a place for trees

ZAYNE

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ knows exactly when your social battery is dying and gets you out of conversations; He notices when your smile starts to thin just a little too quickly in conversations, when your answers get shorter, when your eyes start drifting instead of really landing anywhere. He never interrupts you while it’s happening. He just waits until the exact second it becomes too much for you to keep pretending.

“Excuse me,” Zayne says smoothly when he finally steps in, appearing beside you as if he’s always been there. One hand settles lightly at your back, subtle enough that no one questions it, but firm enough that your shoulders immediately relax. Your coworker is still talking about some article she read, but Zayne’s presence quickly disrupts the rhythm of the conversation.

Zayne doesn't necessarily make it sudden or awkward, just gently redirects it, polite words and his calm authority wrapping around the conversation until it naturally dissolves.

And it's moments like that that make you so so grateful to be married to someone like zayne.

You barely even realized how much you’d been holding in until it’s suddenly gone, like someone finally loosened a tight knot in your chest. By the time you reach his car, the evening air feels colder than you expected. Zayne opens the passenger door for you without a word, like he already knows you’re running on empty.

You slide into the warm interior of his car, sinking back into the seat with a soft exhale, lashes fluttering shut for just a second longer than intended. “Thank you for that, zaynie,” you murmur tiredly as he settles into the driver’s seat beside you.

Zayne glances at you, the faintest curve forming at the corner of his mouth. His gaze softening as his green eyes flicker over your tired expression, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. “Of course, my love."

CALEB

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ automatically reaches for you when he's excited about something; Caleb has never been good at hiding his enthusiasm—though he's never had any desire to hide it from you. The second he's telling you a story, showing you something cool, or rambling about whatever has caught his attention that day, he's automatically reaching for you without even realizing it.

"Okay, okay, but listen, pips—"

One arm slips around your waist as he talks, pulling you against his side while he launches into whatever ridiculous thing he's currently invested in.

"The wing shape is designed like that for a reason. And if you look here—"

Caleb's excitement only makes him more affectionate. A hand on your shoulder. An arm around your waist. Pulling you closer every few minutes like he physically needs you involved in the conversation. Half the time, he isn't even aware he's doing it.

Too busy sharing something he loves with his favorite person.

And somehow, by the end of it, you've learned absolutely nothing about airplanes, but you've learned quite a bit about how cute your husband looks when he's excited.

XAVIER.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ steals your blankets subconsciously but gives them back immediately when you whine; Xavier has this unconscious habit of stealing your blankets like it’s instinct. It starts innocently enough: movie nights, late evenings, him sitting just a little too close until somehow the entire blanket ends up draped over him instead of you.

You don’t even notice at first.

Until you’re suddenly freezing.

“Xavierrrr” you mumble, tugging at the edge of the blanket.

He stirs slowly, blinking up at you like he’s just been pulled out of a dream. There’s a long pause where he processes absolutely nothing, then—

“…hm?”

“you're hogging the blanket, xavi.”

Silence.

"...Sorry, star."

Then, without argument or complaint, he shifts immediately. Still half-asleep and grumbling under his breath, he lifts the blanket off himself and drapes it back over you, carefully tucking it around your shoulders until you're warm again.

The moment he's satisfied, he settles right back down. His arms slip around your waist, pulling you back against his chest with a sleepy sigh. His face buries itself in the crook of your neck, warm and familiar.

Within minutes, his breathing evens out again.

And by morning?

The blanket will somehow be wrapped around him once more.

RAFAYEL

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ always checks your reflection before his own; Every time you pass a mirror together or find yourselves standing in front of your shared bathroom mirror: Rafayel's eyes find you first.

It doesn't matter if you're dressed up for one of his gallery openings or standing in one of his oversized shirts with your hair half done. His gaze always drifts toward your face before anywhere else.

Most nights, he'll wander into the bathroom while you're doing your skincare, drawn in by your presence more than anything else. You catch his reflection in the mirror as he walks up behind you, arms slipping around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulder. The embrace is loose and familiar, his attention seemingly fixed on your reflection rather than his own.

"Don't stare at me," you mumble, patting moisturizer into your skin. "I look dehydrated right now."

Then his arms only tighten around your waist. "Then you'll be my dehydrated, beautiful muse." He says sweetly, despite the teasing lit in his voice, which makes you roll your eyes as he presses a kiss to your cheek.

"I wonder if I'll still be your muse once I start shedding like a lizard."

Rafayel hums thoughtfully, resting his chin more firmly on your shoulder as he studies your reflection.

"Of course."

"Really?"

"Mm. Then I'd simply paint the most beautiful lizard in existence."

"...you're ridiculous."

Rafayel only smiles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

"Anything for my muse."