none other than your future husband. The orchestration, of course, courtesy of four overly enthusiastic parents and their favorite phrase of the night.

“Go spend some time together, dear. It’s important to foster relationships.”

You could practically hear the wedding bells in their eyes.

Xavier walked beside you in silence, his steps unhurried, posture perfectly straight like he’d been trained for these situations.

He didn’t seem flustered at all.

Meanwhile, you were trying to remember how breathing worked.

The air outside was cooler, quieter.

The terrace opened out to a garden bathed in moonlight, which would’ve been romantic if it didn’t feel so much like the set-up to an arranged marriage-themed reality show.

You stopped near the railing, resting your hands lightly on the cold stone.

“So,” you started, “should we awkwardly pretend this isn’t weird, or lean into it?”

Xavier looked at you, a slow flicker of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I vote for leaning in.”

You felt the heat creep up your neck, crawling right into your cheeks like it owned the place.

You looked away quickly, pretending to be incredibly invested in the night sky, only to nearly choke on your own spit.

Smooth.

Then, as if the moment hadn’t already thrown you off balance, Xavier spoke again—calmly, casually, like he wasn’t currently dismantling your ability to function.

“You’re nothing like I imagined.”

That time, you actually choked.

You coughed, spluttered, and did your best to recover whatever shred of dignity you had left, eyes wide as you turned toward him. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “In a good way,” he added, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re… unexpected.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or a polite warning.

Either way, your heart decided to skip a beat just to be dramatic.

“Unexpected… how?” you asked, narrowing your eyes just slightly, curiosity now outweighing your embarrassment.

Xavier didn’t answer right away.

He turned his gaze toward the garden below, thoughtful, like he was sorting through a mental checklist he hadn’t realized he’d made.

“I thought you’d be quiet,” he said finally, “shy, maybe. The kind of person who keeps their head down and says yes to everything.”

You raised a brow at that. “Wow. Romantic and flattering.”

He glanced at you, lips twitching. “I meant that as a compliment.”

“Oh, sure. Everyone dreams of being described as ‘meek and agreeable.’”

That earned you a proper smile—small, rare, and slow to form, like he wasn’t used to sharing it. “But you’re not,” he said. “You’re… sharp. Funny. A little defensive.”

You blinked. “Again, not really selling it.”

“And honest,” he added, eyes lingering on you now, softer somehow. “Very honest.”

The way he said it made something flutter in your chest—annoyingly poetic and completely inconvenient.

You smiled—just a little—as you turned your gaze to the moonlit garden below. The flowers were in bloom, the air carried that faint, earthy scent of late spring, and for a moment, the world felt quieter than it had been all night.

“What did you think of this arrangement?” you asked gently, not quite looking at him.

There was a pause.

Long enough that you began to wonder if he’d heard you, or if he was calculating the safest answer.

“I didn’t think much of it at first,” he admitted finally, voice low and steady. “Just another political tie. Something expected of me.”

You nodded. Fair. You’d thought the same.

“But…” he continued, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, “then you walked in. And suddenly, it didn’t feel so transactional anymore.”

Your heart gave a traitorous little lurch. You told it to calm down. It didn’t listen.

“…Right,” you said, managing a soft laugh. “Well, thank you for not calling me a tax write-off. That’s reassuring.”

Xavier’s lips quirked again, eyes warm despite his usual calm. “I’ll do my best to exceed expectations.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. The soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirp of crickets—it all felt oddly soothing.

For the first time that evening, the weight of obligation on your shoulders began to ease, replaced by something quieter, lighter.

Maybe… this arrangement wasn’t so bad after all.

Xavier shifted slightly beside you, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance your way again.

There was something hesitant in his posture—not nervous, exactly, but deliberate. Like someone unused to starting conversations that didn’t involve diplomacy or battle strategy.

“So…” he began, carefully, “what do you like to do when you’re not being ambushed by marriage proposals?”

You turned to look at him, amused. “Oh, you know. The usual. Read. Nap. Avoid emotionally loaded dinners.”

He gave a soft chuckle at that, clearly trying to mask it with a cough. “Sounds like a full-time job.”

“It’s exhausting,” you said with a mock sigh. “But someone’s got to do it.”

He smiled—genuine and easy this time—and leaned his elbow on the railing. “Any books you’d recommend?”

That caught you off guard. “You read?”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” he said dryly.

“Wow. Multitalented and humble.”

He shook his head, but his eyes were fixed on you now, open and interested. “I’d like to know what you like. What makes you laugh. What makes you… you.”

The words weren’t romantic, not in the obvious way. But the sincerity in his voice, the way he said them without trying too hard—it stayed with you.

Just like the quiet warmth growing in your chest.

“I hope things go well then,” you said with a small smile, the kind that lingered even after you looked away.

Xavier was quiet for a beat, watching you like he was memorizing the curve of that expression—soft, a little unsure, but hopeful all the same.

“They will,” he said, not with bravado, but quiet certainty. “I’ll make sure of it.”

It wasn’t a promise wrapped in poetry, but it settled deep in your chest, heavier than you expected.

And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

—•

Back at home, the moment the front door clicked shut behind you, all the calm dignity you’d maintained on that terrace evaporated like mist.

You spun toward your mother with wide eyes and a completely undignified squeal. “Oh my god, Mom—”

She barely turned from where she was removing her earrings, already smirking like she’d won some secret bet with the universe. “Let me guess. You like him.”

“Like him?” you repeated, pacing in chaotic little circles.

“He’s—he’s calm and composed and smart and he actually smiled at one of my jokes, and he said I was unexpected in a good way, and—”

“I knew you’d like him,” she interrupted with maddening satisfaction, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow like a smug matchmaking oracle.

You stopped mid-spiral. “You set me up.”

Her smirk only widened. “Technically, you agreed.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as your mother chuckled softly in the background, utterly pleased with herself.

And okay, maybe you did like him. Just a little. Maybe.

You settled into your room with all the grace of someone experiencing a slow, romantic meltdown.

Your mother’s chuckles echoed down the hallway like the smug laughter of a triumphant mommy duck who’d successfully nudged her chick into the pond of marriage.

You groaned and faceplanted into your bed, limbs sprawled dramatically as you tried to suffocate the feelings spiraling inside you.

Unfortunately, your brain had other plans.

It conjured him again—Xavier, standing on that terrace like he’d been carved from moonlight and good intentions.

You remembered the way his absurdly long lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, so delicate it was almost unfair. His blond-silver hair had swayed in the breeze like it had been choreographed.

And those pale blue eyes… gods, they were unreal. Like someone had trapped the entire sea inside them just to make your life harder.

You let out a strangled sound and shoved your pillow over your face.

You were engaged. To that.

And worse—you liked it.

—•

The first date was… heartwarming.

Not in the overly romantic, violins-playing kind of way, but in the unexpectedly gentle kind of way—the kind that crept up on you and made your chest ache a little without warning.

Xavier sat across from you at a table set for two in the center of an otherwise empty, dimly lit restaurant. A chandelier hung above, its golden light casting a soft, intimate glow over the polished silverware and the quiet space between you.

It was like stepping into a scene from a movie—one you hadn’t realized you’d auditioned for.

You glanced around, taking in the surreal quiet, the absence of clinking plates or murmured conversations. “Is… is this entire place just for us?”

Xavier rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of color rising to his cheeks.

“My parents insisted I rent out the entire evening,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, looking both apologetic and awkwardly charming.

You raised a brow. “Of course they did.”

“I told them we’d be fine at a café.”

“But why settle for awkward silences over coffee when you can have awkward silences under a chandelier?”

That made him laugh—soft, but real. “Exactly,” he said, and for a second, that serious, guarded façade of his cracked wide open.

And just like that, the nerves in your chest loosened.

“So, what do you do? Like work and the likes,” you asked, casually between bites of steak, trying not to sound too curious or too invested—even if you absolutely were.

Xavier looked up from his plate, pausing for a second like he was deciding how much of the truth to hand over.

“I’m with UNICORNS,” he said simply.

You blinked. “UNICORNS?”

“United Nations Intelligence and Covert Operations Reconnaissance Network Squad,” he recited, completely straight-faced.

You stared at him, fork frozen halfway to your mouth. “…That spells UNICORNS?”

He gave the faintest shrug, as if he wasn’t aware how ridiculous that sounded. “Acronyms aren’t really my department.”

You snorted. “Right. So basically, you’re a space prince turned secret agent.”

He blinked. “That’s… technically accurate.”

You nearly choked on your steak.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

Silver hair. Calm voice. The whole mysterious aura thing.

Of course he was a secret agent. Of course.

“Okay,” you muttered, setting your fork down. “And here I was thinking I’d have to make small talk on this date.”

Xavier smiled into his glass, and you caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You still can. I’m excellent at pretending to be normal.”

“If you’re a secret agent,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as you leaned forward slightly, “then how is it okay that you reveal yourself to me?”

Xavier lifted his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a grin. “Classified,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his wine.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

He set the glass down with infuriating grace. “Let’s just say… my clearance allows for certain disclosures under specific circumstances.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be skeptical even as your curiosity prickled. “And this—” you gestured between the two of you, “—is one of those circumstances?”

He nodded once, almost solemn. “You’re my fiancée. It’s only fair you know who you’re marrying.”

You stared at him. “So if I were, say, a barista you had a crush on instead, you wouldn’t be allowed to tell me?”

He hesitated for a split second, then said with mock seriousness, “I’d have to fake my death.”

You burst out laughing, nearly knocking over your water glass.

“Well,” you said once you caught your breath, grinning now, “I’m honored to be cleared for top-secret fiancé-level intel.”

Xavier smiled softly, and this time it wasn’t sheepish or polite—it was warm. “You’re worth the risk.”

You blushed at that—violently, of course—quickly masking it with a cough and an exaggeratedly casual bite of steak, like that would somehow neutralize the weight of his words.

You’re worth the risk.

Nope. Still devastating.

The evening flowed gently after that, the tension between you easing into something quieter, more natural.

You found yourself laughing more than you’d expected—soft bursts of amusement over his dry remarks, while he watched you with that calm, almost amused smile, like he was cataloging every expression you made.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was thoughtful.

Measured.

Like he was actually listening. Really listening.

You told him about your hobbies. How you loved reading, writing, getting lost in stories and then furiously threatening to strangle fictional men for breaking your heart.

“They’re not even real,” you said dramatically, waving your fork in the air, “and yet they ruin my week. My mental stability. My skin.”

Xavier tilted his head, eyes crinkling just slightly. “Sounds like a dangerous habit.”

“It is,” you agreed solemnly. “But I’m too far gone.”

He nodded. “Noted. I’ll try not to become the inspiration for your next emotional breakdown.”

You paused mid-chew. “Wow. That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

And just like that, he smiled again—slow, rare, and entirely disarming.

Xavier dropped you off at your estate, the sleek car rolling to a gentle stop in front of the stone steps.

The lights from the veranda cast a soft glow across the driveway, and there she was—your mother—waiting with the patience of someone who definitely hadn’t been peeking through the curtains for the past ten minutes.

As you stepped out of the car, she descended the steps with a far-too-innocent smile.

“Oh, please join us for a while!” she called out brightly, clasping her hands together with the enthusiasm of a socialite and the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

You nearly tripped on the gravel. “Mom.”

Xavier blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“Nonsense,” she beamed. “We have tea. And leftovers. And years of awkward silence to fill.”

You gave Xavier an apologetic look. “She’s not usually this—”

“Yes, I am,” your mother interrupted, already turning on her heel. “Come along, dear!”

Xavier glanced at you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Should I be worried?”

“Terrified,” you muttered under your breath.

But when he followed you up the steps without hesitation, you felt that warm little flutter return—just slightly out of rhythm with your heart.

Once inside, your mom wasted no time nudging the both of you toward the couch with all the subtlety of a seasoned matchmaker on a mission.

“Sit, sit!” she chirped, practically shoving you into place before plopping herself down across from you with a cup of tea and that glint in her eyes—the one that said she was thoroughly enjoying herself.

You landed on the plush cushion with a small huff, Xavier sliding in beside you like this was perfectly normal, like he hadn’t just spent the last two hours slowly dismantling your emotional walls with his quiet charm and devastating smiles.

You gave your mom a weak protest. “This is… not necessary.”

“Nonsense,” she waved off with a grin. “I’m just enjoying the company of my future son-in-law. That’s not illegal.”

You side-eyed her, but honestly, it wasn’t a big deal. You had just had a wonderful dinner. He was polite, thoughtful, and—surprisingly—not emotionally constipated.

Still.

He was sitting very close.

Not touching you, technically.

But the cushion dipped slightly where his thigh rested against yours, and suddenly you were acutely aware of everything—how warm he was, how tall he sat, how his cologne smelled like cedar and rain and danger to your composure.

You folded your hands in your lap, trying to focus on your mom rambling about wedding colors and seating charts, but Xavier’s presence beside you was magnetic.

Steady. Quiet. Very hard to ignore.

You might’ve leaned slightly away from him.

And then just as quickly, leaned back.

No use pretending now. You were officially doomed.

“Mom, the wedding is four weeks away,” you groaned, slumping back into the couch like it could absorb your embarrassment. “You don’t have to talk about it every day.”

Your mother only sipped her tea, entirely unbothered. “And miss the joy of watching you squirm every time I say the word bouquet?”

Xavier chuckled beside you, low and warm, and you immediately regretted everything. Because that sound? That sound was now imprinted on your soul.

You shot him a look. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not,” he said, clearly encouraging her. “But it’s… entertaining.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I thought I was.”

Your mother clapped her hands lightly. “Look at you two. Bantering already. Like an old married couple.”

You sighed into your hands. Xavier smiled again—calm, amused, and entirely too comfortable. And even as you groaned, somewhere deep inside, a tiny part of you liked how it all felt just a little too natural.

—•

“He just smiled, Shaiya. Smiled!” you exclaimed, dramatically flopping onto your bed like you were in a period drama and the world was ending via attractive fiancé.

Shaiya raised an unimpressed brow from where she sat cross-legged on your rug, holding her phone in one hand and wearing the most amused smirk you’d ever seen on her.

“So you’ve got a crush on the guy you’re marrying. Tragic.”

You threw a pillow at her.

She dodged it effortlessly, grinning. “No, seriously. This is the dream. Arranged marriage and you’re catching feelings? You’re living in a slow-burn fanfic.”

You groaned into your blanket. “No, no, this is a problem. A very pretty, well-dressed, emotionally devastating problem. He said I was unexpected. He smiled. He rented an entire restaurant. Who does that?”

“Apparently, your absurdly attractive secret agent fiancé.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Shaiya.”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m doomed.”

She tossed the pillow back at you. “No, babe. You’re in love.”

You let out a muffled scream into your blanket.

She just laughed. “I’m giving it two weeks before you start writing ‘Mrs. Xavier’ in the margins of your notebook.”

You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face. “I’m used to writing fanfiction about fictional men, not marrying a guy who seems to have walked out of one.”

Shaiya cackled, absolutely zero sympathy in her voice. “Plot twist—you’ve been isekai’d into your own arranged marriage AU.”

You peeked out from under the pillow with a glare. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s hilarious. You’re the main character. Brooding husband with mysterious past? Check. Hidden softness? Check. Devastating smile that causes existential crises? Check.”

You groaned again. “He smells like a metaphor and talks like a deleted scene from a historical drama. I was not built for this level of emotional turbulence.”

Shaiya nodded sagely. “No one is. That’s how you know it’s real.”

You flopped back onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “If I end up writing love poems in the margins of my planner, please stage an intervention.”

“Oh, I won’t stop you,” she said, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll just record it for the wedding slideshow.”

“You’re officially disinvited from my wedding,” you deadpan, sitting up just enough to squint at her with all the fake seriousness you could muster.

Shaiya gasped, clutching her heart like you’d just stabbed her. “How dare you. After I emotionally supported your descent into fiancé-induced madness?”

“You mocked me.”

“I documented history,” she shot back, already typing something suspiciously fast on her phone. “Your children will thank me one day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Shaiya.”

“Yes, Mrs. Secret Agent?”

You threw the pillow again. She didn’t even try to dodge it this time, just laughed as it hit her square in the face.

“Fine,” you muttered, collapsing dramatically again. “You can come to the wedding.”

“I knew you’d cave.”

“But only if you swear not to make a toast about fanfiction.”

Shaiya looked up from her phone, absolutely glowing with mischief. “No promises.”

You were so in trouble.

Soon after, Shaiya gathered her things, still grinning like she’d won a lifetime’s worth of blackmail material.

As she headed down the hallway, she called over her shoulder, sing-song and far too loud, “Can’t wait to see adorable mini-yous and secret agents running around!”

You groaned from your doorway. “Shaiya, go home.”

She just laughed, turning to wink at you before disappearing down the stairs. “Give my regards to Mr. Tall, Calm, and Tragic!”

You slammed your door shut with a huff, leaning against it as silence settled back into the house.

Mini-yous and secret agents.

You stared blankly at the wall, then promptly screamed into your hands.

This was getting out of hand.

—•

A week before the wedding, Xavier surprised you with a calm, “I’d like to take you to pick out your dress,” like he was asking if you wanted tea—not subtly offering to participate in one of the most emotionally overwhelming rites of passage in existence.

So naturally, you said yes. And then spent the entire morning internally spiraling.

It was awkward at first.

Mostly because you were trying very hard not to be a complete nervous wreck. The boutique was gorgeous—warm lighting, soft music, rows of delicate lace and silk that whispered life-changing decision with every swish.

And there Xavier was, sitting far too calmly in one of the velvet chairs, flipping through a bridal catalog like he did this every Thursday.

Meanwhile, you were trying not to combust.

You peeked at him between gowns. He didn’t look bored or out of place. In fact, he looked… focused. Thoughtful.

Like this mattered to him.

When you stepped out in the first dress, hands fidgeting at your sides, you half-expected a polite nod or something neutral.

Instead, his gaze lifted—and he just looked at you.

Not like you were trying on fabric. Like you were becoming something real.

“You look…” he started, then paused. A rare moment where words seemed to fail him. “…beautiful.”

Your brain short-circuited. Your stylist cooed.

And you?

You forgot how to breathe for about seven seconds.

This wedding might just kill you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing your pulse to calm down as you smoothed your hands over the fabric, trying to act like you weren’t melting under his gaze.

“Do you like it?” you asked, your voice more steady than you expected—only slightly breathless.

Xavier tilted his head, his eyes not leaving you. “I do,” he said, softly but certain. “But the question is—do you?”

You blinked, thrown for a moment.

“I mean…” You turned toward the mirror, taking yourself in again. The dress hugged you gently, not flashy, not overly grand—just enough detail to feel like you belonged in a dream. “I think I do.”

Xavier stood, walking over with unhurried steps. He stopped just behind you, enough distance to be respectful but close enough that you could feel the quiet weight of his presence.

His reflection met yours in the mirror, eyes still warm. “Then that’s the one.”

Your heart betrayed you again with an uneven thump.

“O—On second thought, I’ll try a few more,” you blurted, the words tripping over each other as your blush bloomed faster than your dignity could recover.

Xavier blinked, clearly amused, but—mercifully—didn’t say a word.

You turned so quickly you nearly tripped on the hem of the dress, fumbling your way back into the dressing room with all the grace of a flustered Victorian heroine trying not to swoon.

Once inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, pressing a hand to your burning cheek.

Pull yourself together, you told your reflection. It’s just a compliment. From your devastatingly attractive, quietly intense, secret-agent fiancé who might actually be perfect husband material… oh no.

Outside, you could hear Xavier flipping pages in the catalog again, his calm voice murmuring something to the stylist.

No teasing. No smug follow-up.

Just… waiting. Patiently. Like he’d wait all day if you needed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, then let out a very quiet, very overwhelmed laugh.

Yep. You were so doomed.

You stepped out in the second dress, holding your breath without meaning to. This one—this one felt different.

It wasn’t over-the-top, but it shimmered just enough under the soft boutique lights, with delicate embroidery trailing down the bodice and a skirt that moved like you were floating.

Like a fairytale—but not the soft, gentle kind. More like Cinderella on crack, if she ditched the glass slipper for a knife in her garter and a comeback locked and loaded.

You felt powerful. Gorgeous. Slightly dangerous.

Xavier looked up the moment you stepped out, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything at all.

Which, frankly, was worse than a compliment. Because he stared.

You shifted on your feet. “Too much?”

He stood slowly, eyes never leaving you. “No,” he said, quietly. “It’s perfect.”

You felt your breath catch again—because somehow, he didn’t say it like he was talking about the dress.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were ready to marry him… or fall headfirst in love with him.

Either way, you were spiraling.

Elegantly, of course. Like a fairytale heroine in heels.

Afterward, with the kind of effortless grace that should not be legal, Xavier handled everything—his posture composed, voice low as he spoke with the staff, arranging every last detail with calm precision.

You stood behind him, half-hidden near a rack of veils, watching the scene like you were in a slow-motion movie montage you hadn’t signed up for.

He moved like someone born to command attention but never demanded it—unassuming, composed, elegant in the way only someone dangerous could be when they weren’t trying.

And there he was, calmly signing forms and coordinating where to send your wedding dress, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your wedding dress.

You, meanwhile, were standing there with your heart doing somersaults in your chest like it had zero survival instincts.

It wasn’t just the way he looked doing it. It was the way he didn’t look at you while doing it—as if this wasn’t some grand gesture, but simply what he did.

Quietly take care of things. Gently, but without asking.

You pressed your hand over your chest as it fluttered again—annoyingly dramatic.

Yep.

This man was going to ruin you in the most inconveniently romantic way possible.

—•

The night before the wedding, the world felt hushed. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that settled in your lungs and refused to leave.

Everyone else had retreated—family fluttering with last-minute details, planners running over final checklists.

But you found yourself out on the balcony of the estate, the moon casting silver across the garden, soft and endless.

And Xavier—of course—found you there.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just walked up quietly and stood beside you, his presence grounding in that calm, ever-steady way.

For a while, the silence felt enough. The good kind.

The kind that didn’t need to be filled with nervous laughter or pointless words.

And then, you exhaled. “You nervous?”

He glanced at you, then shook his head. “Not really.”

You smiled, eyes drifting down to your hands resting on the stone railing. “I thought I’d be. But I’m not.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

You paused, biting your lip, unsure how to say it without sounding like a complete idiot.

“I think…” You hesitated, then braved a glance at him. “I think I might actually like you. Like… really.”

Xavier looked at you, his expression unreadable at first—but then something shifted in his eyes. Softened.

He didn’t speak right away, and for a split second, your heart lodged somewhere in your throat.

But then—quietly, gently—he said, “Good.”

You blinked. “Good? That’s it?”

He turned fully toward you, his voice lower now.

“Because I think I’ve been liking you for a while now. I just didn’t know how to say it without making it sound… heavier than it is.”

You stared at him, a warmth blooming deep in your chest.

“It is kind of heavy,” you whispered.

“I know.” He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made you still. “But I don’t mind carrying it.”

And under the silver night, with barely inches between you, that almost-confession settled between your hearts like a promise—unspoken, quiet, but real.

The day of the wedding arrived with a kind of dreamlike haze—everything moving just a little too fast, yet not fast enough.

People buzzed around with clipped voices and half-screamed checklists, but all you could hear was the thud of your heartbeat as you stood behind the grand double doors, clutching your bouquet like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth.

Your dad stood beside you, his hand steady on your arm. “You okay?”

You gave a weak nod. “Yep. Totally fine. Just, you know… about to get married to a gorgeous secret agent I’m pretty sure I’m falling for. No big deal.”

He chuckled softly. “You’ve got this.”

You didn’t answer—not because you didn’t believe him, but because you were too busy trying not to throw up out of sheer romantic terror.

On the other side of the doors, Xavier stood at the altar.

Poised. Steady.

He wore a pale suit tailored within an inch of its life, silver hair catching the soft light from the stained glass above. And yet, despite the opulence around him, he looked only forward—toward the doors.

Toward you.

He wasn’t smiling—not quite.

But his expression held that familiar softness, that calm warmth that only you seemed to bring out in him.

Like the world could be on fire and he’d still be there, waiting.

The music began.

Your hands tightened on the bouquet.

You met your father’s eyes, took a deep breath—

And the doors slowly opened.

Warm golden light spilled into the chapel, catching on the soft fabric of your dress, the shimmer of the veil, the slight tremble in your hands.

Every pair of eyes turned toward you—but you only looked at one.

Xavier.

The moment your gaze met his, the world seemed to still. The music faded to a low hum.

The pressure in your chest eased, just slightly.

He didn’t look shocked or overwhelmed, didn’t do anything dramatic.

He just breathed, like seeing you walk toward him was the most natural thing in the world.

But his eyes—his eyes said everything.

There was awe there, yes, but also something gentler.

A quiet certainty.

Like he’d been waiting for you not just today, not just these past weeks, but his whole life—and only now realized it.

Your feet carried you forward, one step at a time, your father guiding you down the aisle, grounding you in each heartbeat.

You were aware of the petals scattered along the path, the subtle scent of white lilies in the air, the soft rustle of guests shifting in their seats—but none of it compared to the weight of Xavier’s gaze.

You finally reached him, hands trembling slightly as your father placed yours into Xavier’s.

Xavier’s fingers closed around yours—warm, steady, reverent.

“You look…” he whispered, leaning just slightly toward you, enough for only you to hear, “like you stepped right out of one of your stories.”

You smiled, despite the tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“And you,” you whispered back, voice shaking, “look like the ending I didn’t dare write.”

He didn’t smile—he softened. Completely.

And as the ceremony began, as vows waited on the other side of breath and silence, you realized something profound.

You weren’t nervous anymore.

You were exactly where you were meant to be.

Manifesting Lumiere...

𝙃𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙈𝘽𝙀𝙍𝙎 (QP1)

Decided to post my brainrot/self-indulgent quick prompt on how the LIs handle MC's period... because, well, I’m dealing with the emotional rollercoaster myself right now...

After a long day at work, you step outside, only to find him waiting for you. Confused, you approach, wondering why he’s here, and he studies you intently before checking his phone.

It’s the first day of your period.

Xavier brightens (not literally) the moment he sees you.

“Hey. How was work? Are you feeling okay?”

You tilt your head, confused by his sudden concern. Before you can ask, Xavier glances at his phone, scrolling for a moment before looking back at you with a sheepish smile.

“It’s, uh… that time of the month, right?” His voice is gentle, almost hesitant. “I just wanted to check if you needed anything.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulls a small bag from behind him. Inside are your favorite comfort snacks, a fluffy heat pack, and a bottle of warm tea.

“I wasn’t sure what would help, so I got a little bit of everything.” He rubs the back of his neck, eyes full of warmth. “And, uh… if you need distractions, I found a cute cat café nearby. Thought it might help.”

His concern is pure and unassuming, and he’s not teasing, not overbearing, just genuinely wanting to make you feel better.

Zayne watches you closely, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. When you look at him confused, he sighs, as if expecting this reaction.

“You tend to forget to take care of yourself,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and glancing at his notes. “It’s the first day of your period.”

You initially assumed it was just a regular stomach ache.

“You usually get cramps around this time. Have you eaten?” He states it like a fact, like something he’s committed to memory as part of his duty to take care of you.

Before you can even respond, he pulls a small bag from behind him—inside are heat patches, painkillers, and your favorite snacks.

“I don’t want you passing out on the way home,” Zayne says, voice gentle. “Come on, I’ll take you back.”

He doesn’t make a big deal of it. He just makes sure you’re taken care of. Because, to him, that’s what love is.

Rafayel doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. As soon as you approach, he checks his phone before speaking.

“You’re late.”

You blinked in confusion. “Late for what?”

He looks at you, unimpressed. “To take care of yourself, obviously.”

Without another word, he hands you a neatly packed bag. Inside is a precise selection of herbal teas, pain relief patches, and a carefully balanced meal.

“I researched the best remedies,” he states matter-of-factly. “And that is you should rely on me more.”

Well… it’s the closest thing to an admission that he worries about you... very much.

Sylus grins the moment you spot him.

“Took you long enough.” He lifts his phone, scrolling lazily before stopping. “Looks like I got the timing just right.”

You frown. “Timing for what?”

He slings an arm over your shoulders, walking you toward his parked motorcycle. “For me to kidnap you. Thought I’d save you from work misery and get you some comfort food.”

You halted him with a frown, and he released you.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m a very attentive man.” He crosses his arms, tilting his head. “You always get extra grumpy around this time, so I figured I’d do something about it.”

“I'm not grumpy—” Your words were cut off as he gently patted your head.

“I got a whole day planned… comfort food, bad movies, and all the attention you can handle.”

Before you can protest, he grabs the helmet and secures it on you, his usual cocky smirk softening just a bit.

“Don’t argue, sweetie—just let me spoil you today.”

He might play it cool, but the fact that he remembered your cycle down to the day? That says more than his words ever could.

Caleb holds up his phone, wiggling it between his fingers like it’s some grand reveal.

“Today’s a special day.”

You just stare at him, then he leans in closer, voice dropping into a whisper.

“Pipsqueak, don’t tell me you forgot again.”

You looked confused as he let out a low chuckle.

“Your period started, didn’t it?” His teasing grin widens when you gaped at him. “What, don’t look at me like that. I keep track of the important things.”

He tucks his phone away and steps closer, his hand ghosting over your lower back.

“I was wondering if you’d need me to carry you home. Or…” He leans in, lips just by your ear. “...if you’d rather be pampered in bed.”

You gave him a quick smack on the arm, earning a chuckle from him. Then, he ruffles your hair before slipping a warm drink into your hands.

“Drink up. I can’t have you suffering on my watch.”

Hope you all like it, and maybe it helps a bit with period stress and discomfort too! Which one do you like most, and why? Let me know!

The bite of Xavier

This brings comfort rn 😭😭😭

🗡️ “That time of the month again?”

because we all know that periods suck and characters are not immune to the horrors 🗡️ prompt list of comforting actions

Character A is bedridden from the cramps and Character B becomes their living heating pad (cuddles with arms wrapped around the waist >>>>)

B buys A their favorite chocolates a couple days before their period starts and keeps beverages with electrolytes on hand

A takes a day off to rest, bingewatch some episodes of a good show, and care for themselves (maybe do some yoga, and by yoga I mean curl up in the fetal position for a couple hours)

B thinks that making a nice bath for A will help and prepares everything for when A gets home (A laughs and explains why that’s not a great idea)

Searching for Shark Week’s episodes online to deal with shark week in person, but getting distracted by cute animal shows

B can’t be there for A in person so they send A $30 to cover extra snacks and/or medicine

Instead of getting emotional over posts online, A digs out an old book series and gets emotional over that (they are reliving their childhood, they swear it’s cathartic THEY SWEAR)

A can’t sleep with the back pain so B gives them a light back massage with several check-ins to make sure the noises are in relief and not pain

B keeps the lights dim and and TV volume low as A battles a headache

All meals are made with ahead of time and cravings humored (“You can’t just eat straight salt.” “I know that, which is why I’m putting all of it on this.”)

A asks for B to get more pads/tampons at the store, B calls and sends many pictures as they try to figure out what will work best for A

B quietly scrubs out any bloodstains from A’s clothes as they do laundry (and they’re really efficient at it, why are they so good at getting blood out of clothing—)

A snuggling up with their pet who knows the exact spot to be in for maximum comfy (B thinks it’s adorable and takes a picture to show A later)

“I’m sorry if I’m not really conversational right now…” “Dude you’re on your period and barely slept last night, you’re good. We don’t have to talk, we can just chill.”

B brings home a machine for homemade ice-cream and all the ingredients needed for A’s favorite flavor (they spend the evening making it and declare a “dessert before dinner” day for when periods strike)

❄️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ vaccine

— synopsis: you go to akso hospital to get your child their vaccine.

zayne was always the one to handle these things, but now that he's gone—

you don't know what to do.

— note/s: n/a

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

i.

“mommy, are we gonna see daddy?”

you freeze with your hand on the car door, your child’s small voice cutting clean through the dull hum of the engine. there’s a soft rustling sound as they shift in their car seat, wide eyes peering at you expectantly from the rearview mirror.

you swallow. “no, baby.” you keep your voice steady, soft. careful. “we’re just going to the hospital to get your shots.”

their face scrunches up. “but daddy always gives me my shots.”

your chest tightens, a sharp pressure beneath your ribs. “i know.”

you don’t tell them why it’s different this time. you don’t tell them why daddy isn’t coming home.

you climb into the driver’s seat and close the door. the seatbelt clicks into place, and you adjust the mirror. you breathe. in and out. your wedding ring catches the light as you grip the steering wheel. zayne’s ring sits cool and heavy against your collarbone, hanging from the delicate chain around your neck. you reach up and press it between your fingers.

“mommy?”

you glance back at them. “yeah?”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me for being brave, right?”

you smile. it’s thin. it wobbles at the edges. “yeah, baby. he’s always proud of you.”

ii.

the hospital smells like disinfectant and stale coffee. you adjust your child on your hip as you stand at the reception desk, the too-bright fluorescent lights making you feel exposed.

the receptionist glances up. “can i help you?”

“um.” you hesitate. “my child has a vaccine appointment?”

the receptionist taps at the keyboard. “name?”

you give it. the receptionist hums and scans the screen.

“do you have the vaccination record?”

you open your mouth. close it. “uh… no. sorry.”

“that’s okay.” she types a few more things. “we can look it up. when was the last time your child got their MMR booster?”

your mind blanks. “uh… i don’t know.”

the receptionist raises an eyebrow.

“my husband usually handled that stuff,” you add quickly.

the receptionist looks up at you then, a flicker of recognition sparking behind her eyes. her gaze drops to your ring and then to the chain around your neck. her face softens. “dr. zayne?”

your throat tightens. “yeah.”

a pause. “i’m… sorry for your loss.”

you nod stiffly. “thanks.”

she glances toward the back. “do you want to sit down? i’ll have someone come get you soon.”

“yeah. okay.”

you settle into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area, your child curling against your side. they tug at your sleeve. “mommy?”

“yeah?”

“do you think daddy would be proud of me if i don’t cry?”

you press your lips together and kiss the top of their head. “he’d be proud of you no matter what.”

iii.

the nurse who calls you in knows you, too. you see the flash of recognition in her eyes when she reads the file.

“you’re dr. zayne’s wife?”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry for your loss.”

you manage a thin smile. “thanks.”

she looks at your child. “alright, sweetheart. ready for your shot?”

their hand curls around your sleeve. “is daddy gonna do it?”

the nurse’s expression falters.

you stroke their hair. “no, honey. daddy’s not here right now. but this nice nurse is going to take care of you.”

their lip wobbles. “but… what if it hurts?”

“it might,” you say softly. “but you’re brave, remember?”

their eyes shine. “like daddy?”

“just like daddy.”

the nurse smiles kindly. “alright, big kid. let’s get this over with.”

your child squeezes their eyes shut as the needle goes in, their hand clutching yours. they don’t cry.

when it’s over, they beam up at you. “i was brave!”

you stroke their cheek. “so brave.”

“daddy’s gonna be proud of me!”

the nurse’s gaze flickers toward you. you know what she’s thinking, but you don’t say anything.

“yeah, baby.” your voice shakes. “he’s so proud.”

iv.

you walk back through the hospital corridors, your child skipping at your side. your wedding ring feels heavier than usual on your finger. zayne’s ring presses cold against your chest.

the hallways are familiar. too familiar. you pass by rooms zayne used to work in, faces zayne used to know. they all look at you with soft eyes and hushed voices. you hate it.

your child’s hand tugs at yours. “can we get ice cream now?”

you smile faintly. “yeah. we can do that.”

they light up. “can i get chocolate?”

“of course.”

“and can we tell daddy that i was brave?”

you don’t answer right away. your hand closes around the ring at your neck.

“he already knows,” you say quietly.

you walk through the automatic doors, stepping into the sharp brightness of the afternoon sun.