#clingy reader

“I missed you,” you said, voice muffled into his chest. You didn’t let go. Two weeks without him had been too quiet, too empty.

He laughed softly, resting his chin on your head. “You could’ve at least said hello.”

“This is my hello.”

You followed him inside without breaking contact, trailing him from room to room like you’d forgotten how to exist without him nearby. You sat beside him on the couch, basically on top of him, legs tangled, shoulder pressed to his arm. When he reached for a book, you leaned into him harder.

“You're touchier that usual,” he teased.

“Correct.”

Xavier shifted, wrapping an arm around you, tighter this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled against his shoulder, finally home.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Zayne:

Zayne was used to solitude. After long hospital shifts, his evenings were predictable, jasmine tea steeping, a book open, a comfortable silence surrounding him.

That routine disappeared the moment you started dating.

Now, when he unlocked his door, you were always there. Dinner already made. Shoes kicked off by the entryway. You greeted him before he could even set his bag down, arms around him, a soft kiss to his cheek.

Sometimes you talked immediately, about your day, your thoughts, things you’d missed while he was gone. Other times, you just held him. Minutes passed like that. Zayne never rushed you.

Tonight, you followed him through his apartment as he moved, into the kitchen, then the living room, hovering close, fingers catching on his sleeve whenever he tried to step away.

“You know,” he said gently, setting his tea down, “you don’t have to stay glued to me.”

You tilted your head. “But I want to.”

Zayne studied you for a moment, then sighed. He pulled you into his lap on the couch, one arm around your waist, the other warm against your back.

“…I suppose I don’t mind,” he admitted.

You curled into him instantly, satisfied. His book remained untouched, forgotten. Instead, he rested his chin against your shoulder, breathing you in.

For someone who once treasured his quiet routine, Zayne realized that this was better.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Rafayel:

“I’m clingier,” Rafayel announced confidently.

You scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

He leaned closer, invading your space on purpose, eyes glittering. “I literally hate being alone.”

“And yet,” you said, hooking an arm through his, “you’re not the one following me around the studio.”

“But I invite you over more because I need you to be by me,” he countered. “Big difference.”

You trailed him everywhere, through his workspace, onto the couch, even hovering behind him while he painted. If he moved, you moved. If he sat, you were already there, pressed against his side.

“You realize,” he said, glancing down at you, “I haven’t taken a step without you attached to me all day.”

You smiled sweetly. “And?”

He laughed. “Unbelievable cutie. You’re stealing my brand.”

You tugged him closer, resting your head against his shoulder. He tilted his head toward yours, brushing his temple against your hair.

“Fine,” he said. “Maybe we’re both clingy.”

You grinned. “So it’s a tie?”

He smirked. “No.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Sylus:

Sylus had to notice everything. Throughout every life, there was always someone, or something out to get him.

So when footsteps echoed behind him in the corridor, soft, deliberate, his hand was on his weapon in an instant. He spun, ready.

“…Kitten?”

You froze mid-step, holding a bag of takeout like a peace offering. “Hi?”

He stared for a beat, then exhaled loudly. “You’re going to get yourself shot.”

You walked closer anyway, unfazed. “You heard me and thought enemy. That’s kind of rude.”

“You’re always there,” he muttered, shaking his head.

And it was true. You followed him everywhere, leaning against doorframes, sitting beside him no matter how big the room, drifting closer like gravity pulled you in. A shadow he hadn’t asked for…bout could never push away.

Sylus crossed his arms. “Don’t you ever need space?”

You stepped even closer, hands resting lightly on his chest. “Not from you.”

He hesitated, then sighed, placing a hand over yours.

Later, when you curled up beside him, head on his shoulder, he adjusted automatically, allowing you closer. Maybe he wasn’t used to having someone always at his side, but now he couldn't imagine another moment without you.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🖤ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Caleb:

Growing up, you and Caleb were inseparable.

Same scraped knees. Same shared snacks and whispered secrets under the stars. Being together had always felt natural, effortless.

So when life pulled you apart and eventually brought you back together, nothing felt strange about how close you were.

You gravitated toward him without thinking, standing shoulder to shoulder, sitting on top of him, reaching for him in crowded rooms like it was instinct. Caleb never complained, he just pulled you closer.

“You still do that,” he said one night, smiling softly as you leaned into him.

“Do what?”

“Stick close, pips. Like you’re afraid I’ll disappear.”

You shrugged. “Feels like home.”

Caleb pulled you into a tight hug, arms strong and familiar. “Guess that makes me home too, huh pipsqueak?”

Your fingers slide from his hair to his forehead, brushing over the line between his brows, soft and absentminded. Steve smiles at that—small but no less sincere—without ever really stopping what he’s doing. 

You adjust his glasses slightly where they’ve slipped down his nose. Then, without thinking too hard about it, really without thinking at all, you lean in and press a soft kiss right between his brows. If you needed an excuse, you’d say you were just smoothing the crease—but it’s long gone now, and you never have to explain yourself to Steve.

“…you trying to distract me,” he murmurs, leaning into your touch. His voice warm, a little amused, a faint flush sitting high on his cheeks.

In place of a proper answer, you lift your hand, brushing a piece of hair back behind his ear, your fingers skimming along his cheekbone and down to his jaw.

“Never,” you mumble, soft, not even trying to sound convincing.

Steve laughs under his breath, shaking his head a little—he already knows he’d lose any type of argument with you. It never takes much with you. Just one smile and he’s done for.

His hand finds your knee where it’s hooked over the desk, squeezing lightly—thumb dragging once before it slides up to your thigh, settling there without a second thought.

“You’re trouble,” he says, but there’s not an ounce of weight to it. No warning; just pure, unfiltered fondness.

You lean in again, closer this time, your nose brushing his cheek before your lips hover just at the corner of his mouth.

“Kisses,” you pause, mouth pulling into a small pout, “please.”

Steve doesn’t even pretend to hesitate.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, already turning toward you, his hand sliding from your thigh to your waist to steady you where you’re perched. “C’mere.”

The kiss is soft, easy, wonderful. His thumb brushes your side absentmindedly, keeping you as close as possible. When you pull back, it’s barely anything, just enough to look at him before you lean in again.

And again.

Oh, and again.

Steve lets out a quiet whine into the next one, barely there, a little helpless—like he knows exactly how this is going to go, after all, this isn’t his first rodeo with you. “Y’know I’ve got, like, actual work to do,” he says, not moving an inch away from you.

You nod, already pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “I know.”

You linger for a second after, just looking at him, the way he’s trying to look serious—brows slightly drawn, mouth set—but it doesn’t quite stick, not when he’s still this close to you, still a little flushed, still soft around the edges for you. 

You press your lips together in a small, expectant pout, eyes wide, head tilted slightly. You know exactly what you’re doing. Steve knows exactly what you’re doing. Neither of you care.

Steve lets out a soft exhale, half a laugh, his forehead dropping briefly against yours. “You’re lucky I like you,” he mutters, even as he leans straight back in.

You smile a little at that, because you already know.

That’s the whole point.

“Just like?” You tease, fingers playing with the collar of his sweater.

You lean in impossibly closer, nudging your nose against his before he murmurs, breath fanning across your mouth—

“Love.”

The smile that breaks across your face is immediate. Soft. Impossible to hide.

Steve’s expression shifts the second he sees it, fondness melting straight through whatever was left of his attempt at composure.

“Sorry, honey,” he mumbles. And then he’s kissing you again.

“I.”

A kiss lands at the corner of your mouth.

“Love.”

Another against your cheek.

“You.”

One more, right over your smile as your laugh finally spills out properly, bright and breathless. You push lightly at his chest like you’re trying to stop him, but your hands are still twisted in the front of his sweater, keeping him just as close as he’s keeping you.

“Steve—” you giggle, ducking your head when he leans in again.

“I love you,” he repeats, gentler this time, punctuated by another quick kiss. “So much, honey.”

You’re still laughing softly by the time he finally slows, both hands warm at your waist, his forehead resting against yours while he grins in that helpless, completely gone way that’s become so terribly familiar.

And then—

A loud, aggressive chicken squeak blasts through the station speakers and out to the thirty or so late-night listeners.

You both freeze.

Steve’s eyes close instantly, already knowing exactly what that means—and somehow, you know he’s less worried about the listeners and more worried about Robin.

There’s a beat of silence before—

“Guys,” Robin’s voice crackles over the intercom, flat and deeply unimpressed. “Do you mind?”

She punctuates the question with a sharp knock against the glass separating the rooms.

Unfortunately, that’s what breaks you.

A helpless laugh slips out of you as you immediately hide your face in Steve’s neck, shoulders shaking against him. His own laugh is quieter, more embarrassed, but no less fond as one hand slides up to the back of your head, smoothing your hair down comfortingly.

“Hey, hey, it was a-” he mumbles, failing miserably at sounding serious, getting cut off by a less than impressed Robin.

“Steve, why is the chicken sound effect live right now?”

“It was an accident!” he calls back instantly.

“You literally only press random buttons when she’s around.”

“That is not true.”

“It is completely true.”

You’re still giggling into his neck while Steve absently pats your hair down again, holding you close even as he argues back.

“I can multitask.”

“Clearly not!” Robin shoots back. “You’re one make-out session away from broadcasting a car crash sound effect.”

Steve groans while you laugh even harder, and the two of them keep bickering through the station as the scene slowly dissolves into static, teasing, and Steve’s hand still warm at the back of your head.

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Except “cool” lasted about four minutes.

Because Bucky wasn’t just any guy—he was warmth and quiet laughter, calloused hands that traced lazy circles on your thigh when he thought you were asleep. He smelled like cedar and soap and something that made your chest ache. Every time he leaned close, every time his metal fingers brushed your waist by accident, you felt gravity shift.

So yeah, keeping your distance? Impossible.

Still, you tried.

When he came home from training, sweat-slick and tired, you stayed curled on the couch instead of running up to greet him. When he went to shower, you didn’t follow him with some flimsy excuse about needing to “borrow” his razor. You kept your hands to yourself when he sat beside you, even though your skin buzzed from the effort.

You didn’t notice his frown until it was too late.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice soft, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You okay, doll?”

You blinked. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

He tilted his head, studying you like he could read every thought you didn’t want him to see. “You’ve been… quiet. Not that I mind, just—feels different.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just giving you space.”

That made him pause. Really pause. “Space?”

You shrugged, hoping you sounded casual instead of heartbreakingly needy. “I don’t wanna be all over you all the time. You probably need room to breathe.”

Something in his expression cracked. “Room to breathe,” he repeated, almost like he was testing the words.

You nodded, though it hurt a little to do it.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, he laughed softly—just one short breath of disbelief before he reached for you, tugging you effortlessly into his lap.

“Doll,” he said, low and steady against your hair, “you think I don’t like it?”

“I don’t want to smother you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He smiled into your hair, his voice a little rough. “Sweetheart, I spent years without anyone even touching me. You could hang on me all day and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Your breath caught. You pulled back enough to look at him, to really see the sincerity in his blue eyes—the way they softened, like he was afraid you’d stop believing him.

“I like when you reach for me,” he said quietly. “Makes me feel wanted. Human.”

Your heart cracked open. “Bucky…”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You think I don’t notice when you stop holding my hand? When you sit just far enough away that I can’t touch you? Feels like someone’s turned off the lights.”

You huffed a tiny laugh, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “I didn’t wanna scare you off.”

He shook his head, cupping your cheek with his metal hand, gentle as anything. “Scare me off? Doll, you’re the only thing that doesn’t scare me.”

That was all it took. Your restraint snapped like a rubber band.

You buried your face against his neck, arms winding tight around him. He let out a low, pleased sound—a sigh that melted into a hum—as his arms wrapped around you just as fiercely. He held you there, broad hand smoothing up and down your spine like he was trying to memorize every curve, every breath.

“Better,” he whispered.

“Better?” you teased softly.

“Mhm.” His lips brushed your temple. “Could stay like this forever.”

You smiled against his skin. “You say that now, but give it an hour—you’ll need to stretch, or—”

“Or what?” he murmured. “You’ll still be here. That’s what matters.”

He shifted you gently, so your legs were thrown over his and your back hit the couch cushion. You thought he might get up, maybe grab water or something, but instead he settled in right beside you—his arm a solid weight around your waist, his fingers tracing lazy shapes over your hip.

“See, this is what I mean,” you said, giggling when he pulled you closer.

“What?”

“You’re too good at this. Makes it hard to be cool.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling. “Don’t be cool then.”

“Easy for you to say.”

He tilted his head, metal fingers brushing your chin up until you met his gaze. “You don’t gotta hold back with me. Not ever.”

The air between you went soft and heavy. Your hand found his chest, right where the steady thump of his heart lived. “You sure?”

He nodded. “You could ask for a hug every ten minutes and I’d still come running.”

You laughed, curling up into him again. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

“Please do,” he said, the smile in his voice making you melt.

You stayed like that, tangled up and warm, the afternoon sun spilling across his metal arm where it rested on your hip. His fingers traced patterns you couldn’t name, but you felt each one like a promise.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t fight the urge to hold on tighter.

He leaned down and murmured, “You know, I think I’m worse than you.”

You glanced up, amused. “Worse?”

He nodded solemnly. “You’re trying not to be clingy, and I’m over here planning how to glue you to me permanently.”

You snorted. “That’s not how relationships work, Buck.”

“Then we’ll make it work our way.” He kissed your cheek. “You hold on as much as you need. I’ll never pull away.”

Your throat tightened as you looked at him—this man who’d learned to crave softness after so many years of going without it. You smiled, pressing a hand to his chest again, just feeling the rhythm of his heart.

“Deal,” you whispered.

“Good.” He grinned. “Now stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle me and get over here.”

So you did—because how could you not?

when you finally came back out, you looked exhausted. your eyes were glossy, your face was pale, and you looked like you could fall asleep standing up.

rudo didn't even bother asking if you were okay because the answer was obvious. instead, he gently grabbed your hand and led you back to the couch before piling every blanket he could find over you.

when you tried telling him you were fine, he gave you a look that clearly said he wasn't buying it.

for the rest of the day, he stayed close without making a big deal out of it. every time your water bottle got low, somehow it was full again. every time you shifted uncomfortably, he adjusted the blanket.

every time another wave of nausea hit and you squeezed your eyes shut, he quietly rubbed circles against your back until it passed. he wasn't someone who always knew the perfect thing to say, but he hated seeing you suffer through it alone.

later that night, you were laying with your head against his shoulder when another wave of nausea rolled through your body.

you immediately tensed, letting out a miserable groan as you buried your face against him. rudo looked down at you and sighed softly before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"this is stupid," he muttered. "you shouldn't have to feel like this every month." there was genuine frustration in his voice, like he was angry on your behalf because there wasn't anything he could punch or fix to make it go away.

eventually exhaustion won over the nausea. you could barely keep your eyes open anymore, your body drained from feeling sick all day.

rudo carefully helped you into bed before climbing in beside you, making sure you were comfortable before settling down himself. even after you fell asleep, he kept an arm around your waist, occasionally checking to make sure you were resting peacefully.

if you woke up feeling sick again during the night, all you had to do was move a little closer and he would immediately wake up enough to rub your back and stay with you until the feeling eased.

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

the nausea hit you halfway through the day while you were out with enjin, and at first you genuinely thought you could push through it.

you kept insisting you were okay, forcing little smiles whenever he asked if something was wrong, but enjin knew you too well for that.

he noticed how you kept going quiet in the middle of conversations, how you looked slightly green every time a strong smell passed by, and how your grip on his sleeve seemed tighter than usual.

eventually, the smell from a nearby food stand made your stomach churn so badly that you stopped walking altogether. one second you were beside him, and the next you had your eyes squeezed shut while trying to keep yourself from getting sick. enjin immediately turned around, concern replacing his usual relaxed smile.

"baby?" he asked softly, stepping closer. "hey, what's wrong?" when you finally admitted your period was making you nauseous, his expression immediately softened.

the second he realized how bad you felt, whatever plans he had for the day were forgotten. he didn't care about errands, meetings, or anything else. all he cared about was getting you somewhere comfortable.

before you could even protest, he slipped an arm around your shoulders and guided you away from the crowds. every few steps he glanced down to make sure you weren't getting worse, and every time you looked like another wave of nausea was hitting, his hand rubbed reassuringly against your arm.

by the time you got home, you looked completely drained. the moment you sat down on the couch, you curled into yourself with a miserable groan. enjin disappeared for a few minutes before returning with water, crackers, a trash can beside the couch just in case, and enough blankets to bury you under.

"there," he said proudly as he tucked another blanket around your legs. "maximum comfort."

despite feeling awful, you couldn't help laughing a little. "you're doing too much."

"impossible," enjin replied immediately. "i could be doing way more."

and honestly, he could. every few minutes he was checking on you again, asking if you needed anything, if your stomach felt any better, if the room was too warm, if you wanted fresh air, if you wanted him to stop talking, if you wanted him to keep talking.

the concern was almost ridiculous, but it made your chest feel warm even while your stomach felt terrible.

later that evening, you were laying with your head in his lap while he gently played with your hair. another wave of nausea rolled through you, making your face scrunch up instantly. enjin noticed right away.

his hand immediately moved to your forehead while the other continued stroking your hair. "still bad?" he asked quietly. when you nodded, he frowned.

"i hate this," you muttered. "i just want it to stop."

for a moment, enjin didn't joke around or try to make you laugh. instead, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead.

"i know, sweetheart," he murmured. "but until it does, i'm staying right here."

and he meant it. even hours later when you were half asleep and still feeling queasy, he stayed curled beside you on the couch, letting you steal all the blankets and practically use him as a pillow.

every time you shifted closer, he automatically wrapped an arm around you, quietly reminding you that you didn't have to suffer through it by yourself.

𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

you had been feeling sick since the morning, and by the afternoon you were completely miserable. not because of cramps, but because it felt like your stomach had decided to betray you.

every smell was too strong, every movement made you dizzy, and no matter how much water you drank, the nausea refused to leave. you spent most of your day curled up on the couch with your eyes closed, trying not to think about how awful you felt.

tamsy noticed almost immediately. not because you told him, but because you weren't paying attention to him.

normally, you would react whenever he appeared, whether it was annoyance, suspicion, or some sarcastic comment, but today you barely looked at him. he found you laying under a blanket, staring blankly at the wall, and narrowed his eyes. that alone was enough to tell him something was wrong.

"you look dead."

"thank you."

"that wasn't a compliment."

"i figured."

instead of leaving, he stayed exactly where he was. when you explained that your period was making you nauseous, he simply stared at you for a few seconds.

his expression didn't change much, but he looked strangely annoyed by the information, like he was personally offended that something was making you feel this bad.

a little while later, you tried standing up to get yourself a drink. the second you got to your feet, the room spun. you grabbed the nearest surface to steady yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

before you could lose your balance completely, a hand caught your arm. when you opened your eyes, tamsy was already there. you weren't even sure how he moved so fast. "sit back down," he said. "you look like you're about to fall over."

you hated listening to him, but you hated feeling nauseous more. with a grumble, you sat back down. somehow a glass of water appeared beside you a few minutes later. you never saw him get it.

he simply placed it in front of you and acted like he hadn't done anything at all. when you thanked him, he immediately looked offended. "don't make it weird."

later that evening, someone nearby started cooking dinner. the smell drifted through the room and immediately made your stomach churn. you pressed a hand over your mouth and buried your face into a pillow, groaning miserably.

tamsy looked from you to the kitchen before standing up without a word. he disappeared for a few minutes, and when he came back, the smell was gone.

you had absolutely no idea what he did, and judging by the slight smile on his face, you weren't sure you wanted to know.

by nighttime, you were exhausted. feeling sick all day had drained every bit of energy from your body. you were laying across the couch with your eyes half closed when another wave of nausea rolled through you. immediately, your body tensed.

tamsy looked up from the book he had been pretending to read and noticed right away. despite acting uninterested all day, he had apparently been paying attention to everything.

without saying much, he moved closer and rested a hand against your shoulder. the touch was surprisingly gentle coming from him.

"still sick?" he asked quietly. when you nodded, he clicked his tongue in annoyance. not at you, but at the situation itself.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the room stayed quiet except for the sound of your breathing. then, unexpectedly, tamsy reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face.

the gesture was so natural that it almost caught you off guard. when he noticed you staring, he immediately frowned.

"what?"

"...nothing."

"good."

even so, he didn't move his hand away.

your eyes grew heavier and heavier until you could barely keep them open. as you drifted off to sleep, you vaguely felt a blanket being adjusted around your shoulders.

the last thing you saw before falling asleep completely was tamsy sitting nearby, watching over you with that familiar smile on his face, though for once it looked less unsettling and more quietly concerned than he would ever admit out loud.

𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐀 𝐍𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐔

you and zanka were supposed to be training together that afternoon, but the moment you stepped onto the training grounds, you knew it was a bad idea.

your stomach had been unsettled since you woke up, and every bit of movement only made it worse. still, you were determined to push through it. unfortunately, after only a few minutes, the nausea became so overwhelming that you had to stop completely, one hand pressed against your stomach while you focused on not getting sick.

zanka immediately noticed. he was the type to catch small changes before anyone else did, especially when it came to you. at first he thought you were injured, but when he saw how pale you looked, his expression shifted.

"what's wrong?" he asked, walking over. when you tried brushing it off, he gave you a look that made it clear he wasn't falling for it.

after enough questioning, you finally admitted that your period was making you nauseous. zanka blinked once before letting out a sigh through his nose.

not because he was annoyed with you, but because he already knew what was coming next—you were going to keep insisting you were fine when you clearly weren't. sure enough, not even five minutes later, you tried picking up your weapon again.

"absolutely not."

"i can still train."

"you can barely stand."

"that's dramatic."

"you almost walked into a wall."

"..."

"exactly."

before you could argue further, another wave of nausea rolled through you. your face immediately scrunched up as you grabbed the nearest bench for support.

zanka was beside you before you could even process it, one hand steadying your shoulder. his grip wasn't forceful, just enough to keep you balanced while you waited for the feeling to pass.

once he was sure you weren't about to fall over, he guided you toward a shaded area away from the rest of the training grounds.

you complained the entire way there, insisting you could manage on your own, but zanka ignored every word. by now he knew when to listen and when not to. this was definitely one of those times.

the two of you ended up sitting beneath a tree, away from the noise and movement. you rested your head against the trunk while trying to keep your stomach settled. for a while, neither of you spoke. zanka simply stayed beside you, letting the quiet do its job. he knew you well enough to understand that sometimes talking only made things worse.

eventually, you leaned your head against his shoulder with a tired sigh. you hadn't meant to. it just happened. for a second, you expected him to tease you about it.

he adjusted slightly so you could get more comfortable.

"...thanks."

"don't mention it."

his answer was short, but his hand moved to rest lightly on top of your head anyway.

as the afternoon passed, the nausea never fully disappeared, but it became easier to handle with someone there. every time you felt another wave coming, zanka noticed immediately.

he would stop whatever he was saying, wait for it to pass, and only continue once you looked alright again. it was such a small thing, but it made you feel cared for in a way that was hard to explain.

by the time the sun started setting, exhaustion had completely replaced your earlier determination. your eyes felt heavy, your body felt drained, and all you wanted was sleep. zanka looked over at you and immediately understood.

"come on."

"where?"

"home."

before you could argue, he stood up and offered his hand. when you took it, he gave it a gentle squeeze before leading you away from the training grounds.

for someone who wasn't always the most openly affectionate person, his actions spoke for him. and the entire walk back, he stayed close enough that if the nausea got bad again, all you had to do was lean into him and he would be there.

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐕𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀

you woke up feeling sick.

not the kind of sick where you could sleep it off for an hour and be fine afterward. it was the kind that settled deep in your stomach and refused to leave.

every time you moved, nausea followed. every time you thought it was getting better, another wave came back stronger. by noon, you had given up trying to be productive and found yourself laying across corvus' couch with your eyes closed.

corvus didn't bother asking if you were alright because the answer was obvious. the moment he walked into the room and saw you curled beneath a blanket in complete silence, he knew something was wrong. usually, you would at least greet him. today, you barely lifted your head.

after a brief conversation, you admitted your period was making you nauseous, and his expression immediately softened.

the rest of the afternoon was surprisingly peaceful. corvus spent most of it working at his desk while you rested nearby. he never hovered or fussed over you, but somehow he always seemed aware of what was happening.

every time you shifted uncomfortably, his eyes briefly lifted from his work. every time another wave of nausea hit, he noticed before you even said anything.

after a while, you became bored.

being sick was one thing, being sick and bored was another. so naturally, you decided bothering corvus was the solution.

you slowly dragged yourself across the room before unceremoniously laying your head on his lap while he was trying to read.

he looked down at you. you looked up at him. neither of you spoke.

"...hello," you finally said.

"...hello."

"what are you doing?"

"reading."

"that's boring."

"i gathered that when you interrupted me."

despite the words, he made no effort to move you. if anything, his hand eventually settled on top of your head.

the nausea got worse later in the day. one minute you were listening to corvus speak, and the next you had buried your face into his leg with a miserable groan. your stomach felt awful. your head hurt. everything felt too warm.

you looked so defeated that corvus immediately closed his book and focused entirely on you. without saying much, he gently brushed your hair away from your face.

"nauseous?"

you nodded. he sighed quietly. not annoyed, just concerned. the kind of concern he rarely showed openly.

you stayed like that for a while, resting against him while waiting for the feeling to pass. corvus remained patient the entire time. he didn't rush you, didn't tell you to tough it out, didn't offer useless advice. he simply stayed there, letting you lean on him however much you needed.

though, your eyes grew heavier with every passing minute until keeping them open became impossible. somewhere along the way, you had practically curled up against his side without realizing it. normally you might have felt embarrassed afterward.

today you were far too tired to care.

corvus noticed your breathing slow and glanced down to find you half asleep against him. for a moment, he simply watched. then, with a small shake of his head, he carefully adjusted the blanket around your shoulders and shifted slightly so you would be more comfortable.

you never saw the faint smile that appeared afterward.

while you slept, corvus returned to his reading, one hand absentmindedly resting on your shoulder the entire time. every so often he would glance down to make sure you were still resting peacefully.

and when you unconsciously moved closer in your sleep, seeking warmth and comfort, he simply allowed it, remaining exactly where he was until you woke up again.

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐙𝐀

august had been working on a new collection for weeks, and after hearing him talk about it nonstop, you finally agreed to come see the finished designs. normally, you would have been excited.

unfortunately, your period had other plans. from the moment you woke up, your stomach felt horrible. not painful, just constantly nauseous. it was the kind of feeling that made you want to lay completely still and do absolutely nothing.

you still showed up anyway. and the second you walked into the studio, august lit up.

"there you are!"

his excitement lasted exactly three seconds. because then he got a proper look at your face. "...why do you look like you're about to faint?"

you sighed. "hello to you too."

august immediately walked over, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning your face toward the light as if he were conducting some serious medical examination. after listening to your explanation, his expression softened considerably.

"oh, sweetheart."

those two words alone told you everything. you were about to get spoiled against your will.

before you could stop him, august was already pulling you toward a private fitting room in the back of his workroom. it was quieter there, away from the noise, away from the strong scents, and away from people constantly moving around.

he sat you down on a comfortable chair and immediately started fussing over you.

you ended up spending most of the afternoon hidden away in the fitting room while august worked nearby. every so often he would disappear, only to return a few minutes later with something. water. a pillow. another blanket. a fan because the room felt too warm. then the fan got removed because you suddenly felt cold.

he was constantly adjusting things to make you more comfortable.

at one point, the nausea got particularly bad. you had your eyes squeezed shut while taking slow breaths, trying to wait for it to pass. immediately, august abandoned whatever he had been doing and crouched beside your chair.

"bad?"

you nodded. "very."

his face immediately fell. because if there was one thing august hated, it was seeing people he cared about uncomfortable. especially you.

without hesitation, he reached over and carefully brushed your hair back from your face.

"poor thing."

normally, you would have rolled your eyes. today you just leaned into the touch.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke. august simply stayed beside you, gently rubbing circles against your shoulder while you waited for the nausea to settle. unlike some people, he never rushed you. he never acted like you were being dramatic. if you said you felt awful, he believed you.

later, after the worst of it had passed, august decided the only reasonable solution was distraction.

he pulled a chair beside yours and began talking about everything and nothing at the same time. new designs. ridiculous stories from work. random gossip. he spoke with enough energy for both of you.

eventually, you found yourself laughing despite how miserable you felt. the moment august heard it, his entire face brightened.

"there it is."

"what?"

"you laughed."

"unfortunately."

"good. do it again."

you groaned. and he laughed.

by the end of the day, you were exhausted. the nausea had drained all your energy, leaving you sleepy enough to barely keep your eyes open. august noticed immediately. before you could insist you were fine, he carefully draped a blanket over you and guided your head onto his shoulder.

for once, he stopped talking.

he simply sat beside you in comfortable silence while you rested, occasionally checking on you whenever you shifted. and when you eventually fell asleep against him, august didn't move an inch, even though he still had work waiting for him.

as far as he was concerned, the designs could wait. making sure you were comfortable was far more important.

𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐍

you had been feeling sick since the night before, but you genuinely thought sleeping would fix it.

it didn't.

if anything, the nausea was worse when you woke up. your stomach felt unsettled, your head felt heavy, and even the thought of breakfast made you want to curl up and disappear.

but unfortunately, you had already promised to spend the day with gris, so despite feeling awful, you dragged yourself out anyway, hoping the feeling would eventually pass if you ignored it long enough.

gris knew something was wrong almost immediately. normally, you would be talking, pointing things out, or finding some way to fill the silence, but today you were unusually quiet.

your energy seemed completely gone, and every few minutes he noticed you taking slow breaths as if you were trying to keep yourself together.

it didn't take long for him to realize that whatever was bothering you wasn't something minor.

once he learned that your period was making you nauseous, the rest of the day subtly changed. gris wasn't the type to fuss over people or make a scene out of concern, but he became noticeably more attentive.

he slowed his pace whenever the two of you walked somewhere, made sure you stayed hydrated, and quietly kept an eye on you without making it obvious. it was the sort of care that came through actions rather than words.

the two of you eventually stopped near a riverbank to rest for a while, hoping the fresh air would help.

at first, it seemed like a good idea. the cool breeze felt nice against your skin, and for a few minutes the nausea eased enough that you thought maybe you were finally improving.

but that feeling disappeared the moment a strong smell drifted through the area, causing your stomach to twist all over again.

gris noticed your reaction instantly. before you even had the chance to say anything, he was already gathering your things and guiding you somewhere quieter.

he didn't make a comment about it or draw attention to your discomfort. he simply recognized that you weren't feeling well and removed you from the situation as naturally as breathing.

eventually, the two of you settled beneath a large tree away from everyone else. the shade was cool, the area was peaceful, and most importantly, there was nothing around that made your stomach worse.

you sat with your back against the trunk while trying to focus on steady breathing, hoping the nausea would settle enough to let you relax.

throughout the afternoon, gris stayed nearby. he wasn't constantly asking if you were okay or hovering over you every second. instead, he remained quietly present, paying attention without making you feel watched.

whenever another wave of nausea hit, he noticed the way your posture changed or the way your eyes squeezed shut, and somehow his calm presence always made the moment feel a little easier to handle.

as the hours passed, exhaustion slowly began replacing the nausea. feeling sick all day had drained nearly all of your energy, leaving you too tired to focus on much of anything.

eventually, without even realizing it, you found yourself leaning closer and closer to gris, seeking comfort wherever you could find it.

before long, your head had settled against him completely. you were far too exhausted to think about whether it was embarrassing or not. all you cared about was how comfortable it felt to stop holding yourself upright for once.

gris didn't react beyond making sure you were comfortable, adjusting the jacket around your shoulders and shifting slightly so you could rest more easily.

the afternoon slowly faded into evening while you drifted in and out of sleep. every time you stirred, gris was still there. sometimes reading, sometimes watching the scenery, sometimes simply sitting in silence. he never seemed impatient, never acted inconvenienced, and never once suggested leaving before you felt ready.

by the time you finally woke up properly, the nausea had eased enough that you could think clearly again. the first thing you noticed was that gris was still sitting exactly where you had left him hours earlier, content to spend the entire day making sure you were comfortable.

for someone who rarely expressed affection openly, it was moments like that that revealed just how deeply he cared.

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐎

you had spent most of the morning hiding in your room, convinced that if you stayed perfectly still, the nausea would eventually go away.

it didn't. if anything, it seemed determined to make your life miserable. every time you sat up, your stomach complained. every time you tried to eat something, the thought alone made you feel sick. by the afternoon, you had given up entirely and curled into a blanket cocoon on your bed.

unfortunately for you, follo happened to stop by.

the moment he stepped into the room, he knew something was wrong. the curtains were closed, you were buried beneath several blankets despite it not being cold, and you looked like you hadn't moved in hours. the sight immediately wiped the usual pleasant smile from his face, replacing it with concern.

instead of asking a hundred questions, follo quietly sat on the edge of the bed and let you explain things at your own pace.

once he learned that your period was causing severe nausea, his expression softened considerably. there was no awkwardness or discomfort. he simply accepted it and focused entirely on how to make you feel better.

the rest of the afternoon passed slowly. follo stayed with you while reading a book he had brought with him, occasionally turning a page while keeping an eye on you from the corner of his vision.

there was something strangely comforting about it. he wasn't hovering or treating you like you were fragile. he was simply there, filling the room with a calm presence that made everything feel a little less miserable.

at one point, you became convinced that getting fresh air would help. unfortunately, the moment you stood up, your stomach immediately reminded you why that was a terrible idea.

the wave of nausea hit so suddenly that you had to sit right back down before your legs gave out beneath you.

follo was beside you almost instantly. concern flashed across his face as he steadied you and guided you back onto the bed.

although he rarely seemed flustered, seeing you nearly collapse clearly unsettled him. after that, he became much more watchful, making sure you didn't try another equally questionable idea.

as evening approached, the nausea started wearing down your patience. you were tired of feeling sick. tired of feeling weak. tired of not being able to do anything without your stomach protesting.

eventually, frustration got the better of you, and before you knew it, tears had begun gathering in your eyes.

you hated it. you hated crying over something like this.

follo noticed immediately.

without saying anything, he moved closer and gently pulled you against him. there was no teasing, no pointing out the tears, no making a big deal out of it. he simply held you while you hid your face against his shoulder, allowing you to let out every bit of frustration you had been holding in all day.

his hand moved slowly through your hair while the room remained quiet around you. there was no pressure to explain yourself and no expectation for you to stop crying quickly.

follo seemed perfectly content to sit there for as long as you needed, offering comfort in the simplest way possible.

eventually, the tears stopped. the nausea was still there, but somehow it felt a little easier to handle afterward. maybe it was because you weren't carrying all that frustration anymore. maybe it was because having someone beside you made the whole thing feel less overwhelming.

exhaustion had completely taken over. you had fallen asleep against follo sometime during the evening, wrapped in blankets and comforted by the steady rhythm of his breathing. even after you drifted off, he remained right where he was, careful not to wake you.

every now and then he glanced down to make sure you were sleeping peacefully, content to spend the entire night there if it meant you could finally get some rest.

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐋 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍

you didn’t even make it through the front door before the nausea hit you again.

you had been trying to get through the day normally, but your period had other plans. by the time you reached zodyl, you were already pale, barely keeping your balance, and very aware that something was seriously wrong.

he noticed instantly. he always did.

zodyl stopped mid-conversation the second you walked into the room. his eyes tracked you carefully as you hesitated in the doorway, one hand subtly bracing against the wall like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“you’re unwell.”

it wasn’t a question. it never was with him. you tried to insist you were fine anyway, because that’s what you always did. but the second you took another step forward, your stomach turned so sharply that you had to stop and inhale through your teeth.

your face gave you away immediately.

he crossed the room in a few steps and caught your arm before you could sway too far forward, steadying you without hesitation. his grip was firm, controlled, like he already knew exactly how much pressure you needed to stay upright without feeling trapped.

“sit.”

you opened your mouth to argue. he didn’t even look at you. “now.” so you did.

carefully, you lowered yourself onto the nearest chair, immediately curling forward as another wave of nausea rolled through you. your breathing turned shallow while you tried to wait it out, hating how weak you felt just from standing too long.

zodyl watched for a moment, then turned without a word.

he came back a few minutes later with water and something light to eat, placing it within reach before standing off to the side instead of hovering over you. it wasn’t gentle in an obvious way, but it was deliberate. he was making sure you had what you needed without overwhelming you.

you barely managed a quiet thank you. he didn’t respond, but he stayed. he entire time.

later, when the nausea spiked again, you pressed a hand over your mouth and leaned forward instinctively. zodyl was already moving before you could fully react. his hand settled at your shoulder, steadying you just enough to keep you grounded while the wave passed.

he didn’t speak. didn’t ask questions. just stayed there until your breathing slowed again. it was frustrating how calm he was about it.

like this was just something that needed handling, not something that needed panic.

your body felt heavy, your head hazy, and the world outside the chair started to blur at the edges. you didn’t even notice when you shifted closer to him until your shoulder was lightly resting against his side.

zodyl glanced down and you were half asleep already.

he adjusted his stance slightly so you wouldn’t fall, then draped something over you without comment.

you woke up later to silence. and zodyl still there, working nearby like nothing had changed at all, except for the fact that he hadn’t once left your side.

𝐉𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

you had been trying to avoid everyone all day, mostly because your period had left you feeling nauseous and irritable, and the last thing you wanted was company.

but unfortunately, that plan failed the moment jabber found you anyway, appearing like he always did with that unsettlingly amused expression, as if he had been looking for you just to ruin your peace on purpose.

he immediately noticed something was off the second he saw you. your posture was slouched, your face was pale, and you weren’t reacting to him the way you normally would.

instead of teasing you right away like he usually did, he paused for a moment, studying you more carefully than expected before slowly tilting his head.

you tried to brush it off, insisting you were fine, but the words didn’t even sound convincing to you, let alone him.

another wave of nausea hit right after, and you had to look away quickly, pressing a hand to your stomach while trying to breathe through it. jabber watched the whole thing without interrupting, unusually quiet for a few seconds.

then he let out a small laugh, though it wasn’t as sharp as usual. more like he had figured something out.

“oh mames.. that kinda suffering,” he said casually, crouching down in front of you like he had all the time in the world. you didn’t answer, too focused on not feeling worse, which only made him observe you even more closely.

without warning, he disappeared again, leaving you alone for a few minutes that felt both peaceful and slightly suspicious.

when he came back, he was carrying random things that made absolutely no sense together—water, something sweet, and a few small items you couldn’t even identify at first glance. he dropped them next to you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

you stared at him in silence, too tired to question it properly, before he waved a hand dismissively like he already knew what you were thinking. “don’t make it weird ma,” he said, leaning back on his hands as he sat beside you. “just accept the charity.”

another wave of nausea rolled through you shortly after, and you immediately curled forward again, frustrated and exhausted.

jabber noticed right away, though instead of teasing you, he stayed where he was, watching quietly for once. it was almost strange how he didn’t push your buttons when you clearly weren’t feeling well.

he didn’t try to fix anything in a serious way, and he definitely didn’t act like he suddenly became responsible, but he also didn’t leave.

every so often he would say something ridiculous just to break the tension, like random comments about how your body was “betraying you for fun,” or how he should start charging for emotional support.

it was annoying.

but it kept your mind off the nausea for a little while.

eventually, exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned back without realizing it, your body giving in after trying to stay tense for so long. jabber glanced over when you went quiet, then huffed softly like he was amused by the fact that you had actually relaxed around him.

he didn’t move away. didn’t make a big deal about it.