LaDS men and a gf that's emotionally sensitive/easy to make cry and worries its gonna annoy them so keeps bottling up so she doesn't start to annoy them? (The crying doesn't have to be their fault)
Lads Men x Sensitive reader
note : so sorry this took so long, but i hope you like it. Unfortunately, Valko won't be in this one bc I've ran out of ideas. I did try to write for him, but it ended up being similar to zayne's, so i had to scrape it.
Xavier
You were looking forward to spending time with your friends, but you hadn't expected to come home upset after a girls' night out with them being the reason for your low mood. You've lost count of how many times you've repeated yourself and felt self-conscious. After a while, you stayed to yourself, sipping on your cocktail and observing other people—you were good at that.
So, when you arrived home with a tight throat, you made sure your boyfriend, Xavier, was soundlessly asleep before swaying to the bathroom and locking it behind you.
You opened the tap and that's when you let the tears fall freely.
The warmth of your unhappiness slides down your cheek one after another as you sniffle softly, your shoulders shaking slightly as a visible sign of the trouble you were holding inside.
You weren't one to have friends so easily. You should've known something was off.
A soft knock snapped you out of your emotional bubble. Your head whips to the door and you quickly splash cold tap water on your face to make it look like you weren't crying.
"Star?"
Your boyfriends sleepy voice soothed your aching heart. He was so soft spoken, and it was one of your favorite things about him.
"Hm?
"Are you okay?" He spoke hesitantly.
You willed yourself to keep your voice steady. "Yeah, I was just cleaning my makeup off. Did I wake you?" You quickly grab your cleanser and wash your face.
"No…I was already awake."
You frowned. You quickly finished washing your face and gave yourself a once-over in the mirror to make sure you looked decent and not like you were crying before unlocking the bathroom.
Your poor boyfriend looked so tired; it was almost cute. But you were concerned because it was midnight, and it looked like he could nod off upright.
"Did you wait up for me?" Guilt pumped through your blood. You should've come home earlier.
Xavier chuckles softly. "No…I just couldn't sleep."
Your eyes narrow, examining his state. "You're a bad liar."
"So are you."
Your eyes widen momentarily, but you quickly compose yourself. "I don't know what you mean."
Xavier's exhaustion slowly faded away to concern. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes locked on you. "Star…You don't wear makeup."
Dammit.
"Did someone upset you?"
"No!" You exclaim. "Just drop it, okay?" You walk away. You didn't want to tell him because it wasn't a big deal. You were just a sensitive woman who looks too deeply into things.
As you walked away, Xavier kept his eyes on you, brows slightly furrowed in confusion and worry. Something happened, and he won't give up just yet, but you looked like you needed space, and he was going to respect that for now.
Zayne
You knew Zayne loved you, but it was just hard to think so these days because of how busy he was. As pathetic as it sounded, you just wanted his attention.
And so, for the past few days, you've made it your job to grab his attention. You've tried getting a new haircut, a new makeup look, and a new perfume, but to no avail; he barely noticed.
You almost gave up—just almost—but you had one last idea, and if it didn't work, then you'll just have to leave it alone and go back to the way you were before. Or perhaps you could give him a taste of his own medicine.
So, you walked to his office in hope that he would finally be able to get a break and take you on a date.
"Zayne, because you've been busy, I've been thinking of taking you on a date. I've already thought of seventy-seven date ideas!" You smiled proudly, pulling out pieces of paper. "Do you wanna see?"
"—I'm busy, so please refrain from speaking to me when I'm working." His tone was clipped, not once taking his eyes off his laptop screen.
"Oh…okay." You quickly covered up your facial expression as if his dismissive comment didn't just wound you. You began to step back. "I'll just put those here..."
He says nothing, so you just turn around and walk out of his office with a big lump in your throat, a thin coat of tears glistening in your eyes.
You were upset and embarrassed, but you knew it was stupid. Your boyfriend was a busy man, and his world didn't exist solely for you.
With a heavy heart and slumped shoulders, you dragged your feet to the guest bedroom and climbed on the bed. Without bothering to cover yourself with a blanket, you took a nap soundly, hoping the next day would be a better one.
Rafayel
Your boyfriend was a very popular man—his beautiful art had attracted many young and old people. Some truly loved his art, while others just wanted to look cool.
Rafayel's last art exhibition was a few months ago, but he refused to go as usual and bribed Thomas with a week off—which Thomas was hesitant about at first. It was a new tactic of Rafayel's, seeing as his excuses were getting a bit outdated.
But it later came back to bite him in the ass. Thomas had recently taken his revenge and bribed him back—an offer that your artistic boyfriend couldn't resist.
So, now Rafayel was begging you to go with him, thinking of everything he could to get you to agree.
You refused a few times but looked closer at your boyfriend. He was anxious and jittery, and it was a little strange to see your lively boyfriend like that, but you understood him clearly now.
He hated crowds—as did you—but this wasn't about you; it was about your boyfriend, and you'd agree to go with him if it meant your presence would calm him down.
You sighed in defeat and looked down at your boyfriend, who was lying on your lap with a sulky pout that refused to leave his face. "Fine, I'll go."
The expression your boyfriend made was definitely worth it as he jumped from your lap, his pink and purple eyes sparkling from the victory he felt along with the sunlight that gleamed through the living room window.
"You'll really go with me, cutie?"
You suppressed a snicker and nodded. "What time are we leaving?"
"Six noon."
Your head tilted down towards your watch. You only had an hour and twenty minutes to shower, do your makeup and hair and pick an outfit; it wasn't enough time, but you were lucky enough to have an artistic and fashionable boyfriend.
"Okay, but you're gonna have to help me."
The rest of the day, people shoved cameras in your faces and bombarded you with questions. And somewhere along the way, you and Rafayel were separated, leaving you sitting in the corner while your infamous lavender-haired boyfriend entertained the visitors.
For the past twelve minutes, you have been drinking a lot of juice from a martini glass—the rosy liquid sloshing around dangerously close to the rim. You didn't know what it was, but it was one of the best things you've ever tasted—a little bitter, but still amazing.
As you admired one of Rafayel's paintings, a pretty woman with brunette hair came up to you and stood right beside you, a little too close for your liking. Her brown eyes reflected her giddiness inside.
"It's a beautiful painting." The woman awed as she gazed at the painting, her eyes raking over every corner of the canvas.
You observed the painting, taking in every detail your boyfriend worked hard on, from the gentle strokes of a cared-for paintbrush to the little details of the texture of the sand.
"I'm Ivy, nice to meet you."
"I'm—"
"—You're the girlfriend. I know." She looked proud of herself.
You looked away in disappointment. You were used to being addressed as his girlfriend from the start of your relationship, but it didn't bother you any less. In fact, it bothered you to your wits end. Your whole identity was being reduced to just Rafayel's girlfriend when you knew you were much more than that. Hell, even he didn't address you as his girlfriend as much as the fans did.
Speaking of Rafayel, your eyes darted to his figure. It was easy to spot him—his taste in fashion was so stunning that no one could even come close.
He was engaging in a conversation with a previous artist he collaborated with a while back. He looked like he was doing much better than you are, and you loved that for him.
You, on the other hand, suddenly felt down, like your whole day was ruined, and you didn't exactly know why. You frowned, your mind clouded as you struggled to think about what caused your down-mood.
"Are you okay?"
Your head snapped towards Ivy, eyes slightly wide. You sort of forgot about her. Your brain short-circuited as you tried to think of an excuse. "I—yeah. I just think I might be leaking." You stuttered over your quick lie and began to walk off in a rush. "I'll be right back!"
The bathroom door shut behind you as you stepped in, your eyes stinging with tears as if a freshly cut onion were nearby. You examined the bathroom, and you stepped into the closest empty stall you could find.
Rafayel watched with furrowed brows as he noticed you leaving for the bathroom, his mind straying from the conversation and being filled with concern for you instead.
His eyes drifted towards where you left and landed on the tall woman that he saw approaching you earlier. Quickly excusing himself, he made his way over to her. He cleared his throat, causing Ivy to jump and turn her head to him.
Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping in shock. "Rafayel? H-How can I help you?" She practically exclaimed in excitement.
Rafayels face barely twitched at the girls enthusiasm seeing as he was very familiar with it as a very popular artist. "My girlfriend looked upset—"
Ivy nodded in understanding. "—Ohh, I see. She said she might be leaking and left in a rush." She shrugged.
Rafayel furrowed his eyebrows. Leaking? You don't start your period until two weeks from now.
He nodded and thanked her. Before she could get a word in, he walked off to the woman's bathroom, and as he entered, he received a few strange looks from young women. But he didn't have it in him to care when you walked off upset.
"Cutie?" He called out, his eyes carefully observing the bottom of the stall to see the beautiful navy heels he had once gifted to you early in your relationship.
Your breath hitched, eyes lifting off the bathroom floor, anxious. You didn't want him to notice you in this state, so you lifted your feet on top of the toilet bowl lid and hoped for the best.
"What'cha doing, Cutie?"
You yelp and almost fall off the toilet, your palm flying to your chest, feeling the fast-paced heartbeat beneath. Your head snapped up to your right and met eyes with Rafayel. "Rafayel!" you hissed, your hand dropping to your side when the adrenaline faded away. "What's wrong with you?"
Your boyfriend faked a pained wince and placed his palm over his heart dramatically with a pout. "I'm deeply wounded, cutie. I thought the love of my life would be happy to see me."
You raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his antics, and pulled yourself up to meet his height—almost, seeing as he was tall. "What are you doing in the woman's bathroom?"
"I came to see you."
"Why?"
A soft puff of air escaped Rafayel's blush-pink lips, all signs of his everyday humor leaving his body as he suddenly became serious. "You looked upset, so I got worried and followed you here."
Your heart squeezed with affection. "Raf...in the woman's bathroom?" You let out a half-hearted, breathy laugh.
He pursed his lips and nodded. "Yep, my mind was only focused on you, so you're the one to blame." He tilted his head, eyeing you more closely. "Aren't you going to tell me why you looked upset?"
You sighed, cupping his cheek over the stall barrier, and he rested his palms over yours, turning his head slightly to kiss your wrist.
"…Just menstrual stuff." You ended up saying instead, because truthfully, you didn't know why you were suddenly upset. It wasn't like what Ivy referred to you as hurt you, right? That would be ridiculous.
Rafayel tilted his head, his eyes never straying from your face. "You don't get your period until a few weeks, cutie."
"Oh."
He gripped your hands that lay upon his cheek and held them, squeezing them reassuringly. "I need you to tell me the real reason so I can fix it. Can you do that for me?"
"I—" You look up into his pink eyes, observing the the depth of his concern before sighing in defeat. "It's stupid."
Rafayel raised his brows. "I can do with stupid."
"Okay…" As you began to rant about what's been bothering you, your boyfriend quietly listened, not once interrupting you.
"And don't get me wrong, I love seeing your art, but I wanted to stay home with you and watch you paint, cuddle, and banter, but I didn't want to hurt you or Thomas by making this about me, so I didn't say anything. I love being here with you, but your fans and reporters keep addressing me as your girlfriend excessively—I have a name, and to be honest, I don't think they actually know it."
You fidgeted with his fingers as your weight shifted anxiously from one foot to another during your hurried rant. Your eyes darted from the ceiling to the ground to avoid eye contact.
You hated speaking up about your feelings, because as you grew up, they were either brushed off or looked past, so you've learned to stay quiet and keep them to yourself.
Rafayel's heart twisted as he caught a sheen of tears in your eyes. "Look at me, please."
Your eyes drifted back to him. "It's stupid, I know—I told you it was stupid."
"Nope." He held your hands firmly in his slender ones. "We're not doing that today. How about we go home right now? I'd love to spend my time with you instead." His playfulness came back now that he knew the real reason you were upset.
Your eyes widened slightly in hope. "Another paint session?" you murmured, but your boyfriend simply winked and let go of your hands before disappearing behind the barrier.
You grinned and stepped down from the toilet seat before unlatching the lock and exiting the stall.
Rafayel stood before you with the corner of his lips tugged up, his palms outstretched for you to take, and you did so without hesitation.
He guided you out of the bathroom, ignoring the stares and whispers he got from the few women left in the dim-lit bathroom. He'll deal with the fans later when he knows for sure you're okay.
Sylus
You entered the mall with confidence, picking jewelry and clothes that caught your eye. You've been working very hard with the Hunters Association, and Sylus noticed, so he gave you his black card and told you to get whatever you want.
So, you walked inside the mall, confident as you held three shopping bags on one arm.
Time passed as you looked around and tested out the fabrics by feeling them and treating yourself to lunch.
One in particular dress caught your eyes, so you just had to get it.
"Are you getting that?" The cashier asked.
You paused. Was she being rude? It was difficult to tell because she looked so kind, but her tone was just slightly off, making you unsure whether she was having a bad day or if you were just overanalyzing it.
"Um, yes I am. I really love it." You awkwardly laugh, already wanting to flee home.
"Me too! It's really unique." Her smile widened extravagantly, and her voice dripped with faux honey. She scanned the dress and folded it neatly in a small bag.
As she went ahead and told you the price, you zoned out.
Unique? No one usually uses that term as a compliment. Then your mind goes to her painfully over exaggerated smile.
Yeah…she was definitely being rude.
Swiftly, you tapped Sylus's black card against the card reader, grabbed your bag, and walked off without so much as a thank you.
As you neared your car, your shoulders visibly curled in, all traces of confidence gone from your body. You entered your vehicle and shoved all the bags in the backseat before starting the engine.
As you drove home, your throat tightened painfully. You were not going to cry because of something so stupid, so you toughened up and took a deep breath. If you cried, Sylus would no doubt notice, and you weren't in the mood for a boyfriend interrogation.
But you suppose that was useless either way, because the minute you stepped through that door, he immediately noticed something was off.
As you cleaned the dust off your book, Sylus stepped behind you closely, his palms slithering around your waist before leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder.
You tense.
"What's wrong, kitten?"
"Nothing," you say blankly, placing your books back on the shelf and picking up another one. You knew when people asked a question like that, they didn't really want to know, so you stayed quiet about the rude cashier—you refused to bother him with something so trivial.
Sylus's grip tightened before standing upright. "Don't lie to me, kitten." He grabbed your cleaning cloth as you grabbed onto another book.
You sighed in frustration and turned around to face him. But you were surprised. His face was millimeters away from yours, his blood-colored eyes piercing your soul through your own.
Just looking at him reminded you how powerful he was while you were just a sensitive woman. It was humiliating and, quite frankly, wouldn't be a good look on your behalf or for him if anyone in the N109 zone found out.
Your head turned to your left stubbornly, refusing to meet eye contact, but Sylus swiftly gripped your chin and directed your face back to him before you could hide completely.
"Look at me."
"I'm looking."
"You only got groceries." His face was straight, but he sounded disappointed.
Your eyes narrowed. "You did say to get whatever I wanted, and I did
Sylus raised a brow, letting go of your chin and stepping back. "Yes, I did say that." He sighed. "You looked upset. Will you tell me, or will I have to ask Mephisto? I would prefer it if you told me yourself."
You cocked your head back with a befuddled frown. "Mephisto? What does he have to do with it—you had him follow me?" you scoffed. Of course he would. Now, you were worried he would snitch on you; there's no doubt he would.
"You're so protective sometimes!"
"I thought we already established that, sweetie."
The rest of the day, you hide away in your bedroom, bracing yourself for the embarrassment of having your sensitive persona finally exposed to the man you loved.
Caleb
The fluorescent lights blinded you as you stepped in, the food, drinks, and home necessities being all that you could see. You were in a small supermarket with Caleb, picking out what to buy for MC.
She was coming for dinner, and it had to be special. You and your boyfriend couldn't just make spaghetti for her and call it a day, as it was disrespectful.
Caleb hummed in thought. "Hm, how about I make the Caleb special for her instead?" He then turned to you for your opinion.
You halted, looking almost heartbroken. The Caleb special? You clear your throat, smiling. "Okay! I think that's a great idea."
You didn't believe it was a good idea at all.
The Caleb special was a delicious food that he always made for you in the morning after long nights in bed. You figured it was just a you-and-him thing. Now it wouldn't be so special anymore…
You push your feelings away and busy yourself the rest of the day, continuing conversations with your boyfriend like normal. You attempted to help him cook the dish, but he strongly refused.
Caleb glanced at you from the kitchen as he finished preparing his special dish. He noticed you've shifted a lot in the past twenty minutes, your eyes distant.
He really did want you to be in the kitchen with him. It was just that if you knew how to make his special dish, then you would no longer beg him to tell you or pester him anymore—you wouldn't need him, and he kept telling himself it was for the best.
Soon enough, MC arrived, and your feelings had gotten worse over the few hours she stayed in.
They had many inside jokes, and they laughed and smiled while you ate your dinner and wordlessly nodded along.
You slid your chair back and stood, mumbling. "I'll be right back."
You sauntered to the bathroom and shut it behind, but not before watching your boyfriend and your best friend go back to joking around.
You frowned, loneliness settling deep in your chest. You felt as though you were being dramatic and overly "you" again. You didn't want to cry over this—there was no reason to, but you had the urge.
Whenever MC came over, it was like you didn't exist to Caleb. All of his attention was on her as they reminisced about their past. They were very close friends—you knew that, but it didn't mean you were okay with being ignored.
Your throat muscles tightened and your vision blurred. You blinked continuously and glanced up at the bathroom ceiling to ease your tears, swallowing your saliva in a useless attempt to relax your throat.
As you managed to collect yourself, you flushed the toilet and opened the tap before stepping out of the bathroom. Caleb couldn't know you were upset; otherwise, you'd actually have to talk about your feelings, and what a nightmare that would be.
Caleb nodded along to whatever MC was saying, but his mind was on you. Not only were you in the bathroom for a while, but you were unusually quiet, too.
He had wanted to check in on you, but MC dragged him back into conversation, unaware of his inner conflict.
Soon, minutes blurred into hours. The house became quiet—the tap water running and the clinking of dishes being stacked were the only things heard in the apartment.
As you washed the plates, Caleb sauntered behind you, wrapping his huge arms around your waist as he rested his head atop yours. "What's wrong, bunny?"
You breathed in deeply at his touch. "Nothing. Why?" You twisted off the knob, and Caleb's head lifted, allowing you to turn to him, and you did.
He reaches out and grabs your hand, holding it gently in his large palms. "Because I kinda get the feeling you're mad at me, and I'd like to know if this gut feeling is correct."
"No, it's not."
Caleb tilted his head. "Then why won't you look at me, Baby?"
"Oh, I'm looking," you said and nodded. "I'm just cleaning." As you went to move away from Caleb, his fingers fastened around your wrist, pulling you back to his chest before picking you up from your lower half and throwing you over his shoulder.
You gasped in surprise. "Wha—what're you doing?!"
"I'm not lettin' you down until you tell me what's wrong." Caleb made his way over to the couch.
"There's nothing wrong," you defended yourself stubbornly. You didn't want to tell him because you realized just how sensitive you've been—an embarrassing amount.
"You're ignoring me," Caleb stated, tilting his head.
"Um, no. You're ignoring me," you talked back, not realizing you just set yourself up for a long conversation.
"Ah, so is that what this is about?" He sounded proud of himself; you could practically hear his smug grin. He placed you down on the ground and brought you both down on the couch, so you're now straddling him, looking straight into his violet eyes. "My princess is mad that I'm ignoring her, huh?"
Unfortunately, your boyfriend was very good at getting what he wanted.
